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

“To Him be the glory, both now and to the day of eternity.” — 2 Peter 3:18

Heaven will be full of the ceaseless praise of Jesus. Eternity! Your unnumbered years shall speed along their everlasting course, but forever and forever, “to him be the glory.” Is he not a “Priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek?” “To him be the glory.” Is he not king forever? Is he not King of kings and Lord of lords, the everlasting Father? “To him be the glory forever.” His praises shall never cease. That which was bought with blood deserves to last while immortality endures. The glory of the cross must never be eclipsed; the luster of his grave and of his resurrection must never be dimmed. O Jesus! You shall be praised forever. As long as immortal spirits live—as long as the Father’s throne endures—forever, forever, to you shall be glory. Believer, you are anticipating the time when you shall join the believers above in ascribing all glory to Jesus; but are you glorifying him now? The apostle’s words are, “To him be glory both now and to the day of eternity.” Will you make it your prayer this day? “Lord, help me to glorify you; I am poor; help me to glorify you by contentment; I am sick; help me to give you honor by patience; I have talents; help me to extol you by spending them for you; I have time; Lord, help me to redeem it, that I may serve you; I have a heart; Lord, let that heart feel no love but yours, and glow with no flame but affection for you; I have a mind; Lord, help me to think of you and for you. You have put me in this world for something; Lord, show me what that is, and help me to work out my life purpose. I cannot do much; but as the widow put in her two pennies, which were all her living, so, Lord, I cast my time and eternity also into your treasury. I am all yours; take me, and enable me to glorify you now, in all that I say, in all that I do, and with all that I have.”

Evening, February 14, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“She had been immediately healed.” — Luke 8:47

One of the most touching and instructive miracles of the Savior is before us tonight. The woman was very ignorant. She imagined that virtue came out of Christ by a law of necessity, without his knowledge or direct will. Moreover, she was a stranger to the generosity of Jesus’ character, or she would not have crept behind to steal the cure which he was so ready to give. Misery should not attempt to hide, but should always place itself right in the face of mercy. Had she known the love of Jesus’ heart, she would have said, “I have only to put myself where he can see me—his omniscience will show him my case, and his love immediately will perform my cure.” We admire her faith, but we marvel at her ignorance. After she had obtained the cure, she rejoiced with trembling: she was glad that divine virtue had produced a miracle in her; but she feared in case Christ should retract the blessing, and negate the grant of his grace: little did she comprehend the fullness of his love! We do not have as clear a view of him as we could wish; we do not know the heights and depths of his love; but we know without a doubt that he is too good to withdraw from a trembling soul the gift which it has been able to obtain.

But here is the marvel of it: as little as was her knowledge, her faith, because it was real faith, saved her, and saved her at once. There was no tedious delay—faith’s miracle was instantaneous. If we have faith as a grain of mustard seed, salvation is our present and eternal possession. If in the list of the Lord’s children we are noted as the weakest of the family, yet, being heirs through faith, no power, human or demonic, can eject us from salvation. If we do not dare lean our heads into his embrace along with John, still yet, if we can venture into the multitude behind him, and touch the hem of his garment, we are made whole. Courage, timid one! Your faith has saved you; go in peace. “Being justified by faith, we have peace with God.”

Morning, February 14, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“And for his allowance, a regular allowance was given him by the king, a portion for each day, all the days of his life.” — 2 Kings 25:30

Jehoiachin was not sent away from the king’s palace with a amount to last him for months, but his provision was given him as a daily pension. This is a good picture of the happy position of all the Lord’s people. A daily portion is all that a man really wants. We do not need tomorrow’s supplies; that day has not yet dawned, and its needs are not yet birthed. The thirst which we may suffer in the month of June does not need to be quenched in February, for we do not feel it yet; if we have enough for each day as the days arrive we shall never know want. Provision sufficient for the day is all that we can enjoy. We cannot eat or drink or wear more than the day’s supply of food and clothing; the surplus gives us the care of storing it, and the anxiety of watching against a thief. One walking stick aids a traveler, but a bundle of sticks is a heavy burden. A sufficient meal is not only as good as a feast, but is all that the greatest glutton can truly enjoy. This is all that we should expect; a craving for more than this is ungrateful. When our Father does not give us more, we should be content with his daily allowance. Jehoiachin’s case is like ours; we have an assured portion, a portion given us by the king, a gracious portion, and a everlasting portion. Surely, here is ground for thankfulness.

Beloved Christian reader, in matters of grace you need a daily supply. You have no store of strength. Day by day must you seek help from above. It is a very precious assurance that a daily portion is provided for you. In the word, from the ministry, by meditation, in prayer, and waiting upon God you shall receive renewed strength. In Jesus all things needed are laid up for you. Then enjoy your continual allowance. Never go hungry while the daily bread of grace is on the table of mercy.

Evening, February 13, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Therefore there is now no condemnation.” — Romans 8:1

Come, my soul, think of this. Believing in Jesus, you are literally and effectively cleared from guilt; you are led out of your prison. You are no longer in chains as a bond slave; you are delivered now from the bondage of the law; you are freed from sin, and can walk at large as a freed man; your Savior’s blood has obtained your full discharge. You have a right now to approach your Father’s throne. No flames of vengeance are there to scare you now, no fiery sword; justice cannot strike the innocent. Your disabilities are taken away: you were once unable to see your Father’s face: you can see it now. You could not speak with him: but now you have access, even with boldness. Once there was a fear of hell upon you; but you have no fear of it now, for how can there be punishment for those without guilt? He who believes is not condemned, and cannot be punished. And more than all, the privileges you might have enjoyed, if you had never sinned, are yours now that you are justified. All the blessings which you would have had if you had kept the law—and more—are yours, because Christ has kept the law for you. All the love and the acceptance which perfect obedience could have obtained of God, belong to you, because Christ was perfectly obedient on your behalf, and has counted all his merits to your account, that you might be exceedingly rich through him, who for your sake became exceedingly poor. Oh! how great the debt of love and gratitude you owe to your Savior!

“A debtor to mercy alone,

Of covenant mercy I sing;

Nor fear with thy righteousness on,

My person and offerings to bring:

The terrors of law and of God,

With me can have nothing to do;

My Savior’s obedience and blood

Hide all my transgressions from view.”

Morning, February 13, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are. For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him.  Beloved, now we are children of God. — 1 John 3:1-2

“See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us.” Consider who we were, and what we feel ourselves to be even now when corruption is prevailing in us, and you will wonder at our adoption. Yet we are called “the children of God.” What an honored relationship is that of a son, and what privileges it brings! What care and tenderness the son expects from his father, and what love the father feels towards the son! But all that, and more than that, we now have through Christ. As for the temporary drawback of suffering with Jesus our elder brother, this we accept as an honor: “For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him.” We are content to be unknown with him in his humiliation, for we are to be exalted with him. “Beloved, now we are children of God.” That is easy to read, but it is not so easy to feel. How is it with your heart this morning? Are you in the lowest depths of sorrow? Does corruption rise within your spirit, and grace seem like a poor spark trampled underfoot? Does your faith almost fail you? Do not fear, it is neither your virtues nor feelings on which you are to live: you must live simply by faith in Christ. With all these things against us, now—in the very depths of our sorrow, wherever we may be—now, as much in the valley as on the mountain, “Beloved, now we are children of God.” “Ah, but,” you say, “see how I am situated! My virtues are not bright; my righteousness does not shine with any apparent glory.” But read the next part of this verse: “It has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him.” The Holy Spirit shall purify our minds, and divine power shall refine our bodies; then shall we see him as he is.

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

“I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Helper, that He may be with you forever.” — John 14:16

Our Great Father revealed himself to believers of old before the coming of his Son, and was known to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as the God Almighty. Then Jesus came, and the Son, blessed forever in his own identifiable person, was the delight of his people’s eyes. At the time of the Redeemer’s ascension, the Holy Spirit became the head of the present dispensation, and his power was magnificently manifested in and after Pentecost. He remains at this hour the present Immanuel—God with us, dwelling in and with his people, enlivening, guiding, and ruling in their midst. Is his presence recognized as it ought to be? We cannot control his actions; he is truly sovereign in all his operations, but are we sufficiently anxious to obtain his help, or sufficiently watchful in case we provoke him to withdraw his aid?

Without him we can do nothing, but by his almighty energy the most extraordinary results can be produced: everything depends upon him manifesting or concealing his power. Do we always look up to him both for our inner life and our outward service with the respectful dependence which is fitting? Do we too often run before his call and act independently of his aid? Let us humble ourselves this evening for past neglect, and now implore the heavenly dew to rest upon us, the sacred oil to anoint us, the celestial flame to burn within us. The Holy Spirit is no temporary gift; he abides with believers. We have only to seek him faithfully, and he will be found of us. He is jealous, but he is full of pity for us; if he leaves in anger, he returns in mercy. Reaching down to us tenderly, he does not weary of us, but awaits to be gracious still.

Sin has been hammering my heart

Unto a hardness, void of love,

Let supplying grace to cross his art

Drop from above.

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

“For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.” — 2 Corinthians 1:5

There is a blessed relationship between suffering and comfort. In his foreseeing care, The Ruler of Providence bears a pair of scales–in this side he puts his people’s trials, and in that he puts their comforts. When the scale of trial is nearly empty, you will always find the scale of comfort in nearly the same condition; and when the scale of trial is full, you will find the scale of comfort just as heavy. When the black clouds gather most, the light is the more brightly revealed to us. When the night lowers and the storm is coming on, the Heavenly Captain is always closest to his crew. It is a blessed thing, that when we are most cast down, it is then that we are most lifted up by the comfort of the Spirit. One reason is because trials make more room for comfort. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our heart—he finds it full—he begins to break down our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man remains, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it. Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles, is this–then we have the closest dealings with God. When the barn is full, man can live without God: when the purse is bursting with gold, we try to do without so much prayer. But once our comforts are taken away, we want our God; once the idols are cleansed out of the house, then we are compelled to honor the Lord. “Out of the depths have I cried to you, O Lord.” There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains; no prayer half as hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence, they bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, do not fret over your heavy troubles, for they are the messengers of  a great weight of mercy to come.

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

“You have left your first love.” — Revelation 2:4

That best and brightest of hours, forever to be remembered, is when first we saw the Lord, lost our burden, received the record of promise, rejoiced in our complete salvation, and went on our way in peace. It was springtime in the soul; the winter was past; the judgmental muttering of Sinai’s thunder was hushed; the flashing of its lightning was no longer perceived; God was regarded as reconciled with us; the law threatened no vengeance, justice demanded no punishment.

Then the flowers appeared in our heart; hope, love, peace, and patience sprung from the sod; the hyacinth of repentance, the snowdrop of pure holiness, the crocus of golden faith, the daffodil of early love, all decked the garden of the soul. The time of the singing of birds was come, and we rejoiced with thanksgiving; we worshipped the holy name of our forgiving God, and our resolve was, “Lord, I am yours, wholly yours; all I am, and all I have, I would devote to you. You have bought me with your blood—let me spend myself and be spent in your service. In life and in death let me be consecrated to you.”

How well have we kept this resolve? Our pact of love burned with a holy flame of devotion to Jesus—is it the same now? Might not Jesus possibly say to us, “I have this against you, that you have left your first love?” Alas! It is little we have done for our Master’s glory. Our winter has lasted all too long. We are as cold as ice when we should feel a summer’s glow and bloom with holy flowers. We give to God pence when he deserves pounds; indeed, he deserves our heart’s blood to be coined in the service of his church and of his truth. But shall we continue this way? O Lord, after you have so richly blessed us, shall we be ungrateful and become indifferent to your good cause and work? O enliven us, that we may return to our first love, and do our first works! Send us a welcoming spring, O Sun of Righteousness.

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

“They were amazed, and began to recognize them as having been with Jesus.” — Acts 4:13

A Christian should be a striking likeness of Jesus Christ. You have read stories of the life of Christ, beautifully and eloquently written, but the best life of Christ is his living biography, written out in the words and actions of his people. If we were what we profess to be, and what we should be, we should be images of Christ; indeed, such striking likenesses of him, that the world would not have compare us for hours together, and say, “Well, it seems somewhat of a likeness;” but they would, when they once observed us, exclaim, “He has been with Jesus; he has been taught of him; he is like him; he has caught the very idea of the holy Man of Nazareth, and he works it out in his life and everyday actions.” A Christian should be like Christ in his boldness. Never be embarrassed to claim your religion; your profession will never disgrace you: take care you never disgrace your profession. Be like Jesus, be very valiant for your God. Imitate him in your loving spirit; think kindly, speak kindly, and do kindly, that men may say of you, “He has been with Jesus.”

Imitate Jesus in his holiness. Was he passionate for his Master? So then, should you be; always be going about doing good. Do not waste time: it is too precious. Was he self-denying, never looking to his own interest? Be the same. Was he devout? Be fervent in your prayers. Did he defer to his Father’s will? Likewise, submit yourselves to him. Was he patient? So, learn to endure. And best of all, as the highest portraiture of Jesus, try to forgive your enemies, as he did; and let those inspirational words of your Master, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing,” always ring in your ears. Forgive, as you hope to be forgiven. Heap coals of fire on the head of your enemy by your kindness to him. Returning good for evil, remember, is godlike. Be godlike, then; and in all ways and by all methods, live in such a way that all may say of you, “He has been with Jesus.”

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

“I have wiped out your transgressions like a thick cloud and your sins like a heavy mist. Return to Me, for I have redeemed you.” — Isaiah 44:22

Closely observe the instructive comparison: our sins are like a cloud. As clouds are of many shapes and shades, so are our transgressions. As clouds obscure the light of the sun, and darken the landscape beneath, so do our sins hide from us the light of the Lord’s face, and cause us to sit in the shadow of death. They are things born of earth, and rise from the miry places of our nature; and when collected so that their measure is full, they threaten us with storm and tempest. Unfortunately, unlike clouds, our sins yield us no friendly showers, but rather threaten to deluge us with a fiery flood of destruction. O you black clouds of sin, how can it be fair weather with our souls while you remain?

Let our joyful eye dwell upon the notable act of divine mercy—”blotting out.” God himself appears upon the scene, and in Godly gentleness, instead of manifesting his anger, reveals his grace: he at once and forever effectively removes the damage, not by blowing away the cloud, but by blotting it out from existence once for all. Against the justified man no sin remains; the great transaction of the cross has eternally removed his transgressions from him. On Calvary’s summit the great deed, by which the sin of all the chosen was forever put away, was completely and effectively performed.

In practice, let us obey the gracious command, “return to me.” Why should pardoned sinners live at a distance from their God? If we have been forgiven all our sins, let no legal fear withhold us from the boldest access to our Lord. Let backslidings be lamented, but let us not persevere in them. Desiring the greatest possible nearness of communion with the Lord, let us, in the power of the Holy Spirit, strive mightily to return to Him. O Lord, this night, restore us!

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

“I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity.” — Philippians 4:12

There are many who know “how to get along with humble means ” who have not learned “how to live in prosperity.” When they are set upon the top of a pinnacle their heads grow dizzy, and they are ready to fall. The Christian disgraces his profession of faith far more often in prosperity than in adversity. It is a dangerous thing to be prosperous. The crucible fire of adversity is a less severe trial to the Christian than the refining pot of prosperity. Oh, what shallowness of soul and neglect of spiritual things have been brought on through the very abundance gifted by God! Yet this is not a matter of necessity, for the apostle tells us that he knew how to abound. When he had much he knew how to use it. Abundant grace enabled him to bear abundant prosperity. When he had full wind and sail he was sailing while loaded with much ballast, and so floated safely. It needs more than human skill to carry the brimming cup of human happiness with a steady hand, yet Paul had learned that skill, for he declares, “In any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry.” It is a divine lesson to know how to be full, for the Israelites were full once, but while the quail meat was still in their mouths, the wrath of God came upon them. Many have asked for favor and rewards that they might satisfy their own hearts’ lust. Fulness of bread has often created fulness of passion, and that has brought on depravity of spirit. When we have much of God’s provision and abundance, it often happens that we have but little of God’s grace, and little gratitude for the gifts we have received. We are full and we forget God: satisfied with things of earth, we are content to do without heaven. Rest assured it is harder to know how to be full than it is to know how to be hungry–so desperate is the tendency of human nature to pride and forgetfulness of God. Take care that you ask in your prayers that God would teach you “how to be full.”

“Let not the gifts thy love bestows

Estrange our hearts from thee.”

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

“And lead us not into temptation.” — Luke 11:4

That which we are taught to seek or shun in prayer, we should equally pursue or avoid in action. Therefore we should very earnestly avoid temptation, seeking to walk so guardedly in the path of obedience, that we may never tempt the devil to tempt us. We are not to enter the thickest jungle in search of the lion. We might pay dearly for such presumption. This lion may cross our path or leap upon us from the bush, but we have nothing to do with hunting him. He that meets with him, even though he wins the day, will find it a stern struggle. Let the Christian pray that he may be spared the encounter. Our Savior, who had experience of what temptation meant, thus earnestly admonished his disciples–“Pray that you enter not into temptation.”

But whatever we do, we shall be tempted; henceforth the prayer “deliver us from evil.” God had one Son without sin; but he has no son without temptation. The natural man is born to trouble as a campfire’s sparks fly upwards, and the Christian man is born to temptation just as certainly. We must be always on our watch against Satan, because, like a thief, he gives no warning of his approach. Believers who have had experience of the ways of Satan, know that there are certain seasons when he will most likely make an attack, just as at certain seasons bleak winds may be expected; therefore the Christian is put on a double guard by apprehension of danger, and the danger is averted by preparing to meet it. Prevention is better than cure: it is better to be so well armed that the devil will not attack you, than to endure the perils of the fight, even though you come off a conqueror. Pray this evening first that you may not be tempted, and next that if temptation be permitted, you may be delivered from the evil one.

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

“David inquired of the Lord.” — 2 Samuel 5:23

When David made this inquiry, he had just fought the Philistines, and gained a noteworthy victory. The Philistines came up in great armies, but, by the help of God, David had easily put them to flight. Note, however, that when they came a second time, David did not go up to fight them without inquiring of the Lord. Once he had been victorious, and he might have said, as many have in other cases, “I shall be victorious again; I may rest quite assured that if I have conquered once I shall triumph yet again. Why should I take time to seek from the Lord’s hands?” But David was not of that mind. He had gained one battle by the strength of the Lord; he would not venture upon another until he had ensured the same. He inquired, “Shall I go up against them?” He waited until God’s sign was given. Learn from David to take no step without God. Christian, if you wish to know the path of duty, take God for your compass; if you would steer your ship through the dark, raging ocean, put the tiller into the hand of the Almighty. If we would let our Father take the helm many a rock might be avoided; we might well evade many a shoal or sandbar, if we would leave the choice and command to his sovereign will. The Puritan said, “As sure as ever a Christian carves for himself, he’ll cut his own fingers;” this is a great truth. Said another old theologian, “He that goes before the cloud of God’s providence goes on a fool’s errand;” and so he does. We must mark God’s providence— His foreseeing direction and provision— leading us; and if providence tarries, tarry until providence comes. He who goes ahead of providence, will be very glad to run back again. “I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you shall go,” is God’s promise to his people. Let us, then, take all our puzzlement to him, and say, “Lord, what would you have me to do?” Do not leave not your room this morning without inquiring of the Lord.

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

“He will save his people from their sins.” — Matthew 1:21

Many persons, if they are asked what they understand about salvation, will reply, “Being saved from hell and taken to heaven.” This is one result of salvation, but it is not one fraction of what is contained in that windfall. It is true our Lord Jesus Christ does redeem all his people from the wrath to come; he saves them from the fearful condemnation which their sins had brought upon them; but his triumph is far more complete than this. He saves his people “from their sins.” Oh, sweet deliverance from our worst foes! When Christ works a saving work, he casts Satan from his throne, and will not let him be master any longer. No man is a true Christian if sin reigns in his mortal body. Sin will be in us—it will never be utterly expelled till the spirit enters glory; but it will never have dominion. There will be a striving for dominion—a lusting contrary to the new law and the new spirit which God has implanted—but sin will never get the upper hand so as to be absolute monarch of our nature. Christ will be Master of the heart, and sin must be put to death. The Lion of the tribe of Judah shall prevail, and the dragon shall be cast out. You who profess to be a Christian; is sin subdued in you? If your life is unholy your heart is unchanged, and if your heart is unchanged you are an unsaved person. If the Savior has not sanctified you, renewed you, given you a hatred of sin and a love of holiness, he has done nothing in you of a saving character. The grace which does not make a man better than others is a worthless counterfeit. Christ saves his people, not in their sins, but from them. “Without holiness no man shall see the Lord.” “Everyone who names the name of the Lord is to abstain from wickedness.” If we are not saved from sin, how shall we hope to be counted among his people? Lord, save me now from all evil, and enable me to honor my Savior.

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

“You shall call His name Jesus.” — Matthew 1:21

When a person is beloved, everything connected with him becomes beloved for his sake. Therefore, the person of the Lord Jesus is so precious in the estimation of all true believers, that they consider everything about him to be incalculable beyond all price. “All your robes are fragrant with myrrh and aloes and cassia,” said David, as if the very garments of the Savior were so sweetened by his person that he could not but love them. It is certain that there is not a spot where that hallowed foot had trod—there is not a word which those holy lips have uttered—nor a thought which his loving Word has revealed—which is not precious to us beyond all price. And this is true of the names of Christ—they are all cherished to the believer’s ear. Whether he is called the Husband of the Church, her Bridegroom, her Friend; whether he is entitled the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world—the King, the Prophet, or the Priest—every title of our Master—Shiloh, Emmanuel, Wonderful, the Mighty Counsellor—every name is like the honeycomb dripping with honey, and delicious are the drops that collect from it. But if there is one name sweeter than another in the believer’s ear, it is the name of Jesus. Jesus! It is the name which moves the harps of heaven to melody. Jesus! The life-source of all our joys. If there is one name more charming, more precious than another, it is this name. It is woven into the very fabric of our public worship. Many of our hymns begin with it, and scarcely any, that are good for anything, end without it. It is the sum of all delights. It is the music with which the bells of heaven ring; a song in a word; an ocean’s depth for comprehension, although just a drop for brevity; a matchless opera in two syllables; a gathering up of the hallelujahs of eternity in five letters.

“Jesus, I love thy charming name,

‘Tis music to mine ear.”

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

“And they heard a loud voice from heaven saying to them, “Come up here.” — Revelation 11:12

Without considering these words in their prophetic connection, let us regard them as the invitation of our great Forerunner, Jesus, to his purified people. In due time there shall be heard “a great voice from heaven” to every believer, saying, “Come up here.” This should be to believers the subject of joyful anticipation. Instead of dreading the time when we shall leave this world to go to the Father, we should be longing for the hour of our emancipation. Our song should be—

“My heart is with him on his throne,

And ill can brook delay;

Each moment listening for the voice,

Rise up and come away.'”

We are not called down to the grave, but up to the skies. Our heaven-born spirits should long for their native air. Even so, the celestial summons should be the object of patient waiting. Our God knows best when to bid us “Come up here.” We must not wish to leave earlier than the destined period of our departure. I know that strong love will make us cry,

“O Lord of Hosts, the waves divide,

And land us all in heaven;”

but patience must have her perfect work. God ordains with accurate wisdom the most appropriate time for the redeemed to reside below. Surely, if there could be regrets in heaven, the saints might mourn that they did not live longer here to do more good. Oh, for more armfuls of souls for my Lord’s harvest! Oh, for more jewels for his crown! But how, unless there is put forth more work? True, there is the other side of it, that, living so briefly, our sins are the fewer;  but oh, when we are fully serving God, and he is allowing us to scatter precious seed, and reap a hundredfold, even we would say it is well for us to abide where we are! Whether our Master shall say “go,” or “stay,” let us be equally well pleased so long as he treats us with his presence.

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

“Arise and go, for this is no place of rest.” — Micah 2:10

The hour is approaching when the message will come to us, as it comes to all—”Arise, and go forth from the home in which you have dwelt, from the city in which you have done your business, from your family, from your friends. Arise, and take your last journey.” And what do we know of the journey? And what do we know of the country to which we are bound? We have read a little about it, and some has been revealed to us by the Spirit; but how little do we know of the realms of the future! We know that there is a black and stormy river called “Death.” God bids us to cross it, promising to be with us. And, after death, what comes? What wonder-world will open to our astonished sight? What scene of glory will be unfolded to our view? No traveler has ever returned to tell. But we know enough of the heavenly land to make us welcome our summons there with joy and gladness. The journey of death may be dark, but we may go forth on it fearlessly, knowing that God is with us as we walk through the gloomy valley, and therefore we need not fear evil. We shall be departing from all we have known and loved here, but we shall be going to our Father’s house—to our Father’s home, where Jesus is—to that royal “city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” This shall be our last journey, to dwell forever with him whom we love, amid his people, in the presence of God. Christian, meditate much on heaven, it will help you to press on, and to forget the work along the way. This valley of tears is only the pathway to the better country: this world of woe is but the stepping-stone to a world of happiness.

“Prepare us, Lord, by grace divine,

For thy bright courts on high;

Then bid our spirits rise, and join

The chorus of the sky.”

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

“Pray one for another.” — James 5:16

As an cheerful encouragement to offer intercessory prayer, remember that such prayer is the most precious God ever hears, for the prayer of Christ is of this nature. In all the incense which our Great High Priest now puts into the golden censer, there is not a single grain for himself. His intercession must be the most acceptable of all prayers—and the more our prayer is like Christ’s, the sweeter it will be. Therefore, while petitions for ourselves will be accepted, our pleading for others — that they have in them more of the fruits of the Spirit, more love, more faith, more brotherly kindness —  will be, through the precious excellency of Jesus, the sweetest offering that we can present to God, the richest of our sacrifices. Remember, again, that intercessory prayer is exceedingly effective. What wonders it has fashioned! The Word of God teems with its marvelous deeds. Believer, you have a mighty engine in your hand, use it well, use it constantly, use it with faith, and you shall surely be a benefactor to your brethren. When you have the King’s ear, speak to him for the suffering members of his body. When you are favored to draw very near to his throne, and the King says to you, “Ask, and I will give you what you will,” let your petitions be, not for yourself alone, but for the many who need his aid. If you have any grace at all, but you are not an intercessor, that grace must be small as a grain of mustard seed. You may have just enough grace to float your soul clear from the quicksand, but you have no deep floods of grace, or else you would carry in your joyous sailing ship a weighty cargo of the needs of others, and you would bring back for them from your Lord rich blessings which, but for you, they might not have obtained:

“Oh, let my hands forget their skill,

My tongue be silent, cold, and still,

This bounding heart forget to beat,

If I forget the mercy-seat!”

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

“Pray at all times.” — Ephesians 6:18

What great numbers of prayers we have put up from the first moment when we learned to pray. Our first prayer was a prayer for ourselves; we asked that God would have mercy upon us, and blot out our sin. He heard us. But when he had blotted out our sins like a cloud, then we had more prayers for ourselves. We have had to pray for sanctifying grace, for constraining and restraining grace; we have been led to implore for a fresh assurance of faith, for the secure application of the promise, for deliverance in the hour of temptation, for help in the time of duty, and for relief in the day of trial. We have been compelled to go to God for our souls, as constant beggars asking for everything. Bear witness, children of God, you have never been able to get anything for your souls anywhere else. All the bread your soul has eaten has come down from heaven, and all the water of which it has drank has flowed from the living rock—Christ Jesus the Lord. Your soul has never grown rich in itself; it has always been a pensioner depending upon the daily abundance of God; and hence your prayers have ascended to heaven for a nearly infinite range of spiritual mercies. Your wants were innumerable, and therefore the supplies have been infinitely great, and your prayers have been as varied as the mercies have been countless. Do you not then have cause to say, “I love the Lord, because he has heard the voice of my requests”? For as your prayers have been many, so also have been God’s answers to them. He has heard you in the day of trouble, has strengthened you, and helped you, even when you dishonored him by trembling and doubting at His mercy-seat. Remember this, and let it fill your heart with gratitude to God, who has accordingly graciously heard your poor weak prayers. “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.”

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

“At that time Jesus said … Yes, Father.” — Matthew 11:25-26

This is a remarkable way in which to commence a verse—”At that time Jesus answered. (KJV)” If you will look at the context you will not perceive any person asking him a question, or that he was in conversation with any human being. Yet it is written, “Jesus said, I praise you, Father.” When a man answers, he answers a person who has been speaking to him. Who, then, had spoken to Christ? his Father. Yet there is no record of it; and this should teach us that Jesus had constant fellowship with his Father, and that God spoke into his heart so often, so continually, that it was not a circumstance singular enough to be recorded. It was the habit and life of Jesus to talk with God. Even as Jesus was, in this world, so are we; let us therefore learn the lesson which this simple statement concerning him teaches us. May we likewise have silent fellowship with the Father, so that often we may answer him, and though the world knows not to whom we speak, may we be responding to that secret voice unheard of any other ear, which our own ear, opened by the Spirit of God, recognizes with joy. God has spoken to us, let us speak to God—either to set our seal that God is true and faithful to his promise, or to confess the sin of which the Spirit of God has convinced us, or to acknowledge the mercy which God’s providence has given, or to express assent to the great truths which God the Holy Spirit has opened to our understanding. What a privilege is intimate communion with the Father of our spirits! It is a secret hidden from the world, a joy with which even the nearest friend cannot meddle with. If we would hear the whispers of God’s love, our ear must be purged and fitted to listen to his voice. This very evening may our hearts be in such a state, that when God speaks to us, we, like Jesus, may be prepared at once to answer him.

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

“The Father has sent the Son to be the Savior of the world.” — 1 John 4:14

It is comforting to think that Jesus Christ did not come forth without his Father’s permission, authority, consent, and assistance. He was sent by the Father, that he might be the Savior of men. We are too apt to forget that, while there are distinctions as to the persons in the Trinity, there are no distinctions of honor. We too frequently attribute the honor of our salvation, or at least the depths of its compassion, more to Jesus Christ than we do the Father. This is a very great mistake. Yes, Jesus came? Did not his Father send him? If he spoke wondrously, did not his Father pour grace into his speech, that he might be an gifted minister of the new covenant? He who knows the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit as he should know them, never sets one before another in his love; he sees them at Bethlehem, at Gethsemane, and on Calvary, all equally engaged in the work of salvation. O Christian, have you put your confidence in the Man Christ Jesus? Have you placed your reliance solely on him? And are you united with him? Then believe that you are united to the God of heaven. Since to  Christ Jesus the Man you are a brother, and hold close fellowship, you are linked thereby with God the Eternal, and “the Ancient of days” is your Father and your friend. Did you ever consider the depth of love in the heart of Jehovah, when God the Father equipped his Son for the great enterprise of mercy? If not, let this be your day’s meditation. The Father sent him! Contemplate that subject. Think how Jesus performs what the Father wills. In the wounds of the dying Savior see the love of the great I AM. Let every thought of Jesus be also connected with the Eternal, ever-blessed God, for “the LORD was pleased to crush Him, putting Him to grief.”

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

“Your refuge from the avenger of blood.” — Joshua 20:3

It is said that in the land of Canaan, cities of refuge were arranged so that any man might reach one of them within half a day at the most. Even so the word of our salvation is near to us; Jesus is a present Savior, and the way to him is short; it is just a simple renunciation of our own merit, and laying ahold of Jesus, to be our all in all. With regard to the roads to the city of refuge, we are told that they were strictly preserved, every river was bridged, and every obstruction removed, so that the man who fled might find an easy passage to the city. Once a year the elders went along the roads and saw to their upkeep, so that nothing might impede the flight of anyone, and cause him, through delay, to be overtaken and slain. How graciously do the promises of the gospel remove stumbling blocks from the way! Wherever there were byroads and corners, there were placed up signposts, with the inscription upon them—”To the city of refuge!” This is a picture of the road to Christ Jesus. It is no roundabout road of the law; it is not obeying this, that, and the other; it is a straight road: “Believe, and live.” It is a road so hard, that no self-righteous man can ever tread it, but so easy, that every sinner, who knows himself to be a sinner may by it find his way to heaven. No sooner did the manslayer reach the edges of the city than he was safe; it was not necessary for him to pass far within the walls, but the suburbs themselves were sufficient protection. Learn hereafter, that if you do only touch the hem of Christ’s garment, you shall be made whole; if you do just lay hold upon him with “faith as a grain of mustard seed,” you are safe.

“A little genuine grace ensures

The death of all our sins.”

Only waste no time, do not loiter not by the way, for the avenger of blood is swift of foot; and it may be he is at your heels at this still hour of the evening.

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

“Even as the Lord loves the sons of Israel.” — Hosea 3:1

Believer, look back through all your experience, and think of the way in which the Lord your God has led you in the wilderness, and how he has fed and clothed you every day—how he has borne with your ill manners—how he has put up with all your complaining, and all your longing after the your old sensuous, selfish life—how he has opened the rock to supply you, and fed you with manna that came down from heaven. Think of how his grace has been sufficient for you in all your troubles—how his blood has been a pardon to you in all your sins—how his rod and his staff have comforted you. When you have in this way looked back upon the love of the Lord, then let faith evaluate his love to come in the future, for remember that Christ’s covenant and blood have something more in them than the past. He who has loved you and pardoned you, shall never cease to love and pardon. He is Alpha, and he shall be Omega also: he is first, and he shall be last. Therefore, come to think that, when you shall pass through the valley of the shadow of death, you need not fear evil, for he is with you. When you shall stand in the cold floods of Jordan, you need not fear, for death cannot separate you from his love; and when you shall come into the mysteries of eternity you need not tremble, “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Now, soul, is not your love refreshed? Does not this make you love Jesus? Does not a flight through limitless planes of the atmosphere of love ignite your heart and compel you to enchant yourself in the Lord your God? Surely as we meditate on “the love of the Lord,” our hearts burn within us, and we long to love him more.

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

“Tell me … where do you pasture your flock, where do you make it lie down at noon?” — Song of Solomon 1:7

These words express the desire of the believer for Christ, and his longing for present communion with him. Where do you feed your flock? In your house? I will go, if I may find you there. In private prayer? Then I will pray without ceasing. In the Word? Then I will read it diligently. In your instructions? Then I will walk in them with all my heart. Tell me where you feed, for wherever you stand as the Shepherd, there will I lie down as a sheep; for no one but you can supply my need. I cannot be satisfied to be apart from you. My soul hungers and thirsts for the refreshment of your presence. “Where do you make your flock to rest at noon?” For whether at dawn or at noon, my only rest must be where you and your beloved flock are. My soul’s rest must be a grace-given rest, and can only be found in you. Where is the shadow of that rock? Why should I not rest beneath it? “Why should I be as one that turns aside by the flocks of your companions?” You have companions–why should I not be one? Satan tells me I am unworthy; but I always was unworthy, and yet you have long loved me; and therefore my unworthiness cannot be a bar to my having fellowship with you now. It is true I am weak in faith, and prone to fall, but my very feebleness is the reason why I should always be where you feed your flock, that I may be strengthened, and preserved in safety beside the still waters. Why should I turn aside? There is no reason why I should, but there are a thousand reasons why I should not, for Jesus beckons me to come. If he withdrew himself a little, it is but to make me prize his presence more. Now that I am grieved and distressed at being away from him, he will lead me yet again to that sheltered nook where the lambs of his fold are sheltered from the burning sun.

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

“So then, brethren, we are under obligation (debtors, KJV).” — Romans 8:12

As God’s creatures, we are all debtors to him: to obey him with all our body, and soul, and strength. Having broken his commandments, as we all have, we are debtors to his justice, and we owe to him a vast amount which we are not able to pay. But of the Christian it can be said that he does not owe God’s justice anything, for Christ has paid the debt his people owed; for this reason, the believer owes all the more to love. I am a debtor to God’s grace and forgiving mercy; but I am no debtor to his justice, for he will never accuse me of a debt already paid. Christ said, “It is finished!” and by that he meant, that whatever his people owed was wiped away forever from the book of remembrance. Christ, to the utmost, has satisfied divine justice; the account is settled; the handwriting is nailed to the cross; the receipt is given, and we are debtors to God’s justice no longer. But then, because we are not debtors to our Lord in that sense, we become ten times more debtors to God than we should have been otherwise. Christian, pause and consider for a moment. What a debtor you are to divine sovereignty! How much you owe to his impartial love, for he gave his own Son that he might die for you. Consider how much you owe to his forgiving grace, that after ten thousand offenses he loves you as infinitely as ever. Consider what you owe to his power; how he has raised you from your death in sin; how he has preserved your spiritual life; how he has kept you from falling; and how, though a thousand enemies have troubled your path, you have been able to hold to your way. Consider what you owe to his immutability. Though you have changed a thousand times, he has not changed once. You are as deep in debt as you can be to every attribute of God. To God you owe yourself, and all you have–yield yourself as a living sacrifice, it is only your reasonable service.

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

“And the words are ancient.” — 1 Chronicles 4:22

Ancient, yes, yet not so ancient as those precious words which are the delight of our souls. Let us for a moment recount them, telling them again as misers count their gold. The sovereign choice of the Father, by which he elected us into eternal life, is a matter of vast antiquity, since no date can be conceived for it by the mind of man, even as ever long the earth was. We were chosen from before the foundations of the world. Everlasting love went with the choice, for it was not a simple act of divine will by which we were set apart, but His divine affection was involved. The Father loved us always and from the beginning. Here is a theme for daily contemplation. The eternal purpose to redeem us from our foreseen ruin, to cleanse and sanctify us, and at last to glorify us, was of infinite antiquity, and runs side by side with unchangeable love and absolute sovereignty. The covenant is always described as being everlasting, and Jesus, the second party in it, had His going forth from long ago, from the days of eternity; he struck hands in sacred contract long before the first of the stars began to shine, and it was in him that the elect were ordained to eternal life. Thus, in the divine purpose a most hallowed covenant union was established between the Son of God and his elect people, which will remain as the foundation of their safety when time shall be no more. Is it not well to be acquainted with these ancient things? Is it not shameful that they should be so much neglected and even rejected by the bulk of those who profess? If they knew more of their own sin, would they not be readier to adore distinguishing grace? Let us both admire and adore tonight, as we sing–

“A monument of grace,

A sinner saved by blood;

The streams of love I trace

Up to the Fountain, God;

And in his sacred bosom see

Eternal thoughts of Love to me.”

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

“Without the shedding of blood is no remission.” — Hebrews 9:22

This is the voice of unalterable truth. In none of the Jewish ceremonies were sins, even symbolically, removed without shedding blood. In no case, by no means can sin be pardoned without atonement. It is clear, then, that there is no hope for me outside of Christ; for there is no other shedding of blood which is worth a thought as an atonement for sin. Am I, then, believing in him? Is the blood of his atonement truly applied to my soul? All men are on an equal level as to their need of him. However moral, generous, amiable, or patriotic we may be, the rule will not be altered to make an exception for us. Sin will yield to nothing less potent than the blood of him whom God has set forth as a substitutionary sacrifice. What a blessing that there is the one way of pardon! Why should we seek another?

Persons of merely formal religion cannot understand how we can rejoice that all our sins are forgiven us for Christ’s sake. Their works, and prayers, and ceremonies, give them very poor comfort; and well may they be uneasy, for they are neglecting the one great salvation, and endeavoring to get remission without blood. My soul, sit down, and behold the justice of God as He is bound to punish sin; see that punishment all executed upon your Lord Jesus, and fall down in humble joy, and kiss the dear feet of him whose blood has made atonement for you. It is in vain when our conscience is aroused to fly to feelings and rationalizing for comfort: this is a habit which we learned in the Egypt of our legal bondage. The only antidote for a guilty conscience is a sight of Jesus suffering on the cross. “The blood is the life thereof,” says the Levitical law, and let us rest assured that it is the life of faith and joy and every other holy gift.

“Oh! how sweet to view the flowing

Of my Savior’s precious blood;

With divine assurance knowing

He has made my peace with God.”

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

“Your love to me was … wonderful.” — 2 Samuel 1:26

Come, dear readers, let each one of us speak for himself of the wonderful love, not of Jonathan, but of Jesus. We will not relate what we have been told, but the things of the love of Christ which we have tasted and handled. Your love to me, O Jesus, was wonderful when I was a stranger wandering far from you, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and of the mind. Your love restrained me from committing the sin which results in death, and withheld me from self-destruction. Your love held back the axe when Justice said, “Cut it down! Why should it take up space in the ground?” Your love drew me into the wilderness, stripped me there, and made me feel the guilt of my sin, and the burden of my iniquity. Your love spoke to comfort me when, I was very dismayed — “Come to me, and I will give you rest.” Oh, how matchless your love was when, in a moment, you washed my sins away, and made my polluted soul, which was crimson with the blood of my birth, and black with the grime of my transgressions, to be white as the driven snow, and pure as the finest wool. How you did commend your love to me when you whispered in my ears, “I am yours and you are mine.” Kind were those inflections when you said, “The Father himself loves you.” And sweet the moments, passing sweet, when you declared to me “the love of the Spirit.” Never shall my soul forget those halls of fellowship where you unveiled yourself to me. Did not Moses have his cleft in the rock, where he saw the royal train, and the back of his God? We, too, have had our clefts in the rock, where we have seen the full splendor of the Godhead in the person of Christ. Did David remember the tracks of the wild goat, the land of Jordan and the mountains of Hermon? We, too, can remember spots dear to memory, equal to these in blessedness. Precious Lord Jesus, give us a fresh drink of your wondrous love to begin the month with. Amen.

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

“They will sing of the ways of the Lord.” — Psalm 138:5

The time when Christians begin to sing in the ways of the Lord is when they first lose their burden at the foot of the Cross. Not even the songs of the angels seem so sweet as the first song of delight which gushes from the innermost soul of the forgiven child of God. You know how John Bunyan describes it. He says when poor Pilgrim lost his burden at the Cross, he gave three great leaps, and went on his way singing–

“Blest Cross! Blest Sepulcher! blest rather be

The Man that there was put to shame for me!”

Believer, do you recollect the day when your chains fell off? Do you remember the place when Jesus met you, and said, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have blotted out as a cloud your transgressions, and as a thick cloud your sins; they shall not be mentioned against you any more, forever.” Oh! What a sweet season it is when Jesus takes away the pain of sin. When the Lord first pardoned my sin, I was so joyous that I could scarcely refrain from dancing. I thought on my road home from the house where I had been set at liberty, that I must tell the stones in the street the story of my deliverance. So full was my soul of joy, that I wanted to tell every snow-flake that was falling from heaven of the wondrous love of Jesus, who had blotted out the sins of one of the chief of rebels.

But it is not only at the beginning of the Christian life that believers have reason for song; as long as they live they discover reason to sing in the ways of the Lord, and their experience of his constant loving kindness leads them to say, “I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth.” See to it, friend, that you magnify the Lord this day.

“Long as we tread this desert land,

New mercies shall new songs demand.”

Evening, January 31, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“Then Ahimaaz ran by way of the plain and passed up the Cushite.” — 2 Samuel 18:23

Running is not everything; the route which we select is important.  A swift foot over hill and down dale will not keep pace with a slower traveler upon level ground. So how is it with my spiritual journey?  Am I laboring up the hill of my own works and down into the ravines of my own humiliations and resolutions, or do I run by the plain way of “Believe and live?” How blessed is it to wait upon the Lord by faith! The soul runs without weariness, and walks without fainting, in the way of believing. Christ Jesus is the way of life, and he is a plain way, a pleasant way, a way suitable for the staggering feet and feeble knees of trembling sinners; am I found in this way, or am I hunting after another track like one that religious manipulation or metaphysics may promise me? I read of the Highway of Holiness. It will be for him who walks that route, and fools will not wander on it; have I been delivered from proud reason and been brought as a little child to rest in Jesus’ love and blood? If so, by God’s grace I shall outrun the strongest runner who chooses any other path. This truth I may remember to my profit in my daily cares and needs. It will be my wisest course to go at once to my God, and not to wander in a roundabout manner to this friend and that. He knows my needs and can meet them; to whom should I return but to himself by the direct appeal of prayer, and the plain argument of the promise. “A straight path forward makes the best runner.” I will not make deals with the servants, but hasten to their master.

In reading this passage, it strikes me that if men compete with each other in common matters, and one outruns the other, even more so ought I run in solemn earnestness so that I may win in spiritual matters. Lord, help me to prepare and strengthen my mind, and may I press forward towards the mark for the prize of my high calling of God in Christ Jesus.

Morning, January 31, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The Lord our Righteousness.” — Jeremiah 23:6

It will always give a Christian the greatest calm, quiet, ease, and peace, to think of the perfect righteousness of Christ. How often are the believers in God downcast and sad! I do not think they ought to be and I do not think they would be if they could always see their perfection in Christ. There are some who are always talking about corruption, and the depravity of the heart, and the innate evil of the soul. This is quite true, but why not go a little further, and remember that we are “perfect in Christ Jesus.” It is no wonder that those who are dwelling upon their own corruption should wear such downcast looks; but surely if we call to mind that “Christ is made righteousness to us,” we shall be of good cheer. Though distresses afflict me, though Satan assaults me, though there may be many things to be experienced before I get to heaven, those are done for me in the covenant of divine grace; there is nothing lacking in my Lord; Christ has done it all. On the cross he said, “It is finished!” and if it is finished, then am I complete in him, and can rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, “not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith.” You will not find on this side heaven a holier people than those who receive into their hearts the doctrine of Christ’s righteousness. When the believer says, “I live on Christ alone; I rest on him solely for salvation; and I believe that, however unworthy, I am still saved in Jesus,” then there rises up as a motive of gratitude this thought–“Shall I not live for Christ? Shall I not love him and serve him, seeing that I am saved by his merits?” “The love of Christ controls us … that they who live might no longer live for themselves, but for Him who died and rose again on their behalf.” If we are saved by being counted righteous, we shall greatly value receiving righteousness.

Evening, January 30, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“In Him also we have obtained an inheritance.” — Ephesians 1:11

When Jesus gave himself for us, he gave us all the rights and privileges which came to be his. This means now that in addition to the essential rights he has as eternal God, to which no creature may venture to pretend, as Jesus, the Mediator, the covenant head of the covenant of grace, he has no heritage apart from us.

All the glorious consequences of His willingness to die are the joint riches of all who are in him, and on whose behalf he accomplished the divine will. See, he enters into glory, but not for himself alone, for it is written, “Where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us.” (Heb. 6:20.) Does he stand in the presence of God?  “He appears in the presence of God for us.” (Heb. 9:24.)

Consider this, believer. You have no right to heaven in yourself: your right lies in Christ. If you are pardoned, it is through his blood; if you are justified, it is through his righteousness; if you are sanctified, it is because he is made by God to you sanctification; if you shall be kept from falling, it will be because you are preserved in Christ Jesus; and if you are perfected at the last, it will be because you are complete in him. Therefore, Jesus is magnified—for all is in him and by him; therefore the inheritance is made certain to us—for it is obtained in him; therefore each blessing is the more precious, and even heaven itself the brighter, because it is Jesus our Beloved “in whom” we have obtained all. Where is the man who shall estimate our share of the divine inheritance? Weigh the riches of Christ in scales, and his treasure in balances, and then think to count the treasures which belong to believers. Reach the bottom of Christ’s sea of joy, and then hope to understand the ecstasy which God hath prepared for them that love him. Leap over the boundaries of Christ’s possessions, and then dream of a limit to the pleasant inheritance of the elect. “All things are yours, whether … the world or life or death or the present or the future—all are yours, and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God.”

Morning, January 30, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“It shall be, when you hear the sound of marching in the tops of the balsam trees, then you shall act promptly,” — 2 Samuel 5:24

The members of Christ’s Church should be very prayerful, always seeking the anointing of the Holy One to rest upon their hearts, that the kingdom of Christ may come, and that his “will be done on earth, even as it is in heaven.” But, there are times when God seems particularly to favor Zion; such seasons ought to be to them like “the sound of marching in the tops of the balsam trees.” We ought then to be twice as prayerful, twice as earnest, wrestling more at the throne than we have been inclined to do. Action should then be prompt and energetic. The tide is flowing–now let us pull strongly for the shore. O for Pentecostal outpourings and Pentecostal works.

Christian, there are times yourself that you hear ” the sound of marching in the tops of the balsam trees.” You have a special power in prayer; the Spirit of God gives you joy and gladness; the Scripture is open to you; the promises are harnessed; you walk in the light of God’s countenance; you have peculiar freedom and liberty in devotion, and more closeness of communion with Christ than was your practice. Now, at such joyous periods when you hear the “the sound of marching in the tops of the balsam trees,” is the time to stir yourself up; now is the time to get rid of any evil habit, while God the Spirit helps your weaknesses. Spread your sail; but remember what you sometimes sing–

“I can only spread the sail;

Thou! Thou! must breathe the auspicious gale.”

Only be sure you have the sail up. Do not miss the gale for lack of preparation for it. Seek help of God, that you may be more intense in duty when made more strong in faith; that you may be more constant in prayer when you have more liberty at the throne; that you may be more holy in your conversation while you live more closely with Christ.

Evening, January 29, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The dove came to him toward evening.” — Genesis 8:11

Blessed be the Lord for another day of mercy, even though I am now weary with its work. To the preserver of men lift I my song of gratitude. The dove found no rest outside of the ark, and therefore returned to it; and my soul has learned even more fully than ever, this day, that there is no satisfaction to be found in earthly things–God alone can give rest to my spirit. As to my business, my possessions, my family, my attainments, these are all well enough in their own way, but they cannot fulfill the desires of my immortal nature. “Return to your rest, O my soul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.” It was at the quiet hour, when the gates of the day were closing, that with weary wings the dove came back to the master: O Lord, enable me this evening in that way to return to Jesus. She could not endure to spend a night hovering over the restless waste, nor can I bear to be even for another hour away from Jesus, the resting place of my heart, the home of my spirit. She did not merely alight upon the roof of the ark, she “came in to him;” even my longing spirit would look to the secret place of rest in the Lord, pierce to the center of truth, enter within the veil, and reach to my Beloved indeed. To Jesus I must come: my longing spirit cannot rest short of the nearest and dearest communion with him. Blessed Lord Jesus, be with me, reveal yourself, and abide with me all night, so that when I awake I may be still with you. I note that the dove brought in her mouth an olive branch plucked off, the memorial of the past day, and a prophecy of the future. Have I no pleasing account to bring home? No token and sign of loving kindness yet to come? Yes, my Lord, I present you my grateful acknowledgments for loving mercies which have been new every morning and fresh every evening; and now, I pray, put forth your hand and take your dove into your embrace.

Morning, January 29, edited from Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening

“The things which are not seen.” — 2 Corinthians 4:18

In our Christian pilgrimage it is good, for the most part, to be looking forward. Forward lies the crown, and onward is the goal. Whether it be for hope, for joy, for comfort, or for the inspiring of our love, the future must, after all, be the grand object of the eye of faith. Looking into the future we see sin cast out, the body of sin and death destroyed, the soul made perfect, and fit to be a participant of the inheritance of the saints in light. Looking further yet, the believer’s enlightened eye can see death’s river passed, the gloomy stream forded, and the hills of light attained on which stand the celestial city; he sees himself enter within the pearly gates, hailed as more than conqueror, crowned by the hand of Christ, embraced in the arms of Jesus, glorified with him, and made to sit together with him on his throne, even as he has overcome and has sat down with the Father on his throne. The thought of this future may well relieve the darkness of the past and the gloom of the present. The joys of heaven will surely compensate for the sorrows of earth. Be quiet, my doubts! Death is but a narrow stream, and you soon will have forded it. Time, how short—eternity, how long! Death, how brief—immortality, how endless! I think that I even now eat of the promised land’s fruit, and sip of the well which is within the gate. The road is so, so short! I shall soon be there.

“When the world my heart is rending

With its heaviest storm of care,

My glad thoughts to heaven ascending,

Find a refuge from despair.

Faith’s bright vision shall sustain me

Till life’s pilgrimage is past;

Fears may vex and troubles pain me,

I shall reach my home at last.”

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

“The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them.” — Luke 2:20

What was the subject of their praise? They praised God for what they had heard — for the good tidings of great joy that a Savior was born to them. Let us copy them; let us also raise a song of thanksgiving that we have heard of Jesus and his salvation. They also praised God for what they had seen. There is the most melodic music — what we have experienced, what we have felt within, what we have made our own — “My heart overflows with a good theme; I address my verses to the King.” It is not enough to hear about Jesus: mere hearing may tune the harp, but the fingers of living faith must create the music. If you have seen Jesus with the God-given sight of faith, allow no cobwebs to linger among the instruments, but awake your stringed instruments loudly to the praise of sovereign grace. One point for which they praised God was the agreement between what they had heard and what they had seen. Observe the last sentence —”As it was told to them.” Have you not found the gospel to be — in yourselves — just what the Bible said it would be? Jesus said he would give you rest — have you not enjoyed the most precious peace in him? He said you should have joy, and comfort, and life through believing in him — have you not received all these? Are not his ways the ways of contentment, and his paths the paths of peace? Surely you can say with the queen of Sheba, “The half has not been told me.” I have found Christ sweeter than his servants ever said he was. I looked upon his likeness as they painted it, but it was a mere splatter compared with himself; for the King in his beauty outshines all imaginable loveliness. Surely what we have “seen” keeps pace with, indeed, far exceeds, what we have “heard.” Let us, then, glorify and praise God for a Savior so precious, and so satisfying.

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

“Perfect (complete) in Christ.” — Colossians 1:28

Do you not feel in your own soul that perfection is not in you? Does not every day teach you that? Every tear which trickles from your eye, weeps “imperfection;” every harsh word which proceeds from your lip, mutters “imperfection.” You have too frequently had a view of your own heart’s condition to dream for a moment of any perfection in yourself. But amidst this sad consciousness of imperfection, here is comfort for you–you are “perfect in Christ.” In God’s sight, you are “complete in him;” even now you are “accepted in the Beloved.” But there is a second perfection, yet to be realized, which is assure to all His children. Is it not delightful to look forward to the time when every stain of sin shall be removed from the believer, and he shall be presented faultless before the throne, without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing? The Church of Christ then will be so pure, that not even the eye of Omniscience will see a spot or blemish in her; so holy and so glorious, that Joseph Hart did not go beyond the truth when he said–

“With my Savior’s garments on,

Holy as the Holy One.”

Then shall we know, and taste, and feel the happiness of this vast but short sentence, “Complete in Christ.” Not until then shall we fully comprehend the heights and depths of the salvation of Jesus. Does not your heart leap for joy at the thought of it? Black as you are, you shall be white one day; filthy as you are, you shall be clean. Oh, this is a marvelous salvation ! Christ takes a worm and transforms it into an angel; Christ takes a black and deformed thing and makes it clean and matchless in his glory, peerless in his beauty, and fit to be the companion of seraphs. O my soul, stand and admire this blessed truth of perfection in Christ.

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

“But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart.” — Luke 2:19

There was an exercise, on the part of this blessed woman, of three aspects of her being: her memory–she treasured all these things; her affections–she kept them in her heart; her intellect–she pondered them; so that memory, affection, and understanding were all exercised in the things which she had heard. Beloved, remember what you have heard of your Lord Jesus, and what he has done for you; make your heart the golden pot of manna to preserve the memorial of the heavenly bread on which you have fed in days gone by. Let your memory treasure up everything about Christ which you have either felt, or known, or believed, and then let your fond affections hold him unwavering forevermore. Love the person of your Lord! Bring forth the alabaster box of your heart, even though it is broken, and let all the precious ointment of your affection come streaming on his pierced feet. Exercise your intellect concerning the Lord Jesus. Meditate upon what you read: do not stop at the surface; dive into the depths. Do not be as the swallow which touches the brook with her wing, but like the fish which penetrates the lowest wave. Abide with your Lord: do not let him be to you as a rambling man, that stays just for a night, but restrain him, saying, “Abide with us, for the day is almost over.” Hold him, and do not let him go. The word “ponder” means to weigh. Make ready the balances of judgment. Oh, but where are the scales that can weigh the Lord Christ? “He weighs the islands as though they were fine dust:”–who shall take him up? “He weights the mountains in scales”–in what scales shall we weigh him? So be it, that if your understanding cannot comprehend, let your affections apprehend; and if your spirit cannot compass about the Lord Jesus in the grasp of understanding, let it embrace him in the arms of affection.

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

“For of His fullness we have all received.” — John 1:16

These words tell us that there is a fullness in Christ. There is a fullness of essential Deity, for “in him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead.” There is a fullness of perfect manhood, for in him, bodily, that Godhead was revealed. There is a fullness of atoning power in his blood, for “the blood of Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanses us from all sin.” There is a fullness of justifying righteousness in his life, for “there is therefore now no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus.” There is a fullness of divine mastery in his plea, for “He is able also to save forever those who draw near to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them.” There is a fullness of victory in his death, for through death he destroyed him that had the power of death, that is the devil. There is a fullness of power in his resurrection from the dead, for by it we are “born again to a living hope.” There is a fullness of triumph in his ascension, for “when he ascended on high, he led captive a host of captives, and he gave gifts to men.” There is a fullness of blessings of every sort and shape; a fullness of grace to pardon, of grace to regenerate, of grace to sanctify, of grace to preserve, and of grace to perfect. There is a fullness at all times; a fullness of comfort in affliction; a fullness of guidance in prosperity. A fullness of every divine attribute, of wisdom, of power, of love; a fullness impossible to survey, much less to explore. “For it was the Father’s good pleasure for all the fullness to dwell in Him.” Oh, what a fullness must this be of which we all receive! Fullness, indeed, must there be when the stream is always flowing, and yet its source, the well, springs up as free, as rich, as full as ever. Come, believer, and get all your need supplied; ask copiously, and you shall receive copiously, for this “fullness” is inexhaustible, and is treasured up where all the needy may reach it, even in Jesus, Immanuel — God with us.

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

“And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds.” — Luke 2:18

We must not cease to wonder at the great marvels of our God. It would be very difficult to draw a line between holy wonder and real worship; for when the soul is overwhelmed with the majesty of God’s glory, though it may not express itself in song, or even utter its voice with bowed head in humble prayer, it yet silently adores. Our incarnate God is to be worshipped as “the Wonderful.” That God should consider his fallen creature, man, and instead of sweeping him away with the broom of destruction, should himself undertake to be man’s Redeemer, and to pay his ransom price, is, indeed marvelous! But to each believer redemption is the most marvelous as he views it in relation to himself. It is a miracle of grace indeed, that Jesus should forsake the thrones and royalties above, to suffer ignominiously below for you. Let your soul lose itself in wonder, for wonder is in this way a very practical emotion. Consecrated wonder will lead you to grateful worship and heartfelt thanksgiving. It will cause within you godly watchfulness; you will be afraid to sin against such a love as this. Feeling the presence of the mighty God in the gift of his dear Son, you will put off your shoes from your feet, because the place on where you stand is holy ground. You will be moved at the same time to glorious hope. If Jesus has done such marvelous things on your behalf, you will feel that heaven itself is not too great for your expectation. Who can be astonished at anything, when he has once been astonished at the manger and the cross? What is there wonderful left after one has seen the Savior? Dear reader, it may be that from the quietness and solitariness of your life, you are scarcely able to imitate the shepherds of Bethlehem, who told what they had seen and heard, but you can, at least, join with the circle of the worshippers before the throne, by wondering at what God has done.

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

“Your heavenly Father.” — Matthew 6:26

God’s people are also his children; they are his offspring by creation, and they are his sons by adoption in Christ. Consequently, they are privileged to call him, “Our Father who is in heaven.” Father! Oh, what precious word is that. Here is authority: “If I am a Father, where is my honor?” If you are sons, where is your obedience? Here is affection mingled with authority; an authority which does not provoke rebellion; an obedience demanded which is most cheerfully rendered—which would not be withheld even if it might. The obedience which God’s children yield to him must be loving obedience. Do not go about the service of God as slaves to their taskmaster’s toil, but follow in the way of his commands because it is your Father’s way. Yield your bodies as instruments of righteousness, because righteousness is your Father’s will, and his will should be the will of his child.

Father! — Here is a kingly attribute so pleasantly veiled in love, that the King’s crown is forgotten in the King’s face, and his scepter becomes not a rod of iron, but a silver scepter of mercy—the scepter indeed seems to be forgotten in the tender hand of him who wields it.

Father! — Here is honor and love. How great a Father’s love is to his children! That which friendship cannot do, and mere compassion will not attempt, a father’s heart and hand must do for his children. They are his offspring, he must bless them; they are his children, he must show himself strong in their defense. If an earthly father watches over his children with unceasing love and care, how much more does our heavenly Father? Abba, Father! He who can say this, has uttered better music than cherubim or seraphim can reach. There is heaven in the depth of that word — Father! There is all I can ask; all my necessities can demand; all my wishes can desire. I have all in all, to all eternity, when I can say, “Father.”

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

“Do we then nullify the Law through faith? May it never be! On the contrary, we establish the Law.” — Romans 3:31

When the believer is adopted into the Lord’s family, his relationship to the old Adam and the law ceases at once; but then he is under a new rule, and a new covenant. Believer, you are God’s child; it is your first duty to obey your heavenly Father. A subservient spirit you have nothing to do with: you are not a slave, but a child; and now, since you are a beloved child, you are bound to obey your Father’s faintest wish, the least hint of his will. Does he bid you to fulfil a sacred ordinance? It is at your peril that you neglect it, for you will be disobeying your Father. Does he command you to seek to emulate the image of Jesus? Is it not your joy to do so? Does Jesus tell you, “Therefore you are to be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect?” Then not because the law commands, but because your Savior commands, you will labor to be perfect in holiness. Does he call for his saints to love one another? Do it, not because the law says, “Love your neighbor,” but because Jesus says, “If you love me, keep my commandments,” and this is the commandment that he has given to you, “that you love one another.” Are you told to distribute to the poor? Do it, not because charity is a burden which you dare not shirk, but because Jesus teaches, “Give to him that asks of you.” Does the Word say, “Love God with all your heart?” Look at the commandment and reply, “Ah! commandment, Christ hath fulfilled you already–I have no need, therefore, to fulfil you for my salvation, but I rejoice to yield obedience to you because God is my Father now and he has a claim upon me, which I never would dispute.” May the Holy Spirit make your heart obedient to the constraining power of Christ’s love, that your prayer may be, “Make me to go in the path of your commandments; for I them do I delight.” Grace is the mother and nursemaid of holiness, and not the apologist of sin.

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

“I shall make mention of the lovingkindnesses of the Lord, the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord has granted us.” — Isaiah 63:7

And cannot you do this? Have you not experienced many mercies? What, even though you are gloomy now, can you forget that happy hour when Jesus met you, and said, “Come to me?” Cannot you remember that ecstatic moment when he snapped your fetters, dashed your chains to the earth, and said, “I came to break your bonds and set you free?” Or if the love of your betrothal has been forgotten, there must surely be some precious milestone along the road of life not quite grown over with moss, on which you can read a happy memorial of his mercy towards you? What, did you never have a sickness like that which you are suffering now, and did he not restore you? Were you never poor before, and did he not supply your needs? Were you never in a difficult situation before, and did he not deliver you? Arise, go to the river of your experience, and pull up a few bulrushes, and weave them into an ark, in where your infant — faith –may float safely on the stream. Do not forget what your God has done for you; turn over the book of your remembrance, and consider the days of old. Do you not remember when you were downcast on the little hill, Mizar? Did the Lord never meet with you on the high mountain, Hermon? Have you never, like Bunyan, climbed the Delectable Mountains, and enjoyed the gardens and orchards, vineyards and fountains of water? Have you never been helped in time of need? Indeed, I know you have. Go back, then, a little way to the special mercies of yesterday, and though all may be dark now, light up the lamps of the past; they shall glitter through the darkness, and you will trust in the Lord until the day breaks and the shadows flee away. “Remember, O LORD, Your compassion and Your loving kindnesses, For they have been from of old.”

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

“But Martha was distracted with all her preparations; and she came up to Him and said, “Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone?” — Luke 10:40

Her fault was not that she served: the condition of a servant well suits every Christian. “I serve,” should be the motto of all the princes of the royal family of heaven. Nor was it her fault that she had many preparations. We cannot do too much. Let us do all that we possibly can; let head, and heart, and hands, be engaged in the Master’s service. It was no fault of hers that she was busy preparing a feast for the Master. Happy Martha, to have an opportunity of entertaining so blessed a guest; and happy, too, to have the spirit to throw her whole soul so heartily into the engagement. Her fault was that she grew “distracted with all her preparations,” so that she forgot him, and only remembered the service. She allowed service to override communion, and so presented one duty stained with the blood of another. We ought to be Martha and Mary in one: we should do much service, and have much communion at the same time. For this we need great amounts of grace. It is easier to serve than to commune. Joshua never grew weary in fighting with the Amalekites; but Moses, on the top of the mountain in prayer, needed two helpers to sustain his hands. The more spiritual the exercise, the sooner we tire in it. The choicest fruits are the hardest to nurture: the most heavenly graces are the most difficult to cultivate. Beloved, while we do not neglect external things, which are good enough in themselves, we ought also to see to it that we enjoy living, personal fellowship with Jesus. See to it that sitting at the Savior’s feet is not neglected, even though it be under the superficial pretext of doing him service. The first thing for our soul’s health, the first thing for his glory, and the first thing for our own usefulness, is to keep ourselves in perpetual communion with the Lord Jesus, and to see that the vital spirituality of our religion is maintained over and above everything else in the world.

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

“For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper [fowler, KJV].” — Psalm 91:3

God delivers his people from the snare of the fowler in two senses: from entering, and out of.  First, he delivers them from the snare–does not let them enter it; and secondly, if they should be caught in there, he delivers them out of it. The first promise is the most precious to some; the second is the best to others.

“He shall deliver you from the snare.” How? Trouble is often the means whereby God delivers us. God knows that our backsliding will soon end in our destruction, and he in mercy sends the rod of discipline. We say, “Lord, why is this?” not knowing that our trouble has been the means of delivering us from far greater evil. Many have been therefore saved from ruin by their distresses and their trials; these have frightened the birds from the net. At other times, God keeps his people from the snare of the fowler by giving them great spiritual strength, so that when they are tempted to do evil they say, “How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?”

But if the believer shall, in an evil hour, come into the net, what a blessed thing it is that God will bring him out of it! O backslider, be cast down, but do not despair. Though you have been a wanderer, hear what thy Redeemer says–“Return, O backsliding children; I will have mercy upon you.” But you say you cannot return, for you are a captive. Then listen to the promise: “Surely he shall deliver you out of the snare of the fowler.” You shall yet be brought out of all evil into which you have fallen, and though you shall never cease to repent of your ways, yet he that has loved you will not cast you away; he will receive you, and give you joy and gladness, that the bones which he has broken may rejoice. No bird of paradise shall die in the fowler’s net.

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

“We will extol [remember, KJV] your love more than wine.” — Song of Solomon 1:4

Jesus will not let his people forget his love. If all the love they have enjoyed would be forgotten, he will visit them with fresh love. “Do you forget my cross?” says he, “I will cause you to remember it; for at my table I will reveal myself anew to you. Do you forget what I did for you in the councils of eternity? I will remind you of it, for you shall need a counsellor, and shall find me ready at your call.”

Mothers do not let their children forget them. If a boy has gone to Australia, and does not write home, his mother writes, “Has John forgotten his mother?” Then there comes back a sweet letter, which proves that the gentle reminder was not in vain. So is it with Jesus; he says to us, “Remember me,” and our response is, “We will remember your love.” We will remember your love and its matchless history. It is ancient as the glory which you had with the Father before the beginning of the world. We remember, O Jesus, your eternal love when you became our Guarantor, and embraced us as your betrothed. We remember the love which suggested you sacrifice yourself, the love which, until the fullness of time, mused over that sacrifice, and longed for the hour where in the volume of the book it was written of you, “Lo, I come.” We remember your love, O Jesus, as it was revealed to us in your holy life, from the manger of Bethlehem to the garden of Gethsemane. We track you from the cradle to the grave–for every word and deed of yours was love–and we rejoice in your love, which death did not exhaust; your love which shone resplendent in your resurrection. We remember that burning fire of love which will never let you hold your peace until your chosen ones are all safely housed, until Zion is glorified, and Jerusalem settled on her everlasting foundations of light and love in heaven.

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

“I have exalted one chosen from the people.” — Psalm 89:19

Why was Christ chosen out of the people? Speak, my heart, for thoughts from the heart are best. Was it not so he might be able to be our brother, in the blessed tie of related blood? Oh, what bond there is between Christ and the believer! The believer can say, “I have a Brother in heaven; I may be poor, but I have a Brother who is rich, and is a King, and will he allow me to suffer want while he is on his throne? Oh, no! He loves me; he is my Brother.” Believer, wear this blessed thought, like a necklace of diamonds, around the neck of your memory; put it, as a golden ring, on the finger of recollection, and use it as the King’s own seal, stamping the requests of your faith with confidence of success. He is a brother born for adversity, treat him as such.

Christ was also chosen out of the people that he might know our wants and sympathize with us. “He was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin.” In all our sorrows we have his sympathy. Temptation, pain, disappointment, weakness, weariness, poverty–he knows them all, for he has felt all. Remember this, Christian, and let it comfort you. However difficult and painful your road, it is marked by the footsteps of your Savior; and even when you reach the dark valley of the shadow of death, and the deep waters of the swelling Jordan, you will find his footprints there. In all places whereever we go, he has been our forerunner; each burden we have to carry, has once been laid on the shoulders of Immanuel.

“His way was much rougher and darker than mine

Did Christ, my Lord, suffer, and shall I repine? [express discontent]”

Take courage! Royal feet have left a blood-red track upon the road, and consecrated the thorny path forever.

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

“Does Job fear God for nothing?” — Job 1:9

This was the nefarious question of Satan concerning that upright man of old, but there are many in today of whom it might be asked with justice, for they love God after a fashion because he prospers them; but if things went poorly with them, they would give up all their boasted faith in God. If they can clearly see that since the time of their supposed conversion the world has gone prosperously with them, then they will love God in their poor selfish way; but if they endure adversity, they rebel against the Lord. Their love is the love of the table, not of the host; a love to the cupboard, not to the master of the house. As for the true Christian, he expects to have his reward in the next life, and to endure trials in this. The promise of the old covenant was prosperity, but the promise of the new covenant is adversity. Remember Christ’s words: ” Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit–What? “He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit.” If you want to bring forth fruit, you will have to endure affliction. “Alas,” you say, “that is a terrible prospect!” But this affliction works out such valuable results, that the Christian who is the subject of it must learn to rejoice in tribulation, because as his tribulation abounds, so also his comfort abounds in Christ Jesus. Rest assured, if you are a child of God, you will be no stranger to the rod. Sooner or later every bar of gold must pass through the fire. Do not fear, but rather rejoice that such fruitful times are in store for you, for in them you will be weaned from earth and made ready for heaven; you will be delivered from clinging to the present, and made to long for those eternal things which are so soon to be revealed to you. When you feel that in the present you serve God for no reward, you will then rejoice in the infinite reward of the future.

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

“Son of man, how is the wood of the vine better than any wood of a branch which is among the trees of the forest?” — Ezekiel 15:2

These words are for the humbling of God’s people; they are called God’s vine, but what are they in nature more than others? They have, by God’s goodness, become fruitful, having been planted in good soil; the Lord has trained them upon the walls of the sanctuary, and they bring forth fruit to his glory; but what are they without their God? What are they without the continual influence of the Spirit, birthing fruitfulness in them? O believer, learn to reject pride, seeing that you have no ground for it. Whatever you are, you have nothing to make you proud. The more you have, the more you are in debt to God; and should not not be proud of that which renders you a debtor. Consider your origin; look back to what you were. Consider what you would have been but for divine grace. Look upon yourself as you are now. Does not your conscience reprimand you? Do not your thousand wanderings stand before you, and tell you that you are unworthy to be called his son? And if he has made anything of you, do you not understand that it is grace which has made you different? Great believer, you would have been a great sinner if God had not made you to differ. O you who are valiant for truth, you would have been as valiant for error if grace had not laid hold on you. Therefore, do not be proud, even though you have a large estate, a wide domain of grace; you once did not have a single thing to call your own except your sin and misery. Oh! What a strange infatuation, that you, who has borrowed everything, should think of exalting yourself; you, a poor dependent pensioner upon the abundance of your Savior, one who has a life which dies without fresh streams of life from Jesus, and yet proud! Putrid are you, O foolish heart!

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

“Then he became very thirsty, and he called to the Lord and said, “You have given this great deliverance by the hand of Your servant, and now shall I die of thirst?” — Judges 15:18

Samson was thirsty and ready to die. The difficulty was totally different from any which the hero had met before. Merely to get thirst satisfied is nothing like so great a matter as to be delivered from a thousand Philistines! But when the thirst was upon him, Samson felt that little present difficulty more substantial than the great past difficulty out of which he had been especially delivered. It is very usual for God’s people, when they have enjoyed a great deliverance, to find a little trouble too much for them. Samson slays a thousand Philistines, and piles them up in heaps, and then faints for a little water! Jacob wrestles with God at Peniel, and overcomes Omnipotence itself, and then goes “halting on his thigh!” Strange that there must be damage of the sinew whenever we win the day. It is as if the Lord must teach us our littleness, our nothingness, in order to keep us within bounds. Samson boasted loudly when he said, “I have slain a thousand men.” His boastful throat soon grew hoarse with thirst, and he gave himself to prayer. God has many ways of humbling his people. Dear child of God, if after great mercy you are laid very low, your case is not an unusual one. When David had mounted the throne of Israel, he said, “I am weak today, though anointed king.” You must expect to feel weakest when you are enjoying your greatest triumph. If God has fashioned for you great deliverances in the past, your present difficulty is only like Samson’s thirst, and the Lord will not let you faint, nor suffer the daughter of the uncircumcised to triumph over you. The road of sorrow is the road to heaven, but there are wells of refreshing water all along the route. So, wearied brother, cheer your heart with Samson’s words, and rest assured that God will deliver you before long.