Seldom does a day pass, and certainly never a week, without letters from all sorts of places, even at the utmost ends of the earth, bringing the glad tidings of the salvation of souls, by means of one or other of the printed sermons.—C. H. S.
ONLY a very small proportion of the blessed results arising from the publication of Mr. Spurgeon’s sermons, can be given in this chapter. Records of so many have been preserved, that, to chronicle all, would go far towards filling a volume the size of the present one.
An early and interesting instance is mentioned in the church-book for the year in which the Metropolitan Tabernacle was opened. Under the date, November 20, 1861, is this entry:
A very cheering communication was read from our Brother Wilson, giving some extracts from a letter he had received from his father in Auckland, New Zealand. The following is a brief summary of its contents. Our Pastor’s sermons are regularly read by Mr. Wilson and some Christian friends, and God has been pleased to own this instrumentality in the conversion of eleven persons,—four natives and seven Europeans,—the sermon entitled, “None but Jesus,” being particularly useful. Five thousand copies of that discourse have been distributed amongst the natives in their own language. An effort is being made to build a Baptist Chapel in the town. The prayers of the church are earnestly requested on behalf of our friends in New Zealand.
How little could the dear Pastor at that time have anticipated that one of his own sons—then just seven years old,—would preach the Word in Auckland, be the means of building a large Tabernacle there, and afterwards be chosen as his father’s successor at the Tabernacle! Yet, in that very building, less than a month after the church-meeting at which the letter from New Zealand was read, Mr. Spurgeon, preaching on “The True Apostolical Succession,” said:— “How many there are, in our midst, who have been raised up by God to fill similar positions in the church to those which their forefathers occupied! I hope there will always be a family succession in the eldership and in the deaconship; and what if I were egotistical enough to say so, in the ministry, too? I would to God there might be, in every single position in this church, as soon as one dies, another allied to and descended from the departed to take his place!”
View of the Auckland Tabernacle, New Zealand, erected during the ministry of Pastor Thomas Spurgeon.
Mr. Spurgeon never ceased to remember, with deep gratitude, the great service rendered to the cause of Christ by a generous gentleman at the Antipodes who, for years, paid for the insertion of the sermons, as advertisements, in The Australasian and other colonial newspapers. The following letter will show the spirit in which this noble enterprise was undertaken, and the blessing that rested upon it; but the writer’s name and address are omitted in accordance with his own wish:
Dear Mr. Spurgeon,
Having been brought, through grace, to feel somewhat of the power and love of Jesus, and the blessings of the glorious gospel, and knowing the wants of the great mass of our widely-scattered population, and seeing that your sermons so fully set forth the way of salvation, I was induced to publish them in the newspapers here. The Australasian being a sporting paper, the manager seemed indisposed to help in carrying out my idea, so he gave orders that I was to be charged the full price, as advertisements, for the sermons; but, feeling the importance of the step, I resolved to pay what he demanded until his readers were interested in them, and then I thought better terms might be obtained. After the publication had continued for some six or nine months, I waited on the manager, who did not even then appear willing to grant me the reduction I wanted; and not being able to convince him of the appreciation his readers had for the sermons, I suggested that we should ask for an expression of their opinion with regard to them. The result was, that about four hundred letters were received; and I send the enclosed specimens of them for your good cheer. I should be sorry that any name should be made public, and I have withheld my own from the papers here, fearing that the enemy might say that I am seeking the approbation of men. The reason of my sending these letters to you is, that Mr. —— called on me, and I showed them to him, and he said that I ought to let you see them.
I have sent a few of the papers containing the sermons to Mr. Samuel Morley, Mr. Peabody, Earl Shaftesbury, and others, in the hope that they might be induced to do likewise, as a newspaper often falls into the hands of men and women who would not take a tract. May I ask you for any suggestion that will help to further the cause and advance the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ?
In conclusion, I would beg your prayers for myself. I am seeking to grow in grace, and in knowledge of the love of God. Also please pray that this work of publishing the sermons here may abundantly prosper. Wishing you every success and happiness in your noble work,
Yours truly.
The four hundred replies, mentioned in the letter, came from all parts of Australia and New Zealand. Many of them were from far-off dwellers in the bush, who looked for the weekly sermons as regularly as for their daily meals. In some cases, lonely believers were encouraged and helped by the preacher’s message; and, in other instances, little companies gathered together while one of their number read to them the discourse which had been delivered so many thousands of miles away, but which, when repeated to them, was as fresh and fragrant as ever. Quite a large number of the letters contained the glad tidings that the unusual advertisements in the papers had been blessed to the salvation of souls; among these were some striking trophies of the grace of God, of which just two specimens may be included here. One man, who wrote from an outlying district in Victoria, said:
Having seen an advertisement lately, at the head of one of the sermons published weekly in The Australasian , asking for an expression of opinion as to their usefulness, I venture respectfully to offer the following plain and brief statement in reply.
I have been, for some five years or more, one of those unfortunates who are commonly called “swagmen.” Travelling about, a few months since, looking for employment, I came to a public-house, by the roadside, into which I went for a drink, and an hour’s rest, as I was very tired. A newspaper was lying on the counter, containing Mr. Spurgeon’s sermon on the text, “Turn, O backsliding children, saith the Lord; for I am married unto you.” I read it through, with increasing interest as I went along; and it exactly met my case. It aroused me to a sense of my utterly lost condition as a sinner of the deepest dye, and, at the same time, so encouraged me to seek for mercy and peace at the foot of the cross that I could not resist doing so; and I humbly hope and believe that I did not seek in vain.
I left that public-house resolved never to enter one again unless absolutely compelled by circumstances to do so. Since then, I have enjoyed a peace to which I had been long a stranger. I now make God’s Word my daily study, and attend Divine service whenever I can. Although nominally a Church of England man, previous to reading the sermon alluded to, I had only been once to church since my arrival in the Colony, now nearly seven years ago.
To my personal knowledge, these sermons are extensively read in the country districts; and, for my own part, I look to the arrival of the weekly paper—which my employer always lends me,—as the messenger of joy and comfort to myself; and I pray that it may prove to be the same to hundreds of others also. I would just, in conclusion, ask you to offer the expression of my humble and heartfelt thanks to the friend who pays for the advertisements of Mr. Spurgeon’s sermons.
I am, sir,
Your obedient servant
Another correspondent, in a different part of Victoria, wrote:
Reading, in The Australasian , a request that parties approving of Mr. Spurgeon’s sermons would communicate with you, I place the following facts before your notice. I have been in the Colony about sixteen years; and, during that period, have been into a place of worship about three times, and then more from accident than design. During my abode in this Colony, I am sorry to say that I have contracted the horrible habit of drunkenness, occasionally getting what some people call “on the spree” for a fortnight or three weeks at a stretch. The summer before last, I had “the horrors” twice; and last summer, I had delirium tremens just coming on. Unable to either sit, stand, lie down, or walk about, I casually picked up The Australasian , and what should catch my eye but Mr. Spurgeon’s sermon on “The Approachableness of Jesus.” I commenced reading it; and before I had gone far, tears came into my eyes; and I had not got through it before I had to hold my hand before my face for very shame. By the time I had read it all, I found myself looking to Christ to be relieved from my hideous burden of sin; and, to my astonishment, the delirium tremens vanished like a heavy dew on a summer’s morning. I was weak in consequence of the long drinking-bout, but felt quite happy in my mind; and, since, am glad to say that I never enjoyed such peace of mind in my life before.
Yours respectfully,
A subscriber to The Australasian .
It is interesting to note that, many years afterwards, when Pastor Thomas Spurgeon was in Geelong, the writer of the above letter went to see him, and produced from his pocket the torn and discoloured copy of the newspaper containing the sermon which was used by the Holy Spirit as the means of his conversion.
In one case, a portion of one of the Australian papers was blessed to the salvation of a reader under the singular circumstances thus related:
“I was preaching,” says the writer of the narrative, “in the Baptist Chapel, Aberdeen Street, Geelong, a few years ago, when, at the close of an evening service, an elderly man came to the platform to bid me ‘good-night.’ As he was a stranger, I asked him where he came from, and how long he had known the Lord; he then told me the story of his conversion, and the strange way by which he was led to the Saviour. About five years before, while keeping sheep some miles beyond Ballarat, he picked up a sheet of a weekly newspaper, which the wind had blown over the plains. He glanced at a few sentences, and these drew him on to read more, and then he found he was eagerly perusing a sermon by Mr. C. H. Spurgeon. ‘If I had known it was a sermon,’ he said, ‘before I had begun to read it, I should have tossed it away;’ but having commenced the discourse, he wanted to see how it finished. It set him thinking; he carefully preserved it, reading it over and over again in deep concern, until finally it became the means of leading him to the cross. For many years he had not entered a place of worship, and he was utterly careless about his soul till this paper was blown to his feet. Now, when he has the opportunity, he always attends some Baptist service; but this is a rare pleasure, owing to his lonely life and employment in the bush. He does, however, get the weekly sermons, which cheer and comfort him with spiritual nourishment.”
A still more remarkable instance of blessing upon one of the sermons published in the papers was once reported to Mr. Spurgeon. A parcel, sent from Australia, to the wife of a publican in England, was wrapped up in a newspaper containing one of the discourses delivered in the Metropolitan Tabernacle. The woman read it, and so was led to trust in the Lord Jesus Christ as her Saviour. Surely, that was another proof of the truth of Cowper’s lines,—
God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform.
Copies of the Australian papers containing the sermons were regularly sent to a gentleman in Jersey who, at that time, did not know how to obtain the original English edition of them. Long afterwards, he wrote to Mr. Spurgeon:
I have been a reader of your sermons these seventeen years or more, and God has been graciously pleased to bless them to the salvation of my soul. I had almost begun to think my Saviour had forgotten me; I knew I had long ignored Him. I have lately found out the way to procure the sermons in any number, and have gladly availed myself of it. I think I have now nearly six hundred of them; I lend them out in books of fifty. I prize them above every other means of grace save the Book. As you so frequently want money for the good works in which you are always engaged, I thought you would not despise my trifle. I wish it were fifty times as much. Receive my sincere and heartfelt thanks for the unspeakable help your sermons have afforded, and still afford me.
A Wesleyan minister, in New South Wales, reported the following cases of conversion through the published sermons:
Dear Mr. Spurgeon,—At an evangelistic service, held here recently, a well-known saw-mill proprietor, who is an esteemed local preacher in this circuit, made a brief reference to his own history to this effect:—”For twenty-five years of my life, I lived in the darkness of sin. I had never been inside a Protestant place of worship. I had never, in all that time, met a Christian man. I knew nothing of the distinction between Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist, etc.; they were all alike despised in my eyes as being all in gross error. About that time, five of my companions were drowned together at Port Stevens. The occurrence made a deep impression upon my heart. The thought would force itself upon me, ‘What if you had been among the number?’ Would you not now have been weeping and wailing among the lost souls in hell?
“I was greatly troubled, and did what alone I could do,—prayed to God; but not knowing anything of the way of salvation through faith in Christ, and having no one to guide me, I lived for two years in the most awful agony. I would rather die than live those two years over again. I knew nothing of the great preachers of the day, until I happened to hear of Mr. Spurgeon; and a friend being about to visit Sydney, I asked him to get me a volume of Spurgeon’s sermons. I read them eagerly, and received much light and comfort from them. At length, I came to one bearing the title, ‘Seeking for Jesus’ (No. 947), and as I read, God spoke peace to my troubled heart. I felt that my sin was pardoned, and I could sing aloud for joy. It was about noon on a glorious Sabbath-day when the great change took place, and I well remember the spot on which it occurred. Since then, ten years ago now, I have been telling the story of the cross wherever I can.”
I was much impressed by the incident, and resolved to let you know about it, as I thought it would both afford matter for praise to God, and prove an encouragement to trust in, and labour for, Him, “knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”
P.S.—At our meeting, last night, an old gentleman stated that, twenty-one years ago, in this district, he was led to decision through reading a sermon of yours, entitled “Now” (No. 603). He is to-day a consistent Christian. To God be the praise and glory!
Mr. Spurgeon once related to his congregation at the Tabernacle a notable instance which illustrated both the power of the prayer of faith and the usefulness of one of his printed sermons:
At the close of one of our services, a poor woman, accompanied by two of her neighbours, came to my vestry in deep distress. Her husband had fled the country; and, in her sorrow, she had gone to the house of God, and something I said in the sermon made her think that I was personally familiar with her case. Of course, I had really known nothing about her; I had made use of a general illustration which just fitted her particular case. She told me her story, and a very sad one it was. I said, “There is nothing that we can do but kneel down, and cry to the Lord for the immediate conversion of your husband.” We knelt down, and I prayed that the Lord would touch the heart of the deserter, convert his soul, and bring him back to his home. When we rose from our knees, I said to the poor woman, “Do not fret about the matter. I feel sure your husband will come home; and that he will yet become connected with our church.”
She went away, and I forgot all about her. Some months afterwards, she re-appeared, with her neighbours, and a man, whom she introduced to me as her husband. He had indeed come back, and he had returned a converted man. On making enquiry, and comparing notes, we found that, the very day on which we had prayed for his conversion, he, being at that time on board a ship far away on the sea, stumbled most unexpectedly upon a stray copy of one of my sermons. He read it; the truth went to his heart; he repented, and sought the Lord; and, as soon as possible, he came back to his wife and to his daily calling. He was admitted as a member at the Tabernacle, and his wife, who up to that time had not joined the church, was also received into fellowship with us.
That woman does not doubt the power of prayer. All the infidels in the world could not shake her conviction that there is a God that heareth and answereth the supplications of His people. I should be the most irrational creature in the world if, with a life every day of which is full of experiences so remarkable, I entertained the slightest doubt on the subject. I do not regard it as miraculous; it is part and parcel of the established order of the universe that the shadow of a coming event should fall in advance upon some believing soul in the shape of prayer for its realization. The prayer of faith is a Divine decree commencing its operation.
Perhaps someone says, “That was merely a coincidence.” Well, that woman did not think so, nor did her husband, nor did I at the time; and I do not think so now. You may call it a coincidence, if you like; but I call it an answer to prayer; and as long as I get such coincidences, I shall be perfectly satisfied to go on praying. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I do not believe I should have had such coincidences if I had not asked for them; and as I get them daily, I shall stand to it, nor shall anything stop me from this glorying, that there is a God who heareth prayer; and I challenge all men to try for themselves whether it is not so. If they come humbly to Him, by Christ Jesus, and seek His face, they shall not seek in vain; and, by-and-by, if they continue to wait upon Him in prayer, He will gird them with power, so that they shall ask and receive both for themselves and for others.
In the same sermon in which he narrated the above incident, Mr. Spurgeon mentioned another case of conversion which had occurred only a few days before the delivery of the discourse:
About a fortnight ago, there stood in Cheapside a young man reading one of my sermons which had attracted his attention. As he was reading it, he came across this passage:—”If you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, you are saved now. But I want you to project your faith further, and to believe in Jesus Christ for the whole of your life; for if you do so, you shall not only be saved now, but you shall infallibly be saved for ever.” Then followed the text, “I give unto them eternal life,” and this comment upon it:—”Now, eternal life cannot come to an end. ‘He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life.’ Everlasting life cannot come to an end; it is a thing that lasts for ever. Believe for everlasting life, and you have it; you are saved for ever.” The young man said, “Standing there, I did believe just as I was told. I trusted Christ, and I believed then that in Him I had everlasting life. The next minute I felt, ‘Oh, what a glorious thing this is! How I love Christ who has done this great thing for me! What is there that I can do to serve Him? What sin is there that I would not give up?'” And was not that a sure proof of his being saved, because he saw the greatness of Divine love to him, and this made him grateful; and that gratitude turned him right round, and made a new man of him? This is how Christ can save you, also. Suppose you have been addicted to drunkenness, and that you are convinced of the evil of it. You go to Christ, and He forgives you; then you say, “Now I am forgiven, oh, how I love my Saviour! I will never go back to my cups again; I have done with my old companions; I will go and seek out other people who love Christ, and I will join with them if they will have me; and I will see what Christ expects me to do, and I will do it, for I want in everything to please Him who has done so much for me.” That is salvation,—a change of character,—a deliverance from that which held you in bondage, an entrance into the blessed liberty of loving God and longing to be holy. Oh, that we might each one of us know that blessedness!
The welcome news, in the case mentioned above, reached the dear Pastor very quickly; but, in some instances, many months or even years were allowed to elapse between the reception of the blessing through the printed page and the glad tidings concerning it being conveyed to the one who had delivered the message. Thus, the secretary of a Young Men’s Christian Association in the country once wrote to Mr. Spurgeon:
I met with a young man, a few days ago, whose case will interest you, as you have had much to do with guiding him to his present position. W. T—— was converted seven years ago. He was manager of a large brewery. As he was not happy, he commenced to read your sermons week by week. These made him more wretched, because they showed him that he had not made a full surrender to the Lord, and he felt that he could not continue in his business and serve the Saviour fully. The time came when he saw that one or the other must go, and he told his uncle, who is the principal partner in the firm, that he must leave, giving his reasons for so doing. His father and uncle tried to persuade him not to be so foolish as to throw away what they considered his only chance in life, but his answer was, “I must throw away this, or Christ: the one I cannot, the business I must.” His uncle then offered to give him as many shares in the firm as he liked to name; but still his answer was, “No, I must wash my hands of the trade;” and he left, not knowing where he would go, or what he would do; but confident that the Lord, who had given him grace to take this stand, would help him to realize his one desire to please his Lord and Master. The way was opened for him to enter the City Mission, where he has been working for the last eighteen months with much success. I asked if he had told you the benefit your sermons had been to him; and finding that he had not done so, suggested that he should write, knowing that you are encouraged by every fresh case of blessing.
An even longer period passed before Mr. Spurgeon had the following good news from a far country:
Five-and-twenty years ago, I heard from a Christian lady the following story:—”My brother and his Christian wife had three grown-up sons, all unconverted. After a while, they agreed to leave home, and try their fortunes in New Zealand. When they left, the parents conferred with one another as to what could be done for their souls’ salvation, now they had gone from their influence and prayers. They agreed to send your sermons out to them every month. They did so. God owned the effort, and all three of them were converted by reading them.”
Sometimes, a paragraph in a newspaper was used as the means of cheering the dear preacher, as in the case of a Baptist paper, published in the United States, which contained the following notice, headed—
“For Brother Spurgeon’s Eye.”
At our prayer-meeting, the other Sunday evening, a brother, to show the different ways there are of doing good, mentioned an incident that occurred on board a steamer in which, some time before, he was a passenger up the Pacific Coast to Oregon. It was Sunday; and a passenger, who had with him a volume of Spurgeon’s sermons, went round asking one and another to read one of them aloud. The passengers declined, till he came to our brother, who consented to act as reader. Quite a company gathered round him, which gradually increased, as he went on with the discourse, until, looking up, after a little time, he saw that, not only the passengers, but all the crew who could possibly be at liberty, were among his audience, and that all were very attentive.
The informal service was soon over. But not so the effect of the sermon; for, some months after, being in San Francisco, he was abruptly saluted in the street, one day, by a stranger—a sailor—who seemed overjoyed at meeting him. “How do you do?” said he. “Don’t you know me? Why, I heard you preach!” “I am not a preacher, my friend; so you must have made a mistake.” “Oh, no! I have not; I heard you preach. Don’t you remember the steamer that was going to Oregon?” “Oh, yes!” replied the gentleman; “I recollect, and I read one of Mr. Spurgeon’s sermons.” “Well,” said the sailor, “I never forgot that sermon; it made me feel that I was a sinner, and I have found Christ, and I am so glad to see you again.”
The publication of that paragraph led a friend in England to write to Mr. Spurgeon this story of the connection of the sermons with another company of those “that go down to the sea in ships”:
One of the most earnest and devoted of the Christian brotherhood at Dover had been “before the mast” in a small schooner, the master of which, a godly man, going for a cruise of some months, and being anxious about the spiritual welfare of his crew, resolved to take with him some Bibles, in order that none on board should be without, at least, the letter of the Word. He, however, from some cause or other (probably forgetfulness), sailed without the Bibles; but had to put back to harbour through stress of weather. Again he essayed to go to sea, but with a similar result. As he lay in port, weatherbound, it flashed across his mind that it might be the hand of the Lord which had detained his vessel; and, believing it to be so, he added to his freight some of the incorruptible seed of the Word, in the form of Bibles, for his crew; and with them some of your own sermons, one of which latter he read to the assembled ship’s company each Lord’s-day morning.
Our brother informed me that his spiritual birth was the fruit of one of these sermons read by the illiterate captain, who had adopted this simple method of echoing your exposition of God’s truth. The sermon read upon the momentous morning in question was from the text, “Against Thee, Thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in Thy sight.” The arrow, guided by the Holy Spirit, went home to the hearer’s heart, and David’s conviction and confession were repeated in the case of our brother, who gratefully recognizes the sovereign grace of the Lord in His repeated interference with man’s purpose, and the saving efficacy of God’s truth in the unpretending service on the schooner’s deck.
Mr. Spurgeon once made use of an instance of blessing upon his published sermons to enforce the stirring appeal which he addressed to his hearers in the Tabernacle. Preaching, on Lord’s-day morning, July 7, 1867, on “Jesus putting away sin,” he closed his discourse in this striking and solemn fashion:
I heard, the day before yesterday, something which greatly cheered me. It was that, at the late meeting of believers in Chicago, one came from the far West, who asked for a missionary to preach in a newly-formed district; and the reason he gave for wishing for the missionary was, that the people in that region had read my sermons on the Sabbath, and that no less than two hundred souls had been converted to God through reading them. When I heard that good news, I rejoiced exceedingly, but then I thought, “Alas! there are many who have those sermons first-hand, and yet get no blessing from them;” and I remembered some of you who have heard me these many years, and I have been faithful to you,—I trust I have,—God knows I desire to be,—and yet you are still “in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity.” While across the blue Atlantic, the echo of my words has called men from the grave of sin to life in Christ, you, though you love to listen to me, have not heard my voice in the depths of your soul. Shall it always be so? It will be, I fear, with some of you, for I foresee your ruin. You will go down to hell with the gospel sounding in your ears, and wake up in the pit with this sad truth to aggravate your woe, that you knew the gospel, and yet refused it. How shall you escape if you neglect so great salvation,—so great that angels cannot tell its greatness, and human tongues are dumb at best when they attempt to speak of the excellent glory of it? Why will you reject it when it is so close to your hand, when, if you with your hearts believe and with your mouths confess Christ, you shall be saved? Why those hard hearts? Why those silent mouths? May the Eternal Spirit bring you to Jesus this very hour, and His shall be the praise, world without end! Amen.
It was a happy day for the dear Pastor when a Ritualistic “priest” came to tell him of the blessing he had received through the printed sermons. Mr. Spurgeon thus narrated the story:
He told me that he owed everything to me, because I had been the means of leading him to Jesus. He said he was “only a humble vicar of the Church of England,” so I asked what his line of teaching had formerly been. “Very high,” he replied, “But,” I asked, “did you pretend to forgive people’s sins?” “Yes,” he answered. “Then,” I enquired, “how did you get rid of the idea that you were a priest?” “Well,” he said, “I sincerely believed myself to be a priest until I read one of your sermons. That convinced me of my own state as a sinner, and the priesthood oozed out of me directly. Now I am trusting the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation, and I point my congregation to Him alone.”
Scarcely less striking was the conversion concerning which the following testimony was given:
A woman in Scotland, who was determined, as far as possible, not to have anything to do with religion, threw her Bible, and all the tracts she could find in her house, into the fire. One of the tracts fell down out of the flames, so she picked it up, and thrust it in again. A second time it slipped down, and once more she put it back. Again the evil intention was frustrated, but the next time she was more successful, though even then only half of it was consumed. Taking up the portion that fell out of the fire, she exclaimed, “Surely the devil is in that tract, for it won’t burn.” Her curiosity was excited; she began to read it, and it was the means of her conversion. The “tract” was one of the sermons published in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit . Verily, that sermon, and the woman too, were “saved, yet so as by fire.”
A minister in Tennessee bore the following pleasing personal testimony:
“Nine years ago, I was a wild young man; but I was converted through reading one of Mr. Spurgeon’s sermons, and I am now the Pastor of a large and influential church. The Lord’s name be magnified!’
The following letter from California was specially welcome, for it recorded the somewhat unusual circumstance that a former slanderer had become converted through reading the sermons of the preacher whom he had aforetime reviled:
I consider it but justice to yourself, and my duty as one who is striving to follow the example set by our Lord and Master, to seek your pardon for the manner in which I have spoken and thought of you in former years. Too much prejudiced to hear and see for myself, although the opportunity lay daily within my reach, I accepted and repeated all I heard to your reproach, not remembering the injunction of the Holy Scriptures, to “prove all things.” And you have had a noble revenge, for it was your words, as read by me in your published sermons, that have shown me to myself as I really was, and have been the means, through the grace of God, of awakening a desire within me to seek to lead a pure and holy life; and not only this, but they have likewise awakened a great desire in me to be the means, God willing, of bringing others to see the danger of their sinful state, and to lead them also to the Saviour.
A grateful convert wrote from Quebec to the dear Pastor:
My Dear Sir,
Since reading a sermon, delivered by you a long time ago, on the text, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,” (No. 293,) and in which you set forth the great sin of unbelief, I have felt a strong desire to write to strengthen your hands by letting you know that your labour is not in vain, as I, for one, can testify to the great good derived from that and other sermons of yours. My father, before we left Scotland, seven years ago, always got your sermons, as well as your Sword and Trowel, and having derived great benefit from them, he carefully put them away. About a year ago, my brother sent me a few of those old sermons, which I read, and—glory be to God!—He opened my eyes while I was reading the sermon I have mentioned, and I found peace in believing.
For a long time, the sermons, or portions of them, have been, by special arrangement, allowed to appear in The Christian Herald . Among the instances of blessing on their publication in that form, a friend in Glasgow, who signed himself, “Your loving son in Jesus,” wrote thus to Mr. Spurgeon:
About two years ago, a sermon of yours, entitled, “The Search Warrant,” appeared in The Christian Herald . I had been anxious long before; but the Wednesday evening that this sermon came, I went away into the country to read it. Oh, I was in earnest that night! When I was sure I was alone, I stood and cried to God in prayer, and I was led to ask just one thing,—namely, that Spurgeon’s sermon might be the means of saving my soul that night. I opened the paper, and read it with great attention. The Spirit was with me; and when I got half-way through, brought home to me the words, “the very simplicity of faith makes the difficulty.” I had always been searching for some dark, mysterious, hidden thing. Back I went to the beginning, with a firm resolve to read it simply. Then I saw how one thing after another was cast down, and faith itself was made a standing-ground on which to place the only thing that I could see left in the whole sermon,—the beautiful, glorious, “altogether lovely” form of our wounded Emmanuel. Christ was everywhere, and even myself had vanished, for I was a new creature. Thank God for a Spurgeon to preach “The Search Warrant”!
Greatly as the sermons have been used in leading sinners to the Saviour, they have been almost equally blessed in reclaiming backsliders, and in comforting and cheering those who have been in mental or spiritual distress. From Victoria, a lady wrote to Mr. Spurgeon the following grateful letter:
My Dear Sir,
I have often felt inclined to write to you. Twelve years ago, I lost a darling boy; everything seemed dark, and nothing brought me any comfort. The Word of God, which had been my stay through many previous trials, was all darkness to me. A friend brought me one of your sermons, and asked me to allow her to read it. At first, I refused; but, at last, I consented. I forget the title, but it was to the effect that everything is ordered by God, and that there is no such thing as chance. I felt, all the time my friend was reading, almost afraid even to breathe; I could only say, “Go on, go on.” When she had finished it, I leapt from my couch, and said, “All is right; thank God, my dark mind is all light again!” I have had similar sorrows since, and many other trials; but I could, from my heart, say to the Lord, “Thy will be done; it is all right.” At that time, my husband ordered your sermons monthly, and we still continue to have them. Every Sunday evening, we read one of them aloud, for all to hear, and afterwards I send them into the bush.
My dear sir, go on and preach what you feel; it has often been a great comfort to us that you seemed to feel just as we felt.
This letter may be appropriately followed by a touching epistle which came to Mr. Spurgeon from Florida:
My Dear Brother in Christ,
Once upon a time, a wealthy man, who owned many gardens, sent one of his gardeners to water the plants. The gardener went and adjusted the hose, turned the tap, and watered them far and near. Many of them were near him; but, away in a corner of the garden farthest from the gardener, was a frail flower that had long been pining for the refreshing showers. The gardener, not knowing its need, nevertheless turned the hose in that direction, and the drooping plant revived, and bloomed afresh, to delight all who happened to come near it; and it loved the master, and the instrument, though the latter was unknown.
Several weeks ago, I lay ill, far away from England, in the wilds of Florida. Weak and faint-hearted, I lay pondering on the strange providence of the Master, when one of your sermons was placed in my hands. The refreshing shower revived me, and gave me fresh hope and courage; and I rose from my sick couch to strive still more earnestly to gain access to the hearts of those by whom I am surrounded; and, to-day, in a small class that I have formed out here in the wilderness, the Lord made His presence felt, and blessed us with an awakening that I have never seen here before, and tears of repentance were shed by many. I was so full of joy and gratitude to God that I longed to let you know that your influence, as an instrument, had reached even this far-away spot.
It was but fitting that, as Mr. Spurgeon’s sermons had been the means of blessing to so many readers, he should, himself, receive a special message through one of his own discourses. He thus describes how the “waiter” became, on at least one occasion, “a guest at the gospel feast”:
I once learnt something in a way one does not often get a lesson. I felt at that time very weary, and very sad, and very heavy at heart; and I began to doubt in my own mind whether I really enjoyed the things which I preached to others. It seemed to be a dreadful thing for me to be only a waiter, and not a guest, at the gospel feast. I went to a certain country town, and on the Sabbath day entered a Methodist Chapel. The man who conducted the service was an engineer; he read the Scriptures, and prayed, and preached. The tears flowed freely from my eyes; I was moved to the deepest emotion by every sentence of the sermon, and I felt all my difficulty removed, for the gospel, I saw, was very dear to me, and had a wonderful effect upon my own heart. I went to the preacher, and said, “I thank you very much for that sermon.” He asked me who I was, and when I told him, he looked as red as possible, and he said, “Why, it was one of your sermons that I preached this morning!” “Yes,” I said, “I know it was; but that was the very message that I wanted to hear, because I then saw that I did enjoy the very Word I myself preached.” It was happily so arranged in the good providence of God. Had it been his own sermon, it would not have answered the purpose nearly so well as when it turned out to be one of mine.