The Spurgeon Series 1855 & 1856. Charles H. Spurgeon

up. Oh death! how many a gluttonous banquet have you spoiled. Oh death! how many a sinful pleasure have you turned into pain. Take, my friends, the telescope this morning, and look through the vista of a few years, and what do you see? Grim death in the distance grasping his scythe. He is coming, coming, coming; and what is following him? Indeed, that depends upon your own character. If you are the sons of God, there is the palm branch; if you are not, you know what follows death — Hell follows him. Oh death! your spectre has haunted many a house where sin otherwise would have rioted. Oh death! your chilly hand has touched many a heart that was full of lust, and made it start frightened from its crime. Oh! how many men are slaves to the fear of death. Half the people in the world are afraid to die. There are some madmen who can march up to the cannon’s mouth, there are some fools who rush with bloody hands before their Maker’s tribunal; but most men fear to die. Who is the man that does not fear to die? I will tell you. The man that is a believer. Fear to die! Thank God, I do not. The cholera may come again next summer — I pray God it may not; but if it does, it does not matter to me: I will toil and visit the sick by night and by day, until I drop, and if it takes me, sudden death is sudden glory. And so with the weakest saint in this hall; the prospect of dissolution does not make you tremble. Sometimes you fear, but more often you rejoice. You sit down calmly and think of dying. What is death? It is a low porch through which you stoop to enter heaven. What is life? It is a narrow screen that separates us from glory, and death kindly removes it! I remember a saying of a good old woman, who said, “Afraid to die, sir! I have dipped my foot in Jordan every morning before breakfast for the last fifty years, and do you think I am afraid to die now?” Die! beloved: why we die hundreds of times; we “die daily”; we die every morning; we die each night when we sleep; by faith we die; and so dying will be old work when we come to it. We shall say, “Ah, death! you and I have been old acquaintances; I have had you in my bedroom every night. I have talked with you each day; I have had the skull upon my dressing table; and I have often thought of you. Death! you are come at last, but you are a welcome guest; you are an angel of light, and the best friend I have had.” Why, then, dread death since there is no fear of God’s leaving you when you come to die! Here I must tell you that anecdote of the good Welch lady, who, when she lay dying, was visited by her minister. He said to her, “Sister are you sinking?” She answered him not a word, but looked at him with an incredulous eye. He repeated the question, “Sister, are you sinking?” She looked at him again, as if she could not believe that he would ask such a question. At last, rising a little in the bed, she said, “Sinking! Sinking! Did you ever know a sinner sink through a rock? If I had been standing on the sand, I might sink; but, thank God I am on the Rock of Ages, and there is no sinking there.” How glorious to die! Oh, angels, come! Oh, cohorts of the Lord of hosts, stretch, stretch your broad wings and lift us up from earth; oh, winged seraphs, bear us far above the reach of these interior things; but until you come, I’ll sing,

      Since Jesus is mine, I’ll not fear undressing —

      But gladly put off these garments of clay,

      To die in the Lord is a covenant blessing;

      Since Jesus to glory, though death lead the way.

      12. And now, dear friends, I have shown you as briefly as I can the negative side of this liberty. I have tried to tell you, as well as I could put it in a few words, what we are freed from. But there are two sides to such questions as this. There are some glorious things that we are free to. Not only are we freed from sin in every sense from the law, and from the fear of death; but we are free to do something. I shall not occupy many moments, but shall just mention a few things we are free to; for, my brother Christians, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty”; and that liberty gives us certain rights and privileges.

      13. In the first place, we are free to heaven’s charter. There is heaven’s charter — the Magna Charta — the Bible; and, my brother, you are free to it. There is a choice passage here: “When you pass through the river I will be with you, and the floods shall not overflow you”: you are free to that. Here is another: “Mountains may depart, and hills may be removed; but my lovingkindness shall not depart”: you are free to that. Here is another: “Having loved his own, he loved them to the end.” You are free to that. “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.” Here is a chapter touching election: you are free to that if you are elect. Here is another, speaking of the non-condemnation of the righteous, and their justification; you are free to that. You are free to all that is in the Bible. Here is a never failing treasure filled with boundless stores of grace. It is the bank of heaven: you may draw from it as much as you please without halting or hindrance. Bring nothing with you, except faith. Bring as much faith as you can get, and you are welcome to all that is in the Bible. There is not a promise, not a word in it, that is not yours. In the depths of tribulation let it comfort you. Amid waves of distress let it cheer you. When sorrows surround you, let it be your helper. This is your Father’s love token: let it never be shut up and covered with dust. You are free to it — use, then, your freedom.

      14. Next, remember that you are free to the throne of grace. It is the privilege of Englishmen, that they can always send a petition to Parliament; and it is the privilege of a believer, that he can always send a petition to the throne of God. I am free to God’s throne. If I want to talk to God tomorrow morning, I can. If tonight I wish to have conversation with my Master, I can go to him. I have a right to go to his throne. It does not matter how much I may have sinned. I go and ask for pardon. It signifies nothing of how poor I am — I go and plead his promise that he will provide all things needful. I have a right to go to his throne at all times — in midnight’s darkest hour, or in noontide’s heat. Wherever I am; if fate commands me to the utmost verge of the wide earth, I have still constant admission to his throne. Use that right, beloved — use that right. There is not one of you that lives up to his privilege. Many a gentleman will live beyond his income, spending more than he has coming in; but there is not a Christian that does that — I mean that lives up to his spiritual income. Oh, no! you have an infinite income — an income of promises — an income of grace; and no Christian ever lived up to his income. Some people say, “If I had more money I would have a larger house, and horses, and carriage, and so on.” Very well and good; but I wish the Christian would do the same. I wish they would set up a larger house, and do greater things for God; look more happy, and take those tears away from their eyes.

      Religion never was designed

      To make our pleasures less.

      With such stores in the bank, and so much in hand, that God gives you, you have no right to be poor. Up! rejoice! rejoice! The Christian ought to live up to his income, and not below it.

      15. Then, if you have the “Spirit of the Lord,” dear friends, you have a right to enter into the city. There are many of the freemen of the City of London here, I dare say, and that is a great privilege, very likely. I am not a freeman of London, but I am a freeman of a better city.

      Saviour, if of Zion’s city,

      I, by grace, a member am,

      Let the world revile or pity,

      I will glory in your name.

      You have a right to the freedom of Zion’s city, and you do not exercise it. I want to have a word with some of you. You are very good Christian people, but you have never joined the church yet. You know it is quite right, that he that believes should be baptized; but I suppose you are afraid of being drowned, for you never come. Then the Lord’s table is spread once every month, and it is free to all God’s children, but you never approach it. Why is that? It is your banquet. I do not think if I were an alderman I should miss the city banquet; and being a Christian, I cannot miss the Christian banquet; it is the banquet of the saints.

      Ne’er did angels taste above

      Redeeming grace and dying love.

      Some of you never come to the Lord’s table; you neglect his ordinances. He says, “This do in remembrance of me.” You have obtained the freedom of the city, but you will not take it up. You have a right to enter in through the gates into the city, but you stand outside. Come in brother; I will