The Spurgeon Series 1859 & 1860. Charles H. Spurgeon

been able so far to put up with their rebukes and their jests; but now they are adopting another strategy; they try to lure me away from the house of God, and entice me to the theatre, and to worldly amusements, and I feel that, placed as I am, I never can hold on. As well might a spark hope to live in the midst of an ocean as for grace to live in my heart.” Ah! but, soul, who has caused it to live so far? What is it that has helped you up until now to say, “No,” to every temptation? Why, the Lord your Redeemer. You could not have done it so long, if it had not been for him; and he who has helped you to stand so long will never put you to shame. Why, if you are a child of God, and you should fall away and perish, what dishonour would be brought upon Christ! “Aha!” the devil would say, “here is a child of God, and God has turned him out of his family, and I have got him in hell at last. Is this what God does with his children — loves them one day, and hates them the next — tells them he forgives them, and yet punishes them — accepts them in Christ, and yet sends them into hell?” Can that be? Shall it be? Never: not while God is God. “Aha!” again, Satan says, “believers have eternal life given to them. Here is one who had eternal life, and this eternal life has died out. It was not eternal. The promise was a lie. It was temporary life; it was not eternal life. Aha!” he says, “I have found a flaw in Christ’s promise; he gave them only temporary life, and called it eternal.” And again, the archfiend would say, if it would be possible for one child of God to perish: “Aha! I have one of the jewels of Christ’s crown here”; and he would hold it up, and defy Christ to his very face, and laugh him to scorn. “This is a jewel that you purchased with your own blood. Here is one whom you came into the world to save, and yet you could not save him. You bought him, and paid for him, and yet I have him, he was a jewel in your crown, and yet here he is, in the hand of the black prince, your enemy. Aha! King with a damaged crown! you have lost one of your jewels.” Can it be so? No, never, and therefore every one who believes is as sure of heaven as if he were there. If you cast yourself simply on Christ, neither death nor hell shall ever destroy you. Remember what good old Mr. Berridge said, when he was met by a friend one morning, “How do you do, Mr. Berridge?” “Pretty well, I thank you,” he said, “and as sure of heaven as if I were there; for I have a solid confidence in Christ.” What a happy man such a man must be, who knows and feels that to be true! And yet, if you do not feel it, if you are the children of God, I ask you this question, “Why do you doubt?” Is there not good reason to believe? “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?” If you have believed in Christ, you are saved, and saved you shall be, if you have committed yourself into his hands: “I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep what I have committed to him.”

      18. “Yes,” one says, “this is not the fear that troubles me; my only doubt is whether I am a child of God or not.” I finish, therefore, by going over the old ground. Soul, if you wish to know whether you are a child of God, do not look to yourself, but look to Christ. You who are here today, who desire to be saved, but yet fear you never can be, never look to yourselves for any ground of acceptance before God. Not self, but Jesus; not heart, but Christ; not man, but man’s Creator. Oh sinner! do not think that you are to bring anything to Christ to recommend you. Come to him just as you are. He wants no good works of yours — no good feelings either. Come, just as you are. All that you can need to outfit you for heaven, he has bought for you, and he will give to you; all these freely you shall have only for the asking. Only come, and he will not cast you away. But do you say, “Oh, I cannot believe that Christ is able to save such a sinner as I am.” I reply, “Oh you of little faith, why do you doubt?” He has already saved sinners as great as you are; only try him, only try him.

      Venture on him, venture wholly;

      Let no other trust intrude.

      Try him, try him; and if you find him to be false, then proclaim it everywhere that Christ was untrue. But that shall never be. Go to him; tell him you are a wretched undone soul, without his sovereign grace; ask him to have mercy upon you. Tell him you are determined, it you do perish, that you will perish at the foot of his cross. Go and cling to him, as he hangs bleeding there; look him in the face, and say, “Jesus, I have no other refuge; if you spurn me, I am lost; but I will never go from you; I will clasp you in life, and clasp you in death, as the only rock of my soul’s salvation.” Depend upon it, you shall not be sent away empty; you must, you shall be accepted, if you will simply believe. Oh, may God enable you, by the divine influence of his Holy Spirit, to believe; and then, shall we not have asked the question, “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?” I pray God now to apply these words for your comfort. They have been very simple, and very homely words; but nevertheless, they will suit simple, homely hearts. If God shall bless them, to him be the glory!

      {a} Siren: One of several fabulous monsters, part woman, part bird, who were supposed to lure sailors to destruction by their enchanting singing. OED.

      The Best Of Masters

      No. 247-5:177. A Sermon Delivered On Sunday Morning, April 10, 1859, By C. H. Spurgeon, At The Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.

      Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. {John 14:27}

      1. The gospel of John is peculiarly the history of Jesus, the Son of God. Matthew deals with Jesus as the Prince of the house of David; Mark treats him as the Servant of servants; and Luke views him as the Son of Man; but John, with eagle eye, looks beyond all the clouds of his humanity, and seeing the clear shining of his divinity, writes about him especially as the Son of God, the Word, that in the beginning was with God and was God. It seems only right, then, that since Jesus came from heaven, he should sometimes put both himself and his cause, in contrast with what is from the earth, earthy. You will find through several chapters where our Saviour is addressing his disciples, he continually contrasts himself, his gifts, and his love, with those of the world. He came from heaven that he might fight and wrestle with an evil and a wicked world; that he might rescue his people from it; that he might cleanse the world, and, at last, might present the earth itself to himself, to be the new heaven and the new earth, where righteousness should dwell. I say, it seems only right, that in a gospel which particularly views Christ as of heavenly origin, and as very God of very God, that there should frequently be a contrast between Christ and the world, between the kingdom which is from heaven, and the kingdoms of this earth. Now, our text presents us with one contrast between Christ and the world: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.” He gives according a more divine fashion than the world can ever give, even when its hand is most laden with its gifts.

      2. Now, I shall take my text this morning, and endeavour to talk about it thus — first, viewing it with regard to the peace which Christ gives: he does not give peace as the world gives it. Secondly, I shall take a larger view of the subject, and look upon all the gifts of Christ, and say that, “not as the world gives, does he bestow his mercies on us”; and then close with a practical inference from the whole subject.

      3. I. First of all, IN THE MATTER OF PEACE, Christ gives us peace, but not as the world gives it. For, in the first place, the world gives peace in a complimentary style. It was usual among the Orientals, for the wayfarer to say to the person whom he met, “Peace be to you”; and generally, when a house was entered, the benediction of peace was bestowed by every person who stepped across the threshold. These were often only vain and empty expressions of compliment. Those very utterances might proceed from the lips of an enemy. “The words of his mouth were smoother than butter, but war was in his heart: his words were softer than oil, yet they were drawn swords.” It is the same with the world to this day. Everyone salutes us in writing with a “Dear sir,” or a “My dear sir,” and concludes “Yours very truly,” and “Yours sincerely.” We call all “friends,” and if we meet only casually we express the utmost anxiety with regard to one another’s health, and we carefully enquire after each other’s families; when perhaps we shall no sooner have passed by the person than we shall forget his existence, and certainly shall entertain no anxious thoughts with regard to his welfare, nor any loving remembrance of him. The world gives very generously when it gives compliments. Oh, what blessings would descend