The Spurgeon Series 1855 & 1856. Charles H. Spurgeon

is satisfied in himself; he has that within which is a wellspring of comfort, and he can enjoy solid satisfaction. But heaven is the home of true and real satisfaction. When the believer enters heaven I believe his imagination will be thoroughly satisfied. All he has ever thought of he will see there; every holy idea will be solidified; every mighty conception will become a reality; every glorious imagination will become a tangible thing that he can see. His imagination will not be able to think of anything better than heaven; and should he sit down through eternity, he would not be able to conceive of anything that should outshine the lustre of that glorious city. His imagination will be satisfied. Then his intellect will be satisfied.

      Then shall I see, and hear, and know,

      All I desired, or wished, below.

      Who is satisfied with his knowledge here? Are there not secrets we want to know — depths in the arena of nature that we have not entered? But in that glorious state we shall know as much as we want to know. The memory will be satisfied. We shall look back upon the vista of past years, and we shall be content with whatever we endured, or did, or suffered on earth.

      There, on a green and flowery mount,

      My wearied soul shall sit,

      And with transporting joys recount

      The labours of my feet.

      Hope will be satisfied, if there is such a thing in heaven. We shall hope for a future eternity, and believe in it. But we shall be satisfied as to our hopes continually: and the whole man will be so content that there will not remain a single thing in all God’s dealings, that he would wish to have altered; yes, perhaps I say a thing at which some of you will demur — but the righteous in heaven will be quite satisfied with the damnation of the lost. I used to think that if I could see the lost in hell, surely I must weep for them. Could I hear their horrid wailings, and see the dreadful contortions of their anguish, surely I must pity them. But there is no such sentiment as that known in heaven. There the believer shall be so satisfied with all God’s will, that he will quite forget the lost in the idea that God has done it for the best, that even their loss has been their own fault, and that he is infinitely just in it. If my parents could see me in hell they would not have a tear to shed for me, though they were in heaven, for they would say, “It is justice, oh great God; and your justice must be magnified, as well as your mercy”; and moreover, they would feel that God was so much above his creatures that they would be satisfied to see those creatures crushed if it might increase God’s glory. Oh! in heaven I believe we shall think rightly of men. Here men seem great things to us; but in heaven they will seem no more than a few creeping insects that are swept away in ploughing a field for harvest; they will appear no more than a tiny handful of dust, or like some nest of wasps that ought to be exterminated for the pain they have caused. They will appear such little things when we sit on high with God, and look down on the nations of the earth as grasshoppers, and “count the isles as very little things.” We shall be satisfied with everything; there will not be a single thing to complain about. “I shall be satisfied.”

      14. But when? “I shall be satisfied when I awake with your likeness.” But not until then. No, not until then. Now here a difficulty occurs. You know there are some in heaven who have not yet awaked in God’s likeness. In fact, none of those in heaven have done so. They never did sleep in respect to their souls; the waking refers to their bodies, and they are not awake yet — but are still slumbering. Oh earth! you are the bedchamber of the mighty dead! What a vast sleeping house this world is! It is one vast cemetery. The righteous still sleep; and they are to be satisfied on the resurrection morn, when they awake. “But,” you say, “are they not satisfied now? They are in heaven: is it possible that they can be distressed?” No, they are not; there is only one dissatisfaction that can enter heaven — the dissatisfaction of the blest that their bodies are not there. Allow me to use a simile which will somewhat explain what I mean. When a Roman conqueror had been at war, and won great victories, he would very likely come back with his soldiers, enter into his house, and enjoy himself until the next day, when he would go out of the city and then come in again in triumph. Now, the saints, as it were, if I might use such a phrase, steal into heaven without their bodies; but on the last day, when their bodies wake up, they will enter in their triumphal chariots. And, I think, I see that grand procession, when Jesus Christ, first of all, with man; crowns on his head, with his bright, glorious body, shall lead the way. I see my Saviour entering first. Behind him come the saints, all of them clapping their hands, all of them touching their golden harps, and entering in triumph. And when they come to heaven’s gates, and the doors are opened wide to let the king of glory in, now will the angels crowd at the windows, and on the housetops, like the inhabitants in the Roman triumphs, to watch them as they pass through the streets, and scatter heaven’s roses and lilies upon them, crying, crying, “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! the Lord God Omnipotent reigns!” “I shall be satisfied” in that glorious day, when all his angels shall come to see the triumph, and when his people shall be victorious with him.

      15. One thought here ought not to be forgotten; and that is, the Psalmist says we are to wake up in the likeness of God. This may refer to the soul; for the spirit of the righteous will be in the likeness of God as to its happiness, holiness, purity, infallibility, eternity, and freedom from pain; but especially, I think, it relates to the body because it speaks of the awakening. The body is to be in the likeness of Christ. What a thought! It is — and alas! I have had too many such tonight — a thought too heavy for words. I am to wake up in Christ’s likeness. I do not know what Christ is like, and can scarcely imagine. I love sometimes to sit and look at him in his crucifixion. I do not care what men say — I know that sometimes I have derived benefit from a picture of my dying crucified Saviour; and I look at him with his crown of thorns, his pierced side, his bleeding hands and feet, and all those drops of gore hanging from him; but I cannot picture him in heaven, he is so bright, so glorious; God so shines through the man; his eyes are like lamps of fire; his tongue like a twoedged sword; his head covered with hair as white as snow, for he is the Ancient of Days, he binds the clouds around him for a girdle; and when he speaks, it is like the sound of many waters! I read the accounts given in the book of Revelation, but I cannot tell what he is; they are Scripture phrases, and I cannot understand their meaning; but whatever they mean, I know that I shall wake up in Christ’s likeness. Oh! what a change it will be, when some of us get to heaven! There is a man who fell in battle with the word of salvation on his lips; his legs had been shot away, and his body had been scarred by sabre thrusts; he wakes in heaven, and finds that he has not a broken body, maimed and cut about, and hacked and injured, but that he is in Christ’s likeness. There is an old matron, who has tottered on her staff for years along her weary way; time has ploughed furrows on her brow; haggard and lame, her body is laid in the grave. But oh! aged woman, you shall arise in youth and beauty. Another has been deformed in his lifetime, but when he wakes, he wakes in the likeness of Christ. Whatever may have been the form of our countenance, whatever the contour, the beautiful shall be no more beautiful in heaven than those who were deformed. Those who shone on earth, peerless, among the fairest, who ravished men with looks from their eyes, they shall be no brighter in heaven than those who are now passed by and neglected: for they shall all be like Christ.

      16. III. But now to close up, HERE IS A VERY SAD CONTRAST IMPLIED. We shall all slumber. A few more years and where will this company be? Xerxes wept, because in a little while his whole army would be gone; how might I stand here and weep, because within a few more years others shall stand in this place, and shall say, “The fathers, where are they?” Good God! and is it true? Is it not a reality? Is it all to be swept away? Is it one great dissolving view? Ah! it is. This sight shall vanish soon; and you and I shall vanish with it. We are only a show. This life is only “a stage on which men act”; and then we pass behind the curtain, and we there unmask ourselves, and talk with God. The moment we begin to live we begin to die. The tree has long been growing that shall be used to make your coffin. The sod is ready for you all. But this scene is to appear again soon. One short dream, one hurried nap, and all this sight shall come over again. We shall all awake, and as we stand here now, we shall stand together, perhaps, even more crowded than here. But we shall stand on the level then — the rich and poor, the preacher and hearer. There will