The Prince of Preachers Charles
Haddon Spurgeon has been called England's greatest contribution
to the spread of the gospel in the
19th century.
One of his contemporaries said that the chief
secret of Spurgeon's attractiveness was the fact that
in every sermon, no matter what the text
or the occasion, he explained the way of
salvation in simple terms.
Spurgeon's messages remain one of the great treasure
houses of Christian literature, still bringing the light
of the gospel and the comfort of the
scriptures to hungry souls long after the preacher
has passed into glory.
This is Charles Kelch inviting you to listen
to a message from the Prince of Preachers.
C.
H.
Spurgeon preached this message on January 20th, 1861
at the Exeter Hall.
It is entitled, Words of Expostulation.
The text is in Jeremiah chapter 2 and
verse 18.
And now, what hast thou to do in
the way of Egypt, to drink the waters
of Sihur?
Or what hast thou to do in the
way of Assyria, to drink the waters of
the river?
The Jews had been chosen by God to
be a special people, separated to Himself forever.
By sundry miracles, by divers mercies, by strange
deliverances, He had proved Himself to be to
them a God worthy of their trust.
Yet, strange to say, and yet not strange
when we know that they were fallen men
like ourselves, the Jews were constantly desirous to
mix with the nations.
They broke down the hedges with which God
had enclosed them as a sacred garden.
They desired to be like common lands and
to be joined with other peoples.
Nay, more than this, they forsook their own
true and loving God who had never deserted
them, and they adopted sometimes the deities of
Egypt and at other times the false gods
of Assyria.
They seemed never to be content even with
the gorgeous ceremonials of their own temple.
They must need to build altars after the
fashion of Damascus.
They must have altars on every high place
according to the custom of the accursed nations
whom the Lord their God had driven out
before them.
And they seemed as if they had never
reached the full desire of their hearts till
they had mingled with the rites of God
all the filth and the abominations with which
the heathens adored their gods.
Constantly did the Lord reprove them for this.
For this infatuation of theirs which made them
turn aside from Him the living water to
hew out themselves broken cisterns which could hold
no water.
They were often reproved, but they often hardened
their necks.
Often were they chastened, and they were smitten
so often that the whole head was sick
and the whole heart was faint.
They had been chastened so sorely that from
the sole of their foot even to the
head they were full of wounds and bruises
and putrefying sores.
Yet they still went after evil.
Still they turned aside from the righteous and
true God.
Our text contains one instance of God's expostulating
with His people.
He says to them, What hast thou to
do in the way of Egypt to drink
the waters of the muddy river?
For so it may be translated.
And, of course, that term is applied to
the Nile by way of contempt.
Why needest thou to go drink of that
muddy river?
Or what hast thou to do with Assyria
to drink the waters of Euphrates?
Why dost thou turn aside and leave thine
own cool streams of Lebanon?
Why dost thou forsake Jerusalem to turn aside
to Naph and to Toppenese?
Why art thou so strangely set on mischief,
that thou canst not be content with the
good and healthful, but wouldst even follow after
that which is evil and deceitful?
Taking the text just as it stands, I
intend, by God's help, to make a question
of it to you.
To myself and to you may God the
Holy Ghost apply it.
And may this be a time to all
God's people, to every convinced soul, yea, and
to the careless too, a time of searching
of heart.
May God question us, and may we be
prepared honestly to answer.
May the Holy Spirit push home the solemn
inquiries, and may we with truthful heart search
and look, and give earnest heed thereunto.
I shall apply the text to three characters.
First, to the Christian.
Secondly, to the awakened conscience.
And thirdly, to the careless sinner.
My sermon is not intended to instruct your
minds, but to stir up your hearts.
Addressing myself to the Christian, I shall use
the text in three senses, while I expostulate
with you in regard to sin, to worldly
pleasure, and to carnal trust.
And first, O true believer, called by grace
and washed in the precious blood of Christ,
what hast thou to do in the way
of Egypt, to drink the waters of the
muddy river?
What hast thou to do with the sins
which once delighted thee, and which now find
happy pastime for the world?
What hast thou to do with thy deceitful
lusts, with the indulgence of thine old passions?
What hast thou to do to follow the
multitude which do evil?
Believer, answer these questions, especially if thou hast
lately fallen into sin, if thou hast backslidden
in heart, and if thou hast been led
to backslide in thy ways.
Answer me.
What hast thou to do?
What excuse hast thou for what thou hast
done?
Do you see yonder a gang of men,
dragging, like so many beasts of burden, a
tremendous load?
Hark to the cracking of the whip of
the overseer!
Do you see how they pull and strain,
till it seems as if their every sinew
would snap?
Do you observe them as the hot sweat
stands upon their brow?
Look at them.
Let the gang stay a while, while we
examine.
I can understand why all these are oppressed
with sore labor, for I can see the
brand of the slave owner upon their backs.
Their flesh is scarred.
But what meaneth this?
There is one among them who is not
a slave, a man who is free.
What meaneth this?
How is it that he doeth the slave's
work, that he bends his back to the
taskmaster's yoke when he is a free man?
Can you answer the question?
Let me ask it in your own case.
I see the sinner burdened in the evils
of his way.
I see him pulling iniquity as though it
were with a cart-rope, laying hold with
both of his hands everything that is full
of iniquity.
But what hast thou to do there?
The slaves of Satan are but acting out
their condition.
But what hast thou to do to be
his slave, since thou hast been redeemed with
blood and set free by power?
Why, man, thou art no slave now.
Thou art a son of God.
Thou art an heir of all things.
Thou art joint heir with Christ.
What hast thou to do, then, in the
service of sin and of Satan?
Why dost thou follow these menial tasks?
They ill become a man who is to
wear a crown in heaven and who even
now can read his title to it.
Answer, Christian, and be ashamed and be confounded,
because thou art demeaning thyself in thus sinning
against thine own soul.
A vision flits before my eye.
The Lord God hath made a great feast.
Armies have met together.
Terrible slaughter has been the consequence.
Men's arms have been read up to the
very elbow in blood.
They have fought with each other, and there
they lay strewn upon the plain, thousands of
carcasses bleeding.
The vultures sniff the prey from far-off
desert wilds.
They fly, keen of scent.
God hath made a great feast to the
fowls of heaven and to the ravenous beasts
of the earth.
Hark to the whirring of their wings as
they come in multitudes, for where the body
is thither shall the eagles be gathered together.
But what is that I see?
I see a dove flying with the same
speed as the vulture towards the carrion.
O dove, what hath brought thee there in
dangerous connection with thy fierce enemies?
Whither art thou going?
Is there anything in that bloody feast that
can content thee?
Shall thy meek eyes glare with the fires
of anger?
Shall thy fair white plumage be stained with
gore?
And wilt thou go back to thy dovecock
with thy pinions bloody red?
I appeal to you, my hearers.
Can ye answer the question?
Can ye explain the strange vision?
How is it, then, that I see you,
Christian, going with sinners after evil?
Is it your food?
If you are a child of God, sin
is no more food for you than is
blood for doves.
If you have been begotten again unto a
lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ
from the dead, your peaceful soul will be
as much out of its element as a
dove upon a battlefield.
And the sight, the sight of sin, will
be as horrible to you as the sight
of slaughter to that timid dove, which even
now hides itself with rapid wings to the
cleft of the rock.
Christian, I say, if thou doest as a
whirling doeth, thou dost go against thy nature,
against thy newborn nature.
To him it is not strange.
Should not the swine eat husks?
Is it not his proper food?
Should not the sinner love to sin?
Is it not his very element?
But what hast thou to do?
What hast thou to do, quickened of the
spirit and renewed in the image of Christ?
What hast thou to do?
You have seen in Scripture a dreadful picture
of a madman, where Nebuchadnezzar the king runs
with oxen and eats grass till his hair
is grown like eagle's feathers and his nails
like bird's claws.
Is he not the pitiful picture of a
backslider?
For what is a Christian when he plunges
into sin, but is one who makes himself
like the beast that perish and who herds
with the common yea and the unclean beast
of the earth?
O believer, if it be a pitiful thing
to see a man make himself a beast,
how much more lamentable to see a Christian
make himself a worldling.
Come ye out from among them.
Touch not the unclean thing.
Why should the soul of my turtle dove
be given to its enemies?
Why should the lamb flock with the wolves?
Come out, I pray thee.
Leave this stige and filth, and be thou
clean, thou vessel-bearer of the Lord.
Come forth from the midst of that plague
land, where thou canst get nothing but the
ashy hue of leprosy, and be thou clean.
Today the Lord invites thee.
Refuse not His invitation, but return, ye backsliding
children of men.
The question then cannot be answered, because when
a Christian goes into sin, he commits an
inconsistent act, inconsistent with the freedom which Christ
has bought for him, and inconsistent with the
nature which the Holy Spirit has implanted in
him.
Let us press forward.
Christian, what hast thou to do with sin?
Hath it not cost thee enough already?
What man, hast thou forgotten the times of
thy conviction?
If thou hast, my brother, I have not.
At the very mention of that word, I
think I hear my chains rattling in you.
Was there ever a bond-slave who had
more bitterness of soul than I?
Five years a captive in the dungeons of
the law, till my youth seemed as if
it would turn into premature old age, and
all the buoyancy of my spirit had been
removed.
O God of the spirits of all men,
most of all ought I to hate sin,
for surely most of all have I smarted
beneath the lash of thy law.
And as I look round, knowing the experience
of some of you, I can recall to
my mind the stories you have told me,
how when in this hall you first felt
your need of a Saviour, you could not
endure yourselves.
Ah, there are those among you who, when
you were under strong convictions of sin, were
ready to commit self-destruction.
You prayed, but found no answer.
You sought, but obtained no mercy.
There were not creatures out of hell more
wretched than you were.
What?
And will you go back to the old
curse?
Burnt child, wilt thou play with the fire?
What man, when thou hast already been rent
in pieces with the lion, wilt thou step
a second time into his den?
Hast thou not had enough of the old
serpent?
Did he not poison all thy veins once?
And wilt thou play upon the hole of
the asp, and put thy hand upon the
cockatrice den?
Hast thou not seen enough of the leopards
and of the dragons?
And wilt thou step a second time into
their dens?
O be not so mad!
Be not so foolish!
Did sin ever give thee pleasure?
Didst thou ever find any solid satisfaction in
it?
If so, go back to thine old drudgery.
Go back, I say, and wear the chain
again if it divides thee.
But inasmuch as I know and thou knowest
that sin did never give thee what it
promised to bestow, inasmuch as it did delude
thee with lies and flatter thee with promises
which were all to be broken, I pray
thee, be not beguiled a second time.
Be not a second time led into captivity.
Be free, and let the remembrance of thy
ancient bondage forbid thee wear the chain again.
There is yet another light in which to
put the sin of the believer.
Let me repeat the question once again.
What hast thou to do in the way
of Egypt to drink the waters of the
muddy river?
There is a crowd yonder.
They have evidently assembled for some riotous purpose.
They are attacking one man.
There are very many of them.
Oh, how they howl, how they yell!
They give him no space to take his
breath, no time to rest.
Let me press through the throng and look
at the man.
I know him at once.
He hath a visage more marred than that
of any other man.
Tis he.
It is the crucified one.
It is none other than Jesus, the Son
of Man, the Savior of the world.
Hark to the blasphemies which are poured into
his ears.
See how they spit in his face and
put him to an open shame.
Onward they bring him, and you hear them
cry, Crucify him, crucify him, crucify him!
They are doing it.
They have nailed him to the tree.
Yonder is the man with a hammer in
his hand who has just now driven in
the nail.
Look round upon the mob.
I can well comprehend why yonder drunkard, why
yonder swearer, why the whoremonger and the like
of infamous notoriety should have joined in this
treacherous murder.
But there is one man there.
Methinks I know his face.
Ay, I have seen him at the sacramental
table, eating the flesh and drinking the blood
of Christ.
I have seen him in the pulpit, saying,
God forbid that I should glory, save in
the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.
I have seen him on his knees in
prayer, pleading what he called the precious blood.
What hast thou to do in this council
of the ungodly, this scene of sin without
a parallel?
What doest thou here, Elijah?
In the name of love's own self and
of every holy thing that can ever pertain
to a human heart, what doest thou here?
Are ye second at heart at such a
spectacle?
A Christian crucifying Christ?
That spectacle is one in which you have
had a share.
You too, when you have backslidden and have
sinned, you have crucified the Lord afresh and
put him to an open shame.
Is there any other picture needed to set
my text in the very strongest light?
What hast thou to do, O Christian, in
the way of Egypt, to drink the water
of the muddy river?
Cry revenge against thyself, because thou shouldst have
murdered thy Lord and opened his wounds anew.
Have patience with me a moment while I
turn my question over and revolve it yet
again.
Believer, thou hast rebelled against thy God.
Thou hast done despise unto his Spirit.
How wilt thou answer for this?
What wilt thou say to a scoffing world
when the quick eye of the sinner shall
detect thee?
What wilt thou say when he hisses out,
There's your religion!
How wilt thou answer him?
Thou mayest pretend to do so, but dost
thou not feel that he will get the
best of the argument?
If he goeth his way and saith the
religion of Christ is a lie and an
hypocrisy, what wilt thou have to say?
Surely thou wilt have to hide thy face
in confusion and bemoan thyself, because by this
act thou hast given the enemy cause to
blaspheme.
And what wilt thou say to Christ's church
when the church shall say to thee, What
doest thou here?
How wilt thou excuse thyself for dishonest acts
in business or for any lust into which
thou hast fallen?
Wilt thou tell the church it was thy
old nature?
But how wilt thou answer when the church
shall say, They that are in Christ have
crucified the flesh and its affections and lusts?
More than this, how wilt thou answer thine
own conscience?
Wilt thou use some antinomian quibble and apply
that as a plaster to thy wounds?
No.
If thou art a child of God, thou
wilt have to smart for it.
The waters of the muddy river may be
sweet to the Egyptians, but they will be
bitter to thee.
Thou shalt have, as it were, a cauldron
in thy bowels if thou dost drink thereof.
Christians can never sin cheaply.
They pay a heavy price for all the
pleasures that they ever find in evil.
And what wilt thou say to thy lord
and master next time thou art at the
sacramental table?
How wilt thou dare to eat that bread
and drink that wine?
And when thou art alone on thy knees
and seeking fellowship with him, how wilt thou
dare to seek it when thou hast just
now been following his enemies and imitating them
that hate him?
Wilt thou say unto him, Come unto me,
my spouse, from the top of Lebanon, from
Ammanah?
Ah, well may he say to thee, I
have withdrawn myself, I have gone, for thou
hast grieved my spirit and vexed my soul.
Believer, if Jesus Christ were here, what wouldst
thou say to make an excuse for thy
sin?
Surely thou wouldst be speechless as the dumb
and silent as the grave.
Thy tears might make confession, thy shudders should
bespeak thy guilt, but thy lips could not
make an apology.
What hast thou to do, O Christian, in
the way of evil?
What doest thou here, O God's Elijah?
I do not know whether there are any
Christians here who have fallen into any special
sin during this last week.
If there be, brother, open your heart to
this question.
It may be my master has sent me
to you to nip your sin in its
bud, to bring you back before you have
backslidden very much.
Turn thee, my brother.
He has not forgotten his love to thee.
Turn thee.
His grace is still the same.
With weeping and with bitter lamentation come thou
to his footstool, and thou shalt be once
more received into his heart, and thou shalt
be set upon a rock again, and thy
goings shall be established.
To take a different view of the subject,
the pleasures of this world do sometimes entice
the people of God, and they find some
degree of mirth therein.
To those Christians who can find pleasure in
the common amusements of men, this question may
be very pertinently put.
What hast thou to do to drink the
water of that muddy river?
I may be speaking to some believers who
try, if they can, to keep their conscience
quiet while they frequent places of amusement.
They lend their sanction to things which are
not spiritual, and sometimes even not moral.
Now I put this question to them.
Christian, thou hast tasted a better drink than
the muddy river of this world's pleasure can
give thee.
If thy profession be not a lie, thou
hast had fellowship with Christ.
Thou hast had that joy which only the
blessed spirits above and the chosen ones on
earth can know, the joy of seeing Christ
and leaning thine head upon his bosom.
And do the trifles, the songs, the music,
the merriment of this earth content thee after
that?
Hast thou eaten the bread of angels, and
canst thou live on husks?
Good Rutherford once said, I have tasted of
Christ's own manna, and it hath put my
mouth out of taste for the brown bread
of this world's joys.
Methinks it should be so with thee.
Again, believer, hast thou not already learned the
hollowness of all earth's mirth?
Turn to thy neighbor and ask him.
Does he frequent the playhouse?
Does he go from one party of pleasure
to another?
Does he indulge in the common pleasures of
the world?
Ask him whether they have ever satisfied him.
If he be a worldling and be honest,
he will say, No.
He will tell thee that his soul pants
after something better than fashion and dissipation can
afford him.
He will tell thee, too, that he hath
drained that cup, and it is not the
wine which he thought it was, that it
excites for the moment, but leaves him weak
and miserable afterwards.
And I say, what wise men, according to
the discretion of this world, cast away?
Shall the yet wiser man, the Christian, made
to salvation wise, lay hold upon?
What?
Shall the pairings and offals of this world's
joys suit the air of heaven?
You who profess to be of nobler birth
than to be brother to the angels, nay,
next akin to the eternal God Himself, are
you to wallow in this mire and think
it a soft and downy couch fit for
a royal resting place?
Get thee up, believer!
Thou art not lost to every sense of
shame.
Betray not thyself in seeking satisfaction wherein worldlings
confess that they have never found it.
But let me ask thee, will these pleasures
yield to thee any helps in thy growth
and grace?
Thou sayest the world is crucified unto thee.
Will these pleasures help to crucify it?
Thou hast prayed that thou mayest be made
like Christ.
Will these things help to conform thee to
His image?
Often dost thou cry, O Spirit of God,
purge out the old leaven from me.
Will these help to purge out the old
leaven?
Unless thou wilt fling the lie into the
face of all thy prayers, I pray thee,
shun these things.
Fly at higher gain than this.
Let the mere hawk fly at the sparrow.
But the eagle needs something nobler to be
the object of its chase.
If ye were of the world, it would
be right for you to love her.
If she were your mother, ye might suck.
But even then ye should not be satisfied
with the breast of her consolation.
But ye confess that not this world, but
the next, is the mother of your soul.
I pray you, then, be not content with
what this world yields, but lift up your
eyes and expect your manna to spring not
from the earth, but from heaven, and may
it drop into your hands.
I can never understand that Christianity which alternately
goes out to find joy in worldly amusement
and returns home to have fellowship with Christ.
In the life of Madame Guillaume, who, though
professedly a papist, one must ever receive as
being a true child of God, I have
read an anecdote something to this effect.
She had been invited by some friends to
spend a few days at the palace of
Saint-Cloud.
She knew it was a place full of
pomp and fashion and, I must add, of
vice also.
But being over-persuaded by her friend and
being especially tempted with the idea that perhaps
her example might do good, she accepted the
invitation.
Her experience afterwards should be a warning to
all Christians.
For some years that holy woman had walked
in constant fellowship with Christ.
Perhaps none ever saw the Saviour's face and
kissed His wounds more truly than she had
done.
But when she came home from Saint-Cloud,
she found her usual joy was departed.
She had lost her power in prayer.
She could not draw near to Christ as
she should have done.
She felt in going to the lover of
her soul as if she had played the
harlot against Him.
She was afraid to hope that she could
be received again to His pure and perfect
love, and it took some months ere the
equilibrium of her peace could be restored and
her heart could yet again be wholly set
upon her Lord.
He that wears a white garment must mind
where he walks when the world's streets are
so filthy as they are.
He that hath a thousand enemies must take
care how he expose himself.
He who hath nothing on earth to assist
him towards heaven should take care that he
goeth not where the earth can help towards
hell.
O believer, shun, I pray thee, fellowship with
this world, for the love of this world
is enmity against God.
Now some will say that I am an
ascetic and wish you to become Puritans.
I wish we were Puritans most certainly, but
I am no ascetic.
I believe the Christian man ought to be
the happiest man in the world, and I
believe he is too.
But I know that this world does not
make him happy.
It is the next world.
I say that the believer has a more
sure and certain right to be a happy
and a cheerful man than any other man.
But if in this world only we had
hope, we should be of all men the
most miserable, because this world yields no joy
to us.
For one minute I shall now take my
text with regard to the Christian in a
third sense.
We are all tried with the temptation to
put our trust in things which are seen
instead of things which are not seen.
The Lord hath said it, Cursed is he
that trusteth in man and maketh flesh his
arm, but blessed is he that trusteth in
the Lord.
Yet Christians often do trust in man.
And then our text comes home.
What hast thou to do in the way
of Egypt to drink the water of that
muddy river?
Some trust in horses and some in chariots,
but we will stay ourselves upon the Lord
God of Israel.
Look at yonder believer.
He trusts in Christ and only in Christ
for his salvation, and yet he is fretted
and worried, even though this be the day
of rest, about something in his business.
Why are you troubled, Christian?
Because of this great care, saith he.
Care?
Hast thou care?
I thought it was written, Cast thy burden
upon the Lord.
Be careful for nothing, but in everything by
prayer and supplication make known your wants unto
God.
Cannot you trust God for temporals?
Ah, says the believer, I wish I could.
Believer, if thou canst not trust God for
temporals, how darest thou trust Him for spirituals?
Surely if He be worthy to be trusted
with eternity, He must be fit to be
relied upon in time.
Can you trust Him for your soul's redemption
and yet not rely upon Him for a
few paltry pounds?
Then what are you trusting in?
Oh, I wish I had a good friend,
says one.
I wish I had someone at my back
to help me.
Indeed, sir.
What hast thou to do to go in
the way of Egypt to want a drink
of that water?
Is not God enough?
Dost thou want another eye besides that of
Him who sees all things?
Dost thou want another arm to help Him
who bears the earth's huge pillars up and
spreads the heavens abroad?
Is His heart faint?
Is His arm weary?
Is His eye grown dim?
If so, seek another God.
But if He be infinite, omnipotent, faithful, true
and all-wise, why gaddest thou abroad so
much to seek another confidence?
Why dost thou rake the earth to find
another foundation when this is strong enough and
broad enough and deep enough to bear all
the weight which thou canst ever build thereon?
Christian, be single in your faith.
Have not two trusts, but one.
Believer, rest thou only on thy God, and
let thy expectation be from Him.
God bless thee, believer.
Let this question ring in thy ears this
week, and if thou be tempted to sin
or to worldly pleasure or to carnal trust,
think thou seest thy minister, and think that
thou hearest him saying in thine ears, What
hast thou to do in the way of
Egypt to drink the waters of that muddy
river?
Or what hast thou to do in the
way of Assyria to drink the waters of
Euphrates?
I now come to the second part of
my subject.
Let not our friends grow weary.
I shall be brief on the matters that
remain that the word may be felt.
Convinced sinner, I hope I have some such
here, some of those precious ones of God
whose eyes are bejeweled with the tears of
penitence and whose hearts are like the fragrant
spices which, when broken, send out a sweet
perfume.
And so, my friend, you feel your lost
estate.
God's Holy Spirit has kindly looked upon you
and begun a good work in your soul.
And yet, during the past week, you have
fallen into your old sin.
Ah!
Smarting and yet sinning, wounded and yet rebelling,
pricked with the ox-goat and yet kicking
against the pricks.
It is hard for thee.
To sin with a steeled conscience is easy,
but to sin when conscience is raw is
hard indeed.
You have a hard task.
You have to go on and sin and
tread its thorny path when your feet are
tender, having just been burned in the fire.
And what was the cause of your sin
after all?
Was it worth sinning for, to grieve your
conscience and vex the Holy Spirit?
I have heard of a man who had
just begun the Christian life and he had
some months of sorrow owing to a hasty
temper.
His neighbor had let some of his cattle
stray into the field.
He had asked him to fetch them out
again and mend the fence.
His neighbor would not, and he flew into
such a passion with him that afterwards he
sat down and cried.
Said he, Why, if all the cows in
the field were sold and I had lost
the money, they were not worth the bother
I made about them, nor worth one moment
of the grief which I have to suffer.
Oh, what fools we are!
Let us, however, write ourselves fools in capital
letters if when conscience is tender we go
and do the very thing which we hate
and choose the very cup which was so
bitter to our taste, so nauseous to us
just now.
And then convinced sinner, another question, you are
under conviction of sin and you have been
lately, as it is a festive season, you
have been frequenting the dancing room or the
theater.
Now these are amusements for worldlings.
Let them have them.
I would not prevent them for a moment.
Let every man have his own amusement and
his own joy.
But what is this to you?
What hast thou to do with that?
Why, you know, you thought the place would
fall down while you were sitting there.
What business had you there?
Suppose the devil had come in to take
one of his own away, and had taken
you.
He might have been forgiven for his mistake,
for he found you on his grounds.
You were trespassing, and therefore if the old
giant grim had taken you away to despair's
castle, who could have blamed him?
Were you not for the time in his
own limits?
Had he not therefore a right to do
as he would with you?
But you have a tender conscience.
How could you be merry there, listening to
light music while you had a heavy heart?
I never like to see a newly made
widow at a wedding, and I do not
like to see a convinced sinner where others
are making merry.
When you have joy in your heart, you
may join with the kindred sympathy of other
men's joys.
But while your soul is bleeding, what a
mockery, what a farce it is for you
to be pretending to find joy in the
very thing which has given you the pain.
You have heard the old and oft-repeated
story of the celebrated clown who was under
conviction of sin.
He went to a certain doctor and told
him he was exceeding melancholy, and he wished
that he could advise him something that would
cheer his spirits.
The doctor prescribed for him some remedies, but
they failed.
He went at last to a celebrated, popular
preacher, who ought not to have been a
preacher, for he did not understand the gospel
at all.
And he, fool that he was, said to
the poor man, Well, I do not know
what will cheer you up, but I should
say if you were to go and see
the tricks and antics of such and such
a person, the clown at such and such
a theatre, if anything would make you merry,
that would.
Alas, sir, said he, I am that man
myself.
So strange must have been his position, making
others roar with laughter while he himself was
roaring with terror.
And yet this is just your position, convinced
sinner, if you can find merriment in the
world.
Let other men have it.
It is not the place for you.
Stand aloof from it, and go not there.
And then again, Take care, convinced sinner, that
you do not trust in yourself in any
degree.
What have you to do to go to
Egypt to drink the waters of the muddy
river?
Your works have ruined you.
How can they save you?
Your works have damned you.
How can they wipe out the sentence of
damnation?
Fly to Christ.
Fly to the flowing wounds and to the
open heart.
There is hope for you there.
But at the foot of Sinai there is
thunder and fire and smoke.
And if Moses did exceeding fear and quake,
how much more should you, when the mountain
seems as though it would roll upon you
and crush you and bury your spirit in
eternal destruction?
God help thee, convinced sinner, never to go
in that way of Egypt to drink the
waters of Sihur, for these are not things
for thee.
Lastly, to any here present who are careless,
I have a hard task, but a few
moments for the attempt to bring a reasonable
request to unreasonable men.
Ye tell me, sirs, that ye love the
vanities of this world and that they content
you.
I look you in the face and remind
you that there have been many madmen in
this world besides yourselves.
Yet as there is some spark of reason
left, let me see if I can kindle
a flame of thought therewith.
Sinner, God is angry with the wicked every
day.
What have you to do with joy?
You are condemned already because you believe not
on the Son of God.
What have you to do with peace, a
condemned man dancing in his cell at Newgate
with chains about his wrists?
You are a dying man.
You may drop down dead in this hall.
What have you to do with merriment?
You!
If you were sure you should live a
week, you might spend six days, if you
would, in sin.
But you are not sure you will live
an hour.
What have you to do with sin and
its pleasures?
God is furbishing His sword today.
It is sharp and strong as the arm
which shall wield it.
That sword is meant for you, except you
repent.
What have you to do with taking your
ease and eating and drinking and being happy?
That man yonder with his neck in the
noose and his feet upon the treacherous drop,
is it fitting he should sing songs and
call himself a happy man?
This is your position, sir.
Sinner, you are standing over the mouth of
hell upon a single plank, and that plank
is rotten.
Your hope is as the spider's web.
Your confidence is as a dream.
Death follows you, not as the slow-paced
footman, but on horseback.
The skeleton rider on his pale horse is
rattling after you with speed tremendous.
And, ah, hell follows him.
Hell follows death, the sure and certain consequence
of sin.
And what have you to do with making
merry?
Have you made appointments for the next week?
Keep them if you dare.
If, in the name of God, you can
make it consistent, if you can make it
consistent with reason to be busy about the
body and neglect the soul, to fritter away
that time on which eternity depends, then go
and do it.
If it be a wise thing for you
to leap before you look, if it be
a prudent thing to damn your soul eternally
for the sake of a few hours of
mirth, say so.
Go and do it like an honest man.
But if it be unwise to forget forever
and only think of today, if it be
the strongest madness to lose your life to
gain the mere apparel with which the body
is to be covered, if it be madness
to fling away jewels and hoard up dust
as you are doing, then, I pray you,
I beseech you, answer the question, what hast
thou to do in the way of Egypt
to drink the waters of Sihur?
Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye
die, O house of Israel?
For I have no pleasure in the death
of him that dieth, saith the Lord God.
Wherefore turn yourselves, and live ye.
Let the wicked forsake his way, and the
unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return
unto the Lord, and he will have mercy
upon him, and to our God, for he
will abundantly pardon.
Lo, the cross is lifted up before you.
Jesus bleeds, his wounds are streaming with his
lifeblood, I, and with yours too.
Believe, sinner, trust him, with all thy heart
trust him.
Come to him, come to him, with weeping
and supplication, I pray you, come.
Knowing the terrors of the Lord, I beseech
you, as one that pleaded for his own
life, I plead with you, by heaven, by
hell, by time flying so swiftly, by eternity
approaching so silently, by death, by judgment, by
the awful soul-reading eye, by the rocks
whose stony bowels shall refuse your prayer to
fall upon you, by the trumpet and the
thunders of the resurrection morning, by the pits
and by the flame, I pray you, think
and believe in him who is the Lamb
of God, which taketh away the sins of
the world.
God bless my words to you through his
Spirit's energy, and he shall have the praise
forever and ever.
Amen.
This message, Words of Expostulation, was preached by
Charles Haddon Spurgeon on January 20th, 1861.
This is Charles Kelsch inviting you to join
me again for another message from the Prince
of Preachers.