I am going to take these words out of their context, and use them, as I believe they may very properly be used, as a description of those whom God is about to save. This is one of the signs and tokens of a coming salvation, “They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces thitherward.”

You remember that Zion of old was the place, above all others, where God manifested himself. To ask the way to Zion means, therefore, to seek after God, to desire to be reconciled to God, to long to be pardoned and accepted by God.

Zion was also the only place where the offering of sacrifices was permitted. Though the disobedient and idolatrous Jews offered sacrifices on the high places which they had profaned by their abominations, they did so contrary to God’s commands. The only place where the sacrificial victims could be acceptably offered was in the temple on Mount Zion. To come to Zion, to-day, means to come to the one sacrifice which God has provided for the sin of man, namely, to Jesus Christ, his only-begotten and well-beloved Son, who is the one propitiation for human sin, and who has by his death upon the cross, made a full atonement for the guilt of all who believe in him.

Zion was also, in the olden time, the appointed place of public worship, whither the tribes went up, on their solemn feast days, to join in the joyous psalms that arose with thundering acclaim from ten thousand voices. There the multitude bowed in solemn prayer, and there they heard the Word of the Lord. In a somewhat different form from that which we now observe, yet in a similar spirit to that in which we now meet, they worshipped God. So to ask the way to Zion means to desire to worship the Most High, to seek to become true and acceptable servants of the ever-living God.

Zion of old was also the place of delightful fellowship. There friends met friends from the farthest ends of the land. He that dwelt at Dan gave the right hand of fellowship to him that dwelt at Beersheba when they came to their great general gatherings at Jerusalem. To ask the way to Zion, then, means to seek to come to Christian fellowship, to desire to be united in Christian bonds with brethren and sisters who love each other because they love one common Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, their blessed Saviour.

Zion was, besides, a place of rest. It was looked upon as the abode of peace; those who dwelt there were under the especial protection of heaven. To desire, therefore, to find the way to Zion is to desire to find peace, lasting peace, conscious peace with God, even “the peace of God which passeth all understanding.”

Zion, too, has been regarded as a picture of heaven. To desire to know the way to Zion is, therefore, to desire to know the way to heaven. To say, “Tell us the way to Zion,” is the same thing as to say, “Tell us how we may reach that blessed state of salvation which shall secure for us a joyful entrance into bliss everlasting.”

There are two things stated in our text concerning the enquirers as to the way to Zion; first, we have their enquiry; and, secondly, we are told the direction in which their faces were turned: “They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces thitherward.”

Who will do this? We will try to find out who they are who ask the way to Zion; and, first, they are evidently those who are weary of other ways. They have been treading the way that leads to hell; they have known and walked in the ways of pleasure and folly; they are familiar with the way of worldliness; many of them have tramped along the miry way of self-righteousness; and they have all run in the road of wilful wickedness. Yet they are willing to leave all these ways, for a man cannot go in two opposite directions at the same time. He must go only in one or the other of them; and, in asking the way to Zion, it is taken for granted that the truthful enquirer is weary of all other ways. Is it so with thee, my hearer? Thou art not yet saved, but art thou discontented with all that thou hast ever known as yet? It is a blessed thing when God makes a man discontented with all but Himself;-when the way of sin is no longer so smooth and pleasant as it once was, and the enjoyments of the world are no longer so delicious and alluring as they used to be. Surely, if this is thy case, my hearer, thou art being weaned from the breasts of thy vain delights that thou mayest come to thy Father who can make thee truly blest.

I can only praise God, from the depths of my heart, if any of you, who are not yet in the way to Zion, have had your way hedged up of late, for it may be that the thorns, which have rent and torn you, have only kept you from going yet further astray from the right road. I hope that even the wretchedness which arises through treading the paths of sin may drive many to find relief from it in the Saviour who is himself the way to God. Am I addressing any who are in such a condition at this moment? Surely there must be someone here who is saying, “I want to find something real, for I have tried the sham, and found it useless. I want to get peace of conscience if I can, for I am distracted by the thought of my guilt. Wealth cannot satisfy me; I have abundance of this world’s goods, yet I am not happy. Worldly ambition cannot satisfy my soul; I have gained the position for which I strove, but I am not content. My mind is driven to and fro as by a whirlwind; I am like a cockleshell boat at the mercy of the stormy waves, or like the chaff from the threshing-floor that is driven before the wind. I have no rest, no peace, no satisfaction.” Well, my dear hearer, if you are in that state of mind and heart, I earnestly recommend you to ask the way to Zion, for that is the place of rest and content; and if you are sincerely asking the way, I am quite sure that it is because you are weary of all other ways.

Those who ask the way to Zion also thereby confess that they are not yet saved. It is a great work, a divine work, to bring people to confess that they are not yet saved, for the most of mankind have the notion that, somehow or other, all is well with them in the sight of God. This is especially the case with those who have been brought up religiously. If you have, from your childhood, been regular attendants at a place of worship, if you have been kept strictly moral and outwardly religious, it is exceedingly probable that you will slide into the idea-which perhaps you would not express in so many words, but still the idea is there,-that you have, after all, very fair prospects with regard to the world to come. In Jeremiah’s day, there were some to whom the Lord said, “Trust ye not in lying words, saying, The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, are these;” and, to-day, the children of godly parents, the people who attend places of worship regularly, and live an outwardly moral life, are very apt to say, “The people of the Lord, the people of the Lord, the people of the Lord are we.”

Perhaps some of you fancy that, because you have been baptized, although you never were converted, or because you have dared to profane the Lord’s table by your presence, although you are quite unfit to be there, you are therefore saved. If that is the case with you, it will be a happy thing for you if you are led to enquire the way to Christ because you feel that you have not accepted Christ as your Saviour yet; it will be a mercy for you if you are led to see that your natural condition, instead of making you a citizen of Zion, makes you a citizen of Sodom or of Babylon; certainly, you cannot become a child of God by birth, by blood, by baptism, or by any ceremonial process, but only by the regenerating power of the Holy Spirit. If you are not yet saved, I pray that you may be made to know that you are not. It is only God’s gracious Spirit who can convince a man, who thought all was well with him, that he is lost. Only the Holy Spirit can prove to him that he is not a Christian, though he thought he was one; and when he is made to realize this, he will probably soon be transformed into that which he now fancies that he is,-a true child of the living God.

So that those who ask the way to Zion are those who are weary of other ways, and who feel that they are not yet in the way of salvation, the way of holiness.

Further, to ask the way to Zion proves that the enquirer is not presumptuous,-that he does not think that he shall get to Zion blunder on as he may. I do believe that many men cherish the erroneous notion that, if they are really sincere, and distinctly and decidedly moral, they will, somehow or other, by hook or by crook, get through the gate of pearl into heaven. They say, “If we do not, who will? If it will not be well with us, then it must be far worse with a great many others who are worse than we are.” That is the kind of talk in which many indulge, but it is sheer presumption. O sirs, believe me that being saved is not child’s play; it is not a matter to be dreamed over. No man ever hit this mark by accident. No man’s soul was ever saved by mere chance. Many a soul has gone to hell through neglect, but never has even one soul gone to heaven in that way. Remember that solemn unanswered question of the apostle Peter, “If the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?” If it is only after stern fighting and struggling, and often a long and wearisome pilgrimage, that the Christian gets into heaven, and if even he is sometimes “saved, yet so as by fire,” how shall they escape who neglect so great salvation? If they who serve God most diligently have nothing to glory in, what will be the portion of those who rebel against the Lord, or who simply “neglect” his great salvation? O sirs, if the best of saints sometimes fear that they will be castaways at last,-though that fear is needless if they are the Lord’s,-what will become of godless Sabbath-breakers, or of you who never read the Bible, and never bow your knees in prayer, but who live as if there were no God, or as if it mattered not whether you served your Maker or abhorred him? This fatal presumption will never do, and I hope there are some of you who have now done with it for ever, who are no longer hoping to stumble into eternal life, but who are asking the way to Zion, knowing that there is but one way, and sincerely desiring to find it.

This enquiry, if it be honestly made, also proves that those who make it are not conceited. They ask the way to Zion, for they do not think they know everything, and they are willing to learn what they do not know. If a child should offer to tell them the way to heaven, they would be glad to hear it; or though the person who might deliver to them the message of salvation should be clothed in the garb of poverty, and although his language might be incorrect and ungrammatical, yet, if he should tell them plainly what they must do to be saved, they would be willing to take the treasure even out of an earthen vessel, and to find the priceless jewel in the mire. But when men boastfully say, “We know all that we need to know, so we have no need of any teacher; as for the Bible, we look upon it as an antiquated, worn-out old Book, and we, men of thought and intelligence, can do without it. Can we not study the rocks, or the starry heavens, or the wide fields of nature? What need have we of a voice from God to guide us?”-we can only reply, “Ah, sirs, your boasting is that of fools! You must excuse the harshness of the word, for it is true, for wise men know their ignorance, and only fools boast as you have been doing. May you be emptied of all your pride,-turned upside down, as a man turneth a dish bottom upwards, and pours out all its contents; and when you find that there is nothing in you, go and ask the way to Zion with true humility! You will never be truly wise till you find out that you are not wise, and you will never really know till you are willing to admit that you know nothing except what God teaches you by his Word, his Spirit, or his servants.

There is another thing about this asking the way to Zion, it shows anxiety on the part of the enquirers. Sometimes, when one wants to find a certain spot in the intricate streets of London, one stops and asks a policeman, or someone else, which is the way to such-and-such a place, and an answer is given with more or less clearness; but, having gone in the direction indicated, and not having found the place, one naturally asks again, and perhaps again. If you are afraid of missing the spot you want to find, there is seldom anything lost by asking, and it is always better to spend one minute in asking the way than to waste ten minutes in going wrong. He who is the most anxious to find the right way is the man who will ask the oftenest, and I trust there are some here who are willing to ask of the Word of God, and to ask of God’s servants, “Tell me, is this the road to heaven, or am I mistaken? Is this the plan of salvation, by which alone sinners can be delivered from the wrath to come? O sirs, I cannot afford to be mistaken here, for my soul’s eternal welfare depends upon it; a mistake here would involve my everlasting misery! So, as before the living God, tell me the truth; even though it should hurt my feelings, and make me angry, yet be faithful with me, O men of God! I ask you again, and yet again, the way to Zion.”

I think, too, dear friends, we may say, with regard to this enquiry, that the man who makes it is not a sceptic. He would not ask the way to Zion if he did not believe that there is such a place. There are some people who are continually trying to amuse themselves by pretending to be doubters. I speak what I really feel about this matter, for I do not believe in the honesty of nine out of ten of the doubts of which I hear, or of the new ideas that are constantly being brought forth concerning one truth or another. I am sometimes asked why I do not preach more often against these heresies. What! am I to tell everybody what any fool likes to say against God? Not I! If anybody else wants to propagate infidelity in that way, let him do it; I shall not blow a trumpet to call attention to the falsehoods that men keep on inventing. If I answered everything that they have said up till now, they would say something else that was false next week. I have better employment than that of blacking the devil’s boots in this way; and, beside that, I have the satisfaction of knowing that the most of you are not troubled by these heresies. You know, in your inmost souls, that this Book is true, that there is a God, and that, before long, you will have to stand before him to give an account of the deeds done in the body. If any of you do not believe the Bible, that does not affect the fact that it is true; and what I have to say to you is to charge you, as you love your never-dying souls, to escape from hell and flee to heaven;-to point out to you which is the right road, and to beseech you not to miss the overwhelming glory of eternal life for the sake of indulging your foolish and fatal pride. There is a heavenly Zion; ask the way to it; press forward and find it.

I will make only one other remark upon this part of my subject. Those who sincerely ask the way to Zion are evidently not asking out of mere curiosity; for, if they were, they would ask where Zion is, and what sort of a place it is; and they would probably ask some very foolish questions concerning it. Instead of doing so, they simply say, “Show us the way.” That is practical,-they ask the way to Zion. I often fear that the questions which are asked by many people concerning various mysterious or difficult doctrines in the Bible are only asked in order to try to lull their consciences to sleep while they themselves are living in rebellion against God. A man says to me, “Can you explain the seven trumpets of the Revelation?” No, but I can blow one in your ear, and warn you to escape from the wrath to come. Another says, “Can you tell me when the end of the world will come?” No, but I can tell you how to be so prepared for it that you need not be afraid if it were to come to-night. I can urge you to trust the Lord Jesus Christ as your Saviour, so that, let the end of the world come when it may, you can await it with holy joy, and enter into bliss eternal. We want more, amongst sinners especially, of practical questions, and not mere captious and curious enquiries. There will be time enough for thee to ask all proper and right questions, and to have them answered, when thou hast sought and found the Saviour; but, meanwhile, my dear hearer, thine immortal soul is in jeopardy, so attend to that first of all. A man who is sinking in the sea is mad if he says, “I won’t lay hold of that rope until I understand all about astronomy.” A man in a burning house need not trouble his head about geology; his first business is to get into the fire-escape; he can leave his study of geology till to-morrow. So, you unconverted ones should “seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness,” and all other things you need shall be added unto you.

This must suffice concerning the sincere enquirers who ask the way to Zion.

Now we will consider the direction in which these enquirers’ faces are turned: “They shall ask the way to Zion with their faces thitheirward.”

If a man should ask you the way to a certain part of the town which lies toward the North, and his face should be turned toward the South, you would say, “Sir, that place is in the very direction from which you have come; you must turn your face the other way if you mean to get there.” But suppose that he kept on walking in the same way in which he was going before he spoke to you, and suppose that he still asked the way, yet persisted in doing the very opposite to what he should do, you would at once know that he was merely mocking you, and you would very likely pass on, and say to yourself, “I will answer the civil enquiry of anyone who really wants direction, but I will not continue to answer the enquiry of a man who asks the way, and when he is told, deliberately turns his face in the opposite direction.”

I hope I am addressing many who are saying, “We do want to be saved; we are in real earnest about it; we would do anything in our power to be true Christians, and to have our sins forgiven.” Shall I tell you how we can know whether your faces are turned in the right direction? A man who has his face towards Zion is in earnest about divine things. He used to trifle concerning eternal realities, or to assume the appearance of earnestness on certain occasions. When he heard an earnest preacher deliver an impressive discourse, he felt his spirit somewhat stirred, but he soon cooled down, and was as careless as before. A man who has his face Zion-wards is constantly in earnest. He feels that the chief business of his life is to get salvation, and I do not believe that a man is in real earnest about eternal life without sooner or later obtaining it. I do not think there will be one lost sinner in hell who will be able to say, “I honestly and earnestly sought the Saviour, but I sought him in vain.” A man may be in earnest, and yet, through lack of knowledge, he may miss the mark for a while; but I believe that, sooner or later, the light will come to him. If God continues to cherish the earnest desire within his heart, it will be a sign that he means ultimately to open the prison door, and set the bound spirit at liberty. So, earnestness is a good sign of the face being set Zion-wards.

Another sign that a man’s face is towards Zion is seen when he hears the Word attentively. There is great hope for the man who constantly attends the preaching of the gospel; that is to say, if it be really the gospel that he hears, and if it be honestly and earnestly preached; and if, while attending the house of prayer, the man does not merely come in and go out as a mere formal worshipper, but anxiously listens and watches to hear whether there is a message that is specially suitable for him. I know that I have some hearers who seem to go a-fishing in my sermon to see if there is something in it, suilted to their case, that they can catch, and appropriate to themselves; like the little boy, who used to listen so attentively that his mother asked him why he did so, and he replied, “I heard a minister say once that, if there was a word in the sermon that might be blessed to us, Satan would be pretty sure to try to distract our attention so that we might not hear it; so I want to hear it all, and see if there is something that may be useful to me.” I am satisfied that your face is set Zion-wards when you can honestly say, “I come to the house of prayer, and sit there, not merely because it is the Lord’s day, and we must go somewhere to worship him;-not because I like to see the crowded congregation, and to join in the joyous song of praise; but because I hope that, one of these days, the minister will be guided by the Holy Spirit to let fall a handful on purpose for me, and that even I may know what it means to be saved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation.”

Perhaps a better sign still is when a man, not only continually hears the gospel preached, but frequently, and as often as he can, reads the Word of God with a view of finding therein something that may meet his case. In some respects, the preached Word has a very powerful influence over those who hear it, because it comes with a living power from living lips, and God has ordained that, by the preaching of his Word, men shall believe, and be saved; but, in other respects, this divinely-inspired Word is far superior to anything that we can ever say, for it is the infallible Word of God, which liveth and abideth for ever. Here is God’s own truth in God’s own words; and when I find that any of you get up a quarter of an hour earlier in the morning so that you may be able to read a chapter before you go to work, or when I hear that you carry your little pocket Testament with you, so that, in your dinner-hour, you may read a few verses with the prayer, “O God, save my soul while I read this thy Holy Word!”-I feel that, if you have not already found Christ, you soon will do so. At any rate, I am satisfied that you are enquiring the way to Zion, and that your face is turned towards heaven; and I do not believe, my dear friend, that you will long be in the habit of attentively reading the Word without finding some precious promise that shall come home to your spirit, and bring you into the light.

There is one better sign still, and that is this;-I am so glad to know that some of you have begun really to pray. I expect that most of you used to pray, after a fashion, even when you were children; your mother taught you to say a little prayer at her knee before she put you to bed, and many of you did not give up that habit until you went away from home. Perhaps you were apprenticed, and possibly there was another apprentice in the room where you slept, and you had not the moral courage to kneel down while he was there. Well, I am sorry if it was so; yet I fear that, when you did observe that form, you did not really pray. But now you do truly pray, and from your heart you do really speak to God. It may be that there are others of you, who have always used a printed or written form of prayer; yet, till lately, you never prayed in the true sense of that word. You used to read or recite the words just as the followers of Mahomet repeat their stereotyped form; but your heart was not in them, and you were often half asleep even while you were uttering those meaningless words. But, now, you cannot help praying; you groan out to God poor broken sentences that you would not like to see in print. I recollect the time when I used to pray after this fashion, “O God, save me! I hear the gospel preached whenever I can, but it does not bring peace to my heart. I am still without God, and without Christ, and without hope in the world. O Lord, do save me; save me, I beseech thee; and save me now!” If that is the spirit in which you have prayed, never mind what your words may have been; if this has been your desire, your face is set heavenward, and I do not believe that the Lord will long let you cry thus unto him without sending you a distinct answer of peace. You remember that the Lord said to Ananias, concerning Saul of Tarsus, as one of the evidences of the great change that had been wrought in him, “Behold, he prayeth;” and if that can be said also of you, there is good reason to hope concerning you. Surely the Holy Spirit has already been at work within you if you have begun continually to pray, and to pour out your heart’s supplication in secret before the living God.

Another good sign of sincerity is when a man begins to forsake his old companions, and shows that he likes the people of God far better. In my early ministry in London, there was a certain friend,-if he is not here to-night, he is usefully engaged elsewhere,-who came to the service, one Lord’s-day evening, with no object beyond a vain curiosity; but, that night, the Word of the Lord stung him to the quick, and made him very angry. He wrote me a letter, the next morning, to tell me that I had insulted him, and I do not know what he was not going to do. He came again to see if I would do the same as before, and the Word of the Lord cut him up far worse that time; but it was a very different letter that he wrote to me the next morning. He said that he had been in the habit of meeting, on Sunday nights, with half a dozen friends,-most of whom are members of this church now;-and they used, on the Saturday, to draw at the top of a sheet of note-paper a little sketch signifying, “Drop in on Sunday night; pipes and tobacco at seven.” Then the man went on to tell me that, if these former friends of his would not come with him to the house of prayer, they would be friends of his no longer, for that old mode of spending the Lord’s-day evening would never suit him again. That is one of the sure signs of the working of God’s grace, when a man says to his old companions, “Now, sirs, I cannot be your friend if you are not God’s friends. As far as worldly matters are concerned, I will help you when I can; I will not break my friendship with you in that respect; but as to spending my leisure hours in the places of sin where you find your delights, I cannot do it. I fear I am not yet converted; I am afraid I am not a Christian; but this much I know, I cannot find my pleasure any longer where I used to find it.” Ah, my friend! when you talk like that, you have your face set heavenward even if you are not actually on the road there. You are certainly in a hopeful condition, and I trust that, ere long, there will be something better even than that to be said concerning you. You will go to the houses where the name of Christ is like ointment poured forth; and though you may sit still, and hold your tongue, you will be thinking, “I wish I had a share in these precious things, and I do delight to hear these people talk about them.” I know some, who are truly learned men, who have been delighted to listen to a very poor woman as she was talking of the joy of the Lord only a little while before she passed into the spirit-land. It is usually a sure sign that we are in love with the Master when we are in love with his servants, and when we find delight in the company of his people. It is surely because there is a secret drawing of our hearts towards him. It indicates to me, my friend, that thy face is set Zion-wards when thou beginnest to hate the company of the loose, the frivolous, the wicked, and to choose the company of the earnest, the truthful, the godly, the prayerful, the lovers of the Lord Jesus Christ.

I shall only detain you while I mention the best sign of all,-a sign, dear friends, which I believe is present in many of you, namely, that you are beginning to repent of sin, and beginning, though you hardly dare to think that you are, to believe in Jesus. Only a few days ago, you did really think that you had believed in Jesus, though you are afraid to think so to-night, and you would not like to be deceived about so important a matter, yet, at times, there is a most blessed brokenness of heart about you. You cannot look back on your past history without feeling that your tears must flow as you mourn that you should ever have lived as you have lived,-that you should have had so many privileges, and should have slighted them,-that you should have had so many warnings, and should have despised them. You do not imagine that this feeling is true repentance; but I believe that a truly repentant soul scarcely ever thinks that it does repent as it ought to do. When a man is most tender in heart, he generally says, “I grieve that I feel so hardened, and that I am not as tender as I ought to be.” Remember this, there never was a saint who repented as much as he should have done, for repentance should be perfect, and no Christian has ever attained to that height.

As for believing in Jesus, I know that there are some of you, who-when you have just been reading a very sweet promise in the Scriptures, and your heart has been enabled to rest upon it,-have had thoughts like these, “I cannot say that I really do believe in Jesus, but I do desire to believe in him; and one thing I know, if he is not yet mine, I will never be fully at rest with anyone but himself.

“ ‘Other refuge have I none.’

“If I cannot nestle under his blessed wing, I will never try to hide under any others.” You hope sometimes that you really have trusted in Jesus, and I think that you have done so, although your faith is very feeble. Remember, however, that even a feeble faith is a saving faith. Though your faith is no bigger than a mustard seed, so that you can hardly see it, it will bring salvation to you. Even if you cannot see it, God can see it. If you do but touch the hem of Christ’s garment, virtue will flow out of him to the saving of your souls.

There are some who go to heaven rejoicing all the way. I hope you may be of that happy number; but there are others, like those who are mentioned in the fourth verse of this very chapter, who go “weeping.” There are tears at every step: “going and weeping.” Yet, when they get to heaven, they will not be asked whether they came weeping or laughing. It is better to go weeping to heaven than to go laughing to hell. There are some who go weeping to heaven; they seem, every day, as if they must surely perish on the road, yet they get there at last; and, dear friend, if your face is set Zion-wards, if you can truly say, “There is none but Jesus for me; he is all my hope, and all my trust;” rest thou content that thou also shalt get to heaven at last. If thou art really trusting in Christ, thou art sure of heaven, even if thou hast but one single grain of living faith in the crucified Saviour.

“The feeblest saint shall win the day,

Though death and hell obstruct the way.”

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

PSALM 32

In this Psalm we have the gospel of the peace of God as David knew it for himself, and wrote it for the benefit of others.

Verse 1. Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.

Hear this inspired declaration, you who have transgressed the law of your God, you who cannot plead a righteousness of your own, you who are conscious that you are sinners in the sight of God,-here is a door of hope for you. Here is a possibility of blessing even for those whose lives have been full of sin and transgression. This is not a blessing of the law, but a blessing of the gospel: “Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.”

2. Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity,-

Even God does not keep it recorded against him. The man has committed iniquity, but it is no longer laid to his charge, even by him whose all-seeing eye has witnessed it: “Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth not iniquity,”-

2. And in whose spirit there is no guile.

No shuffling, no deceit. He deals honestly with God, and with himself, and with his fellows; and God deals righteously with him, and yet covers his sin, forgives his transgression, and imputes not to him his iniquity.

3, 4. When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me: my moisture is turned into the drought of summer. Selah.

While under a sense of sin, David could not pray; or his prayer, if he did offer one at all, turned into a kind of roaring, like the cry of a wounded beast. He was so heavy in heart, his whole being was so scorched and parched by the fire of God’s righteous anger because of his sin, that the very ducts of his tears refused to supply him with any further streams, and he had to cry, “My moisture is turned into the drought of summer.” Oh, what a burden sin always brings with it, and what a dreadful thing it is to be crushed under the almighty hand of God when he convinces us of our guilt by the effectual working of his Holy Spirit! When David was in that condition, what did he do in order to get peace with God, and to find rest for his soul? Listen:-

5. I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. Selah.

He made to the Lord a full, childlike confession of his sin, iniquity, and transgressions, evidently putting his heart’s trust in the mercy of God; and, soon, all the burden that oppressed him was removed, and the fierce burnings of divine vengeance within his spirit were quenched, and his storm-tossed heart was at rest in his God: “Thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin.”

6, 7. For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou mayest be found: surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh unto him. Thou art my hiding place;-

See where alone a sinner can find a safe shelter, in his God. Christ Jesus, the Son of God, is the appointed Judge of all mankind, yet it is to him that we fly for refuge, crying,-

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me,

Let me hide myself in thee!”

It is strange that he, from whose lips the storm of wrath against sin comes, is the hiding place of his people. He draws the sword of infinite and infallible justice against all iniquity, and then he himself furnishes, in his own great heart of love, the sheath into which that sword of justice is plunged. So the believer to-day says to him in a fuller sense even than David understood the term, “Thou art my hiding place;”-

7. Thou shalt preserve me from trouble: thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Selah.

The once heavy heart shall dance for joy. The spirit that was so grievously burdened shall take up the note of glad thanksgiving when the Lord’s free sovereign mercy brings forgiveness to his repenting children.

8. I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye.

A good servant frequently does not need even a word from her mistress to guide her as to some duty to be performed, or some fault to be avoided; a look is all that is necessary, just a glance of the eye gives the needful guidance. So the Lord says to his watchful servant, “I will guide thee with mine eye;” but, like the attentive servant, we must be keenly on the watch for this indication of our Lord’s guiding eye.

9. Be ye not as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding: whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.

If you will be like a horse or a mule, do not be surprised when you are made to feel the bit and bridle which are appropriate for such creatures, and if a whip and spur are added, remember that you brought such treatment upon yourself. Nay, do not be so foolish, but give heed to the divine injunction: “Be ye not as the horse, or as the mule, which have no understanding: whose mouth must be held in with bit and bridle, lest they come near unto thee.”

10. Many sorrows shall be to the wicked:

The backsliding child of God will smart under the strokes of his Father’s chastising rod; but sterner treatment still will fall to the lot of “the wicked.” On another occasion, David wrote, “The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations that forget God.”

10. But he that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about.

What a number of blessed ring fences there are around a believer! Just now, David wrote, “Thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance;” and now he says of himself or his fellow-believer, “He that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about.” What more can he need?

11. Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous: and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart.

The Psalm began with blessedness, and it ends with holy gladness. It was needful to go down into the Valley of Humiliation for a while, but the Lord brought the psalmist up to the mountain top again, so that he felt that he must have others to join him in his gladsome song: “Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, ye righteous; and shout for joy, all ye that are upright in heart.” May all of us be fitted by God’s grace to join that singing and shouting company, for Jesus’ sake! Amen.

PROVING GOD

A Sermon

Published on Thursday, April 18th, 1907, delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at new park street chapel, southwark,

On Lord’s-day Morning, October 19th, 1856

“Prove me now.”-Malachi 3:10

It was my pleasure and my privilege, some time ago, to address you from the whole of this verse: “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”

If I rightly remember, we had at that time enough room; but very soon afterwards, when we strove to serve our God more, he did really pour us out such a blessing that we had not room to receive it. Then we enlarged this house; still the blessing flowed so copiously that there was no room to receive it, and I might have preached again from the same text, to remind you again of the promise. This morning, feeling that we are about to enter on a new enterprise* to God’s honour and glory, I thought I would endeavour to stir up your pure minds by way of remembrance, for which purpose I select such a text as this, “Prove me now.”

According to the laws of our country, no man can be condemned until his guilt is proved. It were well if we all carried out the same justice toward God which we expect from our fellow-men; but how frequently will men condemn the acts of their God as being hard and unkind! They do not say so,-they dare not; they scarcely avow that they think so; but there is a kind of lurking imagination hardly amounting to a deliberate thought, which leads them to fear that God has forgotten to be gracious, and will be mindful of them no more. Let us never, my friends, think hardly of our God, till we can prove anything against him. He says to all his unbelieving children who are doubtful of his goodness and his grace, “Prove me now. Hast thou aught against me? Canst thou prove aught that will be dishonourable to me? Wherein have I ever broken my promise? In what have I ever failed to fulfil my word? Ah, thou canst not say that. Prove me now, if thou hast aught against me,-if thou canst say anything against my honour,-if thou hast hitherto not received answers to prayer and blessings according to promise. Set me not down as false, I beseech thee, until thou hast so proved me.”

Moreover, not only is it unjust to think ill of anyone until we can prove something against him, but it is extremely unwise to be always suspicious of our fellow-creatures. Though there is much folly in being over-credulous, I question if there is not far more in being over-suspicious. He who believes every man will soon be bitten, but he who suspects every man will not only be bitten, but devoured. He who lives in perpetual distrust of his fellow-creatures cannot be happy; he has defrauded himself of peace and happiness, and assumed a position in which he cannot enjoy the sweets of friendship or affection. I would rather be too credulous towards my fellow-creatures than too suspicious. I had rather they should impose upon me, by making me believe them better than they are, than that I should impose upon them by thinking them worse than they are. It is better to be ourselves cheated sometimes than that we should cheat others; and it is cheating others to suspect those on whose characters there resteth no suspicion. We acknowledge such morality among men, but we act not so towards God; we believe any liar sooner than we believe him. When we are in trial and trouble, we believe the devil when he says God will forsake us. The devil, who has been a liar from the beginning, we credit; but if our God promises anything, we say, “Surely this is too good to be true,” and we doubt the fulfilment, because it is not brought to pass exactly at the time and in the way we anticipate. Let us never harbour such suspicions of our God. If we say in our haste, “All men are liars,” let us preserve this one truth, “God cannot lie.” His counsel is immutable, and he hath confirmed it by an oath, “that we might have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us” in Christ Jesus; let not our faith then dally with a fear; let us rather seek grace, that we may confidently believe and assuredly rely on the words which the lips of God do speak. “ ‘Prove me now,’ if any of you are suspicious of my word. If you think my grace is not sweet, taste and see that the Lord is gracious. If you think that I am not a rock, and that my work is not perfect, come now, tread upon the rock, and see if it be not firm; build on the rock, and see if it be not solid. If thou thinkest mine arm shortened that I cannot save, come and ask, and I will stretch it out to defend thee. If thou thinkest that mine ear is heavy that I cannot hear, come and try it; call upon me, and I will answer thee. If thou art suspicious, make proof of my promises, so shall thy suspicions be removed. But, oh, doubt me not, until thou hast found me unworthy of trust: ‘Prove me now.’ ”

In these words I find a fact couched, a challenge given, a time mentioned, and an argument suggested. Such are the four points I propose this morning to consider.

First, then, we have the fact, that God allows himself to be proved: “Prove me now.”

In meditating on this subject, it has occurred to me that all the works of creation are proofs of God; they evidence his eternal power and Godhead. But inasmuch as he is not only the Creator, but the Sustainer of them all, they make continual proof of him, his goodness, his faithfulness, and his care. Methinks, when God launched the sun from his hand, and sent him on his course, he said, “Prove me now; see, O sun, if I do not uphold thee till thou hast done thy work, and finished thy career; thou mayest rejoice ‘as a strong man to run a race,’ but while thou fulfillest thy circuits, and nothing is hid from thy heat, thou shalt prove my glory, and shed light upon my handiwork.” When the Almighty whirled the earth in space, methinks he said, “Prove me now, O earth, and see if I do not perpetuate thy seasons, and give thee ‘seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night,’ refreshing thee with incessant providence.” And to each creature he made, I can almost think the Almighty said, “Prove me now. Tiny gnat, thou art about to dance in the sunshine; thou shalt prove my goodness. Huge leviathan, thou shalt stir up the deep, and make it frothy; go forth, and prove my power. Ye creatures, whom I have endowed with various instincts, wait on me; I will give you your meat in due season. And you, ye mighty thunders and ye swift lightnings, go, teach the world reverence, and show forth my omnipotence.” Thus, I think, all God’s creatures are not merely proofs of his existence, but proofs of his manifold wisdom, his lovingkindness, and his grace. The meanest and the mightiest of his created works, each and all, in some degree, prove his love, and teach us how marvellous is his nature; but he has given to man this high prerogative above all the works of his hands, that he alone should make designed and intelligent proof. They do but prove him unintentionally. The things of earth prove God, yet they have no intention of so doing. The beasts praise God; the cattle on a thousand hills low forth his honour, and the very lions roar his praise; yet they do it not with intent, and judgment, and will; and although the sun proveth the majesty and the might of his Master, yet the sun hath neither mind nor thought, and it is not his intention to glorify God. But the saint doeth it intentionally.

It is a great fact, beloved, that God will have all his children to be proofs of the various attributes of his nature. I do not think any one of the children of God proves all of God, but that they are all proving different parts of his one grand character, so that, when the whole history of providence shall be written, and the lives of all the saints shall be recorded, the title of the book will be, “Proofs of God.” There will be one compendious proof that he is God, and changeth not; that with him there “is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.” You will remember how one saint peculiarly proved the longsuffering of God, in that he was permitted to pursue his career to the utmost verge of destruction; while he hung on the cross, the patience that had borne with him so long, brought salvation to him at last. He was “in the article of death,” falling into the pit, when sovereign grace broke the fall, everlasting arms caught his soul, and Jesus himself conducted him to paradise. Then again, you will remember another saint, who plunged into a thousand sins, and indulged in the foulest lust, but she was brought to Christ; out of her did he cast seven evil spirits, and Mary Magdalene was made to prove the richness of our Saviour’s pardoning grace, as well as the sweetness of a pardoned sinner’s gratitude. It is a fact that the Lord is ready to forgive, and this woman is a great proof of it. There was Job, who was tortured with ulcers, and made to scrape himself with a potsherd; he proved “that the Lord is very pitiful, and of tender mercy;” from him we get evidence that God is able to sustain us amidst unparalleled sufferings. Let me note how Solomon proved the bounty of God. When he asked for wisdom and knowledge, the Lord not only granted his request, but added riches and wealth and honour to his store; and how did Solomon magnify this proof of divine bounty as he translates the experience of his dream into the counsel of his proverbs? While he advises us to get wisdom, he assures us that “length of days is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and honour.” And then, once more, how great a proof of God’s special providence in maintaining in this world “a remnant according to the election of grace,” do we derive from the history of Elijah! There sat the venerable seer, beneath a juniper-tree, in the lone desert,-a great but sorrowful man,-an honoured but a dejected prophet of the Most High. Do you mark him as he comes to Horeb, takes up his lodging in a cave, and complains in the awful solitude of his soul, “I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away”? Oh, had his fears been realized, what a blank would earth have been without a saint! But Elijah proved from the mouth of God the impossibility. He learnt for our sakes, as well as his own, what a reservation God has made in seasons of direst persecution. It is proved that there shall ever be still a Church in the world while earth’s old pillars stand.

Nor need we suppose that the testimony of the witnesses is closed. Each of God’s saints is sent into the world to prove some part of the divine character. Perhaps I may be one of those who shall live in the valley of ease, having much rest, and hearing sweet birds of promise singing in my ears. The air is calm and balmy, the sheep are feeding round about me, and all is still and quiet. Well, then, I shall prove the love of God in sweet communings. Or, perhaps, I may be called to stand where the thunderclouds brew, where the lightnings play, and tempestuous winds are howling on the mountain top. Well, then, I am born to prove the power and majesty of our God; amidst dangers he will inspire me with courage; amidst toils he will make me strong. Perhaps it shall be mine to preserve an unblemished character, and so prove the power of sanctifying grace in not being allowed to backslide from my professed dedication to God. I shall them be a proof of the omnipotent power of grace, which alone can save from the power as well as the guilt of sin. The divers cases of all the Lord’s family are intended to illustrate different parts of his ways; and in heaven I do think one part of our blest employ will be to read the great book of the experience of all the saints, and gather from, that book the whole of the divine character as having been proved and illustrated. Each Christian man is a manifestation and display of some attribute or other of God; a different part may belong to each of us, but when the whole shall be combined, when all the rays of evidence shall be brought, as it were, into one great sum, and shine forth with meridian splendour, we shall see in Christian experience a beautiful revelation of our God.

Let us remember, then, as an important fact, that God intends us to live in this world to prove him, and let us seek to do so, always endeavouring as much as we can to be finding out and proving the attributes of God. Remember, we have all the promises to prove in our lifetime; and it shall be found, in the last great day, that every one of them has been fulfilled. As the promises are read through now, it may be asked, “Who is a proof of such a promise?” Peradventrure the question relates to some promise of almost universal application, and millions of saints will rise and say, “We proved the truth of that.” Or there may be a promise in the Bible that it will seldom fall to the lot of one of God’s children to prove: it is so peculiar, and few shall have been able to understand it. But mark, there will be some witnesses to attest it, and all the promises shall be fulfilled in the united experience of the Church. Such, then, is the fact,-Gad allows his children to prove him.

And now, secondly, we have here a challenge given to us: “Prove me now.” “You who have doubted me, prove me. You who mistrust me, prove me. You who tremble at the enemy, prove me. You who are afraid you cannot accomplish your work, believe my promise, and come and prove me.”

Now, I must explain this challenge to you, as to the way in which it has to be carried out. There are different sorts of promises given in God’s Word, which have to be proved in different ways. In the Bible there are three kinds of promises. In the first class I will place the conditional promises, such as are intended for certain characters, given alone to them, and them only on certain conditions. There is a second class, referring exclusively to the future, the fulfilment of which does not relate to us at the present time. While there is a third and most glorious class, called absolute promises, which have no conditions whatever, or which graciously supply the requirements that the conditional promises demand.

To begin with conditional promises: we cannot prove a conditional promise in the same way as an absolute one. The manner of proving must accord with the character of the promise to be proved. Let me mention, for example, “Ask, and ye shall receive.” Here it is quite obvious that I must ask in order to verify the promise. I have a condition to fulfil in order to obtain a benefit. The way to test the faithfulness of the Promiser, and the truth of the promise, is plainly this,-comply with the stipulation. Vary different is the promise, and equally different the proof, when God says, “I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes.” Here we have the simple will of the Almighty. Such a promise is to be proved in a very different manner from the fulfilment on our part of a condition; but of this more anon.

In order to prove conditional promises, then, it is necessary for us to fulfil the condition that God has annexed to them. He says, “Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith.” No man can prove God, with reference to this promise, till he has brought all the tithes into the storehouse; for it is “herewith” this promise has to be proved. Suppose the Lord says, “Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me;” the only way of proving him is by calling upon him in the time of trouble. We may stand as long as we like, and say, “God will fulfil that promise;” ay, that he will, but we must fulfil the condition, and it behoves us to seek grace of him to enable us to do so; for we cannot prove such promises unless we fulfil the conditions appended to them. There are many very sweet conditional promises; one of them helped to set my soul at rest, it was this, “Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth.” The condition there is, “Look unto me;” but you cannot prove it unless you do look unto Christ. Here is another, “Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” What a blessed promise that is! But then you cannot prove the promise unless you call on the name of the Lord. So that, whenever we see a promise to which a condition is attached, if we wish to prove it in our own experience, we must ask of God to give us grace to fulfil the condition. That is one way of proving God.

But some will say, “Do not these conditions restrict the liberality and graciousness of God’s promises?” Oh, no, beloved; for, first, the conditions are often put to describe the persons to whom the promises are made. Hence, my brother, when it is written, “He forgetteth not the cry of the humble,” the promise fits thy chastened soul. When the Lord saith, “To this man will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite spirit and trembleth at my word,” thou canst perceive, as it were, a description of thine own state. And when he saith, “I will satisfy her poor with bread,” you can some of you take comfort that the promise finds you in the fit condition to receive the blessing. But again, if the condition be, not a state, but a duty; then, let it be prayer,-he gives the spirit of prayer; let it be faith,-he is the Giver of faith; let it be meekness,-he it is who clothes thee with meekness. Thus the conditions serve to commend the promises to God’s own children, and to show the bounty of him who giveth “grace for grace.”

But then there is the absolute promise, and that is the largest and best promise of all; for if they were all conditional promises, and the conditions rested with us to fulfil, we should all be damned. If there were no absolute promises, there would not be a soul saved; if they were all made to characters, and no absolute promise were made that the characters should be given, we should perish, notwithstanding all God’s promises. If he had simply said, “He that believeth shall be saved,” we should all be lost, for we could not believe without his grace. Now, the absolute promise is not to be proved by doing anything, but by believing in it. All I can do with an absolute promise is to believe it. If I were to try to fulfil a condition, it would not be accepted by God, because no condition is appended to that kind of promise. He might well say to me, “If thou hast fulfilled the condition of another promise, thou shalt have it; but I have put no condition to this one. I have said, ‘I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my ways; ye shall be my people, and I will be your God.’ There is a promise without any condition.” Although the child of God may have sinned, yet the promise stands good, that he shall be brought to know his error, to repent, and be wholly forgiven. Such a promise we can only believe; we cannot fulfil any condition relating to it. We must take it to God, and say, “Hast thou said that Christ ‘shall see of the travail of his soul’? Lord, we believe it; let him see of the travail of his soul. Dost thou say, ‘My word shall not return unto me void’? Lord, do as thou hast said. Thou hast said it; Lord, do it.” Has he said, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out”? Then go and say, “Lord, I come now; do as thou said.” On an absolute promise, I can tell thee, faith gets good foothold. Conditional promises often cheer the soul; but it is the absolute promise which is the rock that faith delights to stand upon.

Now, beloved friends, what promise has been laid this day to your hearts? Many of you have one that God gave you when you arose from your beds. I am always sure to have the most happy day when I get a good text in the morning from my Master. When I have had to preach two or three sermons in a day, I have asked him for a morning portion, and preached from it; and I have asked him for an evening portion, and preached from it, after meditating on it for my own soul’s comfort,-not in the professional style of a regular sermon-maker, but meditating upon it for myself. Such simple food has done more good than if I had been a week in manufacturing a sermon, for it has come warm from my heart just after it has been received in my own conscience; and therefore it has been well spoken, because well known, well tasted, and well felt. What is thy promise, then? Is it a conditional one? Then say, “Lord, I beseech thee, enable me to fulfil the condition;” and if the promise be applied to thy soul with a condition, he will give thee both the condition and the promise, for he never gives by halves. Has he put into thy soul, “Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts”? Then he will give you grace to forsake your ways and your thoughts too. He will not give you the conditional promise without, in due time, giving you the condition too. But hast thou got an absolute promise laid to thy soul? Then thou art a happy man. Has God laid to thine inmost spirit some of those great and precious promises, such as this, “The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed”? Pause not to ask for conditions; take the promise just as it is. Go on thy knees and say, “Lord, thou hast said it.” Again, hath the Lord promised, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee”? Plead it. Or art thou in trouble? Search out the suitable promise, and say, “Thou hast said, ‘When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee;’ I believe thee, Lord! I am tried, but thou hast said I shall have no trial that I am not able to bear; Lord, give me all-sufficient grace, and make me more than conqueror.” Go and prove God. Be not afraid with any amazement. If he gives a promise, he gives you an invitation to prove it. If he gives you a single word, he means that you should bring it to him, and tell it to him again; for you know he has said, “I will yet for this be enquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them.” Do, I beseech you, put the Lord in mind of his own promises, and he will most assuredly fulfil them. Here is a challenge to all the redeemed, “Prove me now.”

Do you know what is the most perilous time in a Christian’s life? I think I could hit upon it in a moment,-“now.” Many persons-I might well nigh say all Christians-are ever most apprehensive of the present hour. Suppose they are in trouble, though they may have had ten times worse troubles before, they forget all about them, and “now” is the most critical day they ever knew. Or, if they are at ease, they say,-

“Far more the treacherous calm I dread

Than tempests rolling o’er my head;”-

and they think no position in life more dangerous than “now.” The lions are before them,-how great their danger! And when, a little while ago, they lost their roll in the arbour of ease, how dreadful it was then! And when they got to the slippery ground, going down hill, “now” seemed their greatest danger. When they get a little further, and Apollyon meets them, “here,” they say, “is the worst trial of all.” Then comes the valley of the shadow of death, and they say, “Now this is the most serious period of my life.” In fact, it is right that we should feel in some degree that “now” is just the time we ought to be guarded; yesterdays and to-morrows we may leave, but “now” is the time we must be watchful. God never lays to-morrow’s promise on my heart to-day, because I am not in immediate want of it; the promises are given in the time, in the place, and in the manner he has designed and intended they should be fulfilled. But no doubt some of you will sympathize with me when I say that “now” is just the time when the Christian thinks he can trust God the least. “Oh!” says he, “if I were in the same state as I was before, I should be happy. I do believe that I could have trusted my Master better then; but just now I cannot lay my head so confidently on the Saviour’s breast. I remember, when I was sick, how sweet the promises were. I could then say,-

“ ‘Sweet to lie passive in his hands,

And know no will but his.’

“But now I am altered. Somehow or other, a languor has come over me. I cannot believe that I am a Christian.” You compare yourself with some brother, and feel quite sure that, if you were only like him, you would have faith. Go and speak to that brother, and he will say, “If I were like you, I should be better off.” And so they would change experiences, each failing to trust God under his own circumstances. But the Lord is pleased always to give us a word that suits the particular position we may be in: “Prove me now.” To allegorize a moment. There is a ship upon the sea. It is the ship which the Lord has launched, and which he has said shall come to its desired haven. The sea is smooth; the waves ripple gently, and bear the bark steadily along. “Prove me now,” says the Lord. The mariner stands on the deck, and says, “Lord, I thank thee that thou hast given me such smooth sailing as this; but ah! my Master, perhaps this very ease and comfort may destroy my grace.” And a voice says, “Prove me now, and see if I cannot keep thee amidst the storm.” Anon the heavens have gathered blackness, the winds have begun to bluster, and the waves lift up their voice, while the poor ship is tossed to and fro on the yawning deep. Amid the screaming of the tempest and the howling of the winds, I hear a voice which says, “Prove me now.” See, the ship has been dashed upon the rock; she has been broken well nigh in sunder, and the mariner sees her hold filling with water, while all his pumps cannot keep her empty. The voice still cries, “Prove me now.” Alas! she well nigh sinks; another wave will be enough to swamp her; it seems as if one more drop would submerge her. Still the voice cries, “Prove me now.” And the mariner does prove God, and he is delivered safely from all his distresses. “They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit’s end;” but “so he bringeth them unto their desired haven.” Now the ship is scudding merrily along before the winds, and, lo! she cometh to the verge of the horizon. The mists have gathered round her; strange phantoms dance to the waves of night; a lurid light flits through the shades; and anon the darkness comes again. Something broods about the ship that the mariner hath never seen before. The water is black beneath his vessel’s prow; the air hangs damp and thick above him; the very sweat is clammy on his face. Fresh fear has got hold of him that he never felt before. Just then, when he knows not what to do, a voice cries, “Prove me now;” and so he does: he cries unto the Lord, and is saved.

Ah, dear friends, I might give you a hundred illustrations. I think this old Bible speaks to me to-day. I have wielded it in your midst as God’s soldier. This sword of the Spirit hath been thrust into many of your hearts, and though they were hard as adamant, it has split them in sunder. Some of you have had sturdy spirits broken in pieces by this good old Jerusalem blade. But we shall be gathered together to-night where an unprecedented mass of people will assemble, perhaps, from idle curiosity, to hear God’s Word; and the voice cries in my ears, “Prove me now.” Many a man has come, during my ministrations, armed to his very teeth, and having on a coat of mail, yet hath this tried weapon cleft him in twain, and pierced to the dividing asunder of the joints and marrow. “Prove me now,” says God, “go and prove me before blasphemers; go and prove me before reprobates, before the vilest of the vile, and the filthiest of the filthy; go and prove me now.” Lift up that life-giving cross, and let it again be exhibited; into the regions of death, go and proclaim the word of life; into the most plague-smitten parts of the city, go and carry the waving censer of the incense of a Saviour’s merits, and prove now whether he is not able to stay the plague, and remove the disease.

But what does God say to the Church? “You have proved me aforetime, you have attempted great things; though some of you were faint-hearted, and said, ‘We should not have ventured,’ others of you had faith, and proved me. I say again, ‘Prove me now.’ ” See what God can do, just when a cloud is falling on the head of him whom God has raised up to preach to you; go and prove him now,-see if he will not pour you out such a blessing as ye had not even dreamed of,-see if he will not give you a Pentecostal blessing. “Prove me now.” Why should we be unbelieving? Have we one thing to make us so? We are weak; what of that? Are we not strongest in our God when we are weakest in ourselves? We are fools, it is said; so we are, and we know it; but he maketh fools to confound the wise. We are base, but God has chosen the base things of the world. We are unlearned,-

“We know no schoolman’s subtle art,”-

yet we glory in infirmity when Christ’s power doth rest upon us. Let them represent us as worse than we are; let them give us the most odious character that hath ever been given to man, we will bless them and wish them good. What though the weapon be a stone, or even the jaw-bone of an ass, if the Lord direct it? “Do you not know,” say some, “what wise men say?” Yes, we do; but we can read their oracles backwards. Their words are the offspring of their wishes. We know who has instructed them, and we know he is a liar from the beginning. O fools, and slow of heart! do you shrink from the truth, or do you shrink from obloquy and disgrace? In either case, you have not the love to your Master that you should have. If ye be brave men and true, go on and conquer. Fear not, ye shall yet win the day; God’s holy gospel shall yet shake the earth once more. The banner is lifted up, and multitudes are flocking to it;-the Pharisees have taken counsel together,-the learned stand confounded,-the sages are baffled. They know not what to do. The little one God has made great, and he that was despised is exalted. Let us trust him, then. He will be with us even to the end, for he has said, “Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.”

The last division of my subject is an argument, and I have brenched on that already: “Prove me now.”

Why should we prove God? Because, beloved, it will glorify him if we do. Nothing glorifies God more than proving him. When a poor hungry child of God, without a crust in the cupboard, says, “Lord, thou hast said that bread shall be given me, and water shall be sure; I will prove thee,”-more glory is given to God by that simple proof of him than by the hallelujahs of the archangels. When some poor despairing sinner, who has been fluttering round the Word, in hopes that he may-

“Light on some sweet promise there,

Some sure defence against despair,”-

when such an one giveth credence to God’s promise, in the very teeth of evidence against him, staggering not at the promise through unbelief, then he glorifies God. If thou art, this morning, in thine own apprehension an almost damned sinner, and thou feelest thyself to be the vilest of all, if thou wilt believe this, that Christ loves thee, and that Christ came to save thee, sinner as thou art, thou wilt glorify God as much by doing that as thou wilt be able to do when thy fingers shall sweep across the strings of the golden harps of paradise. We glorify God by proving him. Try God. This is the way to bring out the glorious points of the Christian character. It is in being singularly qualified for the duties of our holy Christian warfare, in being singularly courageous, and singularly ready, with the martyr-spirit, to imperil ourselves for his service, that we may bring glory to God. God says, “Prove me now.” Saint, wilt thou rob him of his honour? Wilt thou rob him of his honour? Wilt thou not do that which shall crown him, in the estimation of the world, with many more crowns? Oh, prove him, for by so doing thou wilt glorify his name.

Prove him again for thou hast proved him before. Canst thou not remember that thou wast brought very low, and yet thou canst say, “This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles”? What! wilt thou not prove him again? Mindest thou not the goodness thou hast proved? When thou saidst, “My feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped,” did he not support thee, so that thou couldst say with the psalmist, “Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand”? Has thy foot slipped? Canst thou not thus far witness to his mercy? Then trust in it to hold thee up still.

Again, accept this challenge, prove God’s Word, as he has called thee to do, and how much blessing it will give to thyself! Beloved brethren, we endure ten times as much anxiety in this world as we need, because we confide not in divine promises half as much as we might. If we were to live more on God’s promises, and less on creature feelings, we should be happier men and women, all of us. Could we live always in faith on the promises, the shafts of the enemy could never reach us. Let us constantly, then, seek to prove him. How much good Mr. Müller has done by proving God! He is called by God to a special work. What does he do? He builds an orphan asylum, and trusts to God. He has no regular income; but he says, “I will prove to the world that God hears prayer.” So he lives in the exercise of prayer; and though he may at times be brought to his last shilling, yet there is never a meal that his children sit down to without sufficient bread. Our work may be different from his; but let us seek, whatever our work is, so to do it that, when anyone reads of it, he will say, “He tried God in such-and-such a promise, and his life was a standing proof that that promise did not fail.” Whatever your promise is, let your life be seen to be the working out of the problem which has to be proved, and like any proposition of Euclid, which is stated at the beginning and proved at the end, so may we find a text put at the beginning of our lives as a promise to be fulfilled, and seen at the close, demonstrated, proved, and carried out.

But, dear friends, let me just conclude by asking those here, who have been brought to know their lost and ruined state, to remember this message, “Prove me now.” Thus saith my God unto thee, O sinner, “Whosover shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” My dear hearer, art thou lost and ruined? Prove God now. He says, “Call unto me, and I will answer thee;” come now, and call unto him. He hath said, “Seek, and ye shall find;” oh, seek him now. “Knock,” he says, “and it shall be opened unto you;” lift up the knocker of heaven’s door, and sound it with all thy might; or, suppose thou art too weak to knock, let the knocker fall down of itself. He has said, “Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.” Go, and prove the promise now. Try to prove it. Art thou a poor, sick, and wounded sinner? You are told that Jesus Christ is able and willing to heal your wounds, and extract the poison from your veins. Prove him, prove him, poor soul. Thou thinkest thyself to be a lost one; therefore, I urge thee, in Christ’s name, to prove this promise, “I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.” Take this to him, and say, “O God, I want faith to trust thy word; I know thou dost mean what thou hast said; thou hast said, this morning, by the mouth of thy minister, ‘Prove me now;’ Lord, I will prove thee now, this very day, even till nightfall if thou dost not answer me. I will still keep fast by thy promise.”

Do this, my beloved, and you will not be gone long before you will be able to sing,-

“I’m forgiven, I’m forgiven!

I’m a miracle of grace.”

Now, do not stand still and say, “God will not hear such an one as I am; my disease is too bad for him to cure.” Go and see, put your hand on the hem of his garment, and then, if the blood is not stanched, go and tell the world that thou has proved God wrong. Go and tell it, if thou durst. But oh! thou canst not. If thou dost touch the hem of his garment, I know what thou wilt say: “I have tasted that the Lord is gracious. He said, ‘Trust in me, and I will deliver thee.’ I have trusted in him, and he has delivered me;” for the promise will always have its fulfilment. “Prove me now,” saith God.