C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“And these things write we unto you, that your joy may be full.-1 John 1:4.

Very closely does the apostle John resemble his Lord in the motive that prompted him to write this epistle! You remember how Christ said, in his last discourse to his disciples on the eve of his passion, “These things have I spoken unto you that your joy may be full”; and how he counselled them, “Ask and receive that your joy may be full”; and how he prayed the Father for them, “that they might have my joy fulfilled in themselves.” Here, then, the beloved disciple, moved by the Spirit of God, reflects and follows out the same gracious purpose: “These things write we unto you, that your joy may be full.” What an evidence of our Saviour’s deep attachment to his people that he is not content with having made their ultimate salvation sure, but he is anxious concerning their present state of mind! He delights that his people should not only be safe, but happy; not merely saved, but rejoicing in his salvation. It does not please your Saviour for you to hang your head as the bulrush, and go mourning all your days. He would have you rejoice in him always; for this end he has made provision, and to this end he has given us precepts. Hence it appears:-

We should not find the apostle John writing to promote that which, in the natural order of things, would be sure to occur. In this object of pastoral anxiety, he seems to include the whole of the Apostolic College with himself when he says, “These things write we unto you that your joy might be full,” as if your joy would not be full unless inspired apostles should be commissioned of God to further it. Your joy then, I say, wants looking after; I do not doubt but you have very suggestive proofs of this yourselves, in your external circumstances. You cannot always rejoice, because, although your treasure is not in this world, your affliction is. Poverty will sometimes be too heavy a cross for you to sing under. Sickness sometimes casts you upon a bed on which you have not, as yet learned to rejoice. Losses befall you in business, failures of hope, forsaking of friends, and cruelty of foes; and any of these may prove like winter nights which nip the green leaves of your joy, and make them fade and fall off from your bough. You cannot always rejoice, but sometimes there is a needs-be that you should be in heaviness through manifold temptations. I suppose none of you are so perfectly happy as to be without some trial. Your joy will need to be looked after then, lest these water-floods should come in and quench it. You will need to cry to him who alone can keep its flame burning, to trim it with fresh oil.

I suppose, too, that you have moods and susceptibilities which make it no easy matter to maintain perpetual joy. If you have not, I have. Sometimes there will be deep depression of spirit; you can scarce tell why or wherefore. That strong wing with which you mounted like an eagle will seem to flap the air in vain. That heart of yours, which once flew upwards like the lark rising from amidst the dew, will lie cold and heavy like a stone upon the earth, and you will find it hard to rejoice.

Besides, sin will stop the beginning of your holy mirth, and when you would dance for joy, like David before the ark, some internal corruption will come to hamper your delight. Ah, beloved! it is not easy to sing while you fight. Christian soldiers ought to do it; they should march to battle with songs of triumph, that their spirits may be nerved to desperate valour against their inbred corruptions; but sometimes the garment rolled in blood, and the dust, and the turmoil, will stay for awhile the looked-for shout of victory. With trials many and manifold; trials from the thorns and briars of this fallen world; trials from Satanic suggestions; trials from the uprisings of black fountains of corruption within your own polluted hearts, you have, indeed, need that your joy, to keep it full and flowing at high tide, should be guarded and supplied by an influence above your own, and fed from a celestial spring.

I dare say you have learned by this time, my beloved in the Lord Jesus Christ, how exceedingly necessary it is that this joy of ours should be abundant. When full of joy, we are more than a match for the adversary of souls, but when our joy is gone, fear slackens our sinews, and, like Peter, we may be vanquished by a little maid. When our joy in the Lord is at its full, we can bear that the fig-tree should not blossom, that the herd should be cut off from the stall, and the flocks from the field, but how heavy our sorrows are to bear, how impatient we become when the chains that link heaven and earth are disarranged, or the communication in any way intercepted. If we can see the Saviour’s face without a cloud between, then temptation has no power over us, and all the glittering shams that sin can offer us are eclipsed in their brilliance by the true gold of spiritual joy which we have in our possession. Oh! what rapture!

“I would not change my blest estate

For all that earth calls good or great;

And while my faith can keep her hold

I envy not the sinner’s gold.”

Thus the Christian, by his holy joy, outbraves temptation and is strong to endure a martyrdom of woe. Why, you can do anything when the joy of the Lord is within you. Like a roe or a young hart, thou leapest over the mountains of Bether. The mountains cannot appal thee; thou makest thee a stepping-stone across the brook. The heaviest tempests which lower over thee cannot chill nor damp thy courage, for thy song pierces it, and thy soul mounts above it all, into the clear blue of fellowship with thy God. But when this joy is gone, then are we weak, like Samson when his hair was shorn. We become the slaves of temptation, if we do not yield to its treacherous enticements; at any rate, it harasses us, and so enervates the power with which we were wont to glorify our God. The Christian’s joy wants looking to. If any of you have lost the joy of the Lord, I pray you do not think it a small loss. I have heard of a minister who said that a Christian lost nothing by sin-and then he added-“except his joy”; and one replied, “Well, and what else would you have him lose?” That is quite enough. To lose the light of my Father’s countenance, to lose my full assurance of interest in Christ, to lose my heaven below-oh! this is a loss great enough! Let us walk carefully, let us walk prayerfully, that so we may realise perpetually joy and peace even to the full. Let none of us be content to sit down in misery. There is such a thing as getting habituated to melancholy. My bias is toward that state of mind, but by the grace of God I resist it. If we begin to give way to this foolishness, we shall soon weave forged chains for ourselves which we cannot readily snap. Take your harp from the willows, believers. Do not let your fingers forget the well-known strings. Come, let us praise him. If we have looked black in the face for awhile, let us brighten up with the thoughts of Christ. At any rate, let us not be easy till we have shaken off this lethargic distemper, and once again come into the normal state of health in which a child of God should be found, that of spiritual joy.

The Christian’s joy lies mainly in things revealed, otherwise it would not find its fitting sustenance in words inspired.

If the Christian’s joy lay in the wine-vat and in the barn, in the landed estate, or the hoarded purse, it would only be necessary that the vineyard should yield plenteous clusters, that the harvest should be crowned with abundance, that peace should prevail, and trade should prosper; forthwith the heritor and the merchant have all that heart could wish. But the Christian’s joy is not touched by these vulgar things. These common-place satisfactions do not suit the noble mind of the believer. He thanks God for all the bounties of the basket and the barn, but he cannot feast his soul upon stocks or fruits that perish with the using. He wants something better. The apostle John seems to tell us this when he says, “And these things write I unto you”-nothing about prosperity in this world, but all about fellowship with Christ-“And these things write we unto you, that your joy may be full.” From which I infer that everything which is revealed to us in Scripture has for its intention the filling up of the Christian’s joy.

What is Scripture all about, then? Is it not, first and foremost, concerning Jesus Christ? Take thou this Book, and distil it into one word, and I will tell thee what it is-it is Jesus. All this is but the body of Christ. I may look upon all these pages as the swaddling-bands of the infant Saviour, and if you unroll Scripture, you come to Jesus Christ himself. Now, beloved, is not Jesus Christ the sum and summit of your joy? I hope we do not utter a falsehood when we sing, as it is our want:-

“Jesus, the very thought of thee

With rapture fills my breast,

Tho’ sweeter far thy face to see

And in thy bosom rest.

Jesus-man yet God; allied to us in ties of blood. Why, here is mirth! Here is Christmas all the year round. In the Nativity of the Saviour there is joy for us-the babe in Bethlehem born; God has taken man into communion with himself. Jesus the Saviour: here is release from the groans of sin; here is an end to the moans of despair. He comes to break the bars of brass, and to cut the gates of iron in sunder.

“Jesus, the name that charms our fears,

That bids our sorrows cease!

’Tis music in the sinner’s ears,

’Tis life, ’tis health, ’tis peace.”

Scripture, surely, has well taken its cue. Would it make us joyful, it has done well to make Christ its head and front.

All the doctrines of the Bible have a tendency, when properly understood and received, to foster the Christian’s joy. Let us mention one or two of them. There is that ancient, much-abused, but most delightful doctrine of election, that “all worlds before” Jesus elected his people, and looked with eyes of infinite love upon them as he saw them in the glass of futurity. What, Christian, canst thou believe thyself “loved with an everlasting love,” and not rejoice? Was it not the doctrine of election that made David dance before the ark? When a Michel sneered at him for dancing, he said, “It was before the Lord who had chosen me before thy father (Saul), and all his house.” Surely to be chosen of God, to be selected from the mass of mankind, and made favourites of the heart of Deity-this ought to make us, in our worst moments, sing with joy of heart. Oh! that doctrine of election! I wish some of you would acquaint yourselves with it in the psalmody of the Church, rather than in the wrangling of the schools. It is a tree that puts forth its luxuriance in the tropical climate of divine love; but it looks dwarfed and barren in the arctic regions of human logic. Then there are the doctrines which, like living waters, drop from this sacred and hidden fountain. Take, for instance, that of redemption. To be bought with a price-a price whose efficacy is not questionable; bought so that we are now Jesu’s property, never to be lost; bought, not with that general redemption which holds to the sinner’s eye a precarious contingency, but bought with an effectual ransom which saves every blood-bought sinner because he was redeemed-his own proper self, of God’s own good will. Oh! here is occasion for song!

“Jesus sought me when a stranger

Wandering from the fold of God;

He, to rescue me from danger,

Interposed his precious blood.”

Canst thou see the blood-mark on thyself, and not rejoice? Oh! Christian, surely thy joy ought to be full! Or turn to the doctrine of justification, and consider how, through faith, every believer is “accepted in the beloved,” and stands, wrapped in Jesu’s righteousness, as fair in God’s sight as if he had never sinned. Why, here is a theme for joy! Know and acknowledge thy union with Christ:-

“One with Jesus,

By eternal union one.”

Members of his body, “of his flesh, and of his bones,” and what?-not a song after this! How sweet the music ought to be where this is the theme! Then, too, to mention no more, there is one doctrine which is like a handful of pearls-that of eternal preservation unto glory which is to be revealed at the appearing of Jesus Christ. You are “kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation.” You shall be with him where he is. You shall behold his glory. “Whom he justified, them he also glorified.” Oh! canst thou put on this robe of splendour, and go up to the throne where Christ has already made thee sit representatively in his own person, and canst thou not begin to-night thy song which shall never end? Truly we have but to mention the truth, and you can think it over for yourselves-every doctrine of revelation is to the Christian a source of joy.

Well, and every part of Christian experience is to further our joy. “Why,” says one, “all a Christian’s experience is not joyful.” I grant you that, but remember that all a Christian’s experience is not Christian experience. Christians experience a great deal which they do not experience as Christians; but experience it because they are not such Christians as they ought to be. I believe that much of that groaning which some people think such a deal of, is rather of the devil than of the Spirit of God. Certainly that unbelief which some people seem to look upon as such a precious flower is rank herbage, never sown in us by the hand of God the Holy Spirit. Beloved, there is a mourning which comes from the Spirit of God; that is a joyful mourning, if I may use such a strange expression. Sorrow for sin is sweet sorrow; I would never wish to miss it. I think Rowland Hill was right when he said that it would be his only regret in going to heaven, that he could not repent any more. Oh! repentance, true evangelical repentance, is not that half-bitter thing which comes from the law. It is a sweet genial thing. I do not know, beloved, when I am more perfectly happy than when I am weeping for sin at the foot of the cross. I find that to be one of the safest and best places where I can stand. I have sometimes thought that the raptures of communion, I have known, are not altogether so deep-though they may be higher-not, I say, so deep as the pensive joy of weeping over pardoned sin; when:-

“Dissolved by his goodness, I fall to the ground

And weep to the praise of the mercy I’ve found.”

Yes, sorrow for sin is a part of the Christian’s experience which helps to fill his joy. And though your cares and anxieties, dear friends, with regard to the things of this world, may be very distressing, yet remember, in every drop of gall which your Father gives you to drink, there is, if you can find it, a whole seaful of sweetness. God sends you trials to wean you from the world-a happy result, however grievous the process. Oh! that I might never desire to suck of the breasts of her consolation any more! Oh! to come to Christ, and find my all in him! Believe me, beloved, our joy ends where the love of the world begins. If we had no idols on earth-if we made neither our children, nor our friends, nor our wealth, nor ourselves, our idols-we should not have half the trials that we have. Foolish loves make rods for foolish backs. God save us from these, and when he does, though the means may seem severe, they are intended to promote our joys by destroying the eggs of our sorrows. But there is much of a Christian’s experience that is all joy, and must be all joy. For instance, to have faith in Christ, to rest in him-is not that joy? To sing from one’s heart:-

“I know that safe with him remains,

Protected by his power,

What I’ve committed to his hands

Till the decisive hour.”

Is not that joy? And even that humbler note:-

“Nothing in my hands I bring,

Simply to thy cross I cling,”

has the germ of heaven in it. Truly, there can be no more delightful place for the soul to stand than close to the cross, covered with the crimson droppings of blood, and clasping Christ himself! And then hope is another part of the Christian’s experience. What a fountain of joy it is! We are saved by hope. Sweetly does the Psalmist express himself, “My soul fainteth for thy salvation, but I hope in thy Word.” To the followers of Christ there is a full assurance of hope; “which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast, and which entereth into that within the veil.” Above all things, Christian fellowship is the chief auxiliary of Christian joy. Read the verse that immediately precedes our text, “That which we have seen and heard declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ.” Ah! now we hit the mark. This is the centre of the target. Fellowship with Christ is the summum bonum; it fills up the measure of joy. All other graces and gifts may help to fill our cup of blessedness; but fellowship with saints in their fellowship with the Father and the Son-surely this of itself must suffice to fill our vessels to the very brim. Fulness of joy! Did you ever prove it, my beloved? I think some of you have. Nay, I know you have. You could not have contained more joy-you were full to overflowing. You know that a little joy is healthful, be it relief from anxiety, pleasure after pain, or even a cheerful thought in breasts to sorrow prone; but to have a fulness of joy, joy that pulsates through our every nerve, and paints the entire universe of God’s goodness before our eyes in a meridian glow-this is a myriad of blessings in one. If I held in my hand a glass, and poured water into it till it were full, right to the very brim, till it seemed as if the least touch would make it run over-well, that is how the Christian sometimes is. “Why,” says he, “I could not feel more happy! If anyone should make me rich, if I could have all that the worldling craves, I could not be any happier; I am rich to all the intents of bliss since thou, O God, art mine.” It is not every man that can go home, and say, “There is nothing on earth I want, and there is nothing in heaven that I yearn after beyond the endowments my God has already bestowed on me. “Whom have I in heaven but thee, and who is there upon earth I desire beside thee?” Go to, ye that pine for joy, and traverse the wide earth round in fruitless search, my soul sits down at the foot of the cross, and says, “I have found it here!” Go, like the swallow, fly across the purple seas to find another summer now that this is over; my soul would stop just where she is. Living at the foot of the cross, my sun is in its solstice, and stands still for ever-never stirring, never moving; without parallax or shadow of a tropic; evermore the same, bright, and full, and glorious. Oh! Christian! this is a blessed experience. May you know it all your life long!

Never doubt, my dear friends, that every precept in the Word of God is intended to further the Christian’s happiness. When I read the ten commandments, I understand them to be just and salutary directions not to do myself any harm. The spirit of the law seems to be benevolent in its warnings. If I were commanded not to put my finger into the fire, and did not know that fire would burn, I ought to be thankful for the prohibition. If I were commanded not to plunge into the sea, not having known before that the sea would drown, I should be thankful for the interdict. God’s precepts are designed to enlighten our eyes and preserve our feet from falling. They forbid what is dangerous, hurtful. God never denies his servants anything that is really for their good. His laws are freed-men’s rules; they are never fetters to the Christian. And as for the precepts of our blessed Christianity, they, every one of them, promote our happiness. Let me take one or two of them. “Love one another”; that is the first. Well now, when are you happiest? When you feel spiteful and bitter towards everybody else, or when you feel charity towards the faulty, and love towards your fellow-servants? I know when I feel best. There are some people who seem to have been suckled upon vinegar; wherever they go, always see some defect. Were there to be men on earth again such as Chrysostom, and others of his day, who have been portrayed in history, or like the Nazarites of Jeremiah’s plaintive hymn, “Purer than snow and whiter than milk,” they would say, “Ah! well, though their reputation is unsullied, we do not know what they do in secret!-we cannot scan their motives!” Some people are always in a cynical, suspicious humour, but they who “love one another” can see much to rejoice in everywhere. We are told in Scripture to “serve the Lord with diligence,” and I am sure it is “the diligent soul” that is made fat. The do-nothing people are generally those who say:-

“Lord, what a wretched land is this

That yields us no supplies.”

It ought to be a wretched land to lazy people. Those that will not work, neither shall they eat, neither in spiritual things or in temporal shall they be fed. If, in the winter, you complain of cold, get you to the plough, and you will soon be full of warmth; sit ye down, groan, and complain, and blow your blue fingers, and you shall soon find the cold starve you yet more and more. Holy activity is the mother of holy joy. And growth in grace, again; why, when is a man happier than when he grows in grace? To be at a standstill, to contract one’s self-why, this is misery! To force one’s understanding, like a Chinese foot into a Chinese shoe, is torture; but to have a mind that is capable of learning, to be able sometimes to say, “There I was wrong”; to be able to feel that you know a little more to-day than you did yesterday, because God the Spirit has been teaching you, why, this is joy; this is happiness; this is such as God would have us know!

All the writings of Scripture, whether they be doctrinal, experimental, or practical, have the drift which John indicates in these words, “That your joy may be full!” Having thus shown that the Christian’s joy needs looking after, and that it is mainly fed upon things revealed in Scripture, the inference clearly must be that:-

Read the Scriptures in preference to any other book. What a deal of reading there is now-a-day! But how large a proportion of what you call popular literature is mere chaff-cutting-nothing more. Why, I am really ashamed to state the fact that I am bound, as a Christian minister, to denounce. You cannot publish a religious newspaper, or a religious magazine, as a rule, to make it pay, without a religious novel in it, and these religious novels are a disgrace to the Christianity of the nineteenth century. People’s minds must be in a queer state when they can eat nothing but these whipped-creams and syllabubs; for people who would be healthy should sit down to something solid, and their stimulants should be consistent with sobriety. You will never attain the mental growth of men and women by feeding on such stuff as that. You may make lack-a-daisical people in the shape of men and women, but the thinking soul with something in it, the woman who would serve her God as a true helper to the Christian ministry, the young man who would proclaim Christ and win souls, need some better nutriment than the poor stuff that modern literature deals out so plentifully. Oh! my dear friends, read the Bible in preference to all such books! They only deprave your taste. If you want these books, have them. We would not deny pigs their proper food; and I would not deny any person living that which his taste goes after, provided it does not shock decent morals. I lament the taste rather than the indulgence of it; if you have a soul that can appreciate the pleasures of wisdom, eschew the trifles of folly; and if you have been taught to love verities, and substantial truths, you scarcely need that I should say, “Search the Scriptures.” Search them diligently, frequently, and statedly.

Prefer the Scriptures to all religious books. In our books and our sermons-we will say it of all of them-we do our best to give you the truth, but we are like the gold-beaters, whose brazen arms you can see out over their doors-we get a little bit of gold, and we hammer it out. Some of my brethren are mighty hands at the craft. They can hammer out a very small piece of gold so as to cover a whole acre of talk. But the best of us, those who would seek to bring out the doctrines of grace in love, are poor, poor things. Read the Bible for yourselves more, and confide less in your glossaries. I would rather see the whole stock of my sermons in a blaze, all burned to ashes, than that they should keep anybody from reading the Bible. If they may act as a finger pointing to certain chapters-“Read this! read this!”-I am thankful to have printed them. But if they keep you away from your Bibles-burn them! burn them! Do not let them lie on the top of the Scriptures; put them somewhere at the bottom, for that is their proper place. So with all sorts of religious books: they are a sort of mixture, their human thinking dilutes divine revelation. Keep you to the revelation of God, pure and simple.

And, when you read your Bible, do read it in earnest. There are several ways of reading the Bible. There is a skimming over the surface of it, content with the letter. There is also diving into it, and praying yourselves down deep into the soul of it: that is the way to read the Bible. Do not always read it one verse at a time. How would Milton’s Paradise Lost be understood if read by little snatches, selected at random. You would never scan the purpose or design of the poem. Read one book through. Read John’s Gospel. Do not read a bit of John and then a bit of Mark, but read John through, and get at John’s drift. Remember that Matthew, though he wrote of the same Saviour as Luke, is not more various in his style than he is distinct in his aim, and, in a certain sense, independent of the testimony he bears. The four evangelists are four separate witnesses, each giving a special contribution to the doctrine as well as the history of Christ. Matthew, for instance, shows you Jesus as a king. You will notice that most of his parables begin with “a king.” “Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened.” Mark shows you Christ as the servant. Luke shows you Christ as man, giving sketches of his childhood; and his parables begin with “A certain man”; while John teaches you Christ in his godhead, with a starting point far different from the three others, which have been styled the Synoptical Gospels. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Try, if you can, to get a hold of what the books mean, and pray God the Holy Spirit to lead you into the drift and aim of the sacred writers in so writing. I would like to see my church-members, all of them, good, hard, solid Bible-students. Beloved, I would not be afraid of all the errors of Popery, Infidelity, Socinianism, Plymouth Brethrenism, or any other “ism,” if you were to read your Bibles. You will thus keep clear of the whole lot. There is no doubt about your standing firm to the good old faith which we seek to teach you, if you do but keep to Scripture. The Book, the one Book, the Book of books, the Bible! That studied, not hurriedly, but with a determination to compare spiritual things with spiritual, and to observe the analogy of faith, you shall find a well-spring of delight and holy joy which men of letters who dabble in the proudest classics, might envy; for Isaiah is better than Homer, and David is richer than Horace. But better still, you shall stand while others fall.

That is a significant pronoun in the text, “These things write we unto you, that your joy may be full.” To whom writes he? Is it to you? Young woman, does the Scripture write to you that your joy may be full? Young man, does the Scripture speak to you to fill you with holy joy? You do not know whether it does or not; you do not care about it. Then, it does not speak to you. You get plenty of joy elsewhere. Well, it does not speak to you. It does not intrude upon you. It lets you alone. It offers you no joy. You have got enough. “The whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick.”

But there are some of you here who want a joy, and you have not found it. You are uneasy. You cannot find a tree to build your nest on. You are like the needle, when it is turned away from its pole-you cannot be quiet. You have got a horse-leech in you, that is ever crying, “Give! give!” You are uneasy. Oh! dear friend, I am glad to hear it! May that uneasiness go on increasing. May you become weary of heart, and heavy-laden of spirit, for I have a whisper for you. Jesus Christ has come into the world to call to himself all those who labour and are heavy-laden, and when you are sick and weary with the world, come to him, come to him. What, you have been turned out, have you? The world has got all it could out of you, and thrust you away? Now, Jesus Christ will have you. Come to him! Come to him! He will receive you. So you are burnt out, are you? All the goodness that was in you is burned up, and you have become now nothing but smoking flax, a stench in the estimation of your once flattering companions? You are nowhere. They do not like you. You are mopish and miserable. Oh! come to him, come to him, come to him! He will not quench you. Your music is all over, is it? You were like a reed, like one of Pan’s pipes. You could give out some music once, but you got bruised, and you cannot make one sound or note of joy. Well, poor soul, come to him! Come to him! He will not break you. He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax.

“Weary souls that wander wide

From the central source of bliss,

Turn to Jesu’s wounded side,

Look to that dear blood of his.”

Here is peace, here is joy in Christ Jesus. Oh! if you are sick of the world, come ye to my Master! May God the Holy Spirit bless this sickness, and make you come, because you have nowhere else to go! Jesus Christ will receive the devil’s cast-aways. The very sweepings of pleasure, the dregs of the intoxicating cup, those who have gone so far that now their friends reject them, Jesus Christ accepts. May he accept me, and accept you, and then in him our joy shall be full! Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

PSALM 66:1-15

Verse 1. Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands:

Let not Israel alone do it. Take up the strain, ye nations. He is the God of all the nations of the earth. “Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands.”

2-4. Sing forth the honour of his name: make his praise glorious. Say unto God, How terrible art thou in thy works! through the greatness of thy power shall thine enemies submit themselves unto thee. All the earth shall worship thee, and shall sing unto thee; they shall sing to thy name. Selah.

I still must always cling to the belief that this whole world is to be converted to God, and to lie captive at the feet of Christ in glorious liberty. Do not fall into that lethargic, apathetic belief of some, that this is never to be accomplished-that the battle is not to be fought out on the present lines, but that there is to be a defeat, and then Christ is to come. Nay, foot to foot with the old enemy will he stand, till he has worsted him, and until the nations of the earth shall worship and bow before him.

5, 6. Come and see the works of God: he is terrible in his doing toward the children of men. He turned the sea into dry land: they went through the flood on foot: there did we rejoice in him.

Where God is most terrible to his enemies, he is most gracious to his friends. As Pharaoh and his hosts went down beneath the terrible hand of God, the children of Israel lifted up their loudest hallelujahs, and sang unto the Lord, who triumphed gloriously. And so shall it be to the end of the chapter. God will lay bare his terrible arm against his adversaries, but his children shall meanwhile make music. “There did we rejoice in him.”

7-9. He ruleth by his power for ever: his eyes behold the nations: let not the rebellious exalt themselves. Selah. O bless our God, ye people and mate the voice of his praise to be heard. Which holdeth our soul in life, and suffereth not our feet to be moved.

Loudest among the singers should God’s people be. If others can restrain their praise, yet let the love of Christ so constrain us that we must give it a tongue, and tell forth the majesty of our God. It is he alone who keeps us from perdition-which holdeth our soul in life. It is he alone who keeps us from falling foully, ay, and falling finally, “and suffereth not our feet to be moved.”

10. For thou, O God, hast proved us:

All God’s people can say this. It is the heritage of the elect of God. “Thou has proved us.”

10-11. Thou hast tried us, as silver is tried. Thou broughtest us into the net

Entangled, surrounded, captive, held fast. Many of God’s people are in this condition.

11. Thou laidst affliction upon our loins.

It was no affliction of hand or foot, but it laid upon our loins-a heavy, crushing burden.

12. Thou hast caused men to ride over our heads; we went through fire and through water:

It was the full ordeal. One was not enough. Fire destroys some, but water is the test for others; but God’s people must be tried both ways. “We went through fire and through water; but”-.Blessed “but.”

12. But thou broughtest us out into a wealthy place.

Out of the fire and out of the water they came, because God brought them; and when he brought them, it was not to a stinted, barren heritage, but into a wealthy place. Oh! beloved, when we think of where the covenant of grace has placed every believer, it is a wealthy place, indeed.

13-15. I will go into thy house with burnt offerings: I will pay thee my vows Which my lips have uttered and my mouth have spoken, when I was in trouble I will offer unto thee burnt sacrifices of fatlings, with the incense of rams; I will offer bullocks with goats. Selah.

The best, I think. “The best of the best will I bring thee, O my God. I will bring thee my heart; I will bring thee my tongue; I will bring thee my entire being.

PETER’S PRAYER

A Sermon

Published on Thursday, May 21st, 1914.

delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

On Thursday Evening, June 10th, 1869.

“When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”-Luke 5:8.

The disciples had been fishing all night. They had now given over fishing; they had left their boats, and were mending their nets. A stranger appears. They had seen him, probably, once before, and they remembered enough of him to command respect. Beside, the tone of voice in which he spoke to them, and his manner, at once ruled their hearts. He borrowed Simon Peter’s boat and preached a sermon to the listening crowds. After he had finished the discourse, as though he would not borrow their vessel without giving them their hire, he bade them launch out into the deep and let down their nets again. They did so, and, instead of disappointment, they at once took so vast a haul of fish that the boats could not contain all, and the net was not strong enough, and began to break. Surprised at this strange miracle, overawed probably by the majestic appearance of that matchless One, who had wrought it, Simon Peter thought himself quite unworthy to be in such company, and fell on his knees, and cried this strange prayer, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” So I desire that, first of all, we shall hear:-

The prayer in the worst sense we can give to it.

It is always wrong to put the worst construction on anyone’s words, and therefore we do not intend so to do, except by way of licence, and for a few moments only, to see what might have been made out of these words. Christ did not understand Peter so. He put the best construction upon which he said, but if a caviller had been there, a wrong interpretation would have been to this sentence: “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

The ungodly virtually pray this prayer. When the gospel comes to some men, and disturbs their conscience, they say, “Go thy way for this time; when I have a more convenient season, I will send for thee.” When some troublesome preacher tells them of their sins, when he puts a burning truth into their conscience, and rouses them so that they cannot sleep or rest, they are very angry with the preacher, and the truth that he was constrained to speak. And if they cannot bid him get out of their way, they can at least get out of his way, which comes to the same thing, and the spirit of it is, “We do not want to give up our sin; we cannot afford to part with our prejudices, or with our darling lusts, and therefore depart, go out of our coasts; let us alone; what have we to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of God? Art thou come to torment us before our time?” Peter meant nothing of this sort, but there may be some here who do, and whose avoidance of the gospel, whose inattention to it, whose despite to it, and hatred of it, all put together virtually make up this cry, “Depart from us, O Christ.”

Alas! I fear there are some Christians who do in fact, I will not say in intention, really pray this prayer. For instance: if a believer in Christ shall expose himself to temptation, if he shall find pleasure where sin mingles with it, if he shall forsake the assemblies of the saints, and find comfort in the synagogue of Satan; if his life shall be inconsistent practically, and also he shall become inconsistent by reason of his neglect of holy duties, ordinances, private prayer, the reading of the Word, and the like-what does such a Christian say but, “Depart from me, O Lord”? The Holy Spirit abides in our hearts, and we enjoy his conscious presence if we are obedient to his monitions; but if we walk contrary to him, he will walk contrary to us, and before long we shall have to say:-

“Where is the blessedness I knew

When first I saw the Lord?”

Why does the Holy Spirit withdraw the sense of his presence? Why, but because we ask him to go? Our sins ask him to go; our unread Bibles do, as it were, with loud voices ask him to be gone. We treat that sacred guest as if we were weary of him, and he takes the hint, and hides his face, and then we sorrow, and begin to seek him again. Peter does not do so, but we do. Alas! how often ought we to say, “Oh! Holy Spirit, forgive us, that we so vex thee, that we resist thy admonitions, quench thy promptings, and so grieve thee! Return unto us, and abide with us evermore.”

This prayer in its worst is sometimes practically offered by Christian churches. I believe that any Christian church that becomes divided in feeling, so that the members have no true love one to another, that want of unity is an act of horrible supplication. It does as much as say, “Depart from us, thou Spirit of unity! Thou only dwellest where there is love: we will not have love: we will break thy rest: go from us!” The Holy Spirit delights to abide with a people that is obedient to his teaching, but there are churches that will not learn: they refuse to carry out the Master’s will, or to accept the Master’s Word. They have some other standard, some human book, and in the excellencies of the human composition they forget the glories of the divine. Now, I believe that where any book, whatever it may be, is put above the Bible, or even set by the side of it, or where any creed or catechism, however excellent, is made to stand at all on an equality with that perfect Word of God, any church that does this, in fact, say, “Depart from us, O Lord,” and when it comes to actual doctrinal error, particularly to such grevious errors as we hear of now-a-days, such as baptismal regeneration, and the doctrines that are congruous thereto, it is, as it were, an awful imprecation, and seems to say, “Begone from us, O gospel! Begone from us, O Holy Ghost! Give us outward signs and symbols, and these will suffice us; but depart from us, O Lord; we are content without thee.” As for ourselves, we may practically pray this prayer as a church. If our prayer-meetings should be badly attended; if the prayers at them should be cold and dead; if the zeal of our members should die out; if there should be no concern for souls; if our children should grow up about us untrained in the fear of God; if the evangelisation of this great city should be given over to some other band of workers, and we should sit still; if we should become cold, ungenerous, listless, indifferent-what can we do worse for ourselves? How, with greater potency, can we put up the dreadful prayer, “Depart from us: we are unworthy of thy presence: begone, good Lord! Let ‘Ichabod’ be written on our walls; let us be left with all the curses of Gerizim ringing in our ears.”

I say, then, the prayer may be understood in this worst sense. It was not so meant: our Lord did not so read it: we must not so read it concerning Peter, but let us, oh! let us take care that we do not offer it thus, practically concerning ourselves.

But now in the next place we shall strive to take the prayer as it came from Peter’s lips and heart:-

A prayer we can excuse, and almost commend.

Why did Peter say, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord?” There are three reasons. First, because he was a man; secondly, because he was a sinful man; and again, because he knew this, and became a humble man.

So, then, the first reason for this prayer was that Peter knew that he was a man, and therefore, being a man, he felt himself amazed in the presence of such an one as Christ. The first sight of God, how amazing to any spirit, even if it were pure! I suppose God never did reveal himself completely, could never have revealed himself completely to any creature, however lofty in its capacity. The Infinite must overwhelm the finite. Now, here was Peter, beholding probably for the first time in his life in a spiritual way the exceeding splendour and glory of the divine power of Christ. He looked at those fish, and at once he remembered that night of weary toil, when not a fish rewarded his patience, and now he saw them in masses in the boat, and all done through this strange man who sat there, having just preached a still stranger sermon, of which Peter felt that never man spake like that before, and he did not know how it was, but he felt abashed; he trembled, he was amazed in the presence of such an one. I do not wonder, if we read that Rebecca, when she saw Isaac, came down from her camel and covered her face with her veil; if we read that Abigail, when she came to meet David, alighted from her ass and threw herself upon her face, saying, “My Lord, David!”; if we find Mephibosheth depreciating himself in the presence of King David, and calling himself a dog-I do not wonder that Peter, in the presence of the perfect Christ, should shrink into nothing, and in his first amazement at his own nothingness and Christ’s greatness, should say he scarcely knew what, like one dazed and dazzled by the light, half-distraught, and scarcely able to gather together his thoughts and put them connectedly together. The very first impulse was as when the light of the sun strikes on the eye, and it is a blaze that threatens to blind us. “Oh! Christ, I am a man; how can I bear the presence of the God that rules the very fishes of the sea, and works miracles like this?” His next reason was, I have said, because he was a sinful man, and there is something of alarm, mingled with his amazement. As a man he stood amazed at the outshining of Christ’s Godhead: as a sinful man he stood alarmed at its dazzling holiness. I do not doubt that in the sermon which Christ delivered there was such a clear denunciation of sin, such laying of justice to the line, and righteousness to the plummet such a declaration of the holiness of God, that Peter felt himself unveiled, discovered, his heart laid bare: and now came the finishing stroke. The One who had done this could also rule the fishes of the sea: he must, therefore, be God, and it was to God that all the defects and evils of Peter’s heart had been revealed and thoroughly known, and almost fearing with a kind of inarticulate cry of alarm, because the criminal was in the presence of the Judge, and the polluted in the presence of the Immaculate, he said, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

But I have added that there was a third reason, namely, that Peter was a humble man, as is clear from the saying, because he knew himself, and confessed bravely that he was a sinful man. You know that sometimes there have been persons in the world who have suddenly found some king or prince come to their little cottage, and the good housewife, when the king himself was coming to her hut has felt as if the place itself was so unfit for him that, though she would do her best for his majesty, and was glad in her soul that he would honour her hovel with his presence, yet she could not help saying, “Oh! that your majesty had gone to a worthier house, had gone on to the great man’s house a little ahead, for I am not worthy for your majesty should come here.” So Peter felt as if Christ lowered himself almost in, coming to him, as if it were too good a thing for Christ, too great, too kind, too condescending a thing, and he seems to say, “Go up higher, Master; sit not down so low as this in my poor boat in the midst of these poor dumb fishes; sit not down here, for thou hast a right to sit on the throne of heaven, in the midst of angels that shall sing thy praises day and night; Lord, do not stop here; go up; take a better seat, a higher place; sit among more noble beings, who are more worthy to be blessed with the smiles of thy Majesty.” Don’t you think he meant that? If so, we may not only excuse his prayer, but even commend it, for we have felt the same. “Oh!” we have said, “does Jesus dwell with a few poor men and women that have come together in his name to pray? Oh! surely, it is not a good enough place for him; let him have the whole world, and all the sons of men to sing his praises; let him have heaven, even the heaven of heavens: let the cherubim and seraphim be his servants, and archangels loose the latchets of his shoes: let him rise to the highest throne in glory, and there let him sit down, no more to wear the thorn-crown, no more to be wounded and despised, and rejected; but to be worshipped and adored for ever and ever.” I think we have felt so, and, if so we can understand what Peter felt, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

Now, brethren and sisters, there are times when these feelings, if they cannot be commended in ourselves, are yet excused by our Master, and have a little in them, at any rate, which he looks upon with satisfaction. Shall I mention one?

Sometimes a man is called to an eminent position of usefulness, and as the vista opens before him, and he sees what he will have to do, and with what honour his Master will be pleased to load him, it is very natural, and I think it is almost spiritual for him to shrink and say, “Who am I that I should be called to such a work as this? My Master, I am willing to serve thee, but oh! I am not worthy.” Like Moses, who was glad enough to be the Lord’s servant, and yet he said, and he meant it so heartily, “Lord, I am slow of speech; I am a man of unclean lips, how can I speak for thee?” Or, like Isaiah, who was rejoiced to say, “Here am I, send me,” but who felt, “Woe is me, for I am a man of uncircumcised lips; how shall I go?” Not like Jonah, who would not go at all, but must needs go off to Tarshish to escape working at Nineveh; yet perhaps with a little seasoning of Jonah’s bitters, too, but mainly a sense of our own unworthiness to be used in so great a service, and we seem to say, “Lord, do not put me upon that; after all, I may slip, and dishonour thee; I would serve thee, but lest by any means I should give way under the strain, excuse thy servant, and give him a humbler post of service.” Now, I say we must not pray in that fashion, but still, while there is some evil there, there is a sediment of good which Christ will perceive, in the fact that we see our own weakness and our own unsuitableness. He won’t be angry with us, but, riddling the chaff from the wheat, he will accept what was good in the prayer, and forgive the ill.

Sometimes, again, dear friends, this prayer has been almost on our lips in times of intense enjoyment Some of you know what I mean, when the Lord draws near unto his servants, and is like the consuming fire, and we are like the bush that seemed to be altogether on a blaze with the excessive splendour of God realised in our souls. Many of God’s saints have at such times fainted. You remember Mr. Flavel tells us that riding on horseback on a long journey to a place where he was to preach, he had such a sense of the sweetness of Christ and the glory of God, that he did not know where he was, and sat on his horse for two hours together, the horse wisely standing still, and when he came to himself he found that he had been bleeding freely through the excess of joy, and as he washed his face in the brook by the roadside he said he felt then that he knew what it was to sit on the doorstep of heaven, and he could hardly tell that if he had entered the pearly gates he could have been more happy, for the joy was excessive. To quote what I have often quoted before, the words of Mr. Welsh, a famous Scotch divine, who was under one of those blessed deliriums of heavenly light and rapturous fellowship, and exclaimed, “Hold, Lord! hold: it is enough! Remember, I am but an earthern vessel, and if thou give me more, I die!” God does sometimes put his new wine into our poor old bottles; and then we are half inclined to say, “Depart, Lord: we are not ready yet for thy glorious presence.” It does not come to saying that: it does not amount to all that in words, but still, the spirit is willing, and the flesh is weak, and the flesh seems to start back from the glory which it cannot bear as yet. There are many things which Christ would tell unto us, but which he will not, because we cannot bear them now.

Another time, when this has passed over the mind, not altogether rightly, not altogether sinfully, like the two last, is when the sinner is coming to Christ, and has indeed in a measure believed in him, but when at last that sinner perceives the greatness of the divine mercy, the richness of the heavenly pardon, the glory of the inheritance which is given to pardoned sinners. Then many a soul has started back and said, “It is too good to be true; or if true, it is not true to me.” Well do I remember a staggering fit I had over that business. I had believed in my Master, and rested in him for some months, and rejoiced in him, and one day, while revelling in the delights of being saved, and rejoicing in the doctrines of election, final perseverance, and eternal glory, it came across my mind, “And all this for you, for such a dead dog as you-how can it be so?” and for awhile it was a temptation stronger than I could overcome. It was just saying spiritually, “Depart from me; I am too sinful a man to have thee in my boat, too unworthy to have such priceless blessings as thou dost bring to me.” Now, that, I say, is not altogether wrong, and not altogether right. There is a mixture there, and we may excuse, and somewhat commend, but not altogether. There are other times in which the same feeling may come across the mind, but I cannot stay now to specify them. It may be so with some here, and I pray them not to concern themselves utterly, nor yet to excuse themselves completely, but to go on to the next teaching of this prayer:-

A prayer that needs amending and revising.

As it stood it was not a good one: now, let us put it in a different way, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” Would it not be better to say, “Come nearer to me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord?” It would be a braver prayer, and a tenderer prayer withal: more wise, and not less humble, for humility takes many shapes. “I am a sinful man,” here is humility. “Come nearer to me,” here is faith, which prevents humility from degenerating into unbelief and despair. Brethren, that would be a good argument, for see: “Since, Lord, I am a sinner, I need purifying; only thy presence can truly purify, for thou art the Refiner, and thou dost purify the sons of Levi: only thy presence can cleanse, for the fan is in thy hand, and thou alone canst purge thy floor. Thou art like a refiner’s fire, or like fuller’s soap: come nearer to me, then, Lord, for I am a sinful man, and would not be always sinful; come, wash me from mine iniquity that I may be clean, and let thy sanctifying fire go through and through my nature till thou burn out of me everything that is contrary to thy mind and will.” Dare you pray that prayer? It is not natural to pray it; if you can, I would say to you, “Simon Bar-jona, blessed art thou, for flesh and blood hath not taught thee this.” Flesh and blood may make you say, “Depart from me”; it is the Holy Ghost alone that, under a sense of sin, can yet put a divine attraction to you in the purifying fire, and make you long, therefore, that Christ should come near to you.

Again, “Come near to me, Lord, since I am a man, and being a man am weak, and nothing can make me strong but thy presence. I am a man, so weak that if thou depart from me, I faint, I fall, I pine, I die; come near to me, then, O Lord, that by thy strength I may be encouraged and be fitted for service. If thou depart from me, I can render thee no service whatever. Can the dead praise thee? Can those with no life in them give thee glory? Come near me, then, my God, though I am so feeble, and as a tender parent feeds his child, and the shepherd carries his lambs, so come near to me.”

Do you not think he might have said, “Come near to me, Lord, and abide with me, for I am a sinful man,” in the recollection of how he had failed when Christ was not near? All through that night he had put the net into the sea with many a splash, and had drawn it up with many an eager look as he gazed through the moonlight, and there was nothing that rewarded his toil. In went the net again, and now when Christ came, and the net was full to bursting, would it not have been a proper prayer, “Lord, come near to me, and let every time I work I may succeed: and if I be made a fisher of men, keep nearer to me still, that every time I preach thy Word, I may bring souls into thy net, and into thy Church that they may be saved”?

What I want to draw out from the text-and I shall do so better if I continue bringing out these different thoughts-is this: that it is well when a sense of our unworthiness leads us, not to get away from God, in an unbelieving, petulant despair, but to get nearer to God. Now, suppose I am a great sinner. Well, let me seek to get nearer to God for that very reason, for there is great salvation provided for great sinners. I am very weak, and unfit for the great service which he has imposed upon me; let me not, therefore, shun the service or shun my God, but reckon that the weaker I am the more room there is for God to get the glory. If I were strong, then God would not use me, because then my strength would get the praise for it, but my very unfitness and want of ability, and all that I lament in myself in my Master’s work, is but so much elbow-room for omnipotence to come and work in. Would it not be a fine thing if we could all say, “I glory not in my talents, not in my learning, not in my strength, but I glory in infirmity, because the power of God doth rest upon me; men cannot say, “That is a learned man, and he wins souls because he is learned”; they cannot say, “That is a man whose faculties of reasoning are very strong, and whose powers of argument are clear, and he wins sinners by convincing their judgments”; no, they say, “What is the reason of his success? We cannot discover it; we see nothing in him different from other men, or perhaps only the difference that he hath less of gift than they.” Then glory be to God; he has the praise more clearly and more distinctly, and his head who deserves it wears the crown.

See, then, what I am aiming at with you, dear brethren and sisters. It is this-do not run away from your Master’s work, any of you, because you feel unfit, but for that reason do twice as much. Do not give up praying because you feel you cannot pray, but pray twice as much, for you want more prayer, and instead of being less with God, be more. Do not let a sense of unworthiness drive you away. A child should not run away from its mother at night because it wants washing. Your children do not keep away from you because they are hungry, nor because they have torn their clothes, but they come to you just because of their necessities. They come because they are children, but they come oftener because they are needy children, because they are sorrowful children. So let every need, let every pain, let every weakness, let every sorrow, let every sin, drive you to God. Do not say, “Depart from me.” It is a natural thing that you should say so, and not a thing altogether to be condemned, but it is a glorious thing, it is a God-honouring thing, it is a wise thing, to say, on the contrary, “Come to me, Lord; come nearer to me still, for I am a sinful man, and without thy presence I am utterly undone.”

I shall say no more, but I would that the Holy Spirit would say this to some who are in this house, that have long been invited to come and put their trust in Jesus, but always plead as a reason for not coming, that they are too guilty, or that they are too hardened, or too something or other. Strange, that what one man makes a reason for coming, another makes a reason for staying away! David prayed in the Psalms, “Lord have mercy, and pardon mine iniquity, for it is great.” “Strange argument,” you will say. It is a grand one. “Lord, here is great sin, and there is something now that is worthy of a great God to deal with. Here is a mountain sin; Lord, have omnipotent grace to remove it. Lord, here is a towering Alp of sin; let the floods of thy grace, like Noah’s flood, come twenty cubits over the top of it. I, the chief of sinners am; here is room for the chief of Saviours.” How strange it is that some men should make this a reason for stopping away! This cruel sin of unbelief is cruel to yourselves; you have put away the comfort you might enjoy. It is cruel to Christ, for there is no pang that ever wounded him more than that unkind, ungenerous thought, that he is unwilling. Believe, believe that he never is so glad as when he is clasping his Ephraim to his breast, as when he is saying, “Thy sins, which are many, are all forgiven thee.” Trust him. If you could see him, you could not help it. If you could look into that dear face, and into those dear eyes once red with weeping over sinners that rejected him, you would say, “Behold, we come to thee; thou hast the words of eternal life; accept us, for we rest in thee alone; all our trust on thee is stayed”; and that done, you would find that his coming to you would be like rain on the mown grass, as the showers that water the earth, and, through him, your souls should flourish; your sackcloth should be taken away, and you should be girt about with gladness, and rejoice in him world without end. The Lord himself bring you to this. Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

LUKE 15:1-27

We shall read to-night a chapter which, I suppose, the most of us know by heart. But as often as I have read it, I do not remember ever reading it without seeing some fresh light in it. May it be so to-night.

Verse 1. Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners for to hear him.

A rare crowd they must have been, when it is said all the publicans and sinners. All sorts of sinners came in such numbers that it seemed as if the city had sent out all its hosts of sinners. And these drew near-came as close as ever they could, for fear of losing a single word. They made the inner ring about the Saviour. He had a bodyguard of sinners, and certainly there are none that will ever glorify him as these people will do.

2. And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them.

They stood further off. Not to listen, but to murmur. Here was the old fable of the dog in the manger. They did not want Christ themselves, but they murmured that other people should have him. They despised him. They thought themselves too righteous to need a Saviour. Yet did they murmur when the Physician came to his patients to give them the healing medicine.

3. And he spake this parable unto them, saying,

They were hardly worth his trouble. But though he spoke it to them, others who are not of that sort have sucked sweetness out of it ever since. This is a parable we are told, but on looking at it we find it to be three. Have you never seen a picture in three panels, and the whole of the panels necessary to complete the picture? So it is here. Different views of the great work of grace suiting different persons, so that if we do not see through one glass, we may use a second, and a third.

4, 7. What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing. And when he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbours, saying unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost. I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance.

Not that one repenting sinner is held of more esteem in heaven than ninety-nine saints, who have been kept by the power of God. No, not so; but there is a greater stir of joy in heaven at the time of the sinner’s repentance than there is over all the ninety and nine. And you know how that is. You may have many children, and you may love them all alike, yet if one be ill, you take far more notice of him just then, and all the house is ordered with a view to that sick child. He may not be the best child you have, but still, for the time being, there is more thought of him, because he is ill. And if you should happen to have in your family a boy that has greatly grieved you, and has gone astray, I am sure that, if he were to repent, you would feel intense joy over him. But it would not be true that you thought more of him than of his brothers and of his sisters, who are with you, and are obedient to you. We must not learn from a passage more than it teaches. At the same time, let us learn as much as we can from it. It sets heaven on a blaze with joy when one single penitent turns to his Father.

8. Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently till she find it?

Eastern houses generally are very dark, and if you want to find anything you must light a candle. Now, this is one piece of money out of ten, as the sheep was one out of a hundred. The woman does not stand counting over the other nine, but she leaves them in the box, and lights a candle, and begins to make a stir. No doubt other people who were in the house would say. “What an inconvenience this dust is.” She must find her piece of money. So sometimes in a congregation, we feel it necessary to have special services and makes a little stir; and there are some good souls who are put to inconvenience, and they do not like making a dust. Oh! it matters not what dust we make, so long as we find the lost piece, and if a soul be found, we can put up with some irregularities, so long as the precious thing is discovered and brought to its owner.

9, 10 And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost. Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.

Here follows this most wonderful of all parables.The truest picture of man’s folly and lost estate that was ever sketched, and at the same time the most wonderful picture of the mercy and love of God that was ever painted. Hear it.

11, 12. And he said, A certain man had two sons: And the younger of them said to his father, Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them his living.

In the East the younger son has a smaller portion of the estate, compared with the elder. But it is a usual thing-certainly not an unusual thing-to let him have his portion while his father is yet alive, that he may make use of it, and be able, by his industry, to increase it till he becomes a substantial person-a custom not altogether without wisdom in it, if there must be a distinction between elder and younger sons. You remember how Abraham gave his sons, by Keturah, portions, and sent them away, whereas Isaac had nothing, because he was the heir and had everything. So this younger son asks for his portion, and the father divided to them his living.

13. And not many days after the younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living.

His heart was distant from his father. Therefore, he did not feel at ease until he put himself at a distance, where he could do just as he liked-could do that which he knew his father would not approve of, and what he would not like to do in his father’s house. And is not this a true picture of the man who is not a friend of God? He wants to do as he likes. He desires to be independent, and as he knows that what he likes to do will not please God, he tries to forget God. He gets into a far country by his forgetfulness. He says in his heart. “No God.” He wishes there was none. He gets as far away from God as ever he can. Then it is that he wastes his substance. Did you ever look at an ungodly life as the wasting of precious substance, for it is just that? The love which ought to go to God is wasted in lust. The energy that ought to be spent in righteousness is wasted upon sin. The thought, the ability that ought to be laid at Jesus’s feet is all used for selfish pleasure, and so it is wasted. He wasted his substance in riotous living.

14. And when he had spent all there arose a mighty famine in that land; and he began to be in want.

“Began to be in want.” What a change! At home with his father, then with plenty to waste, and now in want. Those two words “in want” describe the condition of every ungodly man. After a time, he is in want-in want of everything that is good and worth having. His soul is a pauper; he is in want.

15. And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that country;

A gentleman with whom he had spent a fortune. Many a time had this citizen eat at his table and drank his best wines. And what does this fine fellow do for him?

15. And he sent him into his fields to feed swine.

A very low occupation anywhere, but in Judea a peculiarly degrading occupation. He sent him, a Jew, into the fields to feed swine.

16. And he would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat:

It does not say that he would have stopped his hunger with the husks, for that could not be done. He would only fill his belly-fill it up, as it were, with anything, just to choke his sense of want. And there are many men that know that the world could not satisfy them, but it could at least take off their thoughts a little from their inward want, and so they fain would fill up their belly with the husks that the swine do eat.

16. And no man gave unto him.

He gave to them: he spent all his money with them. He was a fine fellow then, so they said. But now no man gave to him. And what a mercy it was, for if they had given him all he wanted he would not have gone back to his father. There is nothing like a little gracious starvation to fetch a man home to Christ. And it is a blessed providence, and a blessed work of the Spirit of God when a man at last is starved till he must go home to God.

17-20. And when he came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger! I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants. And he arose, and came to his father.

“And when he came to himself.” He had been beside himself before There are two things upon which ungodly men are very ignorant-God and themselves. “He arose and came to his father”: that was the best of all. He stopped not with resolutions, but he actually did the deed. This was the turning point with him. He arose and came to his father.

20, 21. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.

But the father interrupted the prayer. He would not let him conclude it. “Before they call, I will answer, and while they are yet speaking I will hear.”

22-24. But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet: And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry; For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry.

What a change between being in want and “let us eat and be merry.”

“Wonders of grace to God belong.”

Here is no wishing to fill his belly with husks now. But the word is passed round, “Let us eat and be merry.”

25. Now his elder son was in the field:

There is a great deal of questioning about who this man was-this elder son. Why, dear me, I have known him. I have the misfortune to meet him every now and then. He is a very capital man-one of the best of men, but he does not care about revivals, and about having a great many converted. He is very suspicious about such things, he does not care about making so much fuss over men that have newly repented. He holds rather hard views about them. “He was in the field at work.”

25-27. And as he came and drew nigh to the house, he heard musick and dancing. And he called one of the servants, and asked what these things meant. And he said unto him, Thy brother is come; and thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath received him safe and sound.

Did you ever notice that point-the father’s gladness because he had received him safe and sound: no bones broken: his face was not disfigured? He was safe and sound. It is a wonderful thing that the sinner should come back to Christ safe and sound, considering where he has been. He has been in much worse danger than if he had been in battle or in shipwreck. He has been with drunkards and with harlots, and yet he is received safe and sound. Oh! the wonders that grace can do. To put safeness and soundness into us who went so far astray.