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 Kelsch inviting you to listen
to a message from the Prince of Preachers.
C.
H.
Spurgeon preached this message on July 31st, 1859,
at the Music Hall of the Royal Surrey
Gardens.
It is entitled, The Meek and Lowly One.
The text is found in Matthew chapter 11,
verses 28 through 30.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and
are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn of
me.
For I am meek and lowly in heart,
and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden
is light.
The single sentence which I have selected for
my text consists of these words, I am
meek and lowly in heart.
These words might be taken to have three
distinct bearings upon the context.
They may be regarded as being the lesson
to be taught.
Learn of me, for I am meek and
lowly in heart.
One great lesson of the Gospel is to
teach us to be meek, to put away
our high and angry spirits, and to make
us lowly in heart.
Peradventure, this is the meaning of the passage,
that if we will but come to Christ's
school, He will teach us the hardest of
all lessons, how to be meek and lowly
in heart.
Again, other expositors might consider this sentence to
signify, that is the only spirit in which
a man can learn of Jesus, the spirit
which is necessary if we would become Christ's
scholars.
We can learn nothing, even of Christ Himself,
while we hold our heads up with pride,
or exalt ourselves with self-confidence.
We must be meek and lowly in heart,
otherwise we are totally unfit to be taught
by Christ.
Empty vessels may be filled, but vessels which
are full already can receive no more.
The man who knows his own emptiness can
receive abundance of knowledge and wisdom and grace
from Christ, but he who glories in himself
is not in a fit condition to receive
anything from God.
I have no doubt that both of these
interpretations are true, and might be borne out
by the connection.
It is the lesson of Christ's school, it
is the spirit of Christ's disciples, but I
choose rather this morning to regard these words
as being a commendation of the Teacher Himself.
Come unto me and learn, for I am
meek and lowly in heart.
As much as to say, I can teach,
and you will not find it hard to
learn of me.
In fact, the subject of this morning's discourse
is briefly this.
The gentle, lovely character of Christ should be
a high and powerful inducement to sinners to
come to Christ.
I intend so to use it, first of
all noticing the two qualities which Christ here
claims for Himself.
He is meek, and then He is lowly
in heart.
And after we have observed these two things,
I shall come to push the conclusion home.
Come unto Him, all ye that are laboring
and are heavy laden, come unto Him and
take His yoke upon you, for He is
meek and lowly in heart.
First, then, I am to consider the first
quality which Jesus Christ claims.
He declares that He is meek.
Christ is no egotist.
He takes no praise to Himself.
If ever He utters a word in self
-commendation, it is not with that object.
It is with another design, namely, that He
may entice souls to come to Him.
Here, in order to exhibit this meekness, I
shall have to speak of Him in several
ways.
First, Christ is meek, as opposed to the
ferocity of spirit manifested by zealots and bigots.
Take for a prominent example of the opposite
of meekness, the false prophet Mohammed.
The strength of his cause lies in the
fact that he is not meek.
He presents himself before those whom he claims
as disciples, and says, Take my yoke upon
you, and learn of me, for I am
neither meek nor lowly in heart.
I will have no patience with you.
There is my creed, or there is the
scimitar.
Death or conversion, whichever you please.
The moment the Mohammedan religion withdrew that very
forcible argument of decapitation or impalement, it stayed
in its work of conversion and never progressed.
For the very strength of the false prophet
lays in the absence of any meekness.
How opposite this is to Christ!
Although He has a right to demand man's
love and man's faith, yet He comes not
into the world to demand it with fire
and sword.
His might is under persuasion, His strength is
quiet forbearance and patient endurance, His mightiest force
is the sweet attraction of compassion and love.
He knows nothing of the ferocious hosts of
Mohammed.
He bids none of us draw our sword
to propagate the faith, but says, Put up
thy sword into its scabbard.
They that take the sword shall perish by
the sword.
My kingdom is not of this world, else
might my servants fight.
Nay, Mohammed is not the only instance we
can bring, but even good men are subject
to the like mistakes.
They imagine that religion is to be spread
by terror and thunder.
Look at John himself, the most lovely of
all the disciples.
He would call fire from heaven on a
village of Samaritans because they rejected Christ.
Hark to his hot inquiry!
Wilt thou that we command fire to come
down from heaven and consume them?
Christ's disciples were to him something like the
sons of Zeruiah to David.
For when Shimei mocked David, the sons of
Zeruiah said, Why should this dead dog curse
my lord the king?
Let me go over, I pray thee, and
take off his head.
But David meekly said, What have I to
do with you, ye sons of Zeruiah?
and put them aside.
He had something of the spirit of his
master.
He knew that his honor was not then
to be defended by sword or spear.
O blessed Jesus, thou hast no fury in
thy spirit.
When men rejected thee, thou didst not draw
the sword to smite, but on the contrary,
thou didst yield thine eyes to weeping.
Behold your Savior, disciples, and see whether he
was not meek.
He had long preached in Jerusalem without effect,
and at last he knew that they were
ready to put him to death.
But what said he?
As standing on the top of the hill,
he beheld the city that had rejected his
gospel.
Did he invoke a curse upon it?
Did he suffer one word of anger to
leap from his burning heart?
Ah, no.
There were flames, but they were those of
love.
There were scalding drops, but they were those
of grief.
He beheld the city and wept over it,
and said, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would
I have gathered thy children together as a
hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and
ye would not.
And for a further proof of the absence
of all uncharitableness, observe that even when they
drove the nails into his blessed hands, yet
he had no curse to breathe upon them.
But his dying exclamation was, Father, forgive them,
for they know not what they do.
O sinners, see what a Christ it is
that we bid you serve.
No angry bigot, no fierce warrior claiming your
unwilling faith.
He is a tender Jesus.
Your rejection of him has made his bowels
yearn over you, and though you abhor his
gospel, he has pleaded for you, saying, Let
him alone yet another year, till I dig
about him.
Peradventure he may yet bring forth fruit.
What a patient master is he!
O will you not serve him?
But the idea is not brought out fully,
unless we take another sense.
There is a sternness which cannot be condemned.
A Christian man will often feel himself called
to bear most solemn and stern witness against
the error of his times.
But Christ's mission, although it certainly did testify
against the sin of his times, yet had
a far greater reference to the salvation of
the souls of men.
To show the idea that I have in
my own mind, which I have not yet
brought out, I must picture Elijah.
What a man was he!
His mission was to be the bold, unflinching
advocate of the right, and to bear a
constant testimony against the wickedness of his age.
And how boldly did he speak!
Look at him!
How grand the picture!
Can you not conceive him on that memorable
day, when he met Ahab?
And Ahab said, Hast thou found me, O
mine enemy?
Do you mark that mighty answer which Elijah
gave him, while the king trembles at his
words?
Or, better still, can you picture the scene
when Elijah said, Take you two bullocks, ye
priests, and build an altar, and see this
day whether God be God, or Baal be
God?
Do you see him as he mocks the
worshippers of Baal, and with a biting irony
says to them, Cry aloud, for he is
a god?
Do you see him in the last grand
scene, when the fire has come down from
heaven, and consumed the sacrifice, and licked up
the water, and burned the altar?
Do you hear him cry, Take the prophets
of Baal, let not one escape?
Can you see him in his might, hewing
them in pieces by the brook, and making
their flesh a feast for the fowls of
heaven?
Now you cannot picture Christ in the same
position.
He had the stern qualities of Elijah, but
he kept them, as it were, behind, like
sleeping thunder, that was not as yet waken
and lift up its voice.
There were some rumblings of the tempest, it
is true, when he spoke so sternly to
the Sadducees, and Scribes, and Pharisees.
Those woes were like the murmurings of a
distant storm, but it was a distant storm.
Whereas Elijah lived in the midst of the
whirlwind itself, and was no still small voice,
but was the very fire of God, and
like the chariot in which he mounted to
heaven, fit chariot for such a fiery man.
Christ here stands in marked contrast.
Picture him in somewhat alike position to Elijah
with Ahab.
There is Jesus left alone with an adulterous
woman.
She has been taken in the very act.
Her accusers are present, ready to bear witness
against her.
By a simple sentence, he empties the room
of every witness.
Convicted by their conscience, they all retire.
And now, what does Christ say?
The woman might have lifted her eyes, and
have looked at him, and said, Hast thou
found me, O mine enemy?
For she might have regarded Christ as the
enemy of so basest sin as that which
she had committed against her marriage bed.
But instead thereof, Jesus said, Doth no man
condemn thee?
Neither do I condemn thee.
Go, and sin no more.
Oh, how different from the sternness of Elijah!
Sinners, if I had to preach Elijah as
your Saviour, I should feel that I had
a hard task, for you might throw it
in my teeth.
Shall we come to Elijah?
He will call fire from heaven on us,
as he did upon the captains and their
fifties.
Shall we come to Elijah?
Surely he will slay us, for we have
been like the prophets of Baal.
Nay, sinners, that I bid you come to
Christ.
Come to him who, although he hated sin
more than Elijah could do, yet nevertheless loved
the sinner, who though he would not spare
iniquity, yet spares the transgressors, and has no
words but those of love and mercy, and
peace and comfort for those of you who
will now come and put your trust in
him.
I must put into word here, by way
of caveat, I am very far from imputing
for a single moment any blame to Elijah.
He was quite right.
None but Elijah could have fulfilled the mission
which his master gave him.
He needed to be all he was, and
certainly not less stern.
But Elijah was not sent to be a
savior.
He was quite unfit for that.
He was sent to administer a stern rebuke.
He was God's iron tongue of threatening, not
God's silver tongue of mercy.
Now Jesus is the silver tongue of grace.
Sinners, hear the sweet bells ringing, as Jesus
now invites you to come unto him.
Come unto me, all ye that are weary
and heavy laden, for I am not stern,
I am not harsh, I am no fire
-killing Elijah.
I am the meek, tender, lowly-hearted Jesus.
Christ is meek in heart.
To exhibit this quality in another light, call
to your minds Moses.
Moses was the meekest of men, and yet
Christ far excels Moses in his meekness.
Around Moses there seems to be a hedge,
a ring of fire.
The character of Moses is like Mount Sinai.
It hath bound, said about it, so that
one cannot draw near unto him.
Moses was not an approachable person.
He was quiet and meek and tender.
But there was a sacred majesty about the
king in Jeshurun that hedged his path, so
that we cannot imagine the people making themselves
familiar with him.
Whoever read of Moses sitting down on a
well and talking to a harlot like the
woman of Samaria?
Whoever heard of a story of a Magdalene
washing the feet of Moses?
Can you conceive Moses eating bread with a
sinner, or passing under a sycamore tree and
calling Zacchaeus the thievish publican and bidding him
come down?
There is a kind of stately majesty in
Moses.
No mere affectation of standing alone, but a
loneliness of superior worth.
Men looked up to him as to some
cloud-capped mountain and despaired of being able
to enter into the lofty circle within which
they might have communed with him.
Moses always had in spirit what he once
had in visible token.
He had a glory about his brow.
Before he could converse with men, he must
wear a veil, for they could not bear
to look upon the face of Moses.
But how different is Jesus!
He is a man among men.
Wherever he goes, no one is afraid to
speak to him.
You scarcely meet with anyone who dares not
approach him.
There is a poor woman, it is true,
who hath the flux, and she fears to
come near him because she is ceremonially unclean.
But even she can come behind him in
the press and touch the hem of his
garment, and virtue goeth out of him.
Nobody was afraid of Jesus.
The mothers brought their little babes to him.
Who ever heard of their doing that to
Moses?
Did ever babe get a blessing of Moses?
But Jesus was all meekness, the approachable man,
feasting with the wedding guests, sitting down with
sinners, conversing with the unholy and the unclean,
touching the leper, and making himself at home
with all men.
Sinners, this is the one we invite you
to, this homely man, Christ.
Not to Moses, for you might say, he
hath horns of light, and how shall I
draw near to his majesty?
He is bright perfection, the very lightnings of
Sinai rest upon his brow.
But sinners, ye cannot say that of Christ.
He is as holy as Moses, as great
and far greater, but he is still so
homely that ye may come to him.
Little children, ye may put your trust in
him.
Ye may say your little prayer.
Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, look on me,
a little child.
Pity my simplicity.
Suffer me to come to thee.
He will not cast you away, or think
you have intruded on him.
Ye harlots, ye drunkards, ye feasters, ye wedding
guests, ye may all come.
This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them.
He is meek and lowly in heart.
That gives, I think, a still fuller and
broader sense to the term meek.
But yet, to push the term a little
further, Christ on earth was a king, but
there was nothing about him of the exclusive
pomp of kings, which excludes the common people
from their society.
Look at the eastern king Ahasuerus sitting on
his throne.
He is considered by his people as a
superior being.
None may come in unto the king unless
he is called for.
Should he venture past the circle, the guards
will slay him, unless the king stretches out
the golden scepter.
Even Esther, his beloved wife, is afraid to
draw near, and must put her life in
her hand if she comes into the presence
of the king uncalled.
Christ is a king, but where is his
pomp?
Where are the janitor that keeps his door
and thrusts away the poor?
Where are the soldiers that ride on either
side of his chariot to screen the monarch
from the gaze of poverty?
See thy king, O Zion!
He comes!
He comes in royal pomp!
Behold, Judah, thy king cometh!
But how cometh he?
Meek and lowly, riding upon an ass, and
upon a colt the foal of an ass.
And who are his attendants?
See, the young children, boys and girls!
They cry, Hosanna!
Hosanna!
And who are they that wait upon him?
His poor disciples.
They pull the branches from the trees, they
cast their garments in the street, and there
he rideth on, Judah's royal king.
His courtiers are the poor.
His pomp is that tribute which grateful hearts
delight to offer.
O sinners, will you not come to Christ?
There is nothing in him to keep you
back.
You need not say, like Esther did of
old, I will go in under the king.
If I perish, I perish.
Come and welcome!
Christ is more ready to receive you than
you are to come to him.
Come to the king!
What is thy petition and what is thy
request, it shall be done unto thee.
If thou stayest away, it is not because
he shuts the door.
It is because thou wilt not come.
Come, filthy, naked, ragged, poor, lost, ruined, come,
just as thou art.
Here he stands, like a fountain freely opened
for all comers.
Whosoever will, let him come and take of
the waters of life freely.
I will give you but one more picture
to set forth the meekness of Christ, and
I think I shall not have completed the
story without it.
The absence of all selfishness from the character
of Christ makes one ingredient of this precious
quality of his meekness.
You remember the history of Jonah.
Jonah is sent to prophesy against Nineveh.
But he is selfish.
He will not go, for he shall get
no honor by it.
He does not want to go so long
a journey for so small a price.
He will not go.
He will take a ship and go to
Tarshish.
He is thrown out into the sea, swallowed
by a fish, and vomited by it upon
dry land.
He goes away to Nineveh, and not wanting
courage, he goes through its streets, crying, Yet
forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown.
That one man's earnest cry moves the city
from one end to the other.
The king proclaims a fast.
The people mourn in sackcloth and confess their
sins.
God sends them tidings of mercy, and they
are spared.
But what will Jonah do?
Oh, tell it not, ye heavens.
Let none hear it, that ever a prophet
of God could do the like.
He sits himself down, and he is angry
with God.
And why his anger?
Because, says he, God has not destroyed that
city.
If God had destroyed the city, he would
have shouted over the ruins, because his reputation
would have been safe.
But now that the city is saved, and
his own reputation for a prophet tarnished, he
must need sit down in anger.
But Christ is the very reverse of this.
Sinners, Christ does thunder at you sometimes, but
it is always that he may bring you
to repentance.
He does take Jonah's cry, and utter it
far more mightily than Jonah could.
He does warn you that there is a
fire that never can be quenched, and a
worm that dieth not.
But if you turn to him, will he
sit down and be angry?
Oh, no.
Methinks I see him.
There you come, poor prodigals.
Your father falls upon your neck and kisses
you, and you are accepted, and a feast
is made.
Here comes the elder brother, Jesus.
What does he say?
Is he angry because you are saved?
Ah, no.
My father, saith he, my younger brothers have
all come home, and I love them.
They shall share my honors.
They shall sit upon my throne.
They shall share my heaven.
Where I am, there they shall be also.
I will take them into union with myself,
and as they have wasted their inheritance, all
that I have shall be theirs forever.
Oh, come home, prodigal.
There is no angry brother and no angry
father.
Come back, come back, my brother, my wandering
brother.
I invite thee, for Jesus is rejoiced to
receive thee.
Do you not see, then, that the meekness
of Christ is a sweet and blessed reason
why we should come to Him?
The second virtue which Christ claims for Himself
is lowliness of heart.
When I looked this passage out in the
original, I half wondered how it was that
Christ found such a sweet word for the
expression of His meaning.
For the Greeks do not know much about
humility, and they have not a very good
word to set forth this idea of lowliness
of heart.
I find that if this passage stood in
another connection, the word might even be interpreted
degraded, debased.
For the Greeks thought that if a man
was humble, he degraded himself, that if he
stooped, he debased himself right out.
Well, says Christ, if you think so, so
be it.
And He takes the word.
The word means near the ground.
So is Christ's heart.
We cannot be so low that He will
not stoop to reach us.
I would just set out the lowliness of
Christ's heart in this way.
Christ is lowly in heart.
That is, He is willing to receive the
poorest sinner in the world.
The Pharisee thought that the keeper of the
gate of heaven would admit only the rich
and not the poor.
Mark Christ's teaching.
There were two came to the gate once
upon a time.
One was clothed in purple and fine linen
and fared sumptuously every day.
He knocked and thought that full sure he
must enter.
But in hell he lift up his eyes
being in torments.
There came another born on angels' wings.
It was a beggar whose many sores the
dogs had licked, and he had not so
much as to knock at the gate, for
the angels carried him straight away into the
very center of paradise and laid him in
Abraham's bosom.
Jesus Christ is willing to receive beggars into
His bosom.
Kings, you know, condescend when they permit even
the rich to be presented to them.
And the kissing of a monarch's hand is
something very wonderful indeed.
But to have the kisses of His lips,
who is the King of kings, is no
uncommon thing for men that are shivering in
rags or that are sick upon miserable beds
in dingy attics.
Christ is lowly in heart.
He goes with what men call the vulgar
herd.
He hath nothing of affected royalty about Him.
He hath a nobler royalty than that, the
royalty that is too proud to think anything
of a stoop.
That can only measure itself by its own
intrinsic excellence and not by its official standing.
He receiveth the lowest, the meanest, the vilest,
for He is lowly in heart.
If I have among my congregation some of
the poorest of the poor, let them come
away to Christ and let them not imagine
that their poverty need keep them back.
I am always delighted when I see a
number of women here from the neighboring workhouse.
I bless God that there are some in
the workhouse that are willing to come, and
though they have sometimes been put to a
little inconvenience by so doing, yet have I
known them sooner to give up their dinner
than give up coming to hear the word.
God bless the workhouse women, and may they
be led to Christ, for He is meek
and lowly in heart and will not reject
them.
I must confess also that I like to
see a smock frog here and there among
the midst of the congregation.
Oh, what a mercy that in the palace
of the great King there shall be found
these workmen, these blouses!
They shall be made partakers of the kingdom
of God.
He makes no difference between prince and pauper.
He takes men to heaven just as readily
from the workhouse as from the palace.
Further, this lowliness of heart in Christ leads
him to receive the most ignorant as well
as the learned to himself.
I know that sometimes poor ignorant people get
a notion in their heads that they cannot
be saved because they cannot read and do
not know much.
I have sometimes, especially in country villages, received
this answer when I have been asking anything
about personal religion.
Well, you know, sir, I never had any
learning.
Oh, but ye unlearned, is this a reason
why you should stay away from Him who
is lowly in heart?
It was said of an old Greek philosopher
that he wrote over his door, None but
the learned may enter here.
But Christ, on the contrary, writes over his
door, He that is simple, let him turn
in hither.
There are many great men with long handles
to their names who know little of the
gospel, while some of the poor unlettered ones
spell out the whole secret and become perfect
masters in divinity.
If they had degrees who deserve them, diplomas
should often be transferred and given to those
who hold the plow handle or work at
the carpenter's bench.
For there is often more of divinity in
the little finger of a plowman than there
is in the whole body of some of
our modern divines.
Don't they understand divinity, you say?
Yes, in the letter of it.
But as to the spirit and life of
it, D.D. often means doubly destitute.
The lowliness of Christ may be clearly seen
in yet another point of view.
He is not only willing to receive the
poor and to receive the ignorant, but he
is also ever ready to receive men despite
the vileness of their characters.
Some teachers can stoop, and freely too, to
both poor and ignorant, but they cannot stoop
to the wicked.
I think we have all felt a difficulty
here.
However poor a man may be, or however
little he knows, you say, I don't mind
talking with him and trying to do him
good.
But I cannot talk with a man who
is a rogue or a vagabond, or with
a woman who has lost her character.
I know you cannot.
There are a great many things Christ did
which we cannot do.
We who are the servants of Christ have
attempted to draw a line where duty has
its bound.
Like the domestic servant in some lordly mansion
who stoops not to menial employment, we are
above our work.
We are so fastidious that we cannot go
after the chief of sinners and the vilest
of the vile.
Not so Christ.
He receiveth sinners and eateth with them.
He in the days of his flesh became
familiar with the outcasts.
He sought them out that he might save
them.
He entered their homes.
He found his way into the slums like
some diligent officer of the police.
He was willing to lodge where they lodged,
eat at their table, and associate with their
class to find them out.
His mission was to seek as well as
to save.
Oh, see him stand with arms wide open!
Will that thief who is justly executed for
his crimes be recognized by him?
Yes, he will.
There with his arms outstretched he hangs.
The thief flies, as it were, to his
bosom, and Jesus gives him a most blessed
embrace.
Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.
Christ has received the thief with open heart
and open arms too.
And there is Mary.
Do you see her?
She is washing the feet of Jesus.
Why, she is a bad character, one of
the worst women on the town.
What will Christ say?
Say?
Why, hear how he speaks to Simon, the
pious, reputable Pharisee.
Saith he, after putting the parable concerning the
two debtors, which of them shall love him
most?
And then he explains that this woman hath
had much forgiven, and therefore she loves much.
Thy sins, which are many, are all forgiven,
saith he, and she goes her way in
peace.
There are many men you and I would
not demean ourselves to notice that Christ will
take to heaven at last, for he is
lowly in heart.
He takes the base, the vilest, the scum,
the offscouring, the filth, the garbage of the
world, and out of such stuff and matter
as that he buildeth up a holy temple
and gathereth to himself trophies for his honour
and his praise.
And further, while I speak of the lowliness
of Christ's heart, I must remark another thing.
Perhaps one is saying here, O sir, it
is not what I have been as to
my conduct that keeps me back from Christ,
but I feel that what I am as
to my nature restrains me.
I am such a dolt.
I shall never learn in his school.
I am such a hard-hearted one.
He will never melt me.
And if he does save me, I shall
never be worth his having.
Yes, but Christ is lowly in heart.
There are some great goldsmiths that, of course,
can only think of preparing and polishing the
choicest diamonds.
But Jesus Christ polishes a common pebble and
makes a jewel of it.
Goldsmiths make their precious treasures out of precious
materials.
Christ makes his precious things out of dross.
He begins always with bad material.
The palace of our King is not made
of cedar wood as Solomon's.
Or if it be made of wood, certainly
he has chosen the naughtiest trees and the
naughtiest planks wherewith to build his habitation.
He has taken those to be his scholars
who were the greatest dunces.
So amazing is the lowliness of Christ's heart.
He sits down on the forum with us
to teach us the ABC of repentance.
And if we are slow to learn it,
he begins again and takes us through our
alphabet.
And if we forget it, he will often
teach us our letters over again.
For though he is able to teach angels,
yet he condescends to instruct babes.
And as we go step by step in
heavenly literature, Christ is not above teaching the
elements.
He teaches not only in the university and
the grammar school where high attainments are valued,
but he teaches in the day school where
the elements and first principles are to be
instilled.
It is he who teaches the sinner what
sinner means in deep conviction and what faith
means in holy assurance.
It is not only he who takes us
to Pisgah and visits us to view the
promised land, but it is he also who
takes us to Calvary and makes us learn
that simplest of all things, the sacred writing
of the cross.
He, if I may use such a phrase,
will not only teach us how to write
the highly ornamental writing of the Eden paradise,
the richly gilded illuminated letters of communion and
fellowship, but he teaches us how to make
the pothooks and hangers of repentance and faith.
He begins at the beginning, for he is
meek and lowly in heart.
Come then, ye dolts, ye fools!
Come, ye sinners, ye vile ones!
Come, ye dullest of all scholars, ye poor,
ye illiterate, ye who are rejected and despised
of men!
Come to him who was rejected and despised
as well as you!
Come and welcome!
Christ bids you come!
Let not conscience make you linger, nor of
fitness fondly dream.
All the fitness he requireth is to feel
your need of him.
This he gives you, tis his Spirit's rising
beam.
Come, poor sinners, come to a gentle Savior,
and you shall never regret that you came
to him.
Having thus spoken on the two marks of
our Lord's character, I propose to conclude, if
God shall help me, by knocking home the
nail, by driving in the wedge, and pressing
upon you a conclusion from these arguments.
The conclusion of the whole matter is this.
Since Christ is meek and lowly in heart,
sinners come to him.
Come to him, then, first, whoever you may
be, for he is meek and lowly in
heart.
When a man has done anything wrong and
wants a help through his difficulty, if about
to employ some counsel to plead for him
in a court of law, he might say,
O, don't engage Mr. So-and-so for
me.
I hear he is a very hard-hearted
man.
I should not like to tell him what
I have done and entrust my case in
his hands.
Send for Mr. So-and-so.
I have heard that he is very kind
and gentle.
Let him come and hear my case, and
let him conduct the pleadings for me.
Sinner, you are sinful, but Christ is very
tender-hearted.
Speed thy way to Christ's private chamber, your
own closet of prayer.
Tell him all you have done.
He will not upbraid you.
Confess all your sins.
He will not chide you.
Tell him all your follies.
He will not be angry with you.
Commit your case to him, and with a
sweet smile he will say, I have cast
thy sins behind my back.
Thou hast come to reason with me.
I will discover to thee a matter of
faith which excels all reason.
Though thy sins be as scarlet, they shall
be as wool.
Though they be red like crimson, they shall
be whiter than snow.
Come to Christ, then, sinful ones, because he
is meek and lowly in heart, and he
can bear with the narrative of your offenses.
But, sir, I am very timid, and I
dare not go.
Ah, but however timid you may be, you
need not be afraid of him.
He knows your timidity, and he will meet
you with a smile and say, Fear not.
Be of good cheer.
Tell me thy sin.
Put thy trust in me, and thou shalt
even yet rejoice to know my power to
save.
Come now, saith he.
Come to me at once.
Linger no longer.
I do not strive nor cry, nor cause
my voice to be heard in the streets.
A bruised reed I will not break.
The smoking flax I will not quench.
But I will bring forth judgment unto victory.
Come then, ye timid ones, to Christ, for
he is meek and lowly in heart.
Oh, says one, but I am despairing.
I have been so long under a sense
of sin.
I cannot go to Christ.
Poor soul!
He is so meek and lowly that despairing
though thou mayest be, take courage now.
That would be like a forlorn hope to
thee.
Yet go to him.
Say in the words of the hymn, I'll
to the gracious King approach whose scepter pardon
gives.
Perhaps he may command my touch, and then
the suppliant lives.
I can but perish if I go.
I am resolved to try, for if I
stay away, I know I must forever die.
And you may add this comfortable reflection.
But if I die with mercy sought when
I the King have tried, this were to
die, delightful thought, as sinner never died.
Come to him then, timid and despairing, for
he is meek and lowly in heart.
First he bids thee confess.
What a sweet confessor!
Put thy lip to his ear and tell
him all.
He is meek and lowly in heart.
Fear not!
None of thy sins can move him to
anger if thou dost but confess them.
If thou keepest them in thy heart, they
shall be like a slumbering volcano and a
furnace of destruction thou shall find even to
the uttermost by and by.
But confess thy sins.
Tell them all.
He is meek and lowly in heart.
Happy confession when we have such a confessor.
Again he bids thee trust him.
And canst thou not trust him?
He is meek and lowly in heart.
Sinner, put thy confidence in Christ.
There never was such a tender heart as
his, never such a compassionate face.
Look him in the face, poor soul.
As thou seest him dying on the tree.
And say, is not that a face that
any man might trust?
Look at him.
Canst thou doubt him?
Wilt thou withhold thy cause from such a
redeemer as this?
No, Jesus, thou art so generous, so kind,
so good.
Take thou my cause in hand.
Just as I am, I come to thee.
Save me, I beseech thee.
For I put my trust in thee.
And then Jesus not only bids you confess
and believe, but he bids you afterwards serve
him.
And sure, sinners, this should be a reason
why you should do it, that he is
so meek and lowly in heart.
It is said, good masters make good servants.
What good servants you and I ought to
be, for what a good master we have.
Never an ill word doth he say to
us.
If sometimes he pointeth out anything we have
done amiss, it is only for our good.
Not for his profit doth he chasten, but
for ours.
Sinner, I ask thee not to serve the
God of this world, that foul fiend, who
shall destroy thee after all thy service.
The devil is thy master now, and he
hath heard the wages he bestows.
But come and serve Christ, the meek and
lowly one, who will give thee good cheer
while thou art serving him, and give thee
a blessed reward when the work is done.
And now, best of all sinners, come to
Christ.
Come to him in all his offices, for
he is meek and lowly in heart.
Sinner, thou art sick.
Christ is the physician.
If men have a broken bone, and they
are about to have a surgeon fetched, they
say, Oh, is he a feeling, tender-hearted
man?
For there is many an army surgeon that
takes off a leg and never thinks of
the pain he is giving.
Is he a kind man, says the poor
sufferer, when he is about to be strapped
down upon the table?
Ah, poor sufferer!
Christ will heal thy broken bones, and he
will do it with downy fingers.
Never was there so light a touch as
this heavenly surgeon has.
Oh, what balm is that that he gives
to the poor bleeding heart!
Fear not!
There was never such a physician as this.
If he give thee now and then a
bitter pill and a sour draught, yet he
will give thee such honeyed words and such
sweet promises therewith that thou shalt swallow it
all up without murmuring.
Nay, if he be with thee, thou canst
even swallow up death in victory, and never
know that thou hast died, because victory hath
taken the bitter taste away.
Sitter, thou art not only sick and therefore
bidden to come to him, but thou art
moreover in debt, and he offers now to
pay thy debts and to discharge them in
full.
Come, come to him, for he is not
harsh.
Some men, when they do mean to let
a debtor off, first have him in their
office and give him as much as they
can of the most severe rebukes.
You rogue, you!
How dare you get in my debt when
you knew you could not pay?
You have brought a great deal of troubles
on yourself, you have ruined your family, and
so forth.
And the good man gives him some very
sound admonition, and very right too.
Till at length, he says, I'll let you
off this time.
Come now, I forgive you, and I hope
you will never do so again.
But Christ is even better than this.
There is all your debt, he says.
I have nailed it to the cross.
Sitter, I forgive thee all.
And not one accusing word comes from his
lips.
Come then to him.
I fear I have spoiled my master in
the painting.
Something like the artist who had to depict
some fair damsel.
And he so misrepresented her features that she
lost her reputation for beauty.
I have sometimes feared lest I should do
the same.
And so distort the face of Christ, and
so fail of giving the true likeness of
his character that you would not love him.
Oh, could you see him!
If he could stand here for one moment
and tell you that he was meek and
lowly in heart.
Oh, methinks, you would run to him and
say, Jesus, we come, thou meek and lowly
Messiah, be thou our all.
Nay, you would not come.
I am mistaken.
If sovereign grace draw you not under the
sound of the gospel, neither would you be
converted, though Christ should appear before you.
But hear now the message of that gospel.
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you
shall be saved.
For he that believeth on him, and is
baptized, shall be saved.
He that believeth not, must be damned.
This message, The Meek and Lowly One, was
preached by Charles Haddon Spurgeon on July 31st,
1859.
This is Charles Kelsch inviting you to join
me again for another message from the Prince
of Preachers.