Friday, March 17, 2017
How long, O Lord, our Savior
How long, O Lord, our Savior,
Wilt Thou remain away?
The careless world is mocking
At Thy so long delay.
Oh, when shall come the moment,
When, brighter far than morn,
The sunshine of Thy glory
Shall on Thy people dawn?
How long, O gracious Master,
Wilt Thou Thy household leave?
So long Thou now hast tarried,
Few Thy return believe:
Immersed in sloth and folly,
Thy servants, Lord, we see;
And few of us stand ready
With joy to welcome Thee.
How long, O Heav’nly Bridegroom!
How long wilt Thou delay?
And yet how few are grieving
That Thou dost absent stay:
Thy very Bride her portion
And calling hath forgot,
And seeks for ease and glory
Where Thou, her Lord, art not.
Oh, wake the slumb’ring virgins,
To heed the solemn cry;
Let all Thy saints repeat it-
“The Bridegroom draweth nigh!”
May all our lamps be burning,
Our loins well girded be;
Each longing heart preparing
With joy Thy face to see.
James George Deck
Thursday, March 16, 2017
Jesus, the heavenly Lover, gave
Jesus, the heavenly Lover, gave
His life my wretched soul to save:
Resolv'd to make his mercy known,
He kindly claims me for his own.
Rebellious, I against him strove,
Till melted and constrain'd by love;
With sin and self I freely part,
The heavenly Bridegroom wins my heart.
My guilt, my wretchedness he knows,
Yet takes and owns me for his spouse:
My debts he pays, and sets me free,
And makes his riches o'er to me.
My filthy rags are laid aside,
He clothes me as becomes his bride;
Himself bestows my wedding-dress,—
The robe of perfect righteousness.
Lost in astonishment, I see,
Jesus! thy boundless love to me:
With angels I thy grace adore,
And long to love and praise thee more.
Since thou wilt take me for thy bride,
O Saviour, keep me near thy side!
I fain would give thee all my heart,
Nor ever from my Lord depart.
Fawcett
His life my wretched soul to save:
Resolv'd to make his mercy known,
He kindly claims me for his own.
Rebellious, I against him strove,
Till melted and constrain'd by love;
With sin and self I freely part,
The heavenly Bridegroom wins my heart.
My guilt, my wretchedness he knows,
Yet takes and owns me for his spouse:
My debts he pays, and sets me free,
And makes his riches o'er to me.
My filthy rags are laid aside,
He clothes me as becomes his bride;
Himself bestows my wedding-dress,—
The robe of perfect righteousness.
Lost in astonishment, I see,
Jesus! thy boundless love to me:
With angels I thy grace adore,
And long to love and praise thee more.
Since thou wilt take me for thy bride,
O Saviour, keep me near thy side!
I fain would give thee all my heart,
Nor ever from my Lord depart.
Fawcett
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
PRISON MEDITATIONS by John Bunyan
PRISON MEDITATIONS
DEDICATED TO THE HEART
OF SUFFERING SAINTS
AND REIGNING SINNERS
By John Bunyan
Friend, I salute thee in the Lord,
And wish thou may'st abound
In faith, and have a good regard
To keep on holy ground.
Thou dost encourage me to hold
My head above the flood;
Thy counsel better is than gold:
In need thereof I stood.
Good counsel's good at any time;
The wise will it receive,
Tho' fools count he commits a crime
Who doth good counsel give.
I take it kindly at thy hand
Thou didst unto me write;
My feet upon Mount Zion stand,
In that take thou delight.
I am indeed in prison now
In body, but my mind
Is free to study Christ, and how
Unto me he is kind.
For tho' men keep my outward man
Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars.
Their fetters cannot spirits tame,
Nor tie up God from me;
My faith and hope they cannot lame;
Above them I shall be.
I here am very much refreshed
To think, when I was out
I preached life and peace and rest
To sinners round about.
My business then was souls to save
By preaching grace and faith,
Of which the comfort now I have,
And have it shall till death.
They were no fables that I taught,
Devis'd by cunning men,
But God's own word, by which were caught
Some sinners now and then.
Whose souls by it were made to see
The evil of their sin;
And need of Christ to make them free
From death, which they were in.
And now those very hearts that then
Were foes unto the Lord,
Embrace his Christ and truth, like men
Conquer'd by his word.
I hear them sigh, and groan, and cry
For grace to God above;
They loathe their sin, and to it die;
'Tis holiness they love.
This was the work I was about
When hands on me were laid;
'Twas this from which they pluck'd me out;
And vilely to me said:
You heretic, deceiver, come,
To prison you must go;
You preach abroad, and keep not home,
You are the Church's foe.
But having peace within my soul,
And truth on every side,
I could with comfort them control,
And at their charge deride.
Wherefore to prison they me sent,
Where to this day I lie;
And can with very much content
For my profession die.
The prison very sweet to me
Hath been since I came here,
And so would also hanging be,
If God would there appear.
Here dwells good conscience, also peace;
Here be my garments white;
Here, though in bonds, I have release
From guilt, which else would bite.
When they do talk of banishment,
Of death, or such like things,
Then to me God send heart's content,
That like a fountain springs.
Alas I they little think what peace
They help me to, for by
Their rage my comforts do increase;
Bless God, therefore, do I.
If they do give me gall to drink,
Then God doth sweet'ning cast—
So much thereto that they can't think
How bravely it doth taste.
For as the devil sets before
Me heaviness and grief,
So God sets Christ and grace much more,
Whereby I take relief.
Though they say then that we are fools
Because we here do lie,
I answer, Jails are Christ his schools,
In them we learn to die.
'Tis not the baseness of this state
Doth hide us from God's face;
He frequently, both soon and late,
Doth visit us with grace.
Here come the angels, here come saints,
Here comes the Spirit of God,
To comfort us in our restraints
Under the wicked's rod.
God sometimes visits prisoners more
Than lordly palaces;
He often knocketh at the door
When he their houses miss.
The truth and life of heav'nly things
Lift up our hearts on high,
And carry us on eagles' wings
Beyond carnality.
It takes away those clogs that hold
The hearts of other men,
And makes us lively, strong and bold
Thus to oppose their sin.
By which means God doth frustrate
That which our foes expect—
Namely, our turning the apostate,
Like those of Judas' sect.
Here comes to our remembrance
The troubles good men had
Of old, and for our furtherance
Their joys when they were sad.
To them that here for evil lie
The place is comfortless,
But not to me, because that I
Lie here for righteousness.
The truth and I were both here cast
Together, and we do
Lie arm in arm, and so hold fast
Each other; this is true.
This jail to us is as a hill,
From whence we plainly see
Beyond this world, and take our fill
Of things that lasting be.
From hence we see the emptiness
Of all the world contains;
And here we feel the blessedness
That for us yet remains.
Here we can see how all men play
Their parts, as on a stage—
How good men suffer for God's way,
And bad men at them rage.
Here we can see who holds that
ground
Which they in Scripture find:
Here we see also who turns round
Like weathercocks with wind.
We can also from hence behold
How seeming friends appear
But hypocrites, as we are told
In Scripture everywhere.
When we did walk at liberty
We were deceiv'd by them,
Who we from hence do clearly see
Are vile, deceitful men.
These politicians that profess
For base and worldly ends,
Do not appear to us at best
But Machiavellian friends.
Though men do say we do disgrace
Ourselves by lying here
Among the rogues, yet Christ our face
From all such filth will clear.
We know there's neither flout nor frown
That we now for him bear,
But will add to our heavenly crown
When he comes in the air—
When he our righteousness forth brings
Bright shining as the day,
And wipeth off those sland'rous things
That scorners on us lay.
We sell our earthly happiness
For heavenly house and home;
We leave this world because 'tis less
And worse than that to come.
We change our drossy dust for gold,
From death to life we fly;
We let go shadows, and take hold
Of immortality.
We trade for that which lasting is,
And nothing for it give
But that which is already His
By whom we breathe and live.
That liberty we lose for him
Sickness might take away;
Our goods might also for our sin
By fire or thieves decay.
Again we see what glory 'tis
Freely to bear our cross
For Him who for us took up his
When he our servant was.
I am most free that men should see
A hole cut through my ear;
If others will ascertain me,
They'll hang a jewel there.
Just thus it is: we suffer here
For Him a little pain,
Who when he doth again appear
Will with him let us reign.
If all must either die for sin
A death that's natural,
Or else for Christ, 'tis best with him
Who for the last doth fall.
Who now dare say we throw away
Our goods or liberty,
When God's most holy word doth say
We gain thus much thereby?
Hark yet again, you carnal men,
And hear what I shall say
In your own dialect, and then
I'll you no longer stay.
You talk sometimes of valour much,
And count such bravely mann'd
That will not stick to have a touch
With any in the land.
If these be worth commending, then,
That vainly show their might,
How dare you blame those holy men
That in God's quarrel fight?
Though you dare crack a coward's
crown,
Or quarrel for a pin,
You dare not on the wicked frown,
Nor speak against their sin.
For all your spirits are so stout
For matters that are vain,
Yet sin besets you round about;
You are in Satan's chain.
You dare not for the truth engage,
You quake at 'prisonment;
You dare not make the tree your stage
For Christ, that King potent.
Know, then, true valour there doth dwell
Where men engage for God
Against the Devil, death and hell,
And bear the wicked's rod.
These be the men that God doth count
Of high and noble mind;
These be the men that do surmount
What you in nature find.
First, they do conquer their own hearts,
All worldly fears, and then
Also the devil's fiery darts,
And persecuting men.
They conquer when they thus do fall,
They kill when they do die;
They overcome then most of all,
And get the victory.
The worldling understands not this,
'Tis clear out of his sight;
Therefore he counts this world his bliss,
And doth our glory slight.
The lubber knows not how to spring
The nimble footman's stage;
Neither can owls or jackdaws sing
When they are in the cage.
The swine doth not the pearls regard,
But them doth slight for grains,
Though the wise merchant labours hard
For them with greatest pains.
Consider, man, what I have said,
And judge of things aright;
When all men's cards are fully play'd,
Whose will abide the light?
Will those who have us hither cast?
Or they who do us scorn?
Or those who do our houses waste?
Or us who this have borne?
And let us count those things the best
That best will prove at last;
And count such men the only blest
That do such things hold fast.
And what tho' they us dear do cost,
Yet let us buy them so;
We shall not count our labour lost
When we see others' woe.
And let saints be no longer blam'd
By carnal policy,
But let the wicked be asham'd
Of their malignity.
DEDICATED TO THE HEART
OF SUFFERING SAINTS
AND REIGNING SINNERS
By John Bunyan
Friend, I salute thee in the Lord,
And wish thou may'st abound
In faith, and have a good regard
To keep on holy ground.
Thou dost encourage me to hold
My head above the flood;
Thy counsel better is than gold:
In need thereof I stood.
Good counsel's good at any time;
The wise will it receive,
Tho' fools count he commits a crime
Who doth good counsel give.
I take it kindly at thy hand
Thou didst unto me write;
My feet upon Mount Zion stand,
In that take thou delight.
I am indeed in prison now
In body, but my mind
Is free to study Christ, and how
Unto me he is kind.
For tho' men keep my outward man
Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars.
Their fetters cannot spirits tame,
Nor tie up God from me;
My faith and hope they cannot lame;
Above them I shall be.
I here am very much refreshed
To think, when I was out
I preached life and peace and rest
To sinners round about.
My business then was souls to save
By preaching grace and faith,
Of which the comfort now I have,
And have it shall till death.
They were no fables that I taught,
Devis'd by cunning men,
But God's own word, by which were caught
Some sinners now and then.
Whose souls by it were made to see
The evil of their sin;
And need of Christ to make them free
From death, which they were in.
And now those very hearts that then
Were foes unto the Lord,
Embrace his Christ and truth, like men
Conquer'd by his word.
I hear them sigh, and groan, and cry
For grace to God above;
They loathe their sin, and to it die;
'Tis holiness they love.
This was the work I was about
When hands on me were laid;
'Twas this from which they pluck'd me out;
And vilely to me said:
You heretic, deceiver, come,
To prison you must go;
You preach abroad, and keep not home,
You are the Church's foe.
But having peace within my soul,
And truth on every side,
I could with comfort them control,
And at their charge deride.
Wherefore to prison they me sent,
Where to this day I lie;
And can with very much content
For my profession die.
The prison very sweet to me
Hath been since I came here,
And so would also hanging be,
If God would there appear.
Here dwells good conscience, also peace;
Here be my garments white;
Here, though in bonds, I have release
From guilt, which else would bite.
When they do talk of banishment,
Of death, or such like things,
Then to me God send heart's content,
That like a fountain springs.
Alas I they little think what peace
They help me to, for by
Their rage my comforts do increase;
Bless God, therefore, do I.
If they do give me gall to drink,
Then God doth sweet'ning cast—
So much thereto that they can't think
How bravely it doth taste.
For as the devil sets before
Me heaviness and grief,
So God sets Christ and grace much more,
Whereby I take relief.
Though they say then that we are fools
Because we here do lie,
I answer, Jails are Christ his schools,
In them we learn to die.
'Tis not the baseness of this state
Doth hide us from God's face;
He frequently, both soon and late,
Doth visit us with grace.
Here come the angels, here come saints,
Here comes the Spirit of God,
To comfort us in our restraints
Under the wicked's rod.
God sometimes visits prisoners more
Than lordly palaces;
He often knocketh at the door
When he their houses miss.
The truth and life of heav'nly things
Lift up our hearts on high,
And carry us on eagles' wings
Beyond carnality.
It takes away those clogs that hold
The hearts of other men,
And makes us lively, strong and bold
Thus to oppose their sin.
By which means God doth frustrate
That which our foes expect—
Namely, our turning the apostate,
Like those of Judas' sect.
Here comes to our remembrance
The troubles good men had
Of old, and for our furtherance
Their joys when they were sad.
To them that here for evil lie
The place is comfortless,
But not to me, because that I
Lie here for righteousness.
The truth and I were both here cast
Together, and we do
Lie arm in arm, and so hold fast
Each other; this is true.
This jail to us is as a hill,
From whence we plainly see
Beyond this world, and take our fill
Of things that lasting be.
From hence we see the emptiness
Of all the world contains;
And here we feel the blessedness
That for us yet remains.
Here we can see how all men play
Their parts, as on a stage—
How good men suffer for God's way,
And bad men at them rage.
Here we can see who holds that
ground
Which they in Scripture find:
Here we see also who turns round
Like weathercocks with wind.
We can also from hence behold
How seeming friends appear
But hypocrites, as we are told
In Scripture everywhere.
When we did walk at liberty
We were deceiv'd by them,
Who we from hence do clearly see
Are vile, deceitful men.
These politicians that profess
For base and worldly ends,
Do not appear to us at best
But Machiavellian friends.
Though men do say we do disgrace
Ourselves by lying here
Among the rogues, yet Christ our face
From all such filth will clear.
We know there's neither flout nor frown
That we now for him bear,
But will add to our heavenly crown
When he comes in the air—
When he our righteousness forth brings
Bright shining as the day,
And wipeth off those sland'rous things
That scorners on us lay.
We sell our earthly happiness
For heavenly house and home;
We leave this world because 'tis less
And worse than that to come.
We change our drossy dust for gold,
From death to life we fly;
We let go shadows, and take hold
Of immortality.
We trade for that which lasting is,
And nothing for it give
But that which is already His
By whom we breathe and live.
That liberty we lose for him
Sickness might take away;
Our goods might also for our sin
By fire or thieves decay.
Again we see what glory 'tis
Freely to bear our cross
For Him who for us took up his
When he our servant was.
I am most free that men should see
A hole cut through my ear;
If others will ascertain me,
They'll hang a jewel there.
Just thus it is: we suffer here
For Him a little pain,
Who when he doth again appear
Will with him let us reign.
If all must either die for sin
A death that's natural,
Or else for Christ, 'tis best with him
Who for the last doth fall.
Who now dare say we throw away
Our goods or liberty,
When God's most holy word doth say
We gain thus much thereby?
Hark yet again, you carnal men,
And hear what I shall say
In your own dialect, and then
I'll you no longer stay.
You talk sometimes of valour much,
And count such bravely mann'd
That will not stick to have a touch
With any in the land.
If these be worth commending, then,
That vainly show their might,
How dare you blame those holy men
That in God's quarrel fight?
Though you dare crack a coward's
crown,
Or quarrel for a pin,
You dare not on the wicked frown,
Nor speak against their sin.
For all your spirits are so stout
For matters that are vain,
Yet sin besets you round about;
You are in Satan's chain.
You dare not for the truth engage,
You quake at 'prisonment;
You dare not make the tree your stage
For Christ, that King potent.
Know, then, true valour there doth dwell
Where men engage for God
Against the Devil, death and hell,
And bear the wicked's rod.
These be the men that God doth count
Of high and noble mind;
These be the men that do surmount
What you in nature find.
First, they do conquer their own hearts,
All worldly fears, and then
Also the devil's fiery darts,
And persecuting men.
They conquer when they thus do fall,
They kill when they do die;
They overcome then most of all,
And get the victory.
The worldling understands not this,
'Tis clear out of his sight;
Therefore he counts this world his bliss,
And doth our glory slight.
The lubber knows not how to spring
The nimble footman's stage;
Neither can owls or jackdaws sing
When they are in the cage.
The swine doth not the pearls regard,
But them doth slight for grains,
Though the wise merchant labours hard
For them with greatest pains.
Consider, man, what I have said,
And judge of things aright;
When all men's cards are fully play'd,
Whose will abide the light?
Will those who have us hither cast?
Or they who do us scorn?
Or those who do our houses waste?
Or us who this have borne?
And let us count those things the best
That best will prove at last;
And count such men the only blest
That do such things hold fast.
And what tho' they us dear do cost,
Yet let us buy them so;
We shall not count our labour lost
When we see others' woe.
And let saints be no longer blam'd
By carnal policy,
But let the wicked be asham'd
Of their malignity.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
Conclusion of a sermon by Thomas Watson
The following was the conclusion of a sermon by Thomas Watson
on the eve of his ejectment from the rectorship of St. Stephens,
Walbrook, England, when the Act of Uniformity went into effect
on August 24, 1662. (This Act of Uniformity resulted in
"the ejection of Anglican clergymen who failed to comply with
its terms--and were forced out of the Church of England, schools,
and universities. Approximately 2,000 ministers were ejected.")
The most glorious morning hath its evening; the hour is come wherein
the sun is setting upon not a few of the prophets; the shadows of the
evening are stretched forth upon us; our day draws, our work seems to
be at an end. Our pulpits and places must know us no more. This is
the Lord's doing, let all the earth keep silence before him.
It is not a light thing for me, brethren, to be laid aside from the work,
and cast out of the vineyard of the Lord; and it must be something of
weight that must support under so severe a doom I know there are not
a few that will add to the affliction of the afflicted, by telling the world it
is their own fault, they might prevent it if they would. Whether this be so
or no, God knoweth, and let the Lord be judge. Blessed be God, whatever
be, this is not laid to our charge as the reason of our exclusion either
insufficiency or scandal!
You are not ignorant what things there are imposed on us, as the condition
of our continuing our ministration; which how lawful and expedient soever
they seem in the judgment of many, yet have the most specious arguments that
plead for them, left me utterly dissatisfied in my conscience about them. I
must profess before God, angels, and men, that my non-submission is not
from any disloyalty to authority, nor from pride, humour, or any factious
disposition, or design; but because I dare not contradict my light, nor do
any thing concerning which my heart tells me, the Lord says, do it not.
After all my most impartial inquiries,—after all my seeking counsel from
the Lord,—after all my considering, and consulting with men of all persuasions
about these matters,—I find myself so far short of satisfaction, that I am plainly
put to this choice, to part with my ministry or my conscience. I dare not lie
before God and the world; nor come and tell you, I approve, I allow, I heartily
consent, to what I neither do nor can; but must choose rather, that my ministry
be scaled up by my sufferings, than lengthened out by a lie, through the grace
of God, though men do, yet my heart shall not reproach me while I live. "If
our heart condemn us, God is greater than our hearts and knoweth all things."
But however, though I must now no longer act as a minister, I shall, through the
grace of God, endeavour peaceably, and patiently, to suffer as a Christian. I
should, to testify my obedience to authority, have become all things to all men,
to the uttermost that I could, with any clearness of heart: but since matters
stand so, I must lose my place, or my peace, I cheerfully suffer myself to be
thrust off the stage.
And now welcome the cross of Christ,—welcome reproach,—welcome
poverty, scorn and contempt, or whatever else may befall me on this account!
This morning I had a flock, and you had a pastor; but now, behold a pastor
without a flock,—a flock without a shepherd! This morning I had an house, but
now I have none! This morning I had a living, but now I have none! "The Lord
hath given, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."
Beloved, I am sensible of many weaknesses and disadvantages I am under,
which may render a suffering state the harder to be borne; help me by your
prayers, and not me only, but all my brethren also, with whom my lot must fall;
"Pray for us: for we trust that we have a good conscience, in all things willing to
live honestly." Pray,
1. That God would make our silence speak, and preach the same holy doctrine
that we have preached with our lips.
2. That he would give supports answerable to our sufferings; that he who
comforteth those that are cast down, will also comfort his servants that are cast out.
3. That, according to our earnest expectation, and our hope, as always, so now
also, Christ may be magnified in us, whether it be by life or by death.
And thus, brethren, I bid you all farewell, in the words of the apostle, 2 Cor. 13:11,
"Finally, brethren, farewell. Be perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in
peace; and the God of love and peace shall be with you." "And the God of peace,
that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep,
through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work
to do his will, working in you that which is well-pleasing in his sight, through Jesus
Christ; to whom be glory, for ever and ever. Amen."
on the eve of his ejectment from the rectorship of St. Stephens,
Walbrook, England, when the Act of Uniformity went into effect
on August 24, 1662. (This Act of Uniformity resulted in
"the ejection of Anglican clergymen who failed to comply with
its terms--and were forced out of the Church of England, schools,
and universities. Approximately 2,000 ministers were ejected.")
The most glorious morning hath its evening; the hour is come wherein
the sun is setting upon not a few of the prophets; the shadows of the
evening are stretched forth upon us; our day draws, our work seems to
be at an end. Our pulpits and places must know us no more. This is
the Lord's doing, let all the earth keep silence before him.
It is not a light thing for me, brethren, to be laid aside from the work,
and cast out of the vineyard of the Lord; and it must be something of
weight that must support under so severe a doom I know there are not
a few that will add to the affliction of the afflicted, by telling the world it
is their own fault, they might prevent it if they would. Whether this be so
or no, God knoweth, and let the Lord be judge. Blessed be God, whatever
be, this is not laid to our charge as the reason of our exclusion either
insufficiency or scandal!
You are not ignorant what things there are imposed on us, as the condition
of our continuing our ministration; which how lawful and expedient soever
they seem in the judgment of many, yet have the most specious arguments that
plead for them, left me utterly dissatisfied in my conscience about them. I
must profess before God, angels, and men, that my non-submission is not
from any disloyalty to authority, nor from pride, humour, or any factious
disposition, or design; but because I dare not contradict my light, nor do
any thing concerning which my heart tells me, the Lord says, do it not.
After all my most impartial inquiries,—after all my seeking counsel from
the Lord,—after all my considering, and consulting with men of all persuasions
about these matters,—I find myself so far short of satisfaction, that I am plainly
put to this choice, to part with my ministry or my conscience. I dare not lie
before God and the world; nor come and tell you, I approve, I allow, I heartily
consent, to what I neither do nor can; but must choose rather, that my ministry
be scaled up by my sufferings, than lengthened out by a lie, through the grace
of God, though men do, yet my heart shall not reproach me while I live. "If
our heart condemn us, God is greater than our hearts and knoweth all things."
But however, though I must now no longer act as a minister, I shall, through the
grace of God, endeavour peaceably, and patiently, to suffer as a Christian. I
should, to testify my obedience to authority, have become all things to all men,
to the uttermost that I could, with any clearness of heart: but since matters
stand so, I must lose my place, or my peace, I cheerfully suffer myself to be
thrust off the stage.
And now welcome the cross of Christ,—welcome reproach,—welcome
poverty, scorn and contempt, or whatever else may befall me on this account!
This morning I had a flock, and you had a pastor; but now, behold a pastor
without a flock,—a flock without a shepherd! This morning I had an house, but
now I have none! This morning I had a living, but now I have none! "The Lord
hath given, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."
Beloved, I am sensible of many weaknesses and disadvantages I am under,
which may render a suffering state the harder to be borne; help me by your
prayers, and not me only, but all my brethren also, with whom my lot must fall;
"Pray for us: for we trust that we have a good conscience, in all things willing to
live honestly." Pray,
1. That God would make our silence speak, and preach the same holy doctrine
that we have preached with our lips.
2. That he would give supports answerable to our sufferings; that he who
comforteth those that are cast down, will also comfort his servants that are cast out.
3. That, according to our earnest expectation, and our hope, as always, so now
also, Christ may be magnified in us, whether it be by life or by death.
And thus, brethren, I bid you all farewell, in the words of the apostle, 2 Cor. 13:11,
"Finally, brethren, farewell. Be perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in
peace; and the God of love and peace shall be with you." "And the God of peace,
that brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep,
through the blood of the everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good work
to do his will, working in you that which is well-pleasing in his sight, through Jesus
Christ; to whom be glory, for ever and ever. Amen."
Monday, March 13, 2017
From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee
From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed:
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
Psalms 61:2
Where our strength ends there God's omnipotence begins. Nature's extremity
is God's opportunity. Again we repeat it, the end of the earth is the beginning of
heaven. If the day should come when monarchs should banish God's people,
their banishment would be an object of contempt, for can they banish the men
that are strangers wherever they may be? Is not my Father's house a large one?
Yon dome, the blue sky, its roof; the rolling seas, the swelling floods, the green
meads, the huge mountains—are not these the floors of his house? And where
can I be driven from the dominions of my God, and away from the voice of his
love? Banishment to the Christian may seem a trouble, but if he looketh up and
seeth his Father's house and beholdeth the smile of his God, he will know that
banishment is to him an impossibility. But supposing us to be banished from every
thing good and dear to us, even then we should not be banished from God's throne,
"From the ends of the earth will I cry unto thee."
Charles H. Spurgeon
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
Psalms 61:2
Where our strength ends there God's omnipotence begins. Nature's extremity
is God's opportunity. Again we repeat it, the end of the earth is the beginning of
heaven. If the day should come when monarchs should banish God's people,
their banishment would be an object of contempt, for can they banish the men
that are strangers wherever they may be? Is not my Father's house a large one?
Yon dome, the blue sky, its roof; the rolling seas, the swelling floods, the green
meads, the huge mountains—are not these the floors of his house? And where
can I be driven from the dominions of my God, and away from the voice of his
love? Banishment to the Christian may seem a trouble, but if he looketh up and
seeth his Father's house and beholdeth the smile of his God, he will know that
banishment is to him an impossibility. But supposing us to be banished from every
thing good and dear to us, even then we should not be banished from God's throne,
"From the ends of the earth will I cry unto thee."
Charles H. Spurgeon
Sunday, March 12, 2017
He will rest in his love. Zephaniah 3:17
He will rest in his love. Zephaniah 3:17
Sometimes love makes a man silent. If you hear anything said against
one you love, and you are asked, "Is it not so?" you say, "Well, I am
not compelled to bear witness against one that I love, and I will not."
You know our law does not demand of a wife that she shall give
evidence against her husband; and certainly the Lord Jesus Christ
will never give any evidence against his spouse. Never—"he will be
silent in his love." If he were called upon to say, "Has thy spouse
sinned?" his declaration would be, "I am the sin-offering." "Has she
sinned? I am her security. I have been punished in her stead. I can
say, thou art all fair, my love, there is not a spot in thee." There will
not be a word of accusation from him. She says, "I am all black."
He will not deny it, but he will not own it. He says, there is no spot,
and he goes on to say, she is all fair in his sight. Oh, glorious silence—
he will be silent in his love. So am I inclined to believe it will be at the
last great day, when the books shall be unfolded he will read the sins
of the wicked against them, but as for the sins of his people, he will be
silent in his love. I sometimes think it will be so, though I cannot speak
with authority. "No," he will say, "upon you be the curse who lived and
died without repairing to my blood as the fountain opened for sin and
for uncleanness; but these my people, they had their sins blotted out and I
will not read what is blotted out; I will be silent in my love."
Charles H. Spurgeon
Sometimes love makes a man silent. If you hear anything said against
one you love, and you are asked, "Is it not so?" you say, "Well, I am
not compelled to bear witness against one that I love, and I will not."
You know our law does not demand of a wife that she shall give
evidence against her husband; and certainly the Lord Jesus Christ
will never give any evidence against his spouse. Never—"he will be
silent in his love." If he were called upon to say, "Has thy spouse
sinned?" his declaration would be, "I am the sin-offering." "Has she
sinned? I am her security. I have been punished in her stead. I can
say, thou art all fair, my love, there is not a spot in thee." There will
not be a word of accusation from him. She says, "I am all black."
He will not deny it, but he will not own it. He says, there is no spot,
and he goes on to say, she is all fair in his sight. Oh, glorious silence—
he will be silent in his love. So am I inclined to believe it will be at the
last great day, when the books shall be unfolded he will read the sins
of the wicked against them, but as for the sins of his people, he will be
silent in his love. I sometimes think it will be so, though I cannot speak
with authority. "No," he will say, "upon you be the curse who lived and
died without repairing to my blood as the fountain opened for sin and
for uncleanness; but these my people, they had their sins blotted out and I
will not read what is blotted out; I will be silent in my love."
Charles H. Spurgeon
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
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