delights to honour him, he delights to give of his substance to him. And there may be others of you here present whose characters have been pictured in this one which I have portrayed before you; who are saying, “Surely he means me.” Oh, will you not then, at the remembrance of what God did in that double mercy, say, “I love him. What can I do for him? There is nothing too great for me to give; nothing too great for me to do. Only let me know my duty, and the remembrance of his marvellous bounty shall lead me to give of my substance to him; to give my whole heart to him. I will be entirely his, and hope that in death he will receive me to himself.” Men and women, my brothers and sisters in Christ, — will you look back a few short years, and remember the time when you were on your knees before God, seeking him? I could fix my eye today upon many a man who has been a drunkard, a swearer, a breaker of God’s holy day, a hater of everything good. I think I see you in that upper room of yours. Oh, how you cried, how you groaned! Oh, with what agony did you pour out your unutterable sighs! You rose up, and you thought God would not have mercy on you. You went to your business; but how wretched you were! You went back again to your room. And how the beam out of the wall could speak now, and tell you how you cried and cried, and cried again before his mercy seat. Do you love him just a little today? has your love grown cold? Go home and look again upon the chair on which you kneeled. Look at the very walls, and see if they do not accuse you, saying, “I heard you pray to God for mercy, and he has heard you. Now I see your cold heartedness; I note your lukewarmness in his cause.” Go home to your room, fall on your knees, and with tears of gratitude say —
Oh you, my soul, bless God the Lord;
And all that in me is
Be stirred up, his holy name
To magnify and bless!
15. Some of us can remember other special times of prayer. Members of my church, I remind you of that solemn season, when, like a hurricane of desolation, the judgment of God swept through our midst. { a} Standing in this pulpit this very morning, I recall to myself that evening of sorrow, when I saw my people scattered like sheep, without a shepherd, trodden upon, injured, and many of them killed. Do you remember how you cried for your minister, that he might be restored to a reason that was then tottering? Can you remember how you prayed that out of evil God would bring forth good, that all the curses of the wicked might be rolled back upon themselves, and God would yet fill this place with his glory? And do you remember how long ago that is, and how God has been with us ever since, and how many of those who were injured that night, are now members of our church, and are praising God that they ever entered this house? Oh! shall we not love the Lord? There is not a church in London, that has had such answers to prayer as we have; there has not been a church that has had such cause to pray. We have had special work, special trial, special deliverance, and we ought preeminently to be a church, loving God, and spending and being spent in his service. Remember again the varied times of your sickness, when you have been sick, sore, and near to death. Let me picture, my own experience that I may remind you of yours. {b} I remember when I came to this pulpit in agony, and preached to you a sermon which seemed to cost me my life’s blood at every word I uttered. I was taken home to my bed full of grief and agony; I remember those weary nights, those doleful days, that burning brow, those roaming thoughts, those spectres that haunted my dreams, that sleep without sleep, that rest that knew no rest, that torture, and that pain. Then I sought God, and cried that he would spare me to stand in this pulpit once again. Oh! I thought then, in my poor foolish way, that I would preach as I never had preached before, as “a dying man to dying men.” I hoped my ministry was not over; I trusted I might have another opportunity of freeing myself from the blood of hearers, if any of that blood was on my skirts. Here I stand, and I have to chide myself that I do not love him as I ought to: yet nevertheless, in the remembrance of his great mercy, saving my soul from death, and my eyes from tears, I must love him, and I must praise him; and I must in reminding each of you of similar deliverances, beseech and entreat you to bless the Lord with me. Oh let us magnify his name together. We must do something fresh, something greater, something larger than we have done before.
16. Having thus delivered these thoughts, I shall want you now for about three minutes to listen to me while I teach you three lessons which ought to spring from this sevenfold retrospect. What shall I say then? God has heard my voice in my prayer. The first lesson, then, is this — he shall hear my voice in my praise. If he heard me pray, he shall hear me sing; if he listened to me when the tear was in my eye, he shall listen to me when my eye is sparkling with delight. My piety shall not be that of the dungeon and sick bed; it shall be that also of deliverance and of health.
I’ll praise my Maker with my breath;
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne’er be past,
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures.
17. Another lesson. Has God heard my voice? Then I will hear his voice. If he heard me I will hear him. Tell me, Lord, what would you have your servant do, and I will do it; what would you have me believe, and I will believe it. If there is a labour which I have never attempted before, tell me to do it, and I will say, “Here am I; Lord, send me.” Is there an ordinance which I have left undone? Do you say, “Do this in remembrance of me”; is it your command? However non-essential it seems to be, I will do it, because you have told me to do it. If you have heard my feeble voice, I will hear yours, even though it is only a still small voice. Oh that you would learn that lesson!
18. The last lesson is, Lord, have you heard my voice? then I will tell others that you will hear their voice too. Did you save me? Oh Lord, if you saved me then you can save anyone. Did you hear my prayer?
Then will I tell to sinners round,
What a dear Saviour I have found;
and I will bid them to pray too. Oh you who never pray, I beseech you begin from this hour. May God the Spirit lead you to your rooms, to cry to him! Remember, if you ask through Jesus, you cannot ask in vain. I can prove that in a thousand instances God has heard my supplication. There was nothing more in me than there is in you. Go and plead the promise; plead the blood, and ask for the help of God’s Spirit; and there is not one in this assembly who shall not receive the blessing, if God shall lead him to pray. Young man, young woman, go home; plead with God for yourself first; you who love him, plead for others. Let every one of us practise the second verse of this Psalm, “Because he has inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call upon him as long as I live.”
{a} On Sunday morning, October 19, 1856, Spurgeon was to preach for the first time at Surrey Gardens Music Hall. The building had seating for over ten thousand people and was one of the largest auditoriums in England at that time. The young preacher arrived early at the Hall and was amazed to see the streets and garden area thronged with people. When the doors were opened, the people entered quickly and soon the place was full. Wisely, Spurgeon started the service earlier than the time announced. He led in prayer and then announced a hymn, which the large congregation sang reverently. He then read scripture and commented on it, and this was followed by a pastoral prayer. As he was praying, voices began to shout “Fire! Fire! The galleries are giving way! The place is falling!” Spurgeon stopped praying and did his best to calm the people, but the damage had been done. In the stampede that followed, seven people were killed and twenty-eight injured. Spurgeon tried to preach, hoping that that would arrest the crowd, but the tumult and the shouting were even too much for the prince of preachers. He then asked the people to sing a hymn as they exited in an orderly manner, and he himself left in a state of shock. He spent the next week in a broken condition, wondering if he would ever preach again.
{b}
