The Spurgeon Series 1857 & 1858. Charles H. Spurgeon

the great power of the gospel, and bringing out secrets which our forefathers had never discovered. Satan is always a fowler. Whatever his tactics may be, his object is still the same — to catch men in his net. Men are here compared to silly, weak birds, that do not have skill enough to avoid the snare, and do not have strength enough to escape from it. Satan is the fowler; he has been so and is so still; and if he does not now attack us as the roaring lion, roaring against us in persecution, he attacks us as the adder, creeping silently along the path, endeavouring to bite our heel with his poisoned fangs, and weaken the power of grace and ruin the life of godliness within us. Our text is a very comforting one to all believers, when they are beset by temptation. “Surely he shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler.”

      2. First, a few words concerning the snare of the fowler; secondly, the deliverance; and thirdly, the certainty of it; dwelling upon that word surely, for it seems to be the diamond by which this precious golden promise is embellished. “Surely he shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler.”

      3. I. First, then, THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER. It is an illustration too suggestive for me to thoroughly unravel. I must leave it for your meditations at home to enumerate the various ways in which a fowler attempts to take his birds, and then you will have suggested to you the various means which the evil spirit employs for the destruction of souls. Allow me, however, just to begin, and pass over two or three points connected with the fowler and with the evil one.

      4. 1. First, the fowler’s snare is intimately connected with secrecy. “Surely in vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird.” Therefore the fowler carefully covers up his trap; or if the trap itself be uncovered, he beguiles the bird, so that it is utterly ignorant of his intention to take it in the trap, little thinking that the food laid there for its banqueting is really placed there for its enticement and destruction. The fowler when he goes after his birds is very careful lest they should discover him. We hear, for instance, that in the taking of wild ducks, in Lincolnshire, a man will hold before his mouth a piece of turf, in order that the smell of his breath may not be perceived by the birds, who are exceedingly wary. The temptations of the world are of this secret sort to a Christian, though not to the wicked man, for the wicked man sins with his eyes wide open; dashing into the net knowing it is a net, laying hold of iniquity with both his hands, even when destruction stares him in the face. He will commit a sin that he knows is condemned even by the law of the land: he will rush into a crime, concerning the guilt of which no doubt can be entertained. Not so the Christian: he is taken by secrecy “Ah!” one says, “if I thought such-and-such a thing were really wrong; if I were perfectly convicted of its wrongfulness, I would give it up.” It is just there the difficulty lies. So would the bird say: “If I really thought that was a trap, I would not enter it; if I was perfectly persuaded that net would entangle me, I would not fly to such-and-such a spot; I would not approach there at all, if I was sure that it would be my destruction.” How many a professor there is who asks the question, “May I go to this place? May I go to that place?” and some of us answer, “No,” and we are called Puritans for it; but let those who have attempted to keep their godliness intact, while they pursue the pleasures of this world, stand up and make the mournful confession, that the healthiness of the two things can never exist together. We must either serve God wholly, or serve the evil one wholly. “If God be God, serve him; if Baal be God, serve him.” One, or else the other. Many a man has been entrapped into sin by Satan, not knowing that it was evil! Someone has hinted to him in business, for instance — “You may very safely do such-and-such a thing; all the shopkeepers in the street have done it; it is not actually dishonest; it improves the article, it really does; and although you can thus sell an article at a dearer rate than you ought to sell it, yet you need not tell the public; and if the article is all the better for it, it is quite fair and safe that you should adulterate it.” And so the good easy man, not opening both his eyes, I think, but shutting one of them a little, lest he should see too well to be able to fill his pockets in the dark, is a little taken aside; and by and by he is led to discover that the act which he has done is the taking of him in the snare of the fowler, for he has been sinning against his God, and his God therefore punishes him for it with many stripes, and lays his rod upon him. I do not think that a Christian is so often betrayed into a sin that is palpable and known, as he is into a sin that is secret. If the devil comes to my door with his horns visible, I will never let him in; but if he comes with his hat on as a respectable gentlemen, he is at once admitted. The metaphor may be very quaint, but it is quite true. Many a man has taken in an evil thing, because it has been varnished and glossed over, and not apparently evil; and he has thought in his heart, there is not much harm in it; so he has let in the little thing, and it has been like the breaking forth of water — the first drop has brought after it a torrent. The beginning has been only the beginning of a fearful end. Take care, Christian, of things that are secret; take care of the common doings of the world, which are well enough for them, perhaps. We would not deny them their pleasures, for they have no others; but they are not good for you, for you have a finer life — a life of a finer texture and order than can exist in the haunts of ungodly people. Remember, you are not to be a judge for others. Some men, especially those who are unconverted, can, without being led into sin, indulge in many gaieties and merriments; but the Christian is like the Englishman, who cannot hope to survive long where the jungle fever reigns. The native can live there, but he cannot. And so you who are twice born men will find your piety ruined, by what to a worldly man does not lead him into greater evil than what he would naturally commit. You are to have a stricter rule on yourselves than others, and are to be more stern in your piety than the world would have you be; for sin is usually hidden, and the snare is not often made apparent. “Surely he shall deliver you from the snare of the fowler.”

      5. 2. In the second place, the snare of the fowler is generally noted for its adaptation. You do not find a fowler setting the same snare for one bird as for another; he knows his bird, and he adapts his bait to it. He would be an unwise fowler who should go to work with the same trap to catch the lark that flies on high as the duck that swims along the stream. The fowler is wiser than that: he adapts his snare to the condition of the bird which he desires to take. Satan the fowler does just the same. There is one man here; he tempts him to drunkenness. Perhaps that would naturally be his sin, if left without grace in his heart; and Satan knowing it to be his weak point, attempts to overcome him by surfeiting, gluttony, and drunkenness. Another man is utterly impervious to any temptation to that bestial habit; but, it may be, he is easily taken in another snare — the snare of lust; therefore Satan adapts his temptation to the hot blood of the man who naturally would be inclined to live a life of sin. Another one perhaps eschews every lascivious and sensual habit: then Satan comes to him, and adapts his temptation to the shape of pride. The man is naturally a melancholy man, fond of solitude: Satan gets him, if he can, to wrap himself up in a solitary dignity, to say, “I am holy.” “Lord, I thank you, I am not as other men are.” Or if a man is not naturally inclined to a very high degree of pride, Satan takes him with sloth. The man likes an easy life; Satan therefore adapts his bait to him by letting him sit still, fold his arms, and so perish by slothfulness: and notice this, he who sits still in the frost, when the snow is on the ground, in the depths of the wild regions of the frozen zone, must as surely perish by his idleness, as if he drove a dagger into his heart. Satan knows that, and so adapts his bait accordingly. Oh! how often it happens, beloved, that you and I condemn a thing in another person which we allow in ourselves, perhaps without knowing it. We say of such a one, “How proud he is!” Well, our pride is not exactly of that shape; we have got another shaped pride, but the same article; labelled differently, but the same thing. Satan adapts the pride to each particular case. We are rich: he does not perhaps tempt us to the pride of riches, but he tempts us to the pride of mastership, and makes us harsh masters to our servants. Or if he does not tempt us to that pride, he perhaps enchants us with the pride of generosity, and we are apt to boast of our kindness, and of what we have given away. He will always adapt his trap to his man, and his bait to his bird. He will not tempt you all with the same temptation he would tempt me with; nor me with the temptation with which he would naturally assail another. “The snare of the fowler.” We have to deal with a cunning enemy; he knows our weak points; he has been dealing with men for these last six thousand years; he knows all about