On another occasion, I hope to preach from the words, “because they had no root;” but, at this time, my subject is, “They sprang up, because they had no deepness of earth.” Every farmer knows the wonderful effect of heat below the soil, how quickly it makes things grow. I do not gather that this was a stony piece of ground, but that it had a mass of stone not far from the surface. It was ground where the soil was very shallow, and underneath it was a hard pan of rock that had never been broken up; so that, when the sun shone upon it, the rock reflected the heat, and what with the sun above, and the heat below, the corn was very soon made to sprout, and up came the green blade almost immediately. But this very shallowness of the soil, which made the seed spring up so quickly, was the cause of its ruin, for the sun had not long shone upon it before that which made it grow, also killed it. The heat scorched it, and it withered away.

Those people, who are represented by this soil which had no deepness of earth, very soon make the good seed to appear to grow in them. They hear a sermon, are apparently converted directly, and they fancy that they are saved; or there is a revival meeting, where some earnest addresses are given by different speakers, and they at once profess to be believers. They are brought forward as converts, and there is great rejoicing over them; but after a very little while, days of trial arise, and there being no depth in them, they wither away, and their names are struck from the church roll. The hopeful success, as it seemed, becomes a bitter failure. Men ask, “Where are those converts?” and echo can only answer, “Where?” for nobody knows but the Lord, who was never deceived by them.

I want you clearly to understand that the fault did not lie in the suddenness of their supposed conversion. Many sudden conversions have been among the best that have ever happened. Take, for instance, the case of Saul of Tarsus, struck down on the road to Damascus; within three days, his sight is restored to him, and he is baptized as a true, real, out-and-out Christian. There was great depth of earth in him, yet the seed sprang up very rapidly; and we have hundreds and even thousands of instances of persons who have been suddenly converted, and yet who have been truly converted. The work has been very thorough, nobody could doubt its genuineness, yet it took place quite unexpectedly, and was looked upon as a wonder. Do not judge the reality of your conversion either by the suddenness of it or by the length of time which it occupied; for it is true that superficial conversions are usually sudden, although all sudden conversions are not superficial. There are many who, in the sight of God, are not converted at all, who appeared as if they were the subjects of a great, remarkable, and complete change. Where there is no depth, there is no durability. That familiar proverb is a true one, “Easy come, easy go.” As a general rule, those persons who have, as they say, “found religion” all of a sudden, without any mental struggle, and who have never found it in their heart and soul, are the very people to let it go quite as readily whenever a time of trial comes.

In case there should be any persons of that sort here unwarned, I am going to speak of them and to them now, answering these three questions. First, what is meant by having no deepness of earth? Secondly, what is meant by the scorching of the sun? And, thirdly, how can we avoid the evil of having no deepness of earth, and so being withered by the scorching of the sun?

I think it is, with some people, a general superficiality of character. There are some persons whom you ought to be able to see through, for there is so little substance in them. I do not say that you can always see all there is in them, for a pool, if it be not deep, may be very muddy, and you may not be able to see to the bottom of it, even though it is quite shallow; and I think I know some people in whom there is as much deception as there is superficiality. Probably, we all know some persons who, from their very early days, have always been superficial and changeable, like the man described by Dryden,-“Everything by starts, and nothing long.” Even in business, they have been about twenty different things, “Jack of all trades, and master of none.” Nobody knows what they are going to be next; and they themselves have no idea. The weathercock does not shift more often than they do. When they went to school, they pretended to learn a thing, but they forgot it the next day. Even in their play, they never put any heart, there never was any earnestness about them in anything; and, now, they are just thin, shallow, vapid, empty. Like the baseless fabric of a vision, “such stuff as dreams are made of,” there is nothing in them.

When such people become affected by religion, they are just the same. They hear, yet they do not hear, for they are looking round the place half the time. If anyone else is affected by the preaching of the Word, they may be affected too, or may appear to be so. They are the kind of people who are always ready, like a flock of sheep, to follow the leader; but their following is only temporary, their affection is mere affectation. They profess to be Christians, but they will give up that profession before long. As far as they can be, they are sincere, what little there is of them; but their sincerity is, after all, a poor, feeble, fickle thing. They will soon be as sincerely wrong as they are, for the moment, sincerely right. You know the kind of people that they are; they were born without any backbone, and it is very hard to grow one if you do not possess one. They seem to go through the world molluscous, soft, plastic, like Mr. Pliable, who figures in the early part of Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress.” He resolved to go to the Celestial City; but, very soon, he was quite as determined to get out of the Slough of Despond on the side nearest to his own home. You know the sort of people that I am trying to describe.

Next, the want of deepness may mean something else; not so much superficiality of character, as want of knowledge. I believe that, at this present time, we are in great danger of being burdened with a crowd of so-called converts who do not really know anything as it ought to be known. They attended a revival meeting, were much excited, and thought they were converted; but just ask them to explain to you the simplest truths of the gospel, and you will soon discover how little they know. Could they explain the three R.’s,-ruin, redemption, and regeneration? Do they know what the ruin is? Do they know what the remedy for that ruin is? Do they understand at all what it means to be born again? Do they comprehend what the new nature is, or what “justification by faith” means? Perhaps someone says, “They do not comprehend your theological terms.” I do not mind whether they know the meaning of the terms that are familiar to many of us; but do they know the truths themselves? There is a certain degree of Christian knowledge which is absolutely necessary to salvation. David said, “The Lord is my light, and my salvation;” and we must always have light first. The first word of the spiritual creation, as of the natural, is, “Let there be light.” Where there is no light, there is no life. Where there is no knowledge of God, there is no peace with God. O dear hearers, if you think you are converted, I trust that it will prove to be so, but do not be content unless you really know the truth! Search the Scriptures; try to sit under an instructive ministry; you need not seek to make yourself a Doctor of Divinity, but do learn all you can of the truth of God. “Grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.” Know yourself; know Christ Jesus as your Saviour; know the work of the Holy Spirit; all this is knowable, and must be known, or else, before long, you will wither away because you have no deepness of earth. Some atheist or infidel will come along, and turn you aside. Someone will lead you to trust in a priest, or in some false doctrine; and if you do not know the truth, you will be bowled over at once.

Sometimes, this want of deepness of earth means want of thought, because there may be people who have knowledge, but who have never used their knowledge to any proper purpose. Knowledge is the food of the mind; but thought is the digestion, by which we turn knowledge into true mental nutriment. I believe in a serious, thoughtful conversion, and I hardly think that any other kind can be real. You have sinned against God; think of that great fact. You are lost; think of that. “God is angry with the wicked every day;” and he must punish them. Think that over most solemnly. “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” Think that over; try to understand what is meant by that declaration. Think how he stood in the sinner’s stead,-how he suffered in the sinner’s place. While you are thinking all this over, it will look very different to you from what it did before you thought it over. Hearing of these truths with the ear may just be a useless process; but when you get them into the mind, when you read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, then your conversion will be like the good seed sown in deep, prepared soil, and that which springs up in your heart will not wither away because there was no depth of earth.

So do, I pray you, especially before you make a profession of religion, think what you are doing. In joining a church, I should try to find out what that church believed; and I would not join it if I did not believe its doctrines. I should also want to know what I myself believed, for I should be afraid to profess that I believed what I did not believe. I like to see a convert who thinks at every step, and who does not put his foot down without first considering whether it is a right place to set his foot. Think, carefully, what the Lord would have you to do; and, then, when you come to him, you will come in deed, and of a truth. Much thought produces much deepness of earth.

Further, I do think that, in truly gracious conversions, the deepness of earth, at least in part, lies in deepness of emotion. I often regret that I do not see so many converts of the old-fashioned sort as I used to meet with. I know that emotion does not save the soul, but I believe that those who are saved are usually filled with emotion. We are saved by faith; but that faith produces very decided feelings. For instance, where there is true deepness of earth, there is generally a deep sense of sin. A man does not usually truly say, “I believe in Christ,” until he has first of all felt, “I need a Saviour.” In the present day, far too many seem to come out of the City of Destruction without any burden on their backs, and I am afraid that means that they never really come out at all. Some of us had the burden on our backs much longer than we need have done, and we do not hold ourselves up as examples to others; but yet I, for my part, have often blessed God for those bitter years of conviction, because now I know what others may have to endure, and I can help other poor souls who are deep down in the dungeons of Giant Despair. But where there is no true sense of sin, or very little of it, there is generally a very poor sort of conversion. If that kind of man ever tries to preach,-and he may do so,-he never says much about free grace and dying love. He is the man who talks a great deal about the dignity of human nature, and the evolution of grace out of man’s own sinfulness. He does not know any better, so he talks according to his light, which is darkness. But, my dear hearers, may God give you to have so much depth of earth that you may be pricked in your hearts, and may be weighed down with a sense of your own sinfulness! May the great steam-plough of the law go right through the rock that lies at the bottom of your heart! May God’s almighty grace change the rock into good, friable soil, which will be suitable to the good seed!

Where there is very little feeling, there is generally only a poor conversion, for, as a general rule, where there is no great sense of sin, there is no great sense of love. It is a grand thing to see a converted Pharisee; but a converted harlot may bring more glory to God. See, she is washing the Saviour’s feet with her tears, and wiping them with the hairs of her head; and why is that? Because she has had much forgiven; and, therefore, she loves much. When publicans and sinners are converted, we find what precious metal there is in them. They do love their Lord so fervently, and oh! how they pray, and how they praise, and how they serve, and how they delight in God! You who have broken hearts on account of sin can indeed give joy to Christ when whole hearts do not. Bruised and mangled sinners glorify the great Physician who sets their broken bones, and binds up their gaping wounds. Poor bankrupt sinners, who have not a rag left to put on their backs, cannot help magnifying him who paid all their debts, and clothed them with the spotless robe of righteousness which he had himself wrought for them. But if any of you think that you do not owe him much, I fear that thought comes to you because you have not much depth of earth, and that you may be like those converts who soon wither away in the sun.

Another mark of those who are without much depth of earth is that they do not count the cost when they are converted. They never expect to meet with any difficulties, or troubles, or persecutions, or doubts or fears; and when they have, afterwards, to count the cost of being Christians, they turn back again to the world.

This want of depth of earth also means want of reality. There is no soul in what they do, and he who is not converted in his whole soul wants converting over again. He that does not go in for it with body, soul, and spirit, all for Christ, and Christ all to him, needs to go back to the wicket-gate, and start on the heavenly journey once more. The fact is, depth of earth means heart, putting our heart into whatever we do; but where there is no faith in the heart, no repentance in the heart,-when everything is from the lip, and outward, instead of being from the very heart, and upward,-then it all comes to nothing in a very short time.

I shall only occupy a few minutes in trying to answer the second question,-what is meant by the scorching of the sun?

Our Lord told his disciples that it meant that tribulation arises. The man was so joyful, and felt so happy at being converted that, on the next Sunday, he shut his shop up. But, on the Monday night, he said to himself, “I lost so much yesterday that I shall not close my shop next Sunday.” So he returns to his Sunday trading; or in some other way, if there is any trouble for the sake of the gospel, the sudden convert, who has not much depth of earth, finds that he has made a mistake, and he tries to retrieve his position, and to get back to where he was before.

The scorching of the sun also means persecution. Yes, the man professed to be converted, but there was not much depth of earth in him, so when he went into the workshop where he was employed, he heard one of the men ask another, “Were you at such-and-such a place, the other night?” “No,” replied the other, “I was not there, but I heard that some of your mates were there, and that one of them was converted. He is a full-blown saint this morning, the very man who used to swear and drink as much as any one of us.” And the men chat away among themselves, all the while hitting side blows at him, and they say some very cruel, nasty, sarcastic things, and as he has not much depth of earth, he says, “I can’t stand this chaff. If I lived in a Christian family, I should go to heaven with the rest; but, as I have to work with the men in this shop, I shall have to do as they do. The old saying is, ‘If you go to Rome, you must do as the Romans do.’ Therefore I shall do just the same as the other men do.” He was going to run with the hare, but the hounds barked so loudly that he must needs run with them, so away he goes. You know the gentleman, do you not? There are plenty of that sort all round us.

The scorching of the sun, however, comes in many other forms. Sometimes, it is in the form of great depression of spirit. The woman professed to be converted, and she felt-oh, so happy; but, after about a week or so, she was perhaps not in good health, or something happened that crossed her, and she felt-oh, so unhappy! “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, “I thought I was always going to travel in the sunshine.” Do any of you think so? If so, you are mightily mistaken. If you fancy that, all the way to heaven, it will be hosannas and palm branches, we may as well correct your mistake at once. There are lions to be faced, and giants to be fought with, there is the Slough of Despond, and the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and Vanity Fair, and the pilgrim’s way lies through them all; and if you are not prepared for these experiences, I do not wonder that, having no depth of earth, you say, “I shall give it all up.” As for myself, I am resolved that, if I never have a ray of comfort between here and heaven, if I live to be eighty years of age in darkness, I will still follow Christ, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” If that resolution is not in your mind, I fear that you have not much depth of earth, and that you will very soon wither away.

Sometimes, the scorching of the sun comes in another form, namely, that of outward debate and discussion. The young convert meets with somebody who says to him, “But you know that what Mr. Spurgeon tells you is not philosophical. Many discoveries have been made of late, and the learned Dr. So-and-so says just the very opposite of what you hear at the Tabernacle.” You do not know how to answer him, and I do not suppose that anybody else does, because any fool can raise difficulties, and it may not be easy at once to answer them, though they can be answered. Now, if you have much depth of earth, you will say to yourself, “Difficulty or no difficulty, I trusted my soul to Christ, and I mean to do so to the very end.” But if you have not much depth of earth, you will be staggered by the objections that you hear. “I cannot answer this man,” you will say, “so I do not know what I shall do.” Well, if you cannot answer him, do not try to answer him; is there any reason why you should? If nobody is to go to heaven until he can explain all the difficulties that anybody can suggest to him, who will ever go there? What you want is not the wisdom which can answer puzzling questions, but the faith which clings to Christ through thick and thin. That is the deepness of earth which will keep the good seed alive within your soul.

I know another kind of scorching of the sun which many poor souls cannot endure; and that is, difficulties arising from Christian people. “Well,” you say, “when I was anxious about my soul, Mrs. So-and-so was very kind to me; but now that I trust I have believed in Christ, she does not take any notice of me.” Well, what if she does not? Of course, we nurse the babes; but when you begin to run alone, we do not keep on nursing you, for we are looking after other babes. A young man said, “When first I joined the church, the members paid me great attention; but, now, I seldom get anybody to speak to me.” Well, suppose it is so, have we not something else to do beside be always looking after you? We expect you now to be looking after other people. I have before mentioned to you that I had the portraits of my two sons taken on their birthdays for many years. The first year, they were in a perambulator. I did not object to that; but suppose that, at the age of twenty-one, they had still been in a perambulator, I should have thought myself a very unhappy parent; and are we always to have Christians in perambulators, and, because we begin to treat you as you ought to be treated, namely, make you look to yourselves a little, is that to cause you to go away from us? Well, if it does, then it is evident that you have not much depth of earth.

“Ah!” says another, “but I have not found Christian people to be all that I thought they were.” I daresay you have not, nor have I; and, more than that, I have not found myself to be all that I ought to be, or hoped to be, and I should not wonder if it has been the same with you. But, after all, in this matter of cleaving to Christ, are you to forsake him because you do not quite admire all his disciples? If they prove unworthy of your admiration, give it all to him. If they do not write a good fair hand, imitate the style of the great Writing-Master, for then you will write correctly. The inconsistencies of Christians ought not to make you shrink back from following the eternal Son of God, but should rather cause you to cling the more closely to him.

But perhaps the fiery trial comes to you in this form. You are surrounded by evil examples. You say, “I do not know how I am to be a Christian at home; and in the circle in which I move, I do not know how I am to hold out.” Ah! such talk as that proves that you have not much depth of earth. May I beg you, in laying hold on Christ, to lay hold on him with both hands for yourself? Do not be a sort of “lean-to” Christian; you know what that expression means. A man built a lean-to house resting against his neighbour’s wall; and, when his neighbour took his wall down, the house went down too. Build your house with every wall of it your own, on your own ground, so that, whoever pulls his wall down, your structure will stand. God help us to avoid being dependent upon other people about these things! Let us not have a second-hand religion which we bought of somebody else, but let us go direct to Jesus Christ himself, and get it for ourselves, and believe in him for ourselves. Then shall we have much depth of earth; and, let the sun shine as fiercely as it may, its beams shall only cause us to grow, and we shall give God all the glory.

Now I must turn, for a little while, to the third question,-how can we avoid this evil of being so shallow, and therefore withering in the sunshine?

Dear friends, above all things, dread insincerity; and, next to that, above all other things, dread superficiality in religion. You know that the beginning of all godliness is believing in the Lord Jesus Christ, so mind what and why you believe. Do not be content to say, “I believe,” but do really believe; and, in order to this, know what you believe, and why you believe it. Get a clear view of who Christ is, what he did, what right you have to trust him, and the way in which what Christ did avails for your salvation. Clear out the space for the foundation of your building; get right down to the solid rock before you lay a single brick or stone. That is to say, let your faith be real faith,-clear, distinct, Scriptural faith in what God has revealed, and in the Saviour whom God has set forth as the propitiation for our sins. Begin, in that way, with real faith; for, so, you will begin with a good depth of earth. Then, as repentance comes with faith, see that you have real repentance. Think much of the evil of sin, and of the consequences of sin, both in this life and in that which is to come. Pray to God, with Charles Wesley,-

“Before me place, in dread array,

The pomp of that tremendous day,

When thou with clouds shalt come

To judge the nations at thy bar;

And tell me, Lord, shall I be there,

To meet a joyful doom?”

Think of what would result from your appearing there red with your guilt; and when you have thought that over most seriously, pray to God to make you really hate sin,-every sin. If you do not hate every sin, you do not, with all your heart, hate any sin. They must all go. Sin, as sin, is to be abhorred, and repented of, and practically quitted in your life. Oh, may God help you to make sure work of your repentance! Make no profession of faith if you have not real faith; and have no repentance at all rather than sham repentance.

Then, in every spiritual grace, and in every religious duty, be thorough. If you pray, really pray. If you praise, do praise. I like the thought of a holy man of God who said that he would never give over praying till he had prayed. When he came to be instructed in the reading of the Scriptures, he would read till he was instructed; and when he praised God, he said, he would not cease from the holy exercise till he felt that his heart did truly praise God. O brothers and sisters, let us beware of leaving our heart out of our worship or service! You never read, in the Old Testament, that anybody ever brought a fish to be offered upon God’s altar. Why not? Because you could not bring it alive, and every victim must be brought to the altar alive. God loves living worship. Among the old Romans, when they killed a bullock as a sacrifice, if they did not find its heart, or if the heart was shrivelled, they never offered that animal, for they considered that it was an omen of evil when the heart was not there in full vigour. So must it be with all the sacrifices that we bring to the Lord.

“God abhors a sacrifice,

Where not the heart is found.”

I pray you never to go beyond reality in any part of your worship. If you do not really pray, do not pretend to pray. If you have no experience of the things of God, do not talk as if you had. To be a liar anywhere, is hateful; but to lie in religion, is the most abominable form of lying that can be. God make us straight as a line about all these things! Then, we shall soon come to much depth of earth.

I would say finally, beloved, bring your hearts to God, and ask him to search you. After many years of looking at one’s self, how little one knows about himself after all! A grey-headed man of long experience thinks, “Well, now, I really do know something about my human nature.” So you do, brother, but not much; for “the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked;” and when a man says, of any particular temptation, “I shall never fall in that way,” the probability is that this is the very way in which the man will fall. I well remember a lady, whom I should not be slandering if I said that she was as proud as she was tall; but, on one occasion, when I scarcely knew her, she said to me, “I always pray for you, Mr. Spurgeon, every day.” I said, “I thank you very much,” and she added, “My one prayer for you is, that God will keep you humble.” I said, “Thank you, madam, that is a very wise prayer; I am sorry that I have not remembered you in that way, but I will do so in future.” “Oh!” said she, “but I do not need it, for I was never tempted to pride.” “Madam,” I said, “I shall remember you now twice a day, night and morning, for I think that you are in greater danger of pride than anybody whom I have met with for a long time.” There was a person, who said that she had not any pride, and was not in danger of being tempted to be proud, yet, if I had asked any half-dozen of her acquaintances to find me a proud woman, they would have called on her, and said that I wanted to see her, I am sure that they would. So is it with us; when we think that we are getting over some particular temptation, it is just then that it is getting over us. When you suppose that you are master of that temptation, in all probability it has mastered you. Come, brothers and sisters, we had better give over this kind of folly. This person, whom we are trying to search, is much too deep for us. I mean, that we are so ready to cheat ourselves, that we cannot find ourselves out. Let us rather pray to the Lord, “Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” I suggest to you this prayer, “Lord, show me the worst of my case. Put me in the place where I ought to be. Make me to feel and know what I really am; and then, my Lord, break my heart if it never was broken, and heal it if it is broken. Empty me of myself, and bring me to thyself. Turn me upside down, till the last drop of my self-sufficiency runs out even to the dregs, and then pour in the fulness of thy grace in Christ Jesus till I am filled even to the brim.”

The Lord hear that prayer, and bless every soul here now, for Jesus’ sake! Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

MARK 9:14-32, and 43-48

Our Lord had been absent from the people, and transfigured on the top of the mountain; when he came down from this manifestation of his glory, he was brought face to face with Satan’s work at almost the first step he took. Let us read about what he did.

Verses 14, 15. And when he came to his disciples, he saw a great multitude about them, and the scribes questioning with them. And straightway all the people, when they beheld him, were greatly amazed, and running to him saluted him.

There was a glory about his face not altogether unlike that of Moses when he came down from the other mountain, so that the people were struck with wonder when they looked upon him.

16. And he asked the scribes, What question ye with them?

The battle had been raging between Christ’s enemies and his disciples, but now that their Captain has come, he rallies his forces, and at once attacks his foes: “What question ye with them?”

17. And one of the multitude answered and said, Master, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit;

We do not know if the scribes gave any answer to Christ’s question; and it does not signify at all. What does always signify is practical, living, earnest prayer. So what the scribes may have said is not recorded, but the prayer of the poor father is: “Master, I have brought unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit.” If any of you have come here to cavil, we shall take no notice of that; but if there is a soul that has come here to pray, the recording angel will write it down in the eternal book.

18. And wheresoever he taketh him, he teareth him: and he foameth, and gnasheth with his teeth, and pineth away: and I spake to thy disciples that they should cast him out; and they could not.

No, it was no use going to the disciples, it is of no avail to pray to saints and angels; go to the Master himself. “Straightforward makes the best runner.” There is nothing like carrying your case to headquarters. Get to the Court of King’s Bench as soon as you can, for there the matter will be finally settled.

19. He answereth him, and saith, O faithless generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you? bring him unto me.

Grand words: “Bring him unto me.” Lord, he has a dumb spirit. “Bring him unto me.” It is the devil who is his enemy. “Bring him unto me,”

20. And they brought him unto him: and when he saw him, straightway the spirit tare him; and he fell on the ground, and wallowed foaming.

What a dreadful sight! He struggled on the ground, like one in a fit of epilepsy.

21, 22. And he asked his father, How long is it ago since this came unto him? And he said, Of a child. And ofttimes it hath cast him into the fire, and into the waters, to destroy him: but if thou canst do any thing, have compassion on us, and help us.

“Help us,” he cries, identifying himself with his child. Father, mother, when you pray, use the plural, as this man did, “Have compassion on us, and help us.” That is the way to pray for every sinner whom you bring before Christ. Join yourself to the poor soul for whom you are pleading, and say, “Have compassion on us, and help us.”

23. Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.

Hear that, any of you who have come in here, desiring to be delivered from sin, to be made holy, to break off old habits, and to become new men in Christ Jesus. “All things are possible to him that believeth.” So, take courage, trust in Christ, and cry unto him to save you.

24. And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.

There were within him two men, as it were,-a believing man, and an unbelieving man, and the two struggled for mastery; “Lord, I do believe; but there is so much unbelief in me, I pray thee to drive it out, that I may believe in thee wholly.”

25, 26. When Jesus saw that the people came running together, he rebuked the foul spirit, saying unto him, Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no more into him. And the spirit cried, and rent him sore, and came out of him:

It must obey Christ. The Master bids that dog of a devil to lie down, and he must do so. It shows what an abject creature, after all, the prince of darkness is; he must obey the voice of Christ. Lord, speak to him at this moment, and drive him out of other souls by thine omnipotent word!

26. And he was as one dead; insomuch that many said, He is dead.

It was not a case of “kill or cure,” but it seemed to be one of “cure and kill;” and, sometimes, poor sinners, in their struggles with sin and Satan, are brought to such despair that they are afraid that they will die before they get a glimpse of hope. “Many said, He is dead;” but he was not.

27. But Jesus took him by the hand, and lifted him up; and he arose.

So may the Lord come, and take by the hand any here who seem to be dead in despair! A touch of his hand will enable them to stand.

28, 29. And when he was come into the house, his disciples asked him privately, Why could not we cast him out? And he said unto them, This kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer and fasting.

The watchword for Christ’s disciples is “intensity.” Here was the devil in an intensely terrible form, and he could only be driven out by intense grace. There must be prayer and fasting. Even Christ himself must exert the greatness of his power to work a cure in such a case as this. Oh, for more intensity in us all! Carry that word in your ear as we read on.

30-32. And they departed thence, and passed through Galilee; and he would not that any man should know it. For he taught his disciples, and said unto them, The Son of man is delivered into the hands of men, and they shall kill him; and after that he is killed, he shall rise the third day. But they understood not that saying, and were afraid to ask him.

See how intense he was; always thinking of his approaching death,-that cruel, bitter death, yet he hasted towards it, longed for that baptism to be accomplished, for the great redeeming price to be paid. Oh, that you and I were as fully absorbed in the service of God as our great Master was!

Now let us see what intensity he requires of us.

43. And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off; it is better for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched:

Anything is better than the loss of your soul. It is better to lose the greatest joy, skill, comfort, honour, that you ever had, than to lose your soul for ever.

44-46. Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched. And if thy foot offend thee, cut it off: it is better for thee to enter halt into life, than having two feet to be cast into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.

That is the second time he said these words. Our Lord was not fond of dreadful metaphors and terrible language, but he knew that they must be used, though some of his servants shrink from the use of them. Are they more loving than he is? Is it, after all, a greater love for souls that makes men keep back terrible truths? Is it not more honest and loving to tell the whole truth, whatever it may be? It is harder to speak, but does it not show a tenderer heart to be able to speak so as to warn men of their peril? If anything should seem as necessary to you as your foot, so that you can make no progress in life without it, yet if it would cost you your soul, give it up. Just as it would be better to live without a foot than to die, so is it better to go to heaven without even the necessaries of life on the road than to perish everlastingly.

47. And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out:

Notice how severe our Saviour is, how deep he goes. He does not say, “Shut it, cover it up with a green shade;” but, “Pluck it out.”

47, 48. It is better for thee to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire: where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.

That is the third time he has uttered those terrible words; then they must mean something; what do they mean? Can they mean anything less than everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord? Oh, that we might be prepared to sacrifice everything rather than be lost for ever! Dear hearts, are you saved or not? If you are not saved, see first to this all-important business; let everything else go sooner than that, in eternity, you should find yourself for ever shut in where hope can never come.

LACKING MOISTURE

A Sermon

Published on Thursday, August 20th, 1903,

delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington,

On Thursday Evening, September 20th, 1888.

“And some fell upon a rock; and as soon as it was sprung up, it withered away, because it lacked moisture.”-Luke 8:6.

In this parable of the sower, there is great discrimination of character, not only between those who bring forth fruit and those who bring forth none, but also between those who bring forth fruit in different degrees,-not only between the fruitful and the fruitless, but also between various forms of fruitlessness. The reasons are given, not in bulk, but in detail, why this failed, and that failed, and the other failed. All this points to discrimination in hearing. When there is discrimination in the preacher, as there should always be, there should be an equal discrimination in the hearer, and each one should try to take to himself that special part of the Word which is intended for him.

The true preacher, especially our great Lord and Master, resembles a portrait painted by a real artist, which always looks at you; no matter where you are in the room, to the right, or to the left of it, its eyes seem to be fixed upon you. So does our Lord, whenever he preaches, look at us. May he look at us in that way just now, and may we catch his eye as he gazes upon us; and may the preacher also seem to be looking straight at you, because you are on the watch for that particular part of the truth which specially concerns you! If there is anything hopeful and cheering in the sermon, may it come to you who are mourning and doubtful! If there is anything arousing, may it come to those of you who happen to be tinged with self-confidence!

Coming to our text, I think it suggests to us three observations; first, let us note well that there is a reception of the Word of God which fails to be effectual; secondly, we shall enquire why it fails in these cases; and, thirdly, we shall consider how this failure is to be avoided.

First, there is a sowing that comes to nothing. There is even a reception of the seed into the soil which disappoints the sower.

This failure was not because the seed was bad. It was the same seed which, in the good soil, produced thirty, sixty, or a hundredfold. You know that, sometimes, when we do not succeed in impressing our hearers, we condemn ourselves, perhaps very justly. If men are not saved, the preacher must not put the blame upon divine sovereignty; he must blame himself. He must also ask himself, “Have I really preached the truth? Have I preached it in a right spirit? Have I preached different truths in due proportion? Have I given the most weight to that which is of primary importance, and have I put that which is secondary in its proper position?” We, poor sowers, often chastise ourselves for our failures; or, if we do not, we ought to do so; otherwise, we shall never improve. God help us to preach better, to love men’s souls more, and to be more earnest in seeking to bring them to Christ! I mean this wish for myself and for all of you who love the Lord.

But there was no fault to be found with the seed that fell on the rock, although it did not result in a harvest. The seed was good, thoroughly good. The sower got it from his Master, and his Master’s granary contains no seed which will not grow. True preachers car say with the apostle Peter, “We have not followed cunningly devised fables.” We have preached to you the Word of God; so that, whenever we put our head upon our pillow, we can truly say that we have not preached what we thought, or what we imagined, but we have declared what we believe to be revealed in this blessed Book of God. That is the good seed that we sow; and if it does not grow in you, it is not the fault of the seed, it is your own fault. There is something about you that hinders it. Will you think of that, dear hearer, if you are unconverted?

But, in the next place, the failure was not from want of receptiveness. Those hearers, who are like the seed sown on the rock, do receive the seed. We are expressly told that by our Lord himself: “They on the rock are they, which, when they hear, receive the Word with joy.” We have hearers who take in all we say, perhaps too readily; they hear indiscriminately. There are some hearers who are like a sponge; they suck up all, good, bad, and indifferent. If they hear of a clever, oratorical preacher, they speedily run after him. What he preaches, or whether he preaches with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven, is not a matter about which they enquire. They have not much depth of earth, but what little earth there is takes in the seed. There is not enough depth of earth for the seed really to fructify; yet they do, in some sort of fashion, receive it. I am not going to pile up indiscriminate censure upon this receptiveness. It is a briar upon which a rose may grow; but, still, it is a briar until it is properly grafted. Receptiveness may easily be carried too far, and men may even ruin themselves by being too ready to receive what they hear,-not by being too ready rightly to receive the real Word of Truth, but by receiving it in the wrong fashion. Do they disbelieve what you say? No, they are not earnest enough to do that. Do they doubt what you preach? No, they have not gone so far aside as that. Do they argue against the gospel? Oh, no; they have not fallen into that form of depravity! They take in what they hear. They do not do much with it. There is not grace enough in their heart, after they have nominally received the Word, to cause it to grow. There is a lack somewhere, not a lack of receptiveness, but a lack in another direction.

The failure, also, was not caused through lack of heat. There was a hard rock, with a little soil upon it, just enough to take in the seed. That rock needed to be broken up, ground to powder, and made into good soil; but as it was not broken up, when the sun shone, the rock refracted and reflected all the heat, and gave great warmth to the soil in which the seed was lying, so that it grew very fast, for it was in a kind of hothouse. We have many hearers who, if enthusiasm could save them, would have been saved long ago. On Sundays, they are very soon warmed up, and there is so little of them that the heat of the sun soon penetrates to their rocky nature. The heat is refracted, and straightway they are all in a blaze. I know them; they are very nice people to preach to. How excited they grow! They are ready enough to shout “Hallelujah!” They speedily receive the Word, but there is no depth about them, so they do not retain it. They will do anything that we want them to do. They are not only enthusiastic, but they soon grow fanatical. I am not blaming them for this. If there were something else to go with it, it would be a good thing. The gardener or florist likes a good bottom heat to make his plants grow rapidly; but if it is all heat, if it is a dry heat, and nothing else, very soon they are scorched to death. The little moisture, that was in them at first, makes them grow rapidly; but when that is exhausted, they are soon withered. I do not deny that it is quite a pleasure to meet with a warm-hearted man. We have plenty of people about who are either cold or only lukewarm. If they give you their hand, you feel as if you had laid hold of a fish, it is so cold. We like to meet with hearers who respond to our appeals with kindly friendliness, and who, when the Word is brought before them, display a warmth of feeling towards it. These are very hopeful people; I cannot say more about them. Their name is Hopeful, but they do not always grow into Faithful. They give us great encouragement; but, alas! they often cause us great discouragement.

Then, again, this failure was not caused through want of joy, for we are told by our Saviour that they received the Word with joy. Oh, they are so happy! They feel that they are saved, and they are full of joy; and the main reason why they believe that they are saved is that they are so happy. Well, there is something in being joyful; I do not like to see people who seem to have a religion that disagrees with them. True religion does indeed make us glad. But then, my dear friends, if your only evidence of the possession of grace is that you are so happy, you may be unhappy to-morrow, and what will be your state then? Our human nature is so constructed, and our body has so much influence upon our mind and soul, that we can soon become very low in spirit, and scarcely know why we are in such a condition. That joy is part of the fruit of the Spirit, I cheerfully acknowledge; but there are many joys that are not fruits of the Spirit at all, for they are earth-born and carnal; and there is often a so-called religious joy which is the fruit of carnal excitement and supposed conversion, and not the result of a real saving knowledge of God.

Perhaps, if these people had received the Word with sorrow,-if they had received it with a broken heart, and a contrite spirit,-if they had received it tremblingly, in the very depth of their souls,-if they had gone home to cry to God in secret prayer, instead of rejoicing in open exultation, there might have been evidences in them of a deeper, surer, truer, and more abiding work. These people had joy, and plenty of it. I am not saying anything against their joy; it was not the point in which they failed. They failed somewhere else, as I shall try to show you presently.

And, once more, they did not fail from want of eagerness and speed in receiving the truth. They received it at once, and the seed sprang up at once. Just because they had no depth of earth, it sprang up all the faster. The wheat that fell upon the shallow soil covering the rock grew directly; it sprang up because of the very absence of the element that was necessary to bring it to perfection. I believe in instantaneous conversion. I believe that the new birth must be instantaneous,-that there is a moment in which a man is dead, and another moment in which he is alive;-and that, just as there is a certain instant in which a child is born, so there is an instant in which we become the children of God by faith in Jesus Christ. But there is also a supposed conversion which is undone as quickly as it is done. There are to be found, in some churches, men who have grown wonderfully fast. They were drunkards a fortnight ago, and they are taking the lead among experienced Christians to-day. Well, it may rightly be so. God acts according to his own sovereign will, and he can work such wonders of grace and miracles of mercy. But it may turn out that a thing that grows very fast does so because it will not stand fast, and will not last long. We have to deal with so many who are always procrastinating and putting off; and, therefore, it seems a good fault when men are hasty about these things,-it is a blessed fault, if a fault at all. Yet it did so happen that, while these people were excellent in that direction, they failed in another, and failed in a fatal way, of which I have now to speak.

That brings me to enquire why these people made such a sad failure?

The seeds that fell on the trodden path, while they were lost to the husbandman, did feed the birds, at any rate; but these on the rock did not. They quickly sprang up, and were soon withered; and good for nothing. They promised much, but it came to just nothing at all. And, in this way, some of those, who appear to be the most hopeful, may cause us most grief by being our greatest disappointments.

Now, why was this? Luke tells us, and no other Evangelist tells us, that it was because they “lacked moisture.”

Does not this mean, first of all, that they lacked the influence of the Divine Spirit? When we speak of spiritual dew, we refer to the operation of the Holy Spirit. When we talk of the river of the water of life, we mean those sacred things which come streaming down to us from the throne of God through the working of the Spirit of God. These people lacked that moisture. They were converted, so far as they were converted at all, through the eloquence of the preacher; and a man, who is converted by eloquence, can be unconverted by eloquence. Or they were converted by the zeal and earnestness of Christian people. But, if you were converted by one man, another man can unconvert you. All that is of man goes to be unravelled; all the spinning and the weaving of earthly machinery can be pulled to pieces; but the work of God’s grace endures for ever. Have you, my dear hearer, felt the power of the Holy Spirit first withering you up? “The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it.” Has he ever dried up, in you, all that was of yourself, and turned the verdant meadow into a barren wilderness? It must be so with you at first; there is no sure work which does not begin with emptying and pulling down. Has the Spirit of God ever so wrought in you as a spirit of bondage, shutting you up in prison under the law, fixing your hands in handcuffs, and your feet in fetters, putting you in the stocks, and leaving you there? If you have never known anything about that experience, I am afraid you have hitherto “lacked moisture.”

Then, when the Spirit of God comes to a soul that is thus broken down, he reveals Christ as a Saviour for that sinner,-a full Saviour for the empty sinner. And, oh, how sweetly does the soul rejoice as it perceives the suitability, fulness, and freeness of Christ; and looks to Jesus, and trusts him! Have you ever felt that sacred moisture which softens the heart so that it sweetly yields to Christ,-that moisture which refreshes the heart, and makes it bloom again with a holy hopefulness and delight in Christ? O my dear hearers, what we say about the Holy Spirit is no mere talk; it is a matter of fact! “Ye must be born again,”-born from, above. Ye must be partakers of the Spirit of God, or else all your religion, however beautiful it may appear to be, will wither when the sun has risen with burning heat.

Now, my brothers and sisters in Christ, you find that everything goes ill with you when you lack moisture. One of our brethren sometimes says to me, after a service, “Oh, sir, there will be good done to-day, for there was dew about!” I know what he means, and hope you also do. You have a little flower at home, which you keep in the window,-a geranium, or perhaps a fuchsia. You set great store by it, because of its associations; but perhaps you have been out for a week, and when you come back, it looked so drooping that it seemed as if it must die, and you soon discovered the reason why. It was quite dry: “it lacked moisture.” You gave it some water, and it soon began to revive. These plants are kept alive by moisture. But when they lack moisture, the more the sun shines upon them, or the warmer the room is, the worse it is for them. They need moisture, and so do we, poor plants that we are. We need the Holy Spirit; and if the Lord does not water us daily from the living springs on the hilltops of glory, we shall certainly die. So take heed, brothers and sisters, that you do not lack the moisture of the Holy Spirit’s gracious influence.

Why did these people lack it? There was moisture in the air. It is evident that the other seed, which brought forth thirty, sixty, or a hundred-fold, had moisture; yet this, which was in the same air as the other “lacked moisture.” There were morning dews, and there were mists and rains; yet these seeds on the rock “lacked moisture.” The reason was, that there was a want of power to retain the moisture in the soil. When it came down, it ran off again, or speedily evaporated, because there was a rock, and only a very little earth on the top of it to hold the moisture, and all that came there soon disappeared. There are many persons who seem to be like this rocky soil; they have no receptiveness for the Divine Spirit; they manage to do without him.

Now let me warn you of certain things that indicate a lack of moisture. The first is, doctrine without feeling. You believe the Bible doctrine concerning Christ. I am glad that you do; but dry doctrine, without the bedewing influence of the Spirit of God, is just a granite rock out of which you will get nothing whatever. You say that you believe the doctrine of human depravity; but have you ever really felt it, and mourned over it? You say that you believe the doctrine of redemption; but have you ever proved the power of the precious blood of Jesus? Have you ever been melted at the sight of the cross? You say that you believe the doctrine of effectual calling; but have you been effectually called by grace? You say that you believe the doctrine of regeneration; but have you been born again? If not, you lack moisture. I have known some brethren, who have been so “sound” that they have been nothing but sound. “Sixteen ounces to the pound,” they said they were. I thought that they were seventeen ounces to the pound, and that the last bad ounce spoilt the other sixteen. You may be wonderfully orthodox, and yet be lost. That hard pan of rock must be broken up, and ground to powder, that the moisture may get to the seed. Of what avail is doctrine without feeling?

It is equally worthless where there is experience without humiliation. I mean that some talk about having felt this, and having felt that, and they boast of it. Some of them have even thought that they have become perfect, and they glory in it. Well, they lack moisture. As soon as you get side by side with them, you feel a want of something, you do not quite know what it is. It is dry experience; perhaps it is boiling hot, but it is very dry. There is no bowing before the Lord in a humble confession of unworthiness; no understanding of what it is to feel the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should loathe ourselves, as condemned criminals ought to do. I pray the Lord to save us from an experience, however perfect it seems, which is not moist,-which has not a living tenderness wrought into it by the power of the Spirit of God. Avoid, then, experience without humiliation.

Shun also practice without heart-love. I have known some brethren and sisters, who have been most exact and precise in all their conduct. I have thought that they scarcely ever sinned, and I have not wondered that they did not, because there did not seem to be enough juice in them to sin; they did not appear to have any human nature in them. They were just like dry pieces of leather; never excited; never getting into a bad temper; they have not seemed to have any temper, either bad or good. They never say a word too hastily; they always measure things out very exactly; yet a lack of love is a fatal lack. I knew one, whom I greatly esteemed as a minister of the Word for many years. I esteemed him for his regularity of conduct. I believe that he got up to the tick of the clock, that he had family prayer to the tick of the clock, and that he did everything in the same methodical manner. I remarked to him once, “There are many people, round about your chapel, who are living in the depths of sin; do you ever get any of them into your place of worship?” “No,” he replied, “I do not want to get them in.” I asked, “Why?” “Well,” he answered, “they are mostly harlots and thieves; what could I do with such people?” Then I saw that it was possible to be regular, and precise, and good, up to a certain point, and yet to have no moisture; and as the moisture was not there, of course no thief or harlot would go to hear him, he was too dry for them. It is an awful thing to have a Pharisaic practice, perfect when looked at by the casual eye, yet without the life and light of love; and, therefore lacking moisture.

Beware, dear friends, of a belief that never had any repentance connected with it, for that is another way in which the lack of moisture is manifested. There are some people who are willing to believe a great deal; but you never hear of them groaning because of sin, or confessing it with a broken heart in true humility before God. To trust in repentance without faith, would be ruinous to the soul; but to have a kind of faith without repentance, would be also ruinous. If faith never has tears in its eyes, it is a dead faith. He, who has never wept because of his sin, has never really had his sin washed away. If thy heart has never been broken on account of sin, I will not believe that it was ever broken from sin; and if thy heart is not broken from thy sin, thou art still at a distance from thy God, and thou wilt never see his face with acceptance.

Beware, also, of a confidence that is never associated with self-diffidence. Yes, my dear sir, speak as boldly as you will, be as brave as you may for your Master; but, at the same time, be very lowly in spirit. Let thine own weakness be seen, as well as thy Master’s strength. Whilst thou dost glory in Christ’s merits, confess thine own sinfulness, and admit that, in thyself, thou art nothing. We can never have too much confidence in God; but, unless it is associated with deep self-distrust, it will lack moisture, and it never will produce any real harvest unto God.

Beware, also, of action without spirituality. We have many people of that kind, who are very active in serving God in one way and another. Would that all were, if it were in a right spirit! They are busy from morning to night, but there is no prayer, and no dependence upon God, mingled with their efforts; but that will not do. That is all wasted activity. However busy we may be, we shall effect nothing unless we receive from the Holy Spirit all the power with which we work, and are dependent upon him for the success of every word we say. Beware of having so much to do that you really do nothing at all because you do not wait upon God for the power to do it aright.

Then there is another dry thing, namely, zeal without communion with God;-zeal for extending the kingdom of Christ, zeal for spreading the denomination, zeal for the advance of a particular sect, zeal that is intolerant, probably; but, all the while, no careful walking according to God’s Word, no observing what God would have us to be zealous about, no humbling of ourselves in the presence of the great Lord of all, and no bathing of ourselves in the river of the water of life by fellowship with God.

Thus I might keep on showing you various ways in which people may have a great deal that is very good, yet it will all come to nothing because they lack moisture. But the seed cannot assimilate the dry earth until it is mixed with water, and held in solution, and spiritual life can only be fed by truth held in solution by the Holy Spirit. When he softens and prepares us, then our roots and rootlets take up the true nutriment, and we grow thereby.

In the case of the seed upon the rocky ground, there was, also, a deficiency of sensitive vitality. The seed grew for a time, and then became dry; and are there not multitudes of people, in our churches now, who are just like that? They are as dry as old hay, they have withered away. We cannot turn them out; but, oh, that we could turn life into them! Oh, that the water of life might flow all about them, so that they might live thereby, and bring forth fruit unto God!

I have said enough, if God shall bless it, to set many people searching their hearts to see whether this sacred moisture is there.

Now, to close, we are to consider how this evil is to be avoided.

Well, first, let us one and all cry to God to break up the rock. Rock, rock, rock, wilt thou never break? We may scatter the seed upon you, but nothing will come of it till that rock is broken. The great steam-plough needs to be driven right through men’s hearts till they are torn in sunder, and the old rock of nature is ground to powder, made friable, and turned into good soil. Dear friend, do pray to God to make sure work of you. As far as you are concerned, the one thing you have to do is to believe in Christ Jesus, that you may be saved. But a part of the process of your salvation is the taking out of you the heart of stone, and the giving to you of a heart of flesh. There is no true growing unless this takes place.

The next thing is, look well to spirituality. This moisture was a very subtle thing; men might easily overlook that dampness in the atmosphere, and in the soil, which was all-essential. Who can tell you what unction is? Yet a sermon without unction is a poor, worthless thing. There is a certain secret something which distinguishes a true Christian from a worldling or a mere professor; see that you have it. Do not be content with the Creed, baptism, the Lord’s supper, or anything else that is visible; but say, “Lord, give me the moisture that I need; give me that secret something without which I shall be lacking the very thing which I most need.” You cannot see your soul; you cannot fully tell what it is; yet you know that it is a something that keeps your body alive, and when that something is gone, the body becomes dead; so is all religion dead until it receives the life which comes from the moisture that so many lack.

That leads me further to say, look to the Holy Spirit. Be very tender towards the Holy Spirit. We preach Christ to you, as we are commanded to do; but we do not want you ever to forget the blessed Spirit, without whom nothing saving can ever be wrought in you. You cannot make yourself to be born again; even the faith that saves is the work of the Spirit of God, if it be the faith of God’s elect. Be jealous and tender, therefore, and walk carefully in reference to the Spirit of God, lest you grieve him.

Then I would say, next, do try to avoid all dry heat. Do not work yourself up into a frenzy, and think that there is anything saving in it. The heat of excitement may be necessary, just as dust flies from the wheels of a chariot when it moves swiftly; but, as the dust does not help the chariot, but is a nuisance to those who are riding in it, so is it with excitement. It does not help the true movement, and it is a nuisance to those who are living near to God.

Lastly, be constantly looking for that divine mystery of secret vitality which is called in the text “moisture.” I commend to you this prayer. “Lord, give me this blessed moisture. Saturate me through and through with the heavenly dew, the divine rain, that I may grow, and bring forth fruit to the glory of thy holy name.” God bless you, for Jesus’ sake! Amen.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-42 (Version I.), 40, 499.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

PSALM 42

We often read this Psalm, because we are very often in the same state that the psalmist was in when he wrote it, and the language seems to suit us at many periods of our life.

Verse 1. As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

It is the “hart” that panteth; and, in the Hebrew, the word is in the feminine. The old naturalists say that the female has greater thirst than the male, and that it shows it more, having more feebleness of body, and less power of endurance. The hart is said to be, naturally, a thirsty creature; and when it has been long hunted, its thirst seems to be insatiable. The psalmist does not say, “My soul hungereth,” but, “My soul thirsteth.” As man can bear hunger much longer than he can bear thirst; he may continue without food for days, but not without drink; so the psalmist mentions the most thirsty creature, and the most ardent of the natural passions: “As the hart panteth after the water brooks.” He does not merely say, “after the brooks;” but, “after the water brooks.” Why is this? I think it is because there are many brooks that are dry at certain seasons, and the hart longeth for those that have water in them. So the Christian thirsts, not only for the means of grace; they are the brooks,-but he longs for God in the means. When grace is in the means of grace, then they are water brooks indeed. “So panteth my soul after thee, O God.” He does not say, “So I pant after my former grandeur,” or “so pant I for my friend,” but “so panteth my heart after thee.” His soul had only one longing, one thirst, and every power and every passion had united itself to that one desire, “so panteth my soul after thee, O God.”

2. My soul thirsteth for God,-

It was a soul thirst, not a throat thirst; the thirst had got as far down as the soul, till the inner spirit was as dry as a man’s throat after a long journey through the desert. “My soul thirsteth for God,”-

2. For the living God:

David had thirsted, you remember, for water from the well of Bethlehem that is within the gate, and he said, “Oh that one would give me drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate!” But that was not living water; he had drunk of it before, yet he thirsted again; but now his soul thirsted for God, for the living God. Nothing but the cool refreshing living water of the living God can ever effectually quench human thirst.

2. When shall I come and appear before God?

He valued the assembly of God’s people because he believed that, there, in an especial manner, he was “before God.” What a rebuke this is to those who despise public worship! We know some who say, “Well, we can read a good sermon at home, we can study the Scriptures there.” David was a great lover of God’s Word, and read it both day and night; yet even he could not dispense with the outward means of grace, the public assembly of the saints. “When shall I come and appear before God?” Brothers and sisters, let us look upon our gatherings for worship as an appearance before God. You do not merely come to listen to the Lord’s minister, or to join in the sacred song of the congregation, but you come to “appear before God,” that you may show yourself to him as his servants, and that he may reveal himself to you as your Lord. When you and I have been tossing upon the bed of languishing, or have been detained upon the sea, or have journeyed abroad, then we have learned to prize the means of grace more than ever.

3. My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?

The psalmist had sorrow within, and persecution without, and a Christian sometimes has to eat salt meat. “My tears have been my meat.” He finds but very little sweetness or solace in such food as this; yet, after all, there is much in a Christian’s tears. It is a comfort to be able to shed tears of repentance, and tears of longing after God. There are some believers who still have tears for their meat, yet they can say, “Thank God we are not dead if we can weep; we are not utterly left of God, if we can sigh after him; and so, though our tears are salt, they are nourishing to the spirit.”

“My tears have been my meat day and night, while they continually say unto me, Where is thy God?” This is what our enemies always say to us when we are in trouble. This is what Queen Mary said when the Covenanters were obliged to fly to the Highlands. “Where now is John Knox’s God?” But when her French soldiers were afterwards put to the rout by the brave Scots, she found out where God was. This was the taunt at the St. Bartholomew massacre in France. As they stabbed the Protestants, the Papists cried, “Where is your God?” What a mercy it is that they do say this, for nothing brings God so soon to his people as the taunts of their enemies. If any man supposes that God has forgotten his people, and therefore insults them thus, God will come to them post-haste to rectify the mistake. “Where is thy God?” He is coming to thee, O Christian; he is near thee now!

4. When, I remember these things, I pour out my soul in me: for I had gone with the multitude, I went with them to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, with a multitude that kept holyday.

You see, brethren, the more a man enjoys the means of grace at one time, the more he grieves when he loses them. “I had gone with the multitude.” There is something very inspiring in worshipping God in a crowd; the joy is infectious, there is a holy contagion in it; as the sacred song floats upward from many joyous voices, we seem borne up upon its billows of praise.

I like that word “holyday” even though it is rather like holiday, for our holy days should be our true holidays. There should be no rest to the Christian like the holiness of the Sabbath, the holiness should be the very joy of it. Keep it a holy day, and then it will be a holiday; try to make it a holiday, and then it will be neither a holiday nor a holy day.

At the remembrance of these past joys, the psalmist’s soul was poured out like water, his heart was as water spilt upon the ground. See, brethren, how low a good man may come, and yet be safe; how near the rocks God’s ships may go, and yet not be wrecked.

5. Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.

As one well remarks, Christian men have a deal of indoor work to do. They have not only to question others, but they have to question themselves. “Why art thou cast down, O my soul?” Be very jealous, dear friends, of doubts, and fears, and despondency. Some of us are sometimes the subjects of these emotions, and this is pitiable; but when we try to pamper them, this is inexcusable. Endeavour to live above this disquietude; you cannot praise God, you cannot serve your fellow-men, you cannot do anything well, when your soul is in a disquieted state. Hope in God is the best cure for this despondency. “Hope thou in God.” When thou hast no hope in thyself, nor in thy graces, nor in thine experience, “hope thou in God.” He is loving, faithful, powerful, and true, so “hope thou in God.” “For I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance.” “My countenance is wrinkled, and covered with sores through my sickness; but he is the help of my countenance, and I shall yet praise him.”

6. O my God, my soul is cast down within me: therefore will I remember thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites, from the hill Mizar.

Oh, what a mercy it is to be able to look back upon our past experiences of God’s mercy! How delightful it is to remember what the Lord was to us in days gone by, for he is the same God still. When you are like Paul in the great storm, when neither sun, nor moon, nor stars for many days appeared, it is very pleasant to remember that the sun, moon, and stars did shine in the past, and that they will shine forth again.

7. Deep calleth unto deep at the noise of thy waterspouts: all thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.

When there is a great rain at sea, there is a peculiar kind of noise, as if the deep above were talking to the deep below. “Deep calleth unto deep;” and sometimes, the two deeps clasp hands, and then there is what we call a waterspout. The psalmist uses this as a picture of his sorrows, and it is very remarkable that sorrows seldom come alone. When the rain comes down on land, it calls to the little brooks, and they say, “Here we are,” and they go leaping down the hillside, and speak to the rivulets, and they say, “Here we are,” and the rivulets speak to the rivers, and they say, “Here we are,” and they speak to the gulfs, and the gulfs to the broad sea, till “deep calleth unto deep.” So, little sorrows, great sorrows, overwhelming sorrows, come to the Christian, and they all seem to come at once. Nay, not only do they come to us, but they go over us, till we cry, “All thy waves and thy billows are gone over me.” Surely, this language is an exaggeration, for it is only Christ who could say that; but, sometimes, when you and I are in a low dark frame of mind, we are apt to think that we have felt all the twigs of the rod, and that we could not be made to smart more. Little do we really know of it; God grant that we may never know more than we do!

Now comes an exercise for faith, to be able, when down at the bottom of the sea, like Jonah, and at the mercy of every wave, to say with the psalmist in the next verse,-

8. Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness in the daytime, and in the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.

We shall not only have day-time grace, but night-time grace, too: “In the night his song shall be with me, and my prayer unto the God of my life.” What a sweet title that is, “The God of my life,” the source of my life, the strength of my life, the comfort of my life, without whom my life is not life at all!

9. I will say unto God my rock, Why hast thou forgotten me?

He had been talking too much to himself; now he talks with his God.

9-11. Why go I mourning because of the oppression of the enemy? As with a sword in my bones, mine enemies reproach me,’ while they say daily unto me, Where is thy God? Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.

Notice how the psalmist had been growing. In the fifth verse, where the refrain comes in, it is very nearly the same as it is here, yet there is some difference. There it was, “I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance,” but here it is, “I shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance.” Then it was God helping the poor wrinkled brow to turn towards heaven; now it is God himself giving the man joy and rest. Then there is the last utterance of the psalmist on that occasion, “My God.” He could not reach that note before, and when the Christian can say, “My God,” his troubles are at an end.