Morning, March 12, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“You shall love your neighbor.” — Matthew 5:43

“Love your neighbor.” Perhaps he is rolling in riches, and you are poor, and living in your little hammock alongside his lordly mansion; you see every day his estate, his fine linen, and his extravagant banquets. God has given him these gifts, do not covet his wealth or think unkind thoughts concerning him. Be content with your own lot in life, if you cannot better it, but do not look upon your neighbor, and wish that he were as yourself. Love him, and then you will not envy him.

Perhaps, on the other hand, you are rich, and near you reside the poor. Do not scorn to call them neighbors. Acknowledge that you are bound to love them. The world calls them your inferiors. In what are they inferior? They are far more your equals than your inferiors, for God has “made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth.” It is your attire which is better than theirs, but you are by no means better than they. They are men, and what are you more than that? Take heed that you love your neighbor even though he may be in rags, or sunken in the depths of poverty.

But, perhaps, you say, “I cannot love my neighbors, because despite all I do they return ingratitude and contempt.” So much the more, room is made for the heroism of love. Would you be a comfortable warrior, instead of bearing the rough fight of love? He who dares the most, shall win the most; and if your path of love is rough, tread it boldly, still loving your neighbors through thick and thin. Heap coals of fire on their heads, and if they are hard to please, do not seek to please them, but to please your Master; and remember if they spurn your love, your Master has not spurned it, and your deed is as acceptable to him as if it had been acceptable to them. Love your neighbor, for in so doing you are following the footsteps of Christ.

Evening, March 11, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And you will be called, ‘Sought out.’” — Isaiah 62:12

The surpassing grace of God is seen very clearly in that we were not only sought, but “sought out.” Men seek for a thing which is lost on the floor of the house, but in such a case there is only seeking, not seeking out. The loss is more perplexing and the search more persevering when a thing is sought out. We were mingled with the mire: we were like when some precious piece of gold falls into the sewer, and men gather out and carefully inspect a mass of abominable filth, and continue to stir and rake, and search among the heap until the treasure is found. Or, to use another figure, we were lost in a labyrinth; we wandered back and forth, and when mercy came after us with the gospel, it did not find us at first, it had to search for us and seek us out; for we as lost sheep were so desperately lost, and had wandered into such a strange country, that it did not seem possible that even the Good Shepherd could track our devious roaming. Glory be to unconquerable grace, we were sought out! No darkness could hide us, no filthiness could conceal us, we were found and brought home. Glory be to His infinite love, God the Holy Spirit restored us!

The lives of some of God’s people, if they could be written, would fill us with holy astonishment. Strange and marvelous are the ways which God used in their cases to find his own. Blessed be his name, he never relinquishes the search until the chosen are sought out successfully. They are not a people sought today and cast away tomorrow. Omnipotence and wisdom combined will see no failures; they shall be called, “Sought out!” That any should be sought out is matchless grace, but that we should be sought out is grace beyond degree! We can find no reason for it but God’s own sovereign love, and can only lift our heart in wonder, and praise the Lord that this night we wear the name of “Sought out.”

Morning, March 11, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

Sin … utterly sinful.” — Romans 7:13

Beware of lightly thinking of sin. At the time of conversion, the conscience is so tender, that we are afraid of the slightest sin. Young converts have a holy timidity, a godly fear so as not to offend against God. But unfortunately, very soon the fine bloom upon these first ripe fruits is removed by the rough handling of the surrounding world: the sensitive plant of young devotion soon turns into a willow in the life following, too pliant, too easily yielding. It is sadly true, that even a Christian may grow by degrees so callous, that the sin which once startled him does not alarm him in the least. By degrees men get familiar with sin. The ear in which the cannon has been booming will not notice slight sounds. At first a little sin startles us; but soon we say, “Is it not a little one?” Then there comes another, larger, and then another, until by degrees we begin to regard sin as but a little harm; and then follows an unholy presumption: “We have not fallen into open sin. True, we tripped a little, but we mainly stood upright. We may have uttered one unholy word, but as for the most of our conversation, it has been consistent.” So, we gloss over sin; we throw a cloak over it; we call it by other, less serious names. Christian, beware how you may think lightly of sin. Take care in case you fall by little and little. Sin, a little thing? Is it not a poison? Who knows its deadliness? Sin, a little thing? Do not the little foxes spoil the grapes? Does not the tiny coral animal build a rock which wrecks a navy? Do not little strokes of the ax fell lofty oaks? Will not continual dripping wear away stones? Sin, a little thing? It girded the Redeemer’s head with thorns, and pierced his heart! It made him suffer anguish, bitterness, and woe. If you could weigh the least sin in the scales of eternity, you would fly from it as from a serpent, and detest the least appearance of evil. Look upon all sin as that which crucified the Savior, and you will see it to be “utterly sinful.”

Evening, March 10, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Man, who is born of woman, is short-lived and full of turmoil.” — Job 14:1

It may be of great advantage to us, before we fall asleep, to remember this somber fact, for it may lead us to set loose our affection on earthly things. There is nothing very pleasant in calling to mind that we are not above the arrows of adversity, but it may humble us and prevent our boasting like the Psalmist in our morning’s reading: “My mountain stands firm: I shall never be moved.” It may keep us from taking too deep a root in this soil from which we are so soon to be transplanted into the heavenly garden. Let us remember the frail tenure upon which we hold our temporal presence. If we would remember that all the trees of earth are marked for the woodman’s axe, we would not be so ready to build our nests in them. We should love, but we should love with the love which expects death, and which reckons upon separation. Our dearest relatives are only loaned to us, and the hour when we must return them to the lender’s hand may be even at the door. Likewise, this is certainly true of our worldly goods. Do not riches take to themselves wings and fly away? Our health is equally precarious. Frail flowers of the field, we must not reckon upon blooming forever. There is a time appointed for weakness and sickness, when we shall have to glorify God by suffering, and not by our earnest activity. There is no single point in which we can hope to escape from the sharp arrows of affliction; out of our few days there is not one secure from sorrow. Man’s life is a cask full of bitter wine; he who looks for joy in it has a better chance to seek for honey in an ocean of brine. Beloved reader, do not set your affections upon the things of earth: but seek those things which are above, for here the moth devours, and the thief breaks through, but there, all joys are continuous and eternal. The path of trouble is the way home. Lord, make this thought a pillow for many weary heads!

Morning, March 10, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I said in my prosperity, ‘I will never be moved.’” — Psalm 30:6

“Moab has been at ease since his youth; He has also been undisturbed, and he has not been emptied from vessel to vessel.” Give a man wealth; let his ships continually bring home rich imports; let the winds and waves appear to be his servants to bear his vessels across the embrace of the mighty deep; let his lands yield abundantly: let the weather be favorable to his crops; let uninterrupted success attend him; let him stand among men as a successful merchant; let him enjoy continued health; allow him with steeled nerves and brilliant vision to march through the world, and live happily; give him an upbeat spirit; let him have a song perpetually on his lips; let his eye be always sparkling with joy—and the natural consequence of such an easy state to any man, even if he is the best Christian who ever breathed, will be presumption; even David said, “I shall never be moved;” and we are not better than David, nor half so good.

Brother, beware of the smooth places on the way, if you are treading them; or if the way is rough, thank God for it. If God should always rock us in the cradle of prosperity; if we were always pampered on the knees of fortune; if we had the stain-free alabaster pillar; if there were not a few clouds in the sky; if we had not some bitter drops in the wine of this life, we would become intoxicated with pleasure, we should dream “we stand;” and stand we might, but it would be upon a treacherous pinnacle; like the man asleep upon the mast, each moment we would be in jeopardy.

We bless God, then, for our afflictions; we thank him for our changes; we praise his name for losses of property; for we feel that had he not disciplined us accordingly, we might have become too secure. Continued worldly prosperity is a fiery trial.

“Afflictions, though they seem severe,

In mercy oft are sent.”

Evening, March 9, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Abide in me.” — John 15:4

Communion with Christ is a certain cure for every ill. Whether it be the bitter herb of woe, or the sickly-sweet overdose of earthly delight, close fellowship with the Lord Jesus will take bitterness from the one, and fullness from the other. Live near to Jesus, Christian, and it is a matter of secondary importance whether you live on the mountain of honor or in the valley of humiliation. Living near to Jesus, you are covered with the wings of God, and beneath you are his everlasting arms. Let nothing keep you from that consecrated communion, which is the choice privilege of a soul wedded to the well-beloved. Do not be content with a discussion now and then, but seek always to retain his constant company, for only in his presence do you have either comfort or safety. Jesus should not be to us a friend who calls upon us now and then, but one with whom we always walk. You have a difficult road before you: see, O traveler to heaven, that you do not go without your guide. You must pass through the fiery furnace: do not enter, unless—like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego—you have the Son of God as your companion. You must storm the Jericho of your own corruption: do not attempt the warfare until, like Joshua, you have seen the Captain of the Lord’s host, with his sword drawn in his hand. You are to meet the Esau of your many temptations: do not meet him until, like Jacob at Jabbok’s brook, you have wrestled the angel and prevailed. In every case, in every condition, you will need Jesus; but most of all in that day, when the iron gates of death shall open to you. Keep close to your soul’s Husband, lean your head into his embrace, ask to be refreshed with the spiced wine of his pomegranate, and you shall be found of him at the end without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing. Seeing you have lived with and in him here, you shall abide with him forever.

Morning, March 9, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

 “He is wholly desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.” — Song of Solomon 5:16

The superlative beauty of Jesus is irresistible; it is not so much to be admired as to be loved. He is more than pleasant and fair, he is lovely. Surely the people of God can fully justify the use of this golden word, for he is the object of their warmest love, a love founded on the intrinsic excellence of his person, the complete perfection of his charms. Look, O disciples of Jesus, to your Master’s lips, and say, “Are they not most sweet?” Do not his words cause your hearts to burn within you as he talks with you by the way? You worshippers of Immanuel, look up to his head of much fine gold, and tell me, are his thoughts not precious to you? Is your adoration not sweetened with affection as you humbly bow before that countenance which is as excellent as the cedars of Lebanon? Is there not a charm in his every feature, and is not his whole person scented with such a savor of his good fragrance, that therefore all who are pure love him? Is there one part of his glorious body which is not attractive? Is there one portion of his person which is not a magnet to our souls? Is there one aspect which is not a strong cord to bind your heart? Our love is not just a seal set upon his heart of love alone; it is fastened upon his arm of power also; nor is there a single part of him upon which our love does not fix itself. We anoint his whole person with the sweet, fragrant oils of our ardent love. His whole life we would imitate; his whole character we would transcribe. In all other beings we see some lack, in him there is all perfection. Even the best of his favored children have had blots upon their garments and wrinkles upon their foreheads; he is nothing but loveliness. All suns and stars have their spots: our fair world itself has its barren wilderness; we do not have the capacity to wholly love the most lovely thing; but Christ Jesus is gold without alloy—light without darkness—glory without cloud— yes, “He is wholly desirable.”

Evening, March 8, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“She named him Ben-oni [the son of my sorrow]; but his father called him Benjamin [the son of the right hand].” — Genesis 35:18

To every matter there is a bright as well as a dark side. Rachel was overwhelmed with the sorrow of her own travail and death; Jacob, though weeping the mother’s loss, could see the mercy of the child’s birth. It is good for us if, while our mortal being mourns over trials, our faith triumphs in divine faithfulness. Samson’s lion yielded honey, and so will our adversities, if correctly considered. The stormy sea feeds multitudes with its fish; the wild wood blooms with beautiful blossoms; the stormy wind sweeps away the pestilence, and the biting frost loosens the soil. Dark clouds distil bright raindrops, and black earth grows brightly colored flowers. A vein of good is to be found in every mine of evil.

Sad hearts have special skill in discovering the most disadvantageous point of view from which to gaze upon a trial; if there were only one marsh in the world, they would soon be up to their necks in it, and if there were only one lion in the desert they would hear it roar. About us all there is a tinge of this wretched foolishness, and we are apt, at times, like Jacob, to cry, “All these things are against me.”

Faith’s way of walking is to cast all care upon the Lord, and then to anticipate good results from the worst calamities. Like Gideon’s men, she does not fret over the broken pitcher, but rejoices that the lamp blazes forth more brightly. Out of the rough oyster shell of difficulty she extracts the rare pearl of honor, and from the deep ocean caves of distress she uplifts the priceless coral of experience. When her flood of prosperity ebbs, she finds treasures hid in the sands; and when her sun of delight goes down, she turns her telescope of hope to the starry promises of heaven. When death itself appears, faith points to the light of resurrection beyond the grave, thus making our dying Ben-oni to be our living Benjamin.

Morning, March 8, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.” — Acts 14:22

God’s people will have their trials. It was never designed by God, when he chose his people, that they should be an untested people. They were chosen in the furnace of affliction; they were never chosen to worldly peace and earthly joy. Freedom from sickness and the pains of mortality was never promised them; but when their Lord drew up the charter of privileges, he included discipline and trials among the things to which they should inevitably be heirs. Trials are a part of our lot; they were predestined for us in Christ’s last legacy. So surely as the stars and planets are fashioned by his hands, and their orbits established by him, so surely are our trials allotted to us: he has ordained their season and their place, their intensity and the effect they shall have upon us. Good people must never expect to escape troubles; if they do, they will be disappointed, for none of their predecessors have been without them. Mark the patience of Job; remember Abraham, for he had his trials, and by his faith under them, he became the “Father of the faithful.” Take note closely the biographies of all the patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and martyrs, and you shall discover all of those whom God made vessels of mercy were made to pass through the fire of affliction. It is ordained of old that the cross of trouble should be engraved on every vessel of mercy, as the royal mark whereby the King’s vessels of honor are distinguished. But although tribulation is therefore the path of God’s children, they have the comfort of knowing that their Master has traversed it before them; they have his presence and sympathy to cheer them, his grace to support them, and his example to teach them how to endure; and when they reach “the kingdom,” it will more than make amends for the “many tribulations” through which they passed to enter it.

Evening, March 7, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man.” — Psalm 118:8

Doubtless the reader has been tried with the temptation to rely upon the things which are seen, instead of resting alone upon the invisible God. Christians often look to man for help and counsel, and mar the noble simplicity of their reliance upon their God. Does this evening’s reading meet the eye of a child of God anxious about temporal, worldly needs? Then we would reason with him for a while.

You trust in Jesus, and only in Jesus, for your salvation; then why are you troubled? “Because of my many cares.” Is it not written, “Cast your cares upon the Lord?” “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” Can you not trust God for temporal things?  “Ah! I wish I could.” If you cannot trust God for the temporal, how dare you trust him for the spiritual? Can you trust him for your soul’s redemption, and not rely upon him for a few lesser gifts? Is not God enough for your need, or is his all-sufficiency too narrow for your wants? Do you need another eye beside that of him who sees every secret thing? Is his heart faint? Is his arm weary? If so, seek another God; but if he is indeed infinite, omnipotent, faithful, true, and all-wise, why do you look to seek confidence anywhere else? Why do you scour the earth to find another foundation, when this is strong enough to bear all the weight upon which you can ever build? Christian, you would not mix wine with water; do not alloy your gold of faith with the dross of human confidence. Wait only upon God, and let your expectation be from him. Do not covet Jonah’s shade plant, but rest in Jonah’s God. Let the sandy foundations of terrestrial trust be the choice of fools; but let you, like one who foresees the storm, build for yourself an abiding place upon the Rock of Ages.

Morning, March 7, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Have faith in God.” — Mark 11:22

Faith plays the role of the feet of the soul, by which it can march along the road of the commandments. Love can make the feet move more swiftly; but faith carries the soul. Faith is the oil enabling the wheels of holy devotion and of earnest piety to move well; and without faith the wheels are fallen from the chariot, and we drag heavily. With faith I can do all things; without faith I shall neither have the inclination nor the power to do anything in the service of God. If you would find the men who serve God the best, you must look for the men of the most faith. A little faith will save a man, but little faith cannot do great things for God. In Pilgrim’s Progress, Poor Little-faith could not have fought “Apollyon;” it needed “Christian” to do that. Poor Little-faith could not have slain “Giant Despair;” it required “Great-heart’s” arm to knock that monster down. Little faith will go to heaven most certainly, but it often must hide itself in a nut-shell, and it frequently loses all but its jewels. Little-faith says, “It is a rough road, beset with sharp thorns, and full of dangers; I am afraid to go;” but Great-faith remembers the promise, “Your shoes shall be iron and brass; as your days, so shall your strength be:” and so she boldly ventures. Little-faith stands despondent, mingling her tears with the flood; but Great-faith sings, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you:” and she fords the stream at once. Would you be comfortable and happy? Would you enjoy religion? Would you have the religion of cheerfulness and not that of gloom? Then “have faith in God.” If you love darkness, and are satisfied to dwell in gloom and misery, then be content with little faith; but if you love the sunshine, and would sing songs of rejoicing, covet earnestly this best gift, “great faith.”

Evening, March 6, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Before destruction the heart of man is haughty.” — Proverbs 18:12

It is an old saying that “coming events cast their shadows before them;” the wise man teaches us that a haughty heart is the prophetic prelude of evil. Pride is as surely the sign of destruction as the change of the barometer is the sign of rain; and far more infallibly so than that. When men have ridden the high horse, destruction has always overtaken them. Let David’s aching heart show that there is an eclipse of a man’s glory when he focuses upon his own greatness, as when he numbered Israel. See Nebuchadnezzar, the mighty builder of Babylon, creeping on the earth, devouring grass like oxen, until his nails had grown like bird’s claws, and his hair like eagle’s feathers. Pride made the boaster a beast, as once before it made an angel a devil. God hates arrogant looks, and never fails to bring them down. All the arrows of God are aimed at proud hearts. O Christian, is your heart haughty this evening? For pride can get into the Christian’s heart as well as into the sinner’s; it can delude him into dreaming that he is “rich and increased in goods, and has need of nothing.” Are you glorying in your spiritual gifts or your talents? Are you proud of yourself, that you have had had holy upbringing and special experiences? Mark yourself, reader, there is a destruction coming to you also. Your pompous flowers of self-conceit will be pulled up by the roots, your mushrooming fortunes will wither in the burning heat, and your self-sufficiency shall become as straw for the compost pile. If we forget to live at the foot of the cross in deepest lowliness of spirit, God will not forget to make us sting under his rod. A destruction will come to you, O unjustifiably exalted believer, the destruction of your joys and of your comforts, though there can be no destruction of your soul. Therefore, “He that glories, let him glory in the Lord.”

Morning, March 6, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“You must be born again.” — John 3:7

Regeneration is a subject which lies at the very basis of salvation, and we should be very diligent to take note that we really are “born again,” for there are many who imagine they are who are not. Be assured that the name of Christian is not the nature of a Christian; and that being born in a Christian home, and being recognized as professing the Christian religion is of no avail whatever, unless there is something more added to it—that thing spoken of here, being “born again,” which is a matter so mysterious, that human words cannot describe it. “The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Nevertheless, it is a change which is known and felt: known by works of holiness, and felt by experiencing grace. This great work is supernatural. It is not an operation which a man performs for himself: a new principle is infused, which works in the heart, renews the soul, and affects the entire man. It is not a change of my name, but a renewal of my nature, so that I am not the man I used to be, but a new man in Christ Jesus. To wash and dress a corpse is a far different thing from making it alive: man can do the one, God alone can do the other. If you have then, been “born again,” your acknowledgment will be, “O Lord Jesus, everlasting Father, you are my spiritual Parent; unless your Spirit had breathed into me the breath of a new, holy, and spiritual life, I would have been to this day dead in trespasses and sins. My heavenly life is wholly derived from you; to you I credit it. My life is hidden with Christ in God.  It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.” May the Lord enable us to be confident on this vital point, for to be unregenerate is to be unsaved, unpardoned, without God, and without hope.

Evening, March 5, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Say to my soul, ‘I am your salvation.’” — Psalm 35:3

What does this precious prayer teach me? It shall be my evening’s petition; but first let it yield me instructive meditation. The text informs me first, that David had his doubts; for why should he pray, “Say to my soul, I am your salvation,” if he were not sometimes disturbed with doubts and fears? Let me, then, be of good cheer, for I am not the only believer who has to complain of weakness of faith. If David doubted, I do not need to conclude that I am no Christian because I have doubts. The text reminds me that David was not content while he had doubts and fears, but he returned at once to the mercy seat to pray for reassurance; for he valued it as much fine gold. I too must labor after an abiding sense of my acceptance in the Beloved, and will have no joy when his love is not dispersed throughout my soul. When my Bridegroom is gone from me, my soul must and will fast. I also learn that David knew where to obtain full reassurance. He went to his God in prayer, crying, “Say to my soul, I am your salvation.” I must often be alone with God if I would have a clear sense of Jesus’ love. If my prayers cease, my eye of faith will grow dim. Much in prayer, much in heaven; slow in prayer, slow in progress. I notice that David would not be satisfied unless his assurance had a divine source. “Say to my soul.” Lord, do you say it! Nothing short of a divine testimony in the soul will ever satisfy the true Christian. Moreover, David could not rest unless his assurance had a dynamic personality about it. “Say to my soul, I am your salvation.” Lord, if you should say this to all believers, it would be as nothing, unless you should say it to me. Lord, I have sinned; I do not deserve your smile; I scarcely dare to ask it; but oh, say to my soul, even to my soul, “I am your salvation!” Let me have a present, personal, infallible, indisputable sense that I am yours, and that you are mine.

Morning, March 5, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Let us not sleep, as others do.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:6

There are many ways of encouraging Christian wakefulness. Among the rest, let me strongly advise Christians to converse together concerning the ways of the Lord. In Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian and Hopeful, as they journeyed towards the Celestial City, said to themselves, “To prevent drowsiness in this place, let us fall into good discourse.” Christian inquired, “Brother, where shall we begin?” And Hopeful answered, “Where God began with us.” Then Christian sang this song–

“When saints do sleepy grow, let them come hither,

And hear how these two pilgrims talk together;

Yea, let them learn of them, in any wise,

Thus to keep open their drowsy slumb’ring eyes.

Saints’ fellowship, if it be managed well,

Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell.”

Christians who isolate themselves and walk alone, are very liable to grow drowsy. Hold Christian company, and you will be kept wakeful by it, and refreshed and encouraged to make quicker progress in the road to heaven. But as you therefore take “sweet counsel” with others in the ways of God, take care that the theme of your conversation is the Lord Jesus. Let the eye of faith be constantly looking to him; let your heart be full of him; let your lips speak of his worth. Friend, live near to the cross, and you will not sleep. Labor to impress yourself with a deep sense of the value of the place to which you are going. If you remember that you are going to heaven, you will not sleep on the road. If you think that hell is behind you, and the devil pursuing you, you will not dawdle. Would the manslayer sleep with the avenger of blood behind him, and the city of refuge before him? Christian, will you sleep while the pearly gates are open—the songs of angels waiting for you to join them—a crown of gold ready for you head? In no way! In holy fellowship continue to watch and pray that you do not enter into temptation.

Evening, March 4, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“They drink their fill of the abundance of Your house.” — Psalm 36:8

Sheba’s queen was amazed at the extravagance of Solomon’s table. She lost all heart when she saw the provision of a single day; and she marveled equally at the company of servants who feasted at the royal table. But what is this compared to the hospitalities of the God of grace? Ten thousand thousand of his people are daily fed; hungry and thirsty, they bring large appetites with them to the banquet, but not one of them returns unsatisfied; there is enough for each, enough for all, enough for evermore. Though the host that feed at Jehovah’s table is countless as the stars of heaven, yet each one has his portion of meat. Think how much grace one believer requires, so much that nothing but the Infinite could supply him for one day; and yet the Lord spreads his table, not only for one, but many believers, not for one day, but for many years; not for many years only, but for generation after generation. Observe the full banquet spoken of in the text, the guests at mercy’s banquet are satisfied; no, more “abundantly satisfied;” and that not with ordinary fare, but with richness, the peculiar richness of God’s own house; and such feasting is guaranteed by a faithful promise to all those children of men who put their trust under the shadow of Jehovah’s wings. I once thought if I might just get the scraps of meat at God’s back door of grace I should be satisfied; like the woman who said, “The dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from the master’s table;” but no child of God is ever served with scraps and leftovers; like Mephibosheth, they all eat from the king’s own table. In matters of grace, we all have Benjamin’s serving—we all have ten times more than we could have expected, and though our necessities are great, yet we are often amazed at the marvelous wealth of grace which God gives us experientially to enjoy.

Morning, March 4, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“My grace is sufficient for you.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

If none of God’s people were suffering poverty and trials, we would not know half as well the comfort of divine grace. When we find the wanderer who has nowhere to lay his head, yet who can say, “Still will I trust in the Lord;” when we see the homeless starving on bread and water, who still glories in Jesus; when we see the bereaved widow overwhelmed in affliction, and yet having faith in Christ, oh, what honor it reflects on the gospel! God’s grace is illustrated and magnified in the poverty and trials of believers. Christians bear up under every discouragement, believing that all things work together for their good, and that out of apparent evil a real blessing shall ultimately spring—that their God will either work deliverance for them speedily, or most certainly support them in the trouble, as long as he is pleased to keep them in it. This patience of the believers proves the power of divine grace. There is a lighthouse out at sea: when it is a calm night, I cannot tell whether the edifice is firm; but when the tempest rages about it, then I shall know whether it will stand. So it is with the Spirit’s work: if it were not on many occasions surrounded with tempestuous waters, we should not know that it was true and strong; if the winds did not blow upon it, we should not know how firm and secure it was. The masterworks of God are those men who stand in the midst of difficulties, steadfast, immovable—

“Calm mid the bewildering cry,

Confident of victory.”

He who would glorify his God must set his expectations to meet with many trials. No man can be illustrious before the Lord unless he endures many conflicts. If then, yours is a very difficult path, rejoice in it, because you will show forth the all-sufficient grace of God all the better. As for his failing you, never dream of it—hate the thought. The God who has been sufficient until now, should be trusted to the end.

Evening, March 3, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He saw the Spirit of God descending as a dove.” — Matthew 3:16

As the Spirit of God descended upon the Lord Jesus, the head of the church, so the Spirit also, in a lesser measure, descends upon the members of the mystical body. His descent is to us in the same fashion as that in which it fell upon our Lord. There is often an extraordinary rapidity about it; before we are aware, we are impelled onward and heavenward beyond all expectation. Yet there is none of the hurry of earthly haste, for the wings of the dove are as soft as they are swift. Quietness seems essential to many spiritual processes; the Lord is in the still small voice, and like the dew, his grace is refined in silence. The dove has always been the chosen symbol of purity, and the Holy Spirit is holiness itself. Where he comes, everything that is pure and lovely, and of good report, is made to thrive, and sin and uncleanness depart. Peace reigns also where the Holy Dove comes with power; he bears the olive branch which shows that the waters of divine wrath are quieted. Gentleness is a sure result of the Sacred Dove’s transforming power; hearts touched by his benign influence are meek and lowly from now and forever. Harmlessness follows, as a matter of course; eagles and ravens may hunt their prey—the turtledove can endure wrong, but cannot inflict it. We must be harmless as doves. The dove is an appropriate picture of love, the voice of the turtledove is full of affection; and so, the soul visited by the blessed Spirit, abounds in love to God, in love to the brethren, and in love to sinners; and above all, in love to Jesus. The movement of the Spirit of God upon the face of the deep first produced order and life; and in our hearts, he causes and fosters new life and light. Blessed Spirit, as you did rest upon our dear Redeemer, even so rest upon us from this time forward and forever.

Morning, March 3, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tested [chosen] you in the furnace of affliction.” — Isaiah 48:10, 12

Comfort yourself, troubled believer, with this thought: God says, “I have chosen you in the furnace of affliction.” Does not the word come like a soft shower, easing the fury of the flame? Is it not like asbestos armor against which the heat has no power? Let affliction come—God has chosen me. Poverty, you may stride in my door, but God is in the house already, and he has chosen me. Sickness, you may intrude, but I have a salve ready—God has chosen me. Whatever befalls me in this valley of tears, I know that he has “chosen” me. If, believer, you require still greater comfort, remember that you have the Son of Man with you in the furnace. In that silent chamber of yours, there sits by your side One whom you have not seen, but whom you love; and often when you do not know it, he makes your bed in your affliction, and smooths your pillow for you. You are in poverty; but in that lonely house of yours the Lord of life and glory is a frequent visitor. He loves to come into these desolate places, that he may visit you. Your friend sticks closely to you. You cannot see him, but you may feel the touch of his hands. Do you not hear his voice? Even in the valley of the shadow of death he says, “Fear not, I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God.” Remember that noble speech of Caesar to his boat’s pilot: “Fear not, you carry Caesar and all his fortune.” Fear not, Christian; Jesus is with you. In all your fiery trials, his presence is both your comfort and safety. He will never leave one whom he has chosen for his own. “Fear not, for I am with you,” is his sure word of promise to his chosen ones in the “furnace of affliction.” Will you not, then, take a tight hold of Christ, and say–

“Through floods and flames, if Jesus lead,

I’ll follow where he goes.”

Evening, March 2, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“To me, the very least of all saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unfathomable riches of Christ.” — Ephesians 3:8

The apostle Paul felt it to be a great privilege to be allowed to preach the gospel. He did not look upon his calling as drudgery, but he entered upon it with intense delight. Yet while Paul was therefore thankful for his office, his success in it greatly humbled him. As a shipping vessel becomes fuller, the deeper it sinks in the water. Loafers may indulge in a fond conceit of their abilities, because they are untested; but the earnest worker soon learns his own weakness. If you seek humility, try hard work; if you would know your nothingness, attempt some great thing for Jesus. If you would feel how utterly powerless you are apart from the living God, attempt especially the great work of proclaiming the unfathomable riches of Christ, and you will know, as you never knew before, what a weak and unworthy thing you are. Although the apostle therefore knew and confessed his weakness, he was never confused as to the subject of his ministry. From his first sermon to his last, Paul preached Christ, and nothing but Christ. He lifted up the cross, and extolled the Son of God who bled on it. Follow his example in all your personal efforts to spread the glad tidings of salvation, and let “Christ, and him crucified” be your forever recurring theme. The Christian should be like those lovely spring flowers which, when the sun is shining, open their golden cups, as if saying, “Fill us with your beams,” but when the sun is hidden behind a cloud, they close their cups and droop their heads. So also, should the Christian feel the precious influence of Jesus; Jesus must be his sun, and he must be the flower which yields itself to the Sun of Righteousness. Oh, to speak of Christ alone, this is the subject which is both “seed to the sower and bread for food!” This is the God-given fire for the lips of the speaker, and the master key to the heart of the hearer.

Morning, March 2, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“So all Israel went down to the Philistines, each to sharpen his plowshare, his mattock, his axe, and his hoe.” — 1 Samuel 13:20

We are engaged in a great war with the Philistines of evil. Every weapon within our reach must be used. Preaching, teaching, praying, giving, all must be brought into action, and talents which have been thought too common for service, must now be employed. Hoe, and axe, and pickaxe, may all be useful in slaying Philistines; rough tools may deal hard blows, and killing does not need to be elegantly done, so long as it is done effectively. Each moment of time, in season or out of season; each fragment of ability, educated or untutored; each opportunity, favorable or unfavorable, must be used, for our foes are many and our numbers are small.

Most of our tools need sharpening; we need quickness of perception, tact, energy, promptness: in a word, complete adaptation for the Lord’s work. Practical common sense is a very scarce thing among the performers of Christian enterprises. We might learn from our enemies if possible, and so make the Philistines sharpen our weapons. This morning let us note enough to sharpen our passion during this day by the aid of the Holy Spirit. See the energy of cultists: how they compass land and sea to make one follower; are they to monopolize all the industriousness? Note the many devotees of other religions, what tortures they endure in the service of their idols! Are they alone to exhibit patience and self-sacrifice? Observe the prince of darkness, how persevering in his endeavors, how unabashed in his attempts, how daring in his plans, how thoughtful in his plots, how energetic in all! The devils are united as one in their infamous rebellion, while we believers in Jesus are divided in our service of God, and scarcely ever work with unanimity. O that from Satan’s infernal industry we may learn to go about like good Samaritans, seeking whom we may bless!

Evening, March 1, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God.” — 1 Corinthians 2:12

Dear reader, have you received the spirit which is of God, fashioned by the Holy Spirit in your soul? The necessity of the work of the Holy Spirit in the heart may be clearly seen from the fact that all which has been done by God the Father, and by God the Son, will be ineffective to us, unless the Spirit reveals these things to our souls. What effect does the doctrine of election have upon any man until the Spirit of God enters into him? Election is a dead letter in my consciousness until the Spirit of God calls me out of darkness into marvelous light. Then through my calling, I see my election, and knowing myself to be called of God, I know myself to have been chosen in His eternal purpose. A covenant was made with the Lord Jesus Christ, by his Father; but what does that covenant avail to us until the Holy Spirit brings us its blessings, and opens our hearts to receive them? There hang the blessings on the nail—Christ Jesus; but being short of stature, we cannot reach them; the Spirit of God takes them down and hands them to us, and this way they become actually ours. Covenant blessings in themselves are like the manna in the skies, far out of mortal reach, but the Spirit of God opens the windows of heaven and scatters the living bread around the camp of the spiritual Israel. Christ’s finished work is like wine stored in the wine vat; through unbelief we can neither draw nor drink. The Holy Spirit dips our vessel into this precious wine, and then we drink; but without the Spirit we are as truly dead in sin as though the Father never had elected, and though the Son had never bought us with his blood. The Holy Spirit is absolutely necessary to our well-being. Let us walk lovingly towards him and tremble at the thought of grieving him.

Morning, March 1, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I have drawn you with lovingkindness.” — Jeremiah 31:3

The thunder of the law and the terror of judgment are all used to bring us to Christ; but the final victory is realized by lovingkindness. The prodigal set out to his father’s house from a sense of need; but his father saw him a great way off, and ran to meet him; so that the last steps he took towards his father’s house were with the kiss still warm upon his cheek, and the welcome still ringing musically in his ears.

“Law and terrors do but harden

All the while they work alone;

But a sense of blood-bought pardon

Will dissolve a heart of stone.”

The Master came one night to the door, and knocked with the iron hand of the law; the door shook and trembled upon its hinges; but the man piled every piece of furniture which he could find against the door, for he said, “I will not admit the man.” The Master turned away, but eventually he came back, and with his own soft hand, using that part  where the nail had penetrated, he knocked again–oh, so softly and tenderly. This time the door did not shake, but, strange to say, it opened, and there upon his knees the once unwilling host was found rejoicing to receive his guest. “Come in, come in; you have knocked so that the depths of my being are moved for you. I could not think of your pierced hand leaving its mark of blood on my door, and of you going away houseless, your head covered in dew, and your locks with the mist of the night.’ I yield, I yield, your love has won my heart.” So in every case, loving kindness wins the day. What Moses with the tablets of stone could never do, Christ does with his pierced hand. Such is the doctrine of effective calling. Do I understand it experientially? Can I say, “He drew me, and I followed on, glad to confess the divine voice?” If so, may he continue to draw me, until at last I shall sit down at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

Evening, February 28, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The bowl of flour was not exhausted nor did the jar of oil become empty, according to the word of the Lord which He spoke through Elijah.” — 1 Kings 17:16

See the faithfulness of divine love. You observe that this woman had daily necessities. She had herself and her son to feed in a time of famine; and now, in addition, the prophet Elijah was to be fed too. But though the need was threefold, the supply of meal did not fail, for she had a constant supply. Each day she made visits to the barrel, but yet each day it remained the same. You, dear reader, have daily necessities, and because they come so frequently, you are apt to fear that the barrel of meal will one day be empty, and the jar of oil will fail you. Rest assured that, according to the Word of God, this shall not be the case. Each day, though it brings its trouble, shall bring its help; and though you should live to outnumber the years of Methuselah, and though your needs should be as many as the sands of the seashore, yet shall God’s grace and mercy last through all your necessities, and you shall never know a real lack. For three long years, in this widow’s days, the heavens never saw a cloud, and the stars never wept a holy tear of dew upon the wicked earth: famine, and desolation, and death, made the land a howling wilderness, but this woman never was hungry, but always joyful in abundance. So shall it be with you. You shall see the sinner’s hope perish, for he trusts his native strength; you shall see the proud Pharisee’s confidence totter, for he builds his hope upon the sand; you shall see even your own schemes blasted and withered, but you yourself shall find that  the fortress of rocks shall be your place of defense: “Your bread shall be given you, and your water shall be sure.” Better to have God for your guardian, than the Bank of England as your possession. You might spend the wealth of the Indies, but you can never exhaust the infinite riches of God .

Morning, February 28, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“My soul, wait in silence for God only, For my hope [expectation, KJV] is from Him.” — Psalm 62:5

It is the believer’s privilege to use this language. If he is expecting anything at all from the world, it is a poor “expectation” indeed. But if he looks to God for the supply of his needs, whether in temporal or spiritual blessings, his expectation will not be a hopeless one. Constantly he may draw from the bank of faith, and get his need supplied out of the riches of God’s lovingkindness. This I know, I would rather have God for my banker than all the Rothschilds. My Lord never fails to honor his promises; and when we bring them to his throne, he never sends them back unanswered. Therefore, I will wait only at his door, for he always opens it with the hand of generous grace. At this hour I will try him anew. But we have expectations and hopes beyond this life. We shall die soon; and then our “hope is from him.” Do we not expect that when we lie upon the bed of sickness he will send angels to carry us to his embrace? We believe that when the pulse is faint, and the heart heaves heavily, some angelic messenger shall stand and look with loving eyes upon us, and whisper, “Sister spirit, come away!” As we approach the heavenly gate, we expect to hear the welcome invitation, “Come, you who are blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.” We are expecting harps of gold and crowns of glory; we are hoping soon to be among the assembly of shining ones before the throne; we are looking forward and longing for the time when we shall be like our glorious Lord–for “We shall see him as he is.” Then if these are your expectations and hope, O my soul, live for God; live with the desire and resolve to glorify him from whom comes all your supplies, and of whose grace in your election, redemption, and calling you receive an expectation and hope of coming glory.

Evening, February 27, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“His goings forth are from long ago, from the days of eternity.” — Micah 5:2

The Lord Jesus had gone forth for his people as their representative before the throne, long before they appeared upon the stage of time. It was “from the days of eternity” that he signed the compact with his Father, that he would pay blood for blood, suffering for suffering, agony for agony, and death for death, in the behalf of his people; it was “from the days of eternity” that he gave himself up without murmuring a word. It was “from the days of eternity” that he might sweat great drops of blood from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, that he might be spit upon, pierced, mocked, torn asunder, and crushed beneath the pains of death. His goings forth as our Surety, our guaranteed substitute, were from everlasting. Pause, my soul, and wonder! You have goings forth in the person of Jesus “from everlasting.” Not only when you were born into the world did Christ love you, but his delight was in the sons of men before there were any sons of men. Often did he think of them; from everlasting to everlasting he had set his affection upon them. What! My soul, has he been concerned so long about your salvation, and will not he accomplish it? Has he from everlasting been going forth to save me, and will he lose me now? What! Has he carried me in his hand, as his precious jewel, and will he now let me slip from between his fingers? Did he choose me before the mountains were brought forth, or the channels of the deep were dredged, and will he reject me now? Impossible! I am sure he would not have loved me so long if he had not been a changeless Lover. If he could grow weary of me, he would have been tired of me long before now. If he had not loved me with a love as deep as hell, and as strong as death, he would have turned from me long ago. Oh, joy above all joys, to know that I am his everlasting and inalienable inheritance, given to him by his Father before the earth ever was! Everlasting love shall be the pillow for my head this night.

Morning, February 27, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“For you have made the Lord, my refuge, even the Most High, your dwelling place.” — Psalm 91:9

The Israelites in the wilderness were continually exposed to change. Whenever the pillar of fire stopped its motion, the tents were pitched; but the next day, before the morning sun had risen, the trumpet sounded, the ark was in motion, and the fiery, cloudy pillar was leading the way through the narrow passes of the mountain, up the hill side, or along the arid wasteland of the wilderness. They had barely time to rest a little before they heard the sound of “Away! This is not your rest; you must still be onward journeying towards Canaan!” They were never long in one place. Even wells and palm trees could not detain them. Yet, they had an abiding home in their God; his cloudy pillar was their canopy of shade, and its flame their household fire by night. They must go onward from place to place, continually changing, never having time to settle, and to say, “Now we are secure; in this place we shall dwell.” “Yet,” says Moses, “though we are always changing, Lord, you have been our dwelling-place throughout all generations.” The Christian knows no change with respect to God. He may be rich today and poor tomorrow; he may be ailing today and well tomorrow; he may be in happiness today, tomorrow he may be distressed—but there is no change regarding his relationship to God. If he loved me yesterday, he loves me today. My blessed Lord is my unmoving mansion of rest. Let prospects decay; let hopes be blasted; let joy be withered; let mildew destroy everything; I have lost nothing of what I have in God. He is “my rock of habitation to which I may continually come.” I am a pilgrim in the world, but at home in my God. In the earth I wander, but in God I dwell in a quiet habitation.

Evening, February 26, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Behold, if the leprosy has covered all his body, he shall pronounce clean him who has the infection.” — Leviticus 13:13

As strange enough as this regulation appears, there was wisdom in it, for the completion of the course of the disease proved that the constitution was sound. This evening it may be well for us to see the symbolic teaching of so curious a rule. We, too, are lepers, and may read the law of the leper as applicable to ourselves. When a man sees himself to be altogether lost and ruined, covered all over with the defilement of sin, and in no part free from pollution; when he disclaims all righteousness of his own, and pleads guilty before the Lord, then he is clean through the blood of Jesus, and the grace of God. Hidden, unfelt, unconfessed iniquity is the true leprosy; but when sin is seen and felt, it has received its deathblow, and the Lord looks with eyes of mercy upon the soul afflicted with it. Nothing is deadlier than self-righteousness, or more hopeful than contrition. We must confess that we are “nothing else but sin,” for no confession short of this will be the whole truth; and if the Holy Spirit is at work with us, convicting us of sin, there will be no difficulty about making such an acknowledgment—it will spring spontaneously from our lips. What comfort the text affords to truly awakened sinners! The exact circumstance which so grievously discouraged them is here turned into a sign and symptom of a hopeful state! Nakedness comes before clothing; digging out the foundation is the first thing in building—and a thorough sense of sin is one of the earliest works of grace in the heart. O you poor leprous sinner, utterly destitute of a single clean spot, take heart from the text, and come as you are to Jesus—

“For let our debts be what they may, however great or small,

As soon as we have nought to pay, our Lord forgives us all.

‘Tis perfect poverty alone that sets the soul at large:

While we can call one mite our own, we have no full discharge.”

Morning, February 26, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Salvation is of the Lord.” — Jonah 2:9

Salvation is the work of God. It is he alone who enlivens the soul “dead in trespasses and sins,” and it is he also who maintains the soul in its spiritual life. He is both “Alpha and Omega.” “Salvation is of the Lord.” If I am prayerful, God makes me prayerful; if I have virtues, they are God’s gifts to me; if I hold on in a consistent life, it is because he upholds me with his hand. I do nothing whatever towards my own preservation, except what God himself first does in me. Whatever I have, all my goodness, is of the Lord alone. Where I sin, that is my own; but where I act rightly, that is of God, wholly and completely. If I have repulsed a spiritual enemy, the Lord’s strength braced my arm. Do I live a consecrated life before men? It is not I, but Christ who lives in me. Am I sanctified? I did not cleanse myself: God’s Holy Spirit sanctifies me. Am I weaned from the world? I am weaned by God’s discipline sanctified to my good. Do I grow in knowledge? The great Instructor teaches me. All my jewels were fashioned by heavenly artistry. I find all that I want in God; but I find in myself nothing but sin and misery. “Only He is my rock and my salvation.” Do I feed on the Word? That Word would be no food for me unless the Lord made it food for my soul, and helped me to feed upon it. Do I live on the manna which comes down from heaven? What is that manna but Jesus Christ himself incarnate, with whose body and whose blood I commune? Am I continually receiving a fresh increase of strength? Where do I gather my might? My help comes from heaven’s hills: without Jesus I can do nothing. As a branch cannot bring forth fruit of itself except it abides in the vine, no more can I, except I abide in him. What Jonah learned in the great depths, let me learn this morning in my prayer closet: “Salvation is of the Lord.”

Evening, February 25, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“But Jonah rose up to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. So he went down to Joppa.” — Jonah 1:3

Instead of going to Nineveh to preach the Word, as God bid him to, Jonah disliked the work, and went down to Joppa to escape from it. There are occasions when God’s servants shrink from duty. But what is the consequence? What did Jonah lose by his conduct? He lost the presence, comfort and enjoyment of God’s love. When we serve our Lord Jesus as believers should do, our God is with us; and though we have the whole world against us, if we have God with us, what does it matter? But the moment we start back, and seek our own imaginations, we are at sea without a pilot. Then may we bitterly lament and groan out, “O my God, where have you gone? How could I have been so foolish as to shun thy service, and in this way to lose all the bright radiance of your face? This is a price too high. Let me return to my allegiance, that I may rejoice in thy presence.” In addition, Jonah lost all peace of mind. Sin soon destroys a believer’s comfort. It is the poisonous Upas tree, from whose leaves distil deadly drops which destroy the life of joy and peace. Jonah lost everything upon which he might have drawn for comfort in any other case. He could not plead the promise of divine protection, for he was not in God’s ways; he could not say, “Lord, I encounter these difficulties in the discharge of my duty, therefore help me through them.” He was reaping his own deeds; he was filled with his own ways. Christian, do not play the Jonah, unless you wish to have all the waves and the breakers rolling over your head. You will find in the long run that it is far harder to shun the work and will of God than to at once yield yourself to it. Jonah lost his time, for he had to go to Nineveh after all. It is hard to contend with God; let us yield ourselves at once.

Morning, February 25, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The wrath to come.” — Matthew 3:7

It is pleasant to pass through the country after a storm has spent itself; to smell the freshness of the foliage after the rain has passed away, and to note the drops while they glisten like purest diamonds in the sunlight. That is the position of a Christian. He is going through a land where the storm has spent itself upon his Savior’s head, and if there are still a few drops of sorrow falling, they form from clouds of mercy, and Jesus encourages him by the assurance that they are not for his destruction. But how terrible is it to witness the approach of a tornado: to note the forewarnings of the storm; to mark the birds of the sky as they droop their wings; to see the cattle as they lay their heads low in terror; to discern the face of the sky as it grows black, and look to the sun which ceases shining, and the skys which are angry and frowning! How terrible it is to await the dread advance of a hurricane—such as occurs, sometimes, in the tropics—to wait in terrible apprehension until the wind rushes forth in fury, tearing up trees from their roots, forcing rocks from their beds, and hurling down all the dwelling places of man! And yet, sinner, this is your present position. No hot drops have as yet fallen, but a shower of fire is coming. No terrible winds howl around you, but God’s tempest is gathering its dread artillery. As yet, the floodwaters are dammed up by mercy, but the floodgates shall soon be opened: the thunderbolts of God are yet in his storehouse, but look, the tempest hastens, and how awful shall be that moment when God, robed in vengeance, shall march forth in fury! Where, where, where, O sinner, will you hide your head, or where will you flee? O that the hand of mercy may now lead you to Christ! He is freely set before you in the gospel: his gashed side is the rock of shelter. You know your need of him; believe in him, cast yourself upon him, and then the fury shall be passed over forever.

Evening, February 24, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Then the angel of the Lord said, “O Lord of hosts, how long will You have no compassion for Jerusalem … the Lord answered the angel who was speaking with me with gracious words, comforting words.” — Zechariah 1:12-13

What a wonderful answer to an anxious question! This night let us rejoice in it. O Zion, there are good things in store for you; your time of struggle shall soon be over; your children shall be brought forth; your captivity shall end. Bear patiently the rod for a season, and under the darkness still trust in God, for his love burns towards you. God loves the church with a love too deep for human imagination: he loves her with all his infinite heart. Therefore, let her sons be of good courage; she cannot be far from prosperity to whom God speaks “gracious words and comforting words.” The prophet goes on to tell us what these comforting words are: “I am jealous for Jerusalem and for Zion with a great jealousy.” The Lord loves his church so much that he cannot bear that she should go astray to others; and when she has done so, he cannot endure that she should suffer too much or too profoundly. He will not have his enemies afflict her: he is displeased with them because they increase her misery. When God seems to have left his church, his heart is still warm towards her. History shows that whenever God uses a rod to discipline his servants, he always breaks it afterwards, as if he loathed the rod which gave his children pain. “Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.” God has not forgotten us because he smites us—his blows are not evidence of a lack of love. If this is true of his church collectively, it is of necessity true also of each individual member. You may fear that the Lord has passed you by, but it is not so: he who counts the stars, and calls them by their names, is in no danger of forgetting his own children. He knows your case as thoroughly as if you were the only creature he ever made, or the only believer he ever loved. Approach him and be at peace.

Morning, February 24, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And I will cause showers to come down in their season; they will be showers of blessing.” — Ezekiel 34:26

Here is sovereign mercy: “I will cause showers to come down in their season.” Is it not sovereign, divine mercy, for who can say, “I will cause showers,” except God? There is only one voice which can speak to the clouds, and bid them produce the rain. Who sends down the rain upon the earth? Who scatters the showers upon the green foliage? Do not “I, the Lord?” So, grace is the gift of God, and is not to be created by man. It is also grace greatly needed. What would the ground do without showers? You may break up the clods, you may sow your seeds, but what can you do without the rain? The divine blessing is absolutely necessary.  In vain you labor, until God gives the abundant shower, and sends salvation down. Then, it is abundant grace. “I will send them showers.” It does not say, “I will send them raindrops,” but “showers.” So it is with grace. If God gives a blessing, he usually gives it in such a measure that there is not room enough to receive it. Abundant grace! Ah! We want abundant grace to keep us humble, to make us prayerful, to make us holy; abundant grace to make us passionate, to preserve us through this life, and at last to land us in heaven. We cannot do without saturating showers of grace. Again, it is seasonable grace. “I will cause showers to come down in their season.” What is your season this morning? Is it the season of drought? Then that is the season for showers. Is it a season of great heaviness and black clouds? Then that is the season for showers. “As your days so shall your strength be.” And here is a varied blessing. “I will give you showers of blessing.” The word is in the plural. God will send all kinds of blessings. All God’s blessings go together, like links in a golden chain. If he gives grace to convert, he will also give grace to comfort. He will send “showers of blessing.” Look up today, O parched plant, and open your leaves and flowers for a heavenly watering.

Evening, February 23, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“One thing you lack: go and sell all you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, [take up your cross, KJV] follow Me.” — Mark 10:21 (“Take up his cross and follow Me.” — Matthew 16:24)

You are not the maker of your own cross, although unbelief is a master carpenter at cross-making; neither are you permitted to choose your own cross, although self-will would gladly be lord and master; but your cross is prepared and appointed for you by divine love, and you are to accept it cheerfully; you are to take up the cross as your chosen badge and burden, and not to stand objecting to it.

This night Jesus bids you submit your shoulder to his easy yoke. Do not kick at it in petulance, or trample on it in self-conceit, or fall under it in despair, or run away from it in fear, but take it up like a true follower of Jesus. Jesus was a cross-bearer; he leads the way in the path of sorrow. Surely you could not desire a better guide! And if he carried a cross, what nobler burden would you desire? The Way of the Cross is the way of safety; do not fear to tread its thorny paths.

Beloved, the cross is not made of feathers, or lined with velvet; it is heavy and vexing to disobedient shoulders; but it is not an iron cross. Though your fears have painted it with iron colors, it is a wooden cross, and a man can carry it, for the Man of sorrows tried the load. Take up your cross, and by the power of the Spirit of God you will soon be so in love with it, that like Moses, you would not exchange the reproach of Christ for all the treasures of Egypt. Remember that Jesus carried it, and it will smell agreeably; remember that it will soon be followed by the crown, and the thought of the coming weight of glory will greatly lighten the present heaviness of trouble. May the Lord help you to bow your spirit in submission to the divine will so as not to fall asleep this night; that waking with tomorrow’s sun, you may go forth to the day’s cross with the holy and submissive spirit which becomes a follower of the Crucified.

Morning, February 23, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you.” — Hebrews 13:5

No promise is of personal interpretation. Whatever God has said to any one believer, he has said to all. When he opens a well for one, it is so that all may drink. When he opens a storehouse to give out food, there may be some single starving man who is the reason for it being opened, but all hungry believers may come and eat too. Whether he gave the word to Abraham or to Moses, does not matter, O believer; he has given it to you as one of the covenanted descendants. There is not a great blessing too lofty for you, nor a wide mercy too broad for you. Now lift up your eyes to the north and to the south, to the east and to the west, for all this is yours. Like Moses, climb to Pisgah’s top, and view the utmost limit of the divine promise, for the land is all your own. There is not a brook of living water of which you may not drink. If the land flows with milk and honey, eat the honey and drink the milk, for both are yours. Be bold to believe, for he has said, “I will never desert you, nor forsake you.” In this promise, God gives to his people everything. “I will never desert you.” Then no attribute of God can cease to be engaged for us. Is he mighty? He will show himself strong on the behalf of them that trust him. Is he love? Then with lovingkindness will he have mercy upon us. Whatever attributes may compose the character of Deity, every one of them to its fullest extent shall be engaged on our side. To put everything in one declaration, there is nothing you can want, there is nothing you can ask for, there is nothing you can need in time or in eternity, there is nothing living, nothing dying, there is nothing in this world, nothing in the next world, there is nothing now, nothing at the resurrection morning, nothing in heaven which is not contained in this text—”I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you.”

Evening, February 22, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The Lord is slow to anger, and great in power.” — Nahum 1:3

Jehovah “is slow to anger.” When mercy comes into the world she drives winged stallions; the axles of her chariot-wheels are red hot with speed; but when wrath goes forth, it labors on with measured footsteps, for God takes no pleasure in the sinner’s death. God’s rod of mercy is always outstretched in his hands; his sword of justice is in its sheath, held down by that pierced hand of love which bled for the sins of men. “The Lord is slow to anger,” because he is great in power. He is truly great in power who has power over himself. When God’s power does restrain himself, then it is power indeed: the power that binds omnipotence is omnipotence surpassed. A man who has a strong mind can bear to be insulted a long time, and only resents the wrong when a sense of right demands his action. The weak mind is irritated at little: the strong mind bears it like a rock which does not move, though a thousand breakers crash upon it, and cast their pathetic malice in spray upon its summit. God marks his enemies, and yet he does not rouse himself, but holds in his anger. If he were less divine than he is, he would long before this have sent forth the whole of his thunderous power, and emptied the magazines of heaven; he would long before this have blasted the earth with the incredible fires of its lower regions, and man would have been utterly destroyed; but the greatness of his power brings us mercy. Dear reader, what is your state this evening? Can you by humble faith look to Jesus, and say, “My substitute, you are my rock, my trust”? Then, beloved, do not be afraid of God’s power; for by faith you have fled to Christ for refuge, and the power of God no more need terrify you than the shield and sword of the warrior would terrify those whom he loves. Rather rejoice that he who is “great in power” is your Father and Friend.

Morning, February 22, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“But his bow remained firm, and his arms were agile, from the hands of the Mighty One of Jacob.” — Genesis 49:24

God gives strength to his “Josephs” which is real strength; it is not a claimed valor, a fiction, a thing of which men talk, but which is just smoke; it is true—it is divine strength. Why does Joseph stand against temptation? Because God gives him aid. There is nothing that we can do without the power of God. All true strength comes from “the mighty God of Jacob.” Notice in what a blessedly familiar way God gives this strength to Joseph–“his arms were agile, from the hands of the Mighty One of Jacob.” Thus, God is pictured as putting his hands on Joseph’s hands, placing his arms on Joseph’s arms. Like as a father teaches his children, so the Lord teaches all that fear him. He puts his arms upon them. How marvelous it is that God descends to man; God Almighty, Eternal, Omnipotent, reaches down from his throne and lays his hand upon the child’s hand, stretching his arm upon the arm of Joseph, that he may be made strong! This strength was also covenant strength, for it is attributed to “the mighty God of Jacob.” Now, wherever you read of the God of Jacob in the Bible, you should remember the covenant with Jacob. Christians love to think of God’s covenant. All the power, all the grace, all the blessings, all the mercies, all the comforts, all the things we have, flow to us from the wellhead, through the covenant. If there were no covenant, then we should fail for sure; for all grace proceeds from it, as light and heat from the sun. No angels ascend or descend, except upon that ladder which Jacob saw, at the top of which stood a covenant God. Christian, it may be that the archers have sorely tormented you, and shot at you, and wounded you, but still your bow abides in strength; be sure, then, to assign all the glory to Jacob’s God.

Evening, February 21, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Do you understand what you are reading?” — Acts 8:30

We should be competent teachers of others, and less prone to be carried about by every wind of doctrine, if we seek to have a more intelligent understanding of the Word of God. As the Holy Spirit is the Author of the Scriptures and it is he alone who can enlighten us correctly to understand them, we should constantly seek his teaching, and his guidance into all truth. When the prophet Daniel went to interpret Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, what did he do? He set himself to pray earnestly that God would open up the vision. The apostle John, in his vision at Patmos, saw a book sealed with seven seals which none was found worthy to open, or so much as to look upon. The book was afterwards opened by the Lion of the tribe of Judah, who had triumphed to open it; but it is written first of John—”I wept much.” The tears of John, which were his liquid prayers, acted—so far as he was concerned—as the divine keys by which the folded book was opened. Therefore, if for your own and others’ profit, you desire to be “filled with the knowledge of God’s will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding,” remember that prayer is your best means of study. Like Daniel, you shall understand the dream, and its interpretation, when you have sought God; and like John you shall see the seven seals of precious truth unloosed, after you have wept much. Stones are not broken, except by a skilled and wise use of the hammer; and the stonemason must go down on his knees. Use the hammer of diligence, and let the bowed knee of prayer be employed, and there is no stony doctrine yet unrevealed which is useful for you to understand, that will not fly into fragments under the exercise of prayer and faith. You may force your way through anything with the leverage of prayer. Thoughts and reasoning are like the steel wedges which give a hold upon truth; but prayer is the lever, the pry tool which forces open the iron chest of divine mystery, that we may get the treasure hidden within.

Morning, February 21, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“He Himself has said.” — Hebrews 13:5

If we can only grasp these words by faith, we have an all-conquering weapon in our hand. What doubt will not be slain by this two-edged sword? What fear is there which shall not fall stricken with a deadly wound before this arrow from the bow of God’s covenant? Will not the distresses of life and the pangs of death; will not the corruption within, and the traps without; will not the trials from above, and the temptations from beneath, all seem but light afflictions, when we can hide ourselves beneath the fortress wall of “He has said?” Yes; whether for enjoyment in our peacefulness, or for strength in our conflict, “He has said” must be our daily assertion. And this may teach us the extreme value of searching the Scriptures. There may be a promise in the Word which would exactly fit your case, but you may not know of it, and therefore you miss its comfort. You are like prisoners in a dungeon, and there may be one key on the keychain which would unlock the door, and you might be free; but if you will not look for it, you may remain a prisoner still, though liberty is so near at hand. There may be a effective medicine in the great pharmacopoeia of Scripture, and you may yet continue in sickness unless you will examine and search the Scriptures to discover what “He has said.” Should you not, besides reading the Bible, fill your memories richly with the promises of God? You can recollect the sayings of great men; you treasure up the verses of renowned poets; should you not be skilled in your knowledge of the words of God, so that you may be able to quote them readily when you would overcome a difficulty, or cast away a doubt? Since “He has said” is the source of all wisdom, and the fountain of all comfort, let it dwell in you richly, as “A well of water, springing up unto everlasting life.” In this shall you grow healthy, strong, and happy in the divine life.

Evening, February 20, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” — Matthew 4:1

A holy character does not forestall temptation—Jesus was tempted. When Satan tempts us, his sparks fall upon tinder; in Christ’s case, it was like striking sparks on water, but the enemy continued his evil work. Now, if the devil goes on striking when there is no result, how much more will he do it when he knows what inflammable stuff our hearts are made of? Though you may become greatly sanctified by the Holy Spirit, expect that the great dog of hell will bark at you still. In the haunts of men we expect to be tempted, but even seclusion will not guard us from the same trial. Jesus Christ was led away from human society into the wilderness, and was tempted of the devil. Solitude has its charms and its benefits, and may be useful in checking the lust of the eye and the pride of life, but the devil will follow us into the most lovely retreats. Do not suppose that it is only the worldly-minded who have dreadful thoughts and blasphemous temptations, for even spiritual-minded persons endure the same; and in the holiest position we may suffer the darkest temptation. The greatest consecration of spirit will not insure you against Satanic temptation. Christ was consecrated through and through. It was his meat and drink to do the will of him that sent him: and yet he was tempted! Your hearts may glow with an angelic flame of love to Jesus, and yet the devil will try to bring you down to Laodicean lukewarmness. If you will tell me when God permits a Christian to lay aside his armor, I will tell you when Satan has ended temptation. Like the old knights in war time, we must sleep with helmet and breastplate buckled on, for the arch-deceiver will seize our first unguarded hour to make us his prey. May the Lord keep us watchful in all seasons, and give us a final escape from the jaw of the lion and the paw of the bear.

Evening, February 19, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

 “He found first his own brother Simon” — John 1:41

This case is an excellent example of all cases where spiritual life is vigorous. As soon as a man has found Christ, he begins to find others. I will not believe that you have tasted of the honey of the gospel if you can eat it all yourself. True grace puts an end to all spiritual monopoly. Andrew first found his own brother Simon, and then others. Relationship has a very strong demand upon our first individual efforts. Andrew, you did well to begin with Simon. I do not doubt that there are some Christians giving away tracts at other people’s houses who would do well to give away a tract at their own—whether there are not some engaged in works of usefulness abroad who are neglecting their special sphere of usefulness at home. You may or may not be called to evangelize the people in any particular locality, but certainly you are called to see after your own co-workers, your own family and acquaintances. Let your religion begin at home. Many tradesmen export their best commodities—the Christian should not. He should have his conversation everywhere be of the best flavor; but let him have a care to put forth the sweetest fruit of spiritual life and testimony in his own family. When Andrew went to find his brother, he could not have imagined how important Simon would become. Simon Peter was worth ten Andrews so far as we can gather from sacred history, and yet Andrew was instrumental in bringing him to Jesus. You may be very deficient in talent yourself, and yet you may be the means of drawing to Christ one who shall become prominent in grace and service. Ah, dear friend, you little know the possibilities which are in you! You may only speak a word to a child, and in that child there may be slumbering a noble heart which shall stir the Christian church in years to come. Andrew, like the man in the parable. has only two talents, but he finds Peter. Go you and do likewise.

Morning, February 19, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Thus says the Lord God, “This also I will let the house of Israel ask Me to do for them.” — Ezekiel 36:37

Prayer is the forerunner of mercy. Turn to church history, and you will find that rarely ever did a great mercy come to this world not preceded by supplication. You have found this true in your own personal experience. God has given you many an unsolicited favor, but still great prayer has always been the prelude of great mercy with you. When you first found peace through the blood of the cross, you had been praying much, and earnestly interceding with God that he would remove your doubts, and deliver you from your distress. Your assurance was the result of prayer. When at any time you have had high and ecstatic joys, you have been obliged to look upon them as answers to your prayers. When you have had great deliverances out of sore troubles, and mighty helps in great dangers, you have been able to say, “I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears.” Prayer is always the preface to blessing. It goes before the blessing as the blessing’s shadow. When the sunlight of God’s mercy rises upon our necessities, it casts the shadow of prayer far down upon the plain. Or, to use another illustration, when God piles up a hill of mercy, he himself shines behind it, and he casts on our spirits the shadow of prayer, so that we may rest certain, if we are much in prayer, our intercessions foreshadow mercy. Prayer is thus connected with the blessing to show us the value of it. If we had the blessings without asking for them, we should think them common things; but prayer makes our mercies more precious than diamonds. The things we ask for are precious, but we do not realize their preciousness until we have sought for them earnestly.

“Prayer makes the darken’d cloud withdraw;

Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw;

Gives exercise to faith and love;

Brings every blessing from above.”

Evening, February 18, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Father, I have sinned.” — Luke 15:18

It is quite certain that those whom Christ has washed in his precious blood do not need make a confession of sin as offenders or criminals before God the Judge, for Christ has forever taken away all their sins in a legal sense. They no longer stand where they can be condemned, but are once for all accepted in the Beloved; but having become children, and offending as children will, should they not go every day before their heavenly Father and confess their sin, and acknowledge their childish iniquity? Nature teaches that it is the duty of stumbling children to make a confession to their earthly father, and the grace of God in our heart teaches us that we, as Christians, owe the same duty to our heavenly Father. We offend daily, and should not rest without asking pardon daily. For, supposing that my trespasses against my Father are not taken to him at once to be washed away by the cleansing power of the Lord Jesus, what will be the consequence? If I have not sought forgiveness and been washed from these offenses against my Father, I shall feel at a distance from him; I shall doubt his love for me; I shall tremble before him; I shall be afraid to pray to him: I shall grow like the prodigal, who, although still a child, was yet far off from his father. But if, with a child’s sorrow at offending so gracious and loving a Parent, I go to him and tell him all, and do not rest till I realize that I am forgiven, then I shall feel a holy love for my Father, and shall go through my Christian career, not only as saved, but as one enjoying present peace in God through Jesus Christ my Lord. There is a wide distinction between confessing sin as an offender, and confessing sin as a child. The Father’s embrace is the place for contrite confessions. We have been cleansed once for all, but our feet still need to be washed from the defilement of our daily walk as children of God.

Morning, February 18, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

 “Let me know why You contend with me.” — Job 10:2

Perhaps, O frustrated one, the Lord is doing this to develop your godly virtues. There are some of your virtues which would never be discovered if it were not for your trials. Do not you know, that your faith never looks so grand in summer weather as it does in winter? Love is too often like a glowworm, showing little light except it in the midst of surrounding darkness. Hope itself is like a star—not to be seen in the sunshine of prosperity, and only to be discovered in the night of adversity. Afflictions are often the black background in which God sets the jewels of his children’s virtues, to make them shine forth better. It was just a little while ago that on your knees you were saying, “Lord, I fear I have no faith: let me know that I have faith.” Was not this really, though perhaps unconsciously, praying for trials? For how can you know that you have faith until your faith is implemented? Depend upon it; God often sends us trials that our virtues may be discovered, and that we may be certain of their existence. Besides, it is not merely discovery, real growth in grace is the result of sanctifying trials. God often takes away our comforts and our privileges in order to make us better Christians. He trains his soldiers, not in tents of ease and luxury, but by turning them out and putting them to forced marches and hard service. He makes them ford through streams, and swim through rivers, and climb mountains, and walk many a long mile wearing heavy backpacks of sorrow. Well, Christian, might this not account for the troubles through which you are passing? Is not the Lord bringing out your virtues, and making them grow? Is not this the reason why he is contending with you?

“Trials make the promise sweet;

Trials give new life to prayer;

Trials bring me to his feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.”

Evening, February 17, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Although the Lord was there.” — Ezekiel 35:10

Edom’s princes saw the whole country left desolate, and counted upon its easy conquest; but there was one great difficulty in their way—quite unknown to them—it was that “The Lord was there;” and in his presence lay the special security of the chosen land. Whatever may be the maneuvers and devices of the enemies of God’s people, there is still the same effective barrier to thwart their design. The believers are God’s heritage, and he is in the midst of them, and will protect his own. What comfort this assurance yields us in our troubles and spiritual conflicts! We are constantly opposed, and yet perpetually preserved! How often Satan shoots his arrows against our faith, but our faith defies the power of hell’s fiery darts; they are not only turned aside, but they are quenched upon its shield, for “the Lord is there.” Our good works are the subjects of Satan’s attacks. A believer never yet had a virtue or a gift which was not the target for hellish bullets: whether it was hope, bright and sparkling, or love, warm and fervent, or patience, all-enduring, or passion flaming like coals of fire, the old enemy of everything that is good has tried to destroy it. The only reason why anything virtuous or lovely survives in us is this: “the Lord is there.”

If the Lord is with us through life, we need not fear for our confidence when dying; for when we come to die, we shall find that “the Lord is there;” where the billowing waves are most turbulent, and the water is most chill, we shall feel the bottom, and know that all is good: our feet shall stand upon the Rock of Ages when time is passing away. Beloved, from the first day of a Christian’s life to the last, the only reason why he does not perish is because “the Lord is there.” When the God of everlasting love shall change his promise and leave his elect to perish, then may the Church of God be destroyed; but not till then, because it is written, Jehovah Shammah, “The Lord is there.”

Morning, February 17, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Isaac lived by Beer-lahai-roi.” — Genesis 25:11

Hagar had once found deliverance; there and Ishmael had drunk from the water so graciously revealed by the God who lives and sees the sons of men; but this was a merely casual visit, such as the worldly-minded pay to the Lord in times of need, when it serves their turn. They cry to him in trouble, but forsake him in prosperity. Isaac dwelt there, and made the well of the living and all-seeing God his constant source of supply. The usual tenor of a man’s life, the dwelling of his soul, is the true test of his state. Perhaps the providential visitation experienced by Hagar struck Isaac’s mind, and led him to revere the place; its mystical name endeared it to him; his frequent musings by its bank at evening made him familiar with the well; his meeting Rebecca there had made his spirit feel at home near the spot; but best of all, the fact that he there enjoyed fellowship with the living God, had made him select that holy ground for his dwelling. Let us learn to live in the presence of the living God; let us pray to the Holy Spirit that this day, and every other day, we may feel, “You, God, see me.” May the Lord Jehovah be like a well to us, delightful, comforting, unfailing, springing up to eternal life. The bottle of man’s design cracks and dries up, but the well of the Creator never fails; he is happy who dwells at the well, and so has abundant and constant supplies near at hand. The Lord has been a sure helper to others: his name is Shaddai, All-sufficient God; our hearts have often had most delightful communion with him; through him our soul has found her glorious Husband, the Lord Jesus; and in him this day we live, and move, and have our being; let us, then, dwell in closest fellowship with him. Glorious Lord, impel us that we may never leave you, but dwell by the well of the living God.

Evening, February 16, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

 “Your good Spirit.” — Nehemiah 9:20

Common — too common — is the sin of forgetting the Holy Spirit. This is foolishness and ungratefulness. He deserves to be treated well at our hands, for he is good, supremely good. As God, he is the essence of good. He shares in the threefold attribution of Holy, Holy, Holy, which rises in praise to the Triune Jehovah. He is unadulterated purity, and truth, and grace. He is compassionately good, tenderly bearing with our waywardness, striving with our rebellious wills; enlivening us from our death in sin, and then training us for the skies as a loving nurse fosters her child. How generous, forgiving, and tender is this patient Spirit of God. He is good in every operation. All his works are good in the most eminent degree: he suggests good thoughts, prompts good actions, reveals good truths, applies good promises, assists in good attainments, and leads to good results. There is no spiritual good in all the world of which he is not the author and sustainer, and heaven itself will owe the perfect character of its redeemed inhabitants to his work. He is officially good; whether as Comforter, Instructor, Guide, Sanctifier, Life-Giver, or Intercessor, he fulfils his office well, and each work is brimming with the highest good to the church of God. They who yield to his influences become good, they who obey his impulses do good, they who live under his power receive good. Let us then act towards so good a person according to the dictates of gratitude. Let us revere his person, and adore him as God over all, blessed forever; let us own his power, and our need of him by waiting upon him in all our holy enterprises; let us hourly seek his aid, and never grieve him; and let us speak praise to him whenever an occasion occurs. The church will never prosper until it believes more reverently in the Holy Spirit. He is so good and kind, that it is sad indeed that he should be grieved by rebuffs and negligence.

Morning, February 16, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am.” — Philippians 4:11

These words show us that contentment is not a natural tendency of man. Noxious weeds grow quickly. Greed, dissatisfaction, and complaining are as natural to man as thorns are to the soil. We do not need to plant thistles and brambles; they come up naturally enough, because they are native to earth: and likewise, we do not need to teach men to complain; they complain fast enough without any education.

But the precious things of the earth must be cultivated. If we would have wheat, we must plow and sow; if we want flowers, there must be a garden, and all the gardener’s care. Now, contentment is one of the flowers of heaven, and if we would have it, it must be cultivated; it will not grow in us by nature; it is the new nature alone that can produce it, and even then, we must be especially careful and watchful that we maintain and cultivate the grace which God has sown in us. Paul says, “I have learned to be content;” as much as to say, he did not know how at one time. It cost him some pains to attain to the mystery of that great truth. No doubt he sometimes thought he had learned, and then broke down. And when at last he had accomplished it, and could say, “I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am,” he was an old, grey-headed man, upon the borders of the grave—a poor prisoner shut up in Nero’s dungeon at Rome. We may need to be willing to endure Paul’s infirmities, and share the cold dungeon with him, if we too might by any means attain to his good degree. Do not indulge the notion that you can be contented without learning, or learn without discipline. It is not a power that may be exercised naturally, but a science to be acquired gradually. We know this from experience. Brother, hush that complaint, though it comes naturally, and continue as a diligent pupil in the College of Contentment.

Evening, February 15, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“All Your garments are fragrant with myrrh and aloes and cassia; out of ivory palaces stringed instruments have made You glad.” — Psalm 45:8

And who is this, privileged to make the Savior glad? It is his church—his people. But is it possible? He makes us glad, but how can we make him glad? Ah! By our love, though we think it so cold, and so faint; and so it is, indeed; we must sorrowfully confess it to be, but it is very precious to Christ. Hear his own tribute of that love in the Golden Canticle, Solomon’s Song of Songs: “How beautiful is your love, my sister, my bride! How much better is your love than wine!” See, loving heart, how he delights in you. When you lean your head in his embrace, you not only receive, but you give him joy; when you gaze with love upon his fully glorious face, you not only obtain comfort, but impart delight. Our praise, too, gives him joy—not the song from our lips alone, but the melody of our heart’s deep gratitude. Our gifts, too, are very pleasant to him; he loves to see us lay our time, our talents, our resources upon the altar, not for the value of what we give, but for the sake of the motive from which the gift springs. To him the lowly offerings of his people are more acceptable than thousands of piles of gold and silver. Holiness is like frankincense and myrrh to him. Forgive your enemy, and you make Christ glad; distribute of your substance to the poor, and he rejoices; be the instrument of saving souls, and you show him the results of the travail of his soul; proclaim his gospel, and you are a sweet savor unto him; go among the unenlightened and lift up the cross, and you have given him honor. It is in your power even now to break the alabaster box, and pour the precious oil of joy upon his head, as did the woman of old, whose memorial is to this day set forth wherever the gospel is preached. Will you step backward then? Will you not anoint your beloved Lord with the myrrh and aloes, and cassia, of your heart’s praise? Yes, you ivory palaces, you shall hear the songs of the redeemed!