The Spurgeon Series 1855 & 1856. Charles H. Spurgeon

time tonight in bringing them before you: but I shall do no such thing. I might tell you, if I pleased, that the grandeur of the style is above that of any mortal writing, and that all the poets who have ever existed, could not, with all their works united, give us such sublime poetry and such mighty language as is to be found in the Scriptures. I might insist upon it, that the subjects which it treats are beyond the human intellect; that man could never have invented the grand doctrines of a Trinity in the Godhead; man could not have told us anything of the creation of the universe; he could never have been the author of the majestic idea of Providence, that all things are ordered according to the will of one great Supreme Being, and work together for good. I might enlarge upon its honesty, since it tells the faults of its writers; its unity, since it never contradicts itself; its masterful simplicity, that he who runs may read it; and I might mention a hundred more things, which would all give a demonstration, that the book is from God. But I did not come here to prove it. I am a Christian minister, and you are Christians, or profess to be so; and there is never any necessity for Christian ministers to make a point of bringing forth infidel arguments in order to answer them. It is the greatest folly in the world. Infidels, poor creatures, do not know their own arguments until we tell them, and then they glean their blunted shafts to shoot them at the shield of truth again. It is folly to bring forward these firebrands of hell, even if we are well prepared to quench them. Let men of the world learn error by themselves; do not let us be propagators of their falsehoods. True, there are some preachers who are short of material, and need them to fill up their sermons! but God’s own chosen men need not do that; they are taught by God, and God supplies them with subject material, with language, and with power. There may be someone here tonight who has come without faith, a man of reason, a freethinker. With him I have no argument at all. I do not profess to stand here as a controversialist, but as a preacher of things that I know and feel. But I too have been like him. There was an evil hour when once I slipped the anchor of my faith; I cut the cable of my belief; I no longer moored myself close by the coasts of revelation; I allowed my vessel to drift before the wind; I said to reason, “Be my captain”; I said to my own brain, “Be my rudder”; and I started on my mad voyage. Thank God it is all over now; but I will tell you its brief history. It was one hurried sailing over the tempestuous ocean of free thought. I went on, and as I went the skies began to darken; but to make up for that deficiency, the waters were brilliant with coruscations of brilliancy. I saw sparks flying upwards that pleased me, and I thought, “If this is free thought, it is a happy thing.” My thoughts seemed like gems, and I scattered stars with both my hands; but quickly, instead of these coruscations of glory, I saw grim fiends, fierce and horrible, rise up from the waters, and as I dashed on they gnashed their teeth and grinned at me; they seized the prow of my ship, and dragged me on, while I, in part, gloried at the rapidity of my motion, but yet shuddered at the terrific rate with which I passed the old landmarks of my faith. As I hurried forward with an awful speed, I began to doubt my very existence; I doubted if there were a world, I doubted if there were such a thing as myself. I went to the very verge of the dreary realms of unbelief. I went to the very bottom of the sea of infidelity. I doubted everything. But here the devil foiled himself; for the very extravagance of the doubt proved its absurdity. Just when I saw the bottom of that sea, there came a voice which said, “And can this doubt be true?” At this very thought I awoke. I awoke from that death dream, which, God knows might have damned my soul, and ruined my body, if I had not awaken. When I arose faith took the helm; from that moment I no longer doubted. Faith steered me back; faith cried, “Away, away!” I cast my anchor on Calvary; I lifted my eye to God; and here I am alive, and out of hell. Therefore, I speak what I do know. I have sailed that perilous voyage; I have come safely to land. Ask me again to be an infidel! No, I have tried it; it was sweet at first, but bitter afterwards. Now, lashed to God’s gospel more firmly than ever, standing as on a rock of adamant, I defy the arguments of hell to move me, for “I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed to him.” But I shall neither plead nor argue this night. You profess to be Christian men, or else you would not be here. Your profession may be lies; what you say you are, may be the very contrary to what you really are; but still I suppose you all admit that this is the Word of God. A thought or two then upon it. “I have written to him the great things of my law.”

      6. First, my friends, stand over this volume, and admire its authority. This is no common book. It is not the sayings of the sages of Greece; here are not found the utterances of philosophers of past ages. If these words were written by man, we might reject them; but oh, let me think the solemn thought — that this book is God’s handwriting, that these words are God’s. Let me look at its date: it is dated from the hills of heaven. Let me look at its letters: they flash glory on my eye. Let me read the chapters: they are full with meaning and mysteries unknown. Let me turn over the prophecies: they are pregnant with unthought of wonders. Oh, book of books! And were you written by my God? Then I will bow before you. Oh book of vast authority, you are a proclamation from the Emperor of Heaven; far be it from me to exercise my reason in contradicting you. Reason! your place is to stand and find out what this volume means, not to tell what this book ought to say. Come my reason, my intellect, sit down and listen, for these words are the words of God. I do not know how to enlarge on this thought. Oh! if you could ever remember that this Bible was actually and really written by God! Oh! if you had been let into the secret chambers of heaven, if you had beheld God grasping his pen and writing down these letters, then surely you would respect them. But they are just as much God’s handwriting as if you had seen God write them. This Bible is a book of authority; it is an authorized book, for God has written it. Oh, tremble, tremble, lest any of you despise it; see its authority, for it is the Word of God.

      7. Then, since God wrote it, see its truthfulness. If I had written it, there would be worms of critics who would at once swarm on it, and would cover it with their evil spawn. Had I written it, there would be men who would pull it to pieces at once, and perhaps quite rightly. But this is the Word of God; come, search you critics, and find a flaw; examine it from Genesis to Revelation, and find an error. This is a vein of pure gold, unalloyed by quartz, or any earthy substance. This is a star without a speck; a sun without a blot! a light without darkness; a moon without its paleness; a glory without a dimness. Oh Bible! it cannot be said of any other book, that it is perfect and pure; but concerning you we can declare all wisdom is gathered up in you, without a particle of folly. This is the judge that ends the strife where wit and reason fail. This is the book untainted by any error; but is pure, unalloyed, perfect truth. Why? Because God wrote it. Ah! charge God with error if you please; tell him that his book is not what it ought to be. I have heard men with prudish and mock modesty, who would like to alter the Bible; and (I almost blush to say it) I have heard minister’s alter God’s Bible, because they were afraid of it. Have you never heard a man say, “He who believes and is baptized, shall be saved; but he who does not believe,” — What does the Bible say? “shall be damned.” But that does not happen to be polite enough, so they say, “shall be condemned.” Gentlemen! pull the velvet out of your mouths; speak God’s word; we want none of your alterations. I have heard men in prayer, instead of saying, “Make your calling and election sure,” say, “Make your calling and salvation sure.” Pity they were not born when God lived, far far back, that they might have taught God how to write. Oh, impudence beyond all bounds! Oh! full blown self-conceit! To attempt to dictate to the All Wise — to teach the Omniscient, and instruct the Eternal. Strange that there should be men so vile as to use the penknife of Jehoiakim, to cut passages of the Word, because they are unpalatable. Oh you who dislike certain portions of the Holy Writ, rest assured that your taste is corrupt, and that God will not change for your little opinion. Your dislike is the very reason why God wrote it, because you ought not to be suited; you have no right to be pleased. God wrote what you do not like; he wrote the truth. Oh! let us bend in reverence before it, for God inspired it. It is pure truth. Here from this fountain gushes aqua vitae — “the water of life,” without a single particle of earth; here from this sun there comes forth rays of radiance, without the mixture of darkness. Blessed Bible; you are all truth.

      8. Yet once more, before we leave this point let us stop and consider the merciful nature of God, in having written us a Bible at all. Ah! he might have left us without it, to grope our dark way, as blind men seek the wall; he might have allowed us to wander