Robinson Crusoe's Text

This message, intended for reading 120 years ago this week, brought to a close the year of 1885. As Spurgeon is apt to do, he presents the timeless truth of God's Word and shows us his heart for the gospel.

A Sermon
(No. 1876)
Intended for reading on Lord's-Day, December 27th, 1885,
Delivered by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington,
On August 30th, 1885

"Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee,
and thou shalt glorify me."
Psalm 50:15.

ONE book charmed us all in the days of our youth. Is there a boy alive who has not read it? "Robinson Crusoe" was a wealth of wonders to me: I could have read it over a score times, and never have wearied. I am not ashamed to confess that I can read it even now with ever fresh delight. Robinson and his man Friday, though mere inventions of fiction, are wonderfully real to the most of us. But why am I running on in this way on a Sabbath evening? Is not this talk altogether out of order? I hope not. A passage in that book comes vividly before my recollection to-night as I read my text; and in it I find something more than an excuse. Robinson Crusoe has been wrecked. He is left in the desert island all alone. His case is a very pitiable one. He goes to his bed, and he is smitten with fever. This fever lasts upon him long, and he has no one to wait upon him—none even to bring him a drink of cold water. He is ready to perish. He had been accustomed to sin, and had all the vices of a sailor; but his hard case brought him to think. He opens a Bible which he finds in his chest, and he lights upon this passage, "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." That night he prayed for the first time in his life, and ever after there was in him a hope in God, which marked the birth of the heavenly life.

De Foe, who composed the story, was, as you know, a Presbyterian minister; and though not overdone with spirituality, he knew enough of religion to be able to describe very vividly the experience of a man who is in despair, and who finds peace by casting himself upon his God. As a novelist, he had a keen eye for the probable, and he could think of no passage more likely to impress a poor broken spirit than this. Instinctively he perceived the mine of comfort which lies within these words.

Now I have everybody's attention, and this is one reason why I thus commenced my discourse. But I have a further purpose; for although Robinson Crusoe is not here, nor his man Friday either, yet there may be somebody here very like him, a person who has suffered shipwreck in life, and who has now become a drifting, solitary creature. He remembers better days, but by his sins he has become a castaway, whom no man seeks after. He is here to-night, washed up on shore without a friend, suffering in body, broken in estate, and crushed in spirit. In the midst of a city full of people, he has not a friend, nor one who would wish to own that he has ever known him. He has come to the bare bone of existence now. Nothing lies before him but poverty, misery, and death.

Thus saith the Lord unto thee, my friend, this night, "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." You have come here half hoping that there might be a word from God to your soul; "half-hoping," I said; for you are as much under the influence of dread as of hope. You are filled with despair. To you it seems that God has forgotten to be gracious, and that he has in anger shut up the bowels of his compassion. The lying fiend has persuaded thee that there is no hope, on purpose that he may bind thee with the fetters of despair, and hold thee as a captive to work in the mill of ungodliness as thou livest. Thou writest bitter things against thyself, but they are as false as they are bitter. The Lord's mercies fail not. His mercy endureth for ever; and thus in mercy does he speak to thee, poor troubled spirit, even to thee—"Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me."

I have the feeling upon me that I shall at this time speak home, God helping me, to some poor burdened spirit. In such a congregation as this, it is not everybody that can receive a blessing by the word that is spoken, but certain minds are prepared for it of the Lord. He prepares the seed to be sown, and the ground to receive it. He gives a sense of need, and this is the best preparation for the promise. Of what use is comfort to those who are not in distress? The word tonight will be of no avail, and have but little interest in it, to those who have no distress of heart. But, however badly I may speak, those hearts will dance for joy which need the cheering assurance of a gracious God, and are enabled to receive it as it shines forth in this golden text. "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee and thou shalt glorify me." It is a text which I would have written in stars across the sky, or sounded forth with trumpet at noon from the top of every tower, or printed on every sheet of paper which passes through the post. It should be known and read of all mankind.

Four things suggest themselves to me. May the Holy Ghost bless what I am able to say upon them!

I. The first observation is not so much in my text alone as in this text and the context. REALISM IS PREFERRED TO RITUALISM.

If you will carefully read the rest of the Psalm you will see that the Lord is speaking of the rites and ceremonies of Israel, and he is showing that he has little care about formalities of worship when the heart is absent from them. I think we must read the whole passage: "I will not reprove thee for thy sacrifices or thy burnt offerings, to have been continually before me. I will take no bullock out of thy house, nor he goats out of thy folds. For every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle upon a thousand hills. I know all the fowls of the mountains: and the wild beasts of the field are mine. If I were hungry, I would not tell thee: for the world is mine, and the fullness thereof. Will I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats? Offer unto God thanksgiving; and pay thy vows unto the Most High: and call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." Thus praise and prayer are accepted in preference to every form of offering which it was possible for the Jew to present before the Lord. Why is this?

First of all I would answer, real prayer is far better than mere ritual, because there is meaning in it, and when grace is absent, there is no meaning in ritual; it is as senseless as an idiot's game.

Did you ever stand in some Romish cathedral and see the daily service, especially if it happened to be upon a high day? What with the boys in white, and the men in violet, or pink, or red, or black, there were performers enough to stock a decent village. What with those who carried candlesticks, and those who carried crosses, and those who carried pots and pans, and cushions and books, and those who rang bells, and those who made a smoke, and those who sprinkled water, and those who bobbed their heads, and those who bowed their knees, the whole concern was very wonderful to look at, very amazing, very amusing, very childish. One wonders, when he sees it, whatever it is all about, and what kind of people those must be who are really made better by it. One marvels also what an idea pious Romanists must have of God if they imagine that he is pleased with such performances. Do you not wonder how the good Lord endures it? What must his glorious mind think of it all?

Albeit that the incense is sweet, and the flowers are pretty, and the ornaments are fine, and everything is according to ancient rubric; what is there in it? To what purpose that procession? To what end that decorated priest?—that gorgeous altar? Do these things mean anything? Are they not a senseless show?

The glorious God cares nothing for pomp and show; but when you call upon him in the day of trouble, and ask him to deliver you, there is meaning in your groan of anguish. This is no empty form; there is heart in it, is there not? There is meaning in the appeal of sorrow, and therefore God prefers the prayer of a broken heart to the finest service that ever was performed by priests and choirs. There is meaning in the soul's bitter cry, and there is no meaning in the pompous ceremony. In the poor man's prayer there are mind, heart, and soul; and hence it is real unto the Lord. Here is a living soul seeking contact with the living God in reality and in truth Here is a breaking heart crying out to the compassionate Spirit. Ah! you may bid the organ peal forth its sweetest and its loudest notes, but what is the meaning of mere wind passing through pipes? A child cries, and there is meaning in that. A man standing up in yonder corner groans out, "O God, my heart will break!" There is more force in his moan than in a thousand of the biggest trumpets, drums, cymbals, tambourines, or any other instruments of music wherewith men seek to please God nowadays. What madness to think that God cares for musical sounds, or ordered marchings, or variegated garments! In a tear, or a sob, or a cry, there is meaning, but in mere sound there is no sense, and God cares not for the meaningless. He cares for that which hath thought and feeling in it.

Why does God prefer realism to Ritualism? It is for this reason also that there is something spiritual in the cry of a troubled heart; and "God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." Suppose I were to repeat to-night the finest creed for accuracy that was ever composed by learned and orthodox men; yet, if I had no faith in it, and you had none, what were the use of the repetition of the words? There is nothing spiritual in mere orthodox statement if we have no real belief therein: we might as well repeat the alphabet, and call it devotion. And if we were to burst forth to-night in the grandest hallelujah that ever pealed from mortal lips, and we did not mean it, there would be nothing spiritual in it, and it would be nothing to God. But when a poor soul gets away into its chamber, and bows its knee and cries, "God, be merciful to me! God save me! God help me in this day of trouble!" there is spiritual life in such a cry and therefore God approves it and answers it! Spiritual worship is that what he wants, and he will have it, or he will have nothing. "They that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth." He has abolished the ceremonial law, destroyed the one altar at Jerusalem, burned the Temple, abolished the Aaronic priesthood, and ended for ever all ritualistic performance; for he seeketh only true worshippers, who worship him in spirit and in truth.

Further, the Lord loves the cry of the broken heart because it distinctly recognizes himself as this living God, in very deed sought after in prayer. From much of outward devotion God is absent. But how we mock God when we do not discern him as present, and do not come nigh unto his very self! When the heart, the mind, the soul, breaks through itself to get to its God, then it is that God is glorified, but not by any bodily exercises in which he is forgotten. Oh, how real God is to a man who is perishing, and feels that only God can save him! He believes that God is, or else he would not make so piteous a prayer to him. He said his prayers before, and little cared whether God heard or not; but he prays now, and God's hearing is his chief anxiety.

Besides, dear friends, God takes great delight in our crying to him in the day of trouble because there is sincerity in it. I am afraid that in the hour of our mirth and the day of our prosperity many of our prayers and our thanksgivings are hypocrisy. Too many of us are like boys' tops, that cease to spin except they are whipped. Certainly we pray with a deep intensity when we get into great trouble. A man is very poor: he is out of a situation; he has worn his shoes out in trying to find work; he does not know where the next meal is coming from for his children; and if he prays now it is likely to be very sincere prayer, for he is in real earnest on account of real trouble. I have sometimes wished for some very gentlemanly Christian people, who seem to treat religion as if it were all kid gloves, that they could have just a little time of the "roughing" of it, and really come into actual difficulties. A life of ease breeds hosts of falsehoods and pretences, which would soon vanish in the presence of matter-of fact trials. Many a man has been converted to God in the bush of Australia by hunger, and weariness, and loneliness, who, when he was a wealthy man, surrounded by gay flatterers, never thought of God at all. Many a man on board ship on yon Atlantic has learned to pray in the cold chill of an iceberg, or in the horrors of the trough of the wave out of which the vessel could not rise. When the mast has gone by the board, and every timber has been strained, and the ship has seemed doomed, then have hearts begun to pray in sincerity; and God loves sincerity. When we mean it; when the soul melts in prayer; when it is "I must have it, or be lost"; when it is no sham, no vain performance, but a real heart-breaking, agonizing cry, then God accepts it. Hence he says, "Call upon me in the day of trouble." Such a cry is the kind of worship that he cares for, because there is sincerity in it, and this is acceptable with the God of truth.

Again, in the cry of the troubled one there is humility. We may go through a highly brilliant performance of religion, after the rites of some gaudy church; or we may go through our own rites, which are as simple as they can be; and we may be all the while saying to ourselves, "This is very nicely done." The preacher may be thinking, "Am I not preaching well?" The brother at the prayer-meeting may feel within himself, "How delightfully fluent I am! Whenever there is that spirit in us, God cannot accept our worship. Worship is not acceptable if it be devoid of humility. Now, when in the day of trouble a man goes to God, and says, "Lord, help me! I cannot help myself, but do thou interpose for me," there is humility in that confession and cry, and hence the Lord takes delight in them. You, poor woman over here, deserted by your husband, and ready to wish that you could die, I exhort you to call upon God in the day of trouble, for I know that you will pray a humble prayer. You, poor trembler over yonder; you have done very wrong, and are likely to be found out and disgraced for it, but I charge you to cry to God in prayer, for I am sure there will be no pride about your petition. You will be broken in spirit, and humble before God, and "a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise."

Once more, the Lord loves such pleadings because there is a measure of faith in them. When the man in trouble cries, "Lord deliver me!" he is looking away from himself. You see, he is driven out of himself because of the famine that is in the land. He cannot find hope or help on earth, and therefore he looks towards heaven. Perhaps he has been to friends, and they have failed him, and therefore, in sheer despair, he seeks his truest Friend. At last he comes to God; and though he cannot say that he believes in God's goodness as he ought, yet he has some dim and shadowy faith in it, or else he would not be coming to God in this his time of extremity. God loves to discover even the shadow of faith in his unbelieving creature. When faith does as it were, only cross over the field of the camera, so that across the photograph there is a dim trace of its having been there, God can spy it out, and he can and will accept prayer for the sake of that little faith. Oh, dear heart, where art thou? Art thou torn with anguish? Art thou sore distressed? Art thou lonely? Art thou cast away? Then cry to God. None else can help thee; now art thou shut up to him. Blessed shutting up! Cry to him, for he can help thee; and I tell thee, in that cry of thine there will be a pure and true worship, such as God desires, far more than the slaughter of ten thousand bullocks, or the pouring out of rivers of oil. It is true, assuredly, from Scripture, that the groan of a burdened spirit is among the sweetest sounds that are ever heard by the ear of the Most High. Plaintive cries are anthems with him, to whom all mere arrangements of sound must be as child's-play.

See then, poor, weeping, and distracted ones, that it is not Ritualism; it is not the performance of pompous ceremonies, it is not bowing and scraping, it is not using sacred words; but it is crying to God in the hour of your trouble; which is the most acceptable sacrifice your spirit can bring before the throne of God.

II. Come we now to our second observation. May God impress it upon us all! In our text we have ADVERSITY TURNED TO ADVANTAGE. "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee."

We say it with all reverence, but God himself cannot deliver a man who is not in trouble, and therefore it is some advantage to be in distress, because God can then deliver you. Even Jesus Christ, the Healer of men, cannot heal a man who is not sick; so that it turns to our advantage to be sick, in order that Christ may heal us. Thus, my hearer, your adversity may prove your advantage by offering occasion and opportunity for the display of divine grace. It is great wisdom to learn the art of making honey out of gall, and the text teaches us how to do that; it shows how trouble can become gain. When you are in adversity, then call upon God, and you shall experience a deliverance which will be a richer and sweeter experience for your soul than if you had never known trouble. Here is the art and science of making gains out of losses, and advantages out of adversities.

Now let me suppose that there is some person here in trouble. Perhaps another deserted Robinson Crusoe is among us. I am not idly supposing that a tried individual is here; he is so. Well now, when you pray—and oh! I wish you would pray now—do you not see what a plea you have? You have first a plea from the time: "Call upon me in the day of trouble." You can plead, "Lord, this is a day of trouble! I am in great affliction, and my case is urgent at this hour." Then state what your trouble is—that sick wife, that dying child, that sinking business, that failing health, that situation which you have lost—that poverty which stares you in the face. Say unto the Lord of mercy, "My Lord, if ever a man was in a day of trouble, I am that man; and therefore I take leave and license to pray to thee now, because thou hast said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble.' This is the hour which thou hast appointed for appealing to thee: this dark, this stormy day. If ever there was a man that had a right given him to pray by thy own word, I am that man, for I am in trouble, and therefore I will make use of the very time as a plea with thee. Do, I beseech thee, hear thy servant's cry in this midnight hour."

Next, you can not only make use of the time as a plea; but you may urge the trouble itself. You may argue thus, "Thou hast said, 'Call upon me in the day of trouble.' O Lord, thou seest how great my trouble is. It is a very heavy one. I cannot bear it, or get rid of it. It follows me to my bed; it will not let me sleep. When I rise up it is still with me, I cannot shake it off. Lord, my trouble is an unusual one: few are afflicted as I am; therefore give me extraordinary succor! Lord, my trouble is a crushing one; if thou do not help me, I shall soon be broken up by it!" That is good reasoning and prevalent pleading.

Further, turn your adversity to advantage by pleading this command. You can go to the Lord now, at this precise instant, and say, "Lord, do hear me, for thou hast commanded me to pray! I, though I am evil, would not tell a man to ask a thing of me, if I intended to deny him; I would not urge him to ask help, if I meant to refuse it." Do you not know, brethren, that we often impute to the good Lord conduct which we should be ashamed of in ourselves? This must not be. If you said to a poor man, "You are in very sad circumstances; write to me to-morrow, and I will see to your affairs for you;" and if he did write to you, you would not treat his letter with contempt. You would be bound to consider his case. When you told him to write, you meant that you would help him if you could. And when God tells you to call upon him, he does not mock you: he means that he will deal kindly with you. You are not urged to pray in the hour of trouble, that you may experience all the deeper disappointment. God knows that you have trouble enough without the new one of unanswered prayer. The Lord will not unnecessarily add even a quarter of an ounce to your burden; and if he bids you call upon him, you may call upon him without fear of failure. I do not know who you are. You may be Robinson Crusoe, for aught I know, but you may call on the Lord, for he bids you call; and, if you do call upon him, you can put this argument into your prayer:

"Lord, thou hast bid me seek thy face,
And shall I seek in vain?
And shall the ear of sovereign grace
Be deaf when I complain?"

So plead the time, and plead the trouble, and plead the command; and then plead with God his own character. Speak with him reverently, but believingly, in this fashion, "Lord, it is thou thyself to whom I appeal. Thou hast said, 'Call upon me.' If my neighbor had bidden me do so, I might have feared that perhaps he would not hear me, but would change his mind; but thou art too great and good to change. Lord, by thy truth and by thy faithfulness, by thy immutability and by thy love, I, a poor sinner, heart-broken and crushed, call upon thee in the day of trouble! Oh, help thou me, and help me soon; or else I die!" Surely you that are in trouble have many and mighty pleas. You are on firm ground with the angel of the covenant, and may bravely seize the blessing. I do not feel to-night as if the text encouraged me one-half so much as it must encourage others of you, for I am not in trouble just now, and you are. I thank God I am full of joy and rest; but I am half inclined to see if I cannot patch up a little bit of trouble for myself: surely if I were in trouble, and sitting in those pews, I would open my mouth, and drink in this text, and pray like David, or Elias, or Daniel, in the power of this promise, "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me."

O, you troubled ones, leap up at the sound of this word! Believe it. Let it go down into your souls. "The Lord looseth the prisoners." He has come to loose you. I can see my Master arrayed in his silken garments, his countenance is joyous as heaven, his face is bright as morning without clouds, and in his hand he bears a silver key. "Whither away, my Master, with that silver key of thine?" "I go," saith he, "to open the door to the captive, and to loosen every one that is bound." Blessed Master, fulfill thy errand; but pass not these prisoners of hope! We will not hinder thee for a moment; but do not forget these mourners! Go up these galleries, and down these aisles, and set free the prisoners of Giant Despair, and make their hearts to sing for joy because they have called upon thee in the day of trouble, and thou hast delivered them, and they shall glorify thee!

III. My third head is clearly in the text. Here we have FREE GRACE LAID UNDER BONDS.

Nothing in heaven or earth can be freer than grace, but here is grace putting itself under bonds of promise and covenant. Listen. "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee." If a person has once said to you, "I will," you hold him; he has placed himself at the command of his own declaration. If he is a true man, and has plainly said, "I will," you have him in your hand. He is not free after giving a promise as he was before it; he has set himself a certain way, and he must keep to it. Is it not so? I say so with the deepest reverence towards my Lord and Master, he has bound himself in the text with cords that he cannot break. He must now hear and help those who call upon him in the day of trouble. He has solemnly promised, and he will fully perform.

Notice that this text is unconditional as to the persons. It contains the gist of that other promise—"Whosoever calleth upon the name of the Lord shall be saved." The people who are specially addressed in the text had mocked God; they had presented their sacrifices without a true heart; but yet the Lord said to each of them, "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee." Hence I gather that he excludes none from the promise. Thou atheist, thou blasphemer, thou unchaste and impure one, if thou callest upon the Lord now, in this the day of thy trouble, he will deliver thee! Come and try him. "If there be a God," sayest thou; But there is a God, say I; come, put him to the test, and see. He saith, "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee." Will you not prove him now? Come hither, ye bondaged ones, and see if he doth not free you! Come ye to Christ, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and he will give you rest! In temporals and in spirituals, but specially in spiritual things, call upon him in the day of trouble, and he will deliver you. He is bound by this great unrestricted word of his, about which he has put neither ditch nor hedge; whosoever will call upon him in the day of trouble, shall be delivered.

Moreover, notice that this "I will" includes all needful power which may be required for deliverance. "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee." "But how can this be?" cries one. Ah! that I cannot tell you, and I do not feel bound to tell you: it rests with the Lord to find suitable ways and means. God says, "I will." Let him do it in his own way. If he says, "I will," depend upon it he will keep his word. If it be needful to shake heaven and earth, he will do it; for he cannot lack power, and he certainly does not lack honesty; and an honest man will keep his word at all costs, and so will a faithful God. Hear him say, "I will deliver thee," and ask no more questions. I do not suppose that Daniel knew how God would deliver him out of the den of lions. I do not suppose that Joseph knew how he would be delivered out of the prison when his mistress had slandered his character so shamefully. I do not suppose that these ancient believers dreamed of the way of the Lord's deliverance; but they left themselves in God's hands. They rested upon God, and he delivered them in the best possible manner. He will do the like for you; only call upon him, and then stand still, and see the salvation of God.

Notice, the text does not say exactly when. "I will deliver thee" is plain enough; but whether it shall be to-morrow, or next week, or next year, is not so clear. You are in a great hurry; but the Lord is not. Your trial may not yet have wrought all the good to you that it was sent to do, and therefore it most last longer. When the gold is cast into the fining-pot, it might cry to the goldsmith, "Let me out." "No," saith he, "you have not yet lost your dross. You must tarry in the fire till I have purified you." God may therefore subject us to many trials; and yet if he says, "I will deliver thee," depend upon it he will keep his word. The Lord's promise is like a good bill from a substantial firm. A bill may be dated for three months ahead; but anybody will discount it if it bears a trusted-name. When you get God's "I will," you may always cash it by faith; and no discount need be taken from it, for it is current money of the merchant even when it is only "I will." God's promise for the future is good bona fide stuff for the present, if thou hast but faith to use it, "Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee," is tantamount to deliverance already received. It means, "If I do not deliver thee now, I will deliver thee at a time that is better than now, when, if thou wert as wise as I am, thou wouldst prefer to be delivered rather than now."

But promptitude is implied, for else deliverance would not be wrought. "Ah!" says one, "I am in such a trouble that if I do not get deliverance soon I shall die." Rest assured that you shall not die. You shall be delivered, and therefore you shall be delivered before you quite die of despair. He will deliver you in the best possible time. The Lord is always punctual. You never were kept waiting by him. You have kept him waiting long enough; but he is prompt to the instant. He never keeps his servants waiting one single tick of the clock beyond his own appointed, fitting, wise, and proper moment. "I will deliver thee," implies that his delays will not be too protracted, lest the spirit of man should fail because of hope deferred. The Lord rideth on the wings of the wind when he comes to the rescue of those who seek him. Wherefore, be of good courage!

Oh, this is a blessed text! and yet what can I do with it? I cannot carry it home to those of you who want it most. Spirit of the living God, come thou, and apply these rich consolations to those hearts which are bleeding and ready to die!

Do notice this text once again. Let me repeat it, putting the emphasis in a different way: "Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee." Pick up the threads of those two words. "I will deliver thee; men would not; angels could not; but I will." God himself will set about the rescue of the man that calls upon him. It is yours to call: and it is God's to answer. Poor trembler, you begin to try to answer your own prayers! Why did you pray to God then? When you have prayed, leave it to God to fulfill his own promise. He says, "Do thou call upon me, and I will deliver thee."

Now take up that other word: "I will deliver thee." I know what you are thinking, Mr. John. You murmur, "God will deliver everybody, I believe, but not me." But the text saith, "I will deliver the thee." It is the man that calls that shall get the answer. Mary, where art thou? If thou callest upon God he will answer thee. He will give thee the blessing even to thy own heart and spirit, in thy own personal experience. "Call upon me," says he, "in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee." Oh, for grace to take that personal pronoun home to one's soul, and to make sure of it as though you could see it with your own eyes! The apostle tells us, "Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the Word of God." Assuredly I know that the worlds were made by God. I am sure of it; and yet I did not see him making them. I did not see him when the light came because he said, "Let there be light." I did not see him divide the light from the darkness, and the waters that are beneath the firmament from the waters that are above the firmament, but I am quite sure that he did all this. All the evolution gentlemen in the world cannot shake my conviction that creation was wrought by God, though I was not there to see him make even a bird, or a flower. Why should I not have just the same kind of faith to-night about God's answer to my prayer if I am in trouble? If I cannot see how he will deliver me, why should I wish to see? He created the world well enough without my knowing how he was to do it, and he will deliver me without my having a finger in it. It is no business of mine to see how he works. My business is to trust in my God, and glorify him by believing that what he has promised he is able to perform.

IV. Thus we have had three sweet things to remember; and we close with a fourth, which is this: here are GOD AND THE PRAYING MAN TAKE SHARES.

That is an odd word to close with, but I want you to notice it. Here are the shares. First, here is your share: "Call upon me in the day of trouble." Secondly, here is God's share: "I will deliver thee." Again, you take a share —for you shall be delivered. And then again it is the Lord's turn—"Thou shalt glorify me." Here is a compact, a covenant that God enters into with you who pray to him, and whom he helps. He says, "You shall have the deliverance, but I must have the glory. You shall pray; I will bless, and then you shall honor my holy name." Here is a delightful partnership: we obtain that which we so greatly need, and all that God getteth is the glory which is due unto his name.

Poor troubled heart! I am sure you do not demur to these terms, "Sinners," saith the Lord, "I will give you pardon, but you must give me the honor of it." Our only answer is, "Ay, Lord, that we will, for ever and ever."

"Who is a pardoning God like thee?
Or who has grace so rich and free?"

"Come, souls," says he, "I will justify you, but I must have the glory of it." And our answer is, "Where is boasting, then? It is excluded. By the law of works? Nay, but by the law of faith." God must have the glory if we are justified by Christ.

"Come," says he, "I will put you into my family, but my grace must have the glory of it;" and we say, "Ay, that it shall, good Lord! Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be called the sons of God."

"Now," says he, "I will sanctify you, and make you holy, but I must have the glory of it;" and our answer is, "Yes, we will sing for ever—'We have washed our robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. Therefore will we serve him day and night in his temple, giving him all praise.'"

"I will take you home to heaven," says God: "I will deliver you from sin and death and hell; but I must have the glory of it." "Truly," say we, "Thou shalt be magnified. For ever and for ever we will sing 'Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever.'"

Stop, you thief, there! What are you at? Running away with a portion of God's glory? What a villain he must be! Here is a man that was lately a drunkard, and God has loved him and made him sober, and he is wonderfully proud because he is sober. What folly! Have done, sir! Have done! Give God the glory of your deliverance from the degrading vice, or else you are still degraded by ingratitude. Here is another man. He used to swear once; but he has been praying now; he even delivered a sermon the other night, or at least an open-air address. He has been as proud about this as any peacock. O bird of pride, when you look at your fine feathers, remember your black feet, and your hideous voice! O reclaimed sinner, remember your former character, and be ashamed! Give God the glory if you have ceased to be profane. Give God the glory for every part of your salvation.

Alas! even some divines will give man a little of the glory. He has a free will, has he not? Oh, that Dagon of free will! How men will worship it! The man did something towards his salvation, by virtue of which he ought to receive some measure of honor! Do you really think so? Then say as you think. But we will have it from this pulpit, and we will declare it to the whole world, that when a man reached heaven there shall not a particle of the glory be due to himself; he shall in no wise ascribe honor to his own feeble efforts; but unto God alone shall be the glory. "Give unto the Lord, O ye mighty, give unto the Lord glory and strength. Give unto the Lord the glory due unto his name."

"Call upon me in the day of trouble. I will deliver thee"—that is your part. But "Thou shalt glorify me"—that is God's part. He must have all the honor from first to last.

Go out henceforth, you saved ones, and tell out what the Lord has done for you. An aged woman once said that if the Lord Jesus Christ really did save her, he should never hear the last of it. Join with her in that resolve. Truly my soul vows that my delivering Lord shall never hear the last of my salvation.

"I'll praise him in life, and praise him in death,
And praise him as long as he lendeth me breath;
And say when the death-dew lies cold on my brow,
If ever I loved thee, my Jesus, 'tis now.'"

Come, poor soul, you that came in here to-night in the deepest of trouble, God means to glorify himself by you! The day shall yet come when you shall comfort other mourners by the rehearsal of your happy experience. The day may yet come when you that were a castaway shall preach the gospel to castaways. The day shall yet come, poor fallen woman, when you shall lead other sinners to the Savior's feet, where now you stand weeping! Thou abandoned of the devil, whom even Satan is tired of, whom the world rejects because thou art worn out and stale—the day shall yet come when, renewed in heart, and washed in the blood of the Lamb, thou shalt shine like a star in the firmament, to the praise of the glory of his grace who hath made thee to be accepted in the Beloved! O desponding sinner, come to Jesus! Do call upon him, I entreat you! Be persuaded to call upon Your God and Father. If you can do no more than groan, groan unto God. Drop a tear, heave a sigh, and let your heart say to the Lord, "O God, deliver me, for Christ's sake! Save me from my sin and the consequences of it." As surely as you thus pray, he will hear you, and say, "Thy sins be forgiven thee. Go in peace." So may it be. Amen.

The Star and the Wise Men

A Sermon
(No. 1698)
Delivered on Lord's-Day Morning, December 24th, 1882, by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

"Now Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews'? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy."—Matthew 2:1-2, 9-10.

SEE, DEAR FRIENDS, the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ even in his state of humiliation! He is born of lowly parents, laid in a manger, and wrapped in swaddling bands; but, lo! the principalities and powers in the heavenly places are in commotion. First, one angel descends to proclaim the advent of the new-born King and suddenly there is with him a multitude of the heavenly host singing glory unto God. Nor was the commotion confined to the spirits above; for in the heavens which overhang this card, there is a stir. A star is deputed on behalf of all the stars, as if he were the envoy and plenipotentiary of all worlds to represent them before their King. This star is put in commission to wait upon the Lord, to be his herald to men afar off, his usher to conduct them to his presence, and his body-guard to sentinel his cradle. Earth, too, is stirred. Shepherds have come to pay the homage of simple-minded ones: with all love and joy they bow before the mysterious child; and after them from afar come the choice and flower of their generation, the most studious minds of the age. Making a long and difficult journey, they too at last arrive, the representatives of the Gentiles. Lo! the kings of Seba and Sheba offer gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Wise men, the leaders of their peoples, bow down before him, and pay homage to the Son of God. Wherever Christ is he is honorable. "Unto you that believe he is honor." In the day of small things, when the cause of God is denied entertainment, and is hidden away with things which are despised, it is still most glorious. Christ, though a child, is still King of kings; though among the oxen, he is still distinguished by his star.

Beloved friends, if wise men of old came to Jesus and worshipped, should not we come also? My intense desire this morning is that we all may pay homage to him of whom we sing, "Unto us a child is born; unto us a son is given." Let those of us who have long worshipped, worship anew with yet lowlier reverence and intenser love. And God grant-oh, that he would grant it!—that some who are far off from him spiritually, as the Magi were far off locally, may come to-day and ask, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have come to worship him." May feet that have been accustomed to broad roads, but unaccustomed to the narrow path, this day pursue that way till they see Jesus, and how before him with all their hearts, finding salvation in him. These wise men came naturally, traversing the desert; let us come spiritually, leaving our sins. These were guided by the sight of a star; let us be guided by faith in the divine Spirit, by the teaching of his word and all those blessed lights which the Lord uses to conduct men to himself. Only let us come to Jesus. It was well to come unto the babe Jesus, led by the feeble beams of a star; you shall find it still more blessed to come to him now that he is exalted in the highest heavens, and by his own light reveals his own perfect glory. Delay not, for this day he cries, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

This morning let us try to do three things. First, let us gather light from this star; secondly, let us gather wisdom from those wise men; and thirdly, let us act as wise men helped by our own particular star.

I. First, then, LET US GATHER LIGHT FROM THIS STAR. May the Spirit of the Lord enable us so to do.

I suppose you have each one his own imagination as to what this star was. It would seem to have been altogether supernatural, and not a star, or a comet of the ordinary kind. It was not a constellation, nor a singular conjunction of planets: there is nothing in the Scriptures to support such a conjecture. In all probability it was not a star in the sense in which we now speak of stars: for we find that it moved before the wise men, then suddenly disappeared, and again shone forth to move before them. It could not have been a star in the upper spheres like others, for such movements would not have been possible. Some have supposed that the wise men went in the direction in which the star shone forth in the heavens, and followed the changes of its position: but it could not in that case have been said that it stood over the place where the young child was. If the star was at its zenith over Bethlehem, it would have been in its zenith over Jerusalem too; for the distance is so small that it would not have been possible to observe any difference in the position of the star in the two places. It must have been a star occupying quite another sphere from that in which the planets revolve. We believe it to have been a luminous appearance in mid-air; probably akin to that which led the children of Israel through the wilderness, which was a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. Whether it was seen in the daylight or not we cannot tell. Chrysostom and the early fathers are wonderfully positive about many things which Scripture leaves in doubt, but as these eminent divines drew upon their imagination for their facts, we are not under bonds to follow them. They aver that this star was so bright as to be visible all day long. If so, we can imagine the wise men travelling day and night; but if it could be seen only by night, the picture before us grows far more singular and weird—like as we see these easterns quietly pursuing their star-lit way, resting perforce when the sun was up, but noiselessly hurrying at night through slumbering lands. These questions are not of much importance to us, and therefore we will not dwell long upon them.

Only here is a first lesson: if it should ever be that men should fail to preach the gospel, God can conduct souls to his Son by a star. Ah! say not only by a star, but by a stone, a bird, a blade of grass, a drop of dew.

"Remember that Omnipotence
Has servants everywhere."

Therefore, despond not when you hear that one minister has ceased to preach the gospel, or that another is fighting against the viral truth of God. Their apostasy shall be to their own loss rather than to the hurt of Jesus and his church; and, sad though it be to see the lamps of the sanctuary put out, yet God is not dependent upon human lights, he is the Shekinah light of his own holy place. Mortal tongues, if they refuse to preach his word, shall have their places supplied by books in the running brooks and sermons in stones. The beam shall cry out of the wall, and the timber shall answer it. When chief priests and scribes have all gone out of the way, the Lord puts stars into commission, and once more in very deed the heavens are telling the glory of God, and the firmament is showing his handiwork. Sooner than lack speakers for the incarnate God, mountains and hills shall learn eloquence and break forth into testimony. Jehovah's message shall be made known to the utmost ends of the earth. God shall save his own elect; he shall give to Christ to see of the travail of his soul and to be satisfied. His counsel shall stand, and he will do all his pleasure. Hallelujah!

Now, when the Lord does use a star to be his minister, what is the order of his ministry? We may learn by this enquiry what kind of ministry God would have ours to be if we are stars in his right hand. We also shine as lights in the world: let us see how to do it.

We notice, first, that star-preaching is all about Christ. We do not know what the color of the star was, nor the shape of the star, nor to what magnitude it had attained; these items are not recorded, but what is recorded is of much more importance; the wise men said—"We have seen his star." Then the star which the Lord will use to lead men to Jesus must be Christ's own star. The faithful minister, like this star, belongs to Christ; he is Christ's own man in the most emphatic sense. Before we can expect to be made a blessing, dear friends, we must ourselves be blessed of the Lord. If we would cause others to belong, to Jesus, we must belong wholly to Jesus ourselves. Every beam in that star shone forth for Jesus. It was his star, always, and only, and altogether. It shone not for itself, but only as his star: as such it was known and spoken of—"we have seen his star." As I have already said, there is no note taken of any peculiarity that it had except this one, that it was the star of the King. I wish that you and I, whatever our eccentricities or personalities may be, may never make so much of them as to attract men's attention to them. May people never dwell upon our attainments or our deficiencies, but may they always observe this one thing, that we are men of God, that we are ambassadors of Christ, that we are Christ's servants, and do not attempt to shine for ourselves, or to make ourselves conspicuous; but that we labor to shine for him, that his way may be known upon earth, his saving health among all people. Brother, it is well for us to forget ourselves in our message, to sink ourselves in our Master. We know the names of several of the stars, yet they may each one envy that star which remains anonymous, but can never be forgotten because men who sought the King of Israel knew it as "his star." Though you be but a very little star, twinkling for Jesus; however feeble your light may be, be it plain that you are his star, so that if men wonder what you are, they may never wonder whose you are, for on your very forefront it shall be written, "Whose I am and whom I serve." God will not lead men to Christ by us unless we are Christ's heartily, wholly, unreservedly. In his temple our Lord uses no borrowed vessels; every bowl before the altar must be his own. It is not consistent with the glory of God for him to use borrowed vessels. He is not so poor as that comes to. This lesson is worthy of all acceptation. Are you in a hurry to preach, young man? Are you sure you are Christ's? Do you think it must be a fine thing to hold a company or people listening to your words? Have you looked at it in another light,? Have you weighed the responsibility of having to speak as Christ would have you speak, and of yielding yourself in your entire personality to the utterance of the mind of God? You must be consecrated and concentrated if you hope to be used or the Lord. If you have one ray, or ten thousand rays, all must shine with the one design of guiding men to Jesus. You have nothing now to do with any object, subject, design, or endeavor, but Jesus only: in him, and for him, and to him must you live henceforth, or you will never be chosen of the Lord to conduct either wise men or babes to Jesus. See ye well to it that perfect consecration be yours.

Note next that true star-preaching leads to Christ. The star was Christ's star itself, but it also led others to Christ. It did this very much because it moved in that direction. It is a sad thing when a preacher is like a sign-post pointing the way but never following it, on his own account. Such were those chief priests at Jerusalem: they could tell where Christ was born, but they never went to worship him; they were indifferent altogether to him and to his birth. The star that leads to Christ must always be going to Christ. Men are far better drawn by example than driven by exhortation. Personal piety alone can be owned of God to the production of piety in others. "Go," say you; but they will not go. Say "come," and lead the way: then they will come. Do not the sheep follow the shepherd? He who would lead others to Christ should go before them himself, having his face towards his Master, his eyes towards his Master, his steps toward his Master, his heart towards his Master. We are so to live that we may without boasting exhort those around us to have us for an example. Oh, that all who think themselves to be stars would themselves diligently move towards the Lord Jesus. The star in the east led wise men to Christ because it went that way itself: there is a wisdom in example which truly wise men are quick to perceive. This star had such an influence upon the chosen men that they could not but follow it: it charmed them across the desert. Such a charm may reside in you and in me, and we may exercise a powerful ministry over many hearts, being to them as loadstones, drawing them to the Lord Jesus. Happy privilege! We would not, merely show the road, but induce our neighbors to enter upon it. We read of one of old, not that they told him of Jesus, but that "they brought him to Jesus." We are not only to tell the story of the cross, but we are to persuade men to fly to the Crucified One for salvation. Did not the king in the parable say to his servants, "Compel them to come in." Assuredly he girds his own messengers with such a compelling power that men cannot hold out any longer, but must follow their lead and bow at the King's feet. The star did not draw, "as it were with a cart rope," nor by any force, material and physical; yet it drew these wise men from the remote east right to the manger of the new-born child. And so, though we have no arm of the law to help us, nor patronage, nor pomp of eloquence, nor parade of learning, yet we have a spiritual power by which we draw to Jesus thousands who are our joy and crown. The man sent of God comes forth from the divine presence permeated with a power which makes men turn to the Savior and live. Oh! that such power might go forth from all God's ministers yea, from all God's servants engaged in street-preaching, in Sunday-schools, in tract-visitation, and in every form of holy service. God uses those whose aim and intent it is to draw men to Christ. He puts his Spirit into them, by which Spirit they are helped to set forth the Lord Jesus as so lovely and desirable that men run to him and accept his glorious salvation. It is a small thing to shine, but it is a great thing to draw. Any cast-away may be brilliant; but only the real saint will be attractive for Jesus. I would not pray to be an orator, but I do pray to be a soul-winner. Do not aim, beloved brethren, at anything short of leading men to Jesus. Do not be satisfied to lead them to orthodox doctrine, or merely to bring them to a belief in those views which you hold to be Scriptural, valuable as that way be. It is to the person of the incarnate God that we must bring them to his feet we must conduct them that they may worship him: our mission is not accomplished, it is a total failure, unless we conduct our hearers to the house where Jesus dwells, and then stand over them, keeping watch over their souls for Jesu's sake.

Once more, the star which God used in this case was a star that stopped at Jesus: it went before the wise men till it brought them to Jesus, and then it stood still over the place where the young child was. I admire the manner of this star. There are remarkable stars in the theological sky at the present, time: they have led men to Jesus, so they say, and now they lead them into regions beyond, of yet undeveloped thought. The gospel of the Puritans is "old-fashioned"; these men have discovered that it is unsuitable for the enlarged intellects of the times; and so these stars would guide us further still. To this order of wandering stars I do not belong myself, and I trust I never shall. Progress beyond the gospel I have no desire for. "God forbid that I should glory save ill the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." When the star had come to the place where the young child was, it stood still: and so should the gracious mind become settled, fixed, immovable. The wise men knew where to find that star, and where to find the young child by it: so be it with us. Oh, you that have hitherto been diligent in leading souls to Christ, never indulge for a single moment the notion that you need a broader philosophy or a deeper spirituality than are to be found in Jesus. Abide in him. Cry, "Oh God, my heart is fixed. My heart is fixed." There is nothing beyond Christ which is worth a moment's thought. Do not lose your paradise in Christ for another taste of that tree of knowledge of good-and-evil which ruined our first parents. Stick you to the old points: your one subject Christ, your one object to bring men to Christ, your one glory the glory of Christ. Standing by your Lord, and there alone, from this day to the last day, you will secure a happy, honored, and holy life. They said of Greece after her fall that it had become so ruined that you might search for Greece in Greece and fail to find it: I fear I must say that some professed preachers of the gospel have roamed so far away from it that you cannot find the gospel in their gospel, nor Christ himself in the Christ they preach. So far have some diverged from the grand essential soul-saving truth beyond which no man ought to dare to think of going, that they retain nothing of Christianity but the name. All that is beyond truth is a lie; anything beyond revelation is at best a minor matter, and most probably is an old wives' fable, even though he may be of the masculine gender who invented it. Stand you to your colors you who hope to be used of the Lord. Abide so that men shall find you in twenty years' time shining for Jesus and pointing to the place where the Savior is to be found, even as you are doing now. Let Jesus Christ be your ultimatum. Your work is done when you bring souls to Jesus, and help to keep them there, by being yourself "steadfast, unmovable." Be not carried away from the hope of your calling; but hold fast even the form of sound words, for it may be that in letting go the form you may lose the substance also.

II. Now that we have somewhat rejoiced in the light of the star, let us see if we can GATHER WISDOM FROM THE WISE MEN. Perhaps you have heard the "much speaking" of tradition as to who they were, whence they came, and how they traveled. In the Greek church, I believe, they know their number, their names, the character of their retinue, and what kind of ornaments were on their dromedaries' necks. Details which are not found in the word of God you may believe or not, at your pleasure, and you will be wise if our pleasure is not to believe too much. We only know that they were Magi, wise men from the East, possibly of the old Parsee religion—watchers if not worshippers of the stars. We will not speculate about them, but learn from them.

They did not content themselves with admiring the star and comparing it with other stars, and taking notes as to the exact date of its appearance, and how many times it twinkled, and when it moved, and all that; but they practically used the teaching of the star. Many are hearers and admirers of God's servants, but they are not wise enough to make fit and proper use of the preaching. They notice the peculiarity of the preacher's language, how much he is like one divine, how much he is unlike another; whether he coughs too often, or speaks too much in his throat; whether he is too loud or too low; whether he has not a provincial tone, whether there may not be about him a commonness of speech approaching to vulgarity; or, on the other hand, whether he may not be too florid in his diction. Such fooleries as these are the constant observations of men for whose souls we labor. They are perishing, and yet toying with such small matters With many it is all they go to the house of God for, to criticise in this paltry fashion. I have even seen them come to this place with opera glasses, as if they came hither to inspect an actor who lived and labored to arouse their leisure hours. Such is the sport of fools; but these were wise men, and therefore practical men. They did not become star-gazers, and stop at the point of admiring the remarkable star; but they said, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him." They set out at once to find the now-born King, of whose coming the star was the signal. Oh, my dear hearers, how I wish that you were all wise in this same manner! I would sooner preach the dullest sermon that was ever preached than preach the most brilliant that was ever spoken if I could by that poor sermon lead you quite away from myself to seek the Lord Jesus Christ. That is the one thing I care about. Will you never gratify me by enquiring after my Lord and Master? I long to hear you say, "What is the man talking about? He speaks about a Savior; we will have that Savior for ourselves. He talks about pardon through the blood of Christ; he speaks about God coming down among men to save them; we will find out if there is any reality in this pardon, any truth in this salvation. We will seek Jesus, and find for ourselves the blessings which are reported to be laid up in him." If I heard you all saying this I should be ready to die of joy.

Is not this a good day on which to set out to find your Savior? Some of you that have postponed it long, would it not be well to set out at once ere this expiring year has seen its last day? These wise men appear to have set out as soon as they discovered the star: they were not among those who have time to waste in needless delays. "There is the star," said they; "away we go beneath its guidance. We are not satisfied with a star, we go to find the King whose star it is!" And so they set out to find Christ immediately and resolutely.

Being wise men, they persevered in their search after him. We cannot tell how far they journeyed. Travelling was extremely difficult in those times. There were hostile tribes to avoid, the broad rivers of the Tigris and the Euphrates to cross, and trackless deserts to penetrate; but they made nothing of difficulty or danger. They set out for Jerusalem, and to Jerusalem they came, seeking the King of the Jews. If it be true that God has taken upon himself our nature, we ought to resolve to find him, let it cost what it may. If we must circumnavigate the globe to find a Savior, the distance and the expense ought to be nothing so long as we may but reach him. Were the Christ in the bowels of the earth, or in the heights of heaven we ought not to rest till we come at him. Everything that was necessary for their expedition the wise men soon gathered together, regardless of expense; and off they went following the star that they might discover the Prince of the kings of the earth.

At length they came to Jerusalem, and here new trials awaited them. It must have been a great trouble to them when they asked, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews?" and the people shook their heads as if they thought the question an idle one. Neither rich nor poor in the metropolitan city knew anything of Israel's King. The ribald multitude replied, "Herod is king of the Jews. Mind how you speak of another king, or your head may have to answer for it. The tyrant brooks no rival." The wise men must have been more astonished still when they found that Herod was troubled. They were glad to think that he was born who was to usher in the age or gold; but Herod's face grew blacker than ever at the bare mention of a king of the Jews. His eyes flashed, and a thundercloud was upon his brow; a dark deed of murder will come of it, though for the moment he conceals his malice. There is tumult all through the streets of Jerusalem, for no man knows what grim Herod may do now that he has been roused by the question, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews? Thus there was a ferment in Jerusalem, beginning at the palace; but this did not deter the wise men from their search for the promised Prince. They did not pack up their bales and go back and say, "It is useless to try to discover this questionable personage who is unknown even in the country of which he is King, and who appears to "be terribly unwelcome to those who are to be his subjects. We must leave to another day the solution of the question: "Where is he that is born King of the Jews?'"

These earnest-minded seekers were not dispirited by the clergy and the learned men when they came together. To the chief priests and scribes the question was put, and they answered the enquiry as to where Christ would be born, but not a mother's son among them would go with the wise men to find this new-born King. Strange apathy! Alas, how common! Those who should have been leaders were no leaders; they would not even be followers of that which is good, for they had no heart towards Christ. The wise men rose superior to this serious discouragement. If the clergy would not help them they would go to Jesus by themselves. Oh, dear friend, if you are wise you will say, "I will find Christ alone if none will join me: if I dig to the center, I will find him; if I fly to the sun, I will find him; if all men put me off, I will find him; if the ministers of the gospel appear indifferent to me, I will find him: the kingdom of heaven or old suffered violence, and the violent took it by force, and so will I." The first Christians had to leave all the authorized teachers of the day behind, and to come out by themselves: it will be no strange thing if you should have to do the same. Happy will it be if you are determined to go through floods and flames to find Christ; for he will be found of you. Thus these men were wise because, having started on the search, they persevered in it till they found the Lord and worshipped him.

Notice that they were wise because, when they again saw the star, "they rejoiced with exceeding great joy." While enquiring among the priests at Jerusalem they were perplexed, but when the star shone out again, they were at ease and full of joy: this joy they expressed, so that the evangelist recorded it. In these days very wise people think it necessary to repress all emotion, and appear like men of stone or ice. No matter what happens, they are stoical, and raised far above the enthusiasm of the vulgar. It is wonderful how fashions change, and folly stands for philosophy. But these wise men were children enough to be glad when their perplexity was over, and the clear light shone forth. It is a good sign when a man is not ashamed to be happy because he hears a plain, unmistakable testimony for the Lord Jesus. It is good to see the great man come down from his pedestal, and, like a little child, rejoice to hear the simple story of the cross. Give me the hearer who looks not for fineries, but cries out, "Lead me to Jesus. I want a guide to Jesus, and nothing else will suit me." Why, truly, if men did but know the value of things they would rejoice more to see a preacher of the gospel than a king. If the feet of the heralds of salvation be blessed, how much more their tongues when they tell out the tidings of a Savior. These wise men, with all their mystic learning were not ashamed to rejoice because a little star lent them its beams to conduct them to Jesus. We unite with them in rejoicing over a clear gospel ministry. For us all else is darkness, sorrow, and vexation of spirit; but that which leads us to our own glorious Lord is spirit, and light, and life. Better the sun should not shine than that a clear gospel should not be preached. We reckon that a country flourishes or decays according as gospel light is revealed or withdrawn.

Now follow these wise men a little further. They have come to the house where the young child is. What will they do? Will they stand looking at the star? No: they enter in. The star stands still, but they are not afraid to lose its radiance, and behold the Sun of righteousness. They did not cry, "We see the star, and that is enough for us; we have followed the star, and it is all we need to do." Not at all. They lift, the latch, and enter the lowly residence of the babe. They see the star no longer, and they have no need to see it, for there is he that is born King of the Jews. Now the true Light has shone upon them from the face of the child; they behold the incarnate God. Oh, friends! how wise you will be if, when you have been led to Christ by any man, you do not rest in his leadership, but must see Christ for yourselves. How much I long that you may enter into the fellowship of the mystery, pass through the door, and come and behold the young child, and bow before him. Our woe is that so many are so unwise. We are only their guides, but they are apt to make us their end. We point the way, but they do not follow the road; they stand gazing upon us. The star is gone; it did its work, and passed away: Jesus remains, and the wise men live in him. Will any of you be so foolish as to think only of the dying preacher, and forget the ever-living Savior? Come, be wise, and hasten to your Lord at once.

These men were wise, last of all—and I commend their example to you-because when they saw the child they worshipped. Theirs was not curiosity gratified, but devotion exercised. We, too, must worship the Savior, or we shall never be saved by him. He has not come to put away our sins, and yet to leave us ungodly and self-willed. Oh you that have never worshipped the Christ of God, may you be led to do so at once! He is God over all, blessed for ever, adore him! Was God ever seen in such a worshipful form before? Behold he bows the heavens; he rides upon the wings of the wind; he scatters flames of fire; he speaks, and his dread artillery shakes the hills: you worship in terror. Who would not adore the great and terrible Jehovah? But is it not much better to behold him here, allied to your nature, wrapped like other children in swaddling clothes, tender, feeble, next akin to your own self? Will you not worship God when he thus comes down to you and becomes your brother, born for your salvation? Here nature itself suggests worship: O may grace produce it! Let us hasten to worship where shepherds and wise men and angels have led the way.

Here let my sermon come to a pause even as the star did. Enter the house and worship! Forget the preacher. Let the starlight shine for other eyes. Jesus was born that you might be born again. He lived that you might live. He died that you might die to sin. He is risen, and to-day he maketh intercession for transgressors that they may be reconciled to God through him. Come, then; believe, trust, rejoice, adore! If you have neither gold, frankincense, nor myrrh, bring your faith, your love, your repentance, and falling down before the Son of God pay him the reverence of your hearts.

III. And now I turn to my third and last point, which is this: LET US ACT AS WISE MEN UNDER THE LIGHT OF OUR STAR. We too have received light to lead us to the Savior: I might say that for us many stars have shone to that blessed end. I will, however, on this point content myself with asking questions.

Do you not think that there is some light for you in your particular vocation, some call from God in your calling? Listen to me, and then listen to God. These men were watchers of the stars; therefore a star was used to call them. Certain other men soon after were fishermen; and by means of an amazing take of fish the Lord Jesus made them aware of his superior power, and then he called them to become fishers of men. For a star-gazer a star; for a fisherman a fish. The Master-Fisher hath a bait for each one of his elect, and oftentimes he selects a point in their own calling to be the barb of the hook. Were you busy yesterday at your counter? Did you bear no voice saying "Buy the truth and sell it not"? When you closed the shop last night did you not bethink yourself that soon you must close it for the last time? Do you make bread? and do you never ask yourself, "Has my soul eaten the bread of heaven?" Are you a farmer? do you till the soil? Has God never spoken to you by those furrowed fields and these changing seasons, and made you wish that your heart might be tilled and sown.? Listen! God is speaking! Hear, ye deaf; for there are voices everywhere calling you to heaven. You need not go miles about to find a link between you and everlasting mercy: the telegraphic wires are on either side of the road, God and human souls are near each other. How I wish that your common vocation would be viewed by you as concealing within itself the door to your high vocation. Oh that the Holy Spirit would turn your favourite pursuits into opportunities for his gracious work upon you. If not among the stars, yet among the flowers of the garden, or the cattle of the hills, or the waves of the sea may he find a net in which to enclose you for Christ. I wish that those of you who conclude that your calling could never draw you to Christ would make a point of seeing whether it might not be so. We are to learn from ants, and swallows, and cranes, and conies; surely we need never be short of tutors. It did seem that a star was an unlikely thing to head a procession of eastern sages, and yet it was the best guide that could be found; and so it may seem that your trade is an unlikely thing to bring you to Jesus, and yet the Lord may so use it. There may be a message from the Lord to thee in many a left-handed providence; a voice for wisdom may come to thee from the month of an ass; a call to a holy life may startle thee from a bush, a warning may flash upon thee from a wall, or a vision may impress thee in the silence of night when deep sleep falleth upon men. Only be thou ready to hear and God will find a way of speaking to thee. Answer the question as the wise men would have answered it, and say, "Yes, in our calling there is a call to Christ."

Then, again, what should you and I do better in this life than seek after Christ! The wise men thought all other pursuits of small account compared with this. "Who is going to attend to that observatory and watch the rest of the stars?" They shake their heads, and say they do not know: these things must wait; they have seen his star, and they are going to worship him. But who will attend to their wives and families, and all besides, while they make this long journey? They reply that every lesser thing must be subordinate to the highest thing. Matters must be taken in proportion, and the search after the King of the Jews, who is the desire of all nations, is so out of all proportion great that all the rest must go. Are not you, also, wise enough to judge in this sensible fashion? Do you not think, dear friends, it would be well to use all to-morrow in seeking Jesus? It will be a leisure day, could you spend it better than in Seeking your Redeemer? If you were to take a week, and give it wholly to your own soul, and to seeking Christ, would it not be well spent? How can you live with your soul in jeopardy? Oh that you would say, "I must get this matter right; it is an all-important business, and I must see it secure." This would be no more than common-sense. If you are driving, and a trace is broken, do you not stop the horse, and get the harness right? How, then, can you go on with the chariot of life when all its harness is out of order, and a fall means eternal ruin? If you will stop driving to arrange a buckle for fear of accident, I would beg of you to stop anything and everything to see to the safety of your soul. See how the engineer looks to the safety-valve: are you content to run more desperate risks? If your house were not insured, and you carried on a hazardous trade, the probability is you would feel extremely anxious until you had arranged that matter: but your soul is uninsured, and it may burn for ever,—will you not give heed to it? I beseech you be just to yourself,—kind to yourself. Oh! see to your eternal well-being. You are not certain that you will get home to dinner to-day. Life is frail as a cobweb. You may be in hell before yon clock strikes one! Remember that. There is not a step between you and everlasting destruction from the presence of God if you are as yet unregenerate; and your only hope is to find the Savior, trust the Savior, obey the Savior. Wherefore, like these wise men, put everything on one side, and set out now upon an earnest, resolute, persevering endeavor to find Jesus. I was about to say—resolve to find Jesus, or to die; but I will change the words, and say—resolve to find him, and live.

When we do come near to Jesus, let us ask ourselves this question, "Do we see more in Jesus than other people do?" for if we do, we are God's elect taught of God, illuminated by his Spirit. We read in the Scriptures that when these wise men saw the young child they fell down and worshipped him. Other people might have come in and seen the child, and said, "Many children are as interesting as this poor woman's babe." Ay, but as these men looked, they saw: all eyes are not so blessed. Eyes that see are gifts from the All-seeing One. Carnal eyes are blind; but these men saw the Infinite in the infant; the Godhead gleaming through the manhood; the glory hiding beneath the swaddling bands. Undoubtedly there was a spiritual splendor about this matchless child! We read that Moses' father and mother saw that he was a "goodly child"; they saw he was "fair unto God," says the original. But when these elect men saw that holy thing which is called the Son of the Highest, they discovered in him a glory all unknown before. Then was his star in the ascendant to them: he became their all in all, and they worshipped with all their hearts. Have you discovered such glory in Christ? "Oh!" says one, "you are always harping upon Christ and his glory. You are a man of one idea!" Precisely so. My one idea is that he is "altogether lovely," and that there is nothing out of heaven nor in heaven that can be compared with him even in his lowest and weakest estate. Have you ever seen as much as that in Jesus? If so, you are the Lord's; go you, and rejoice in him. If not, pray God to open your eyes until, like the wise men, you see and worship.

Lastly, learn from these wise men that when they worshipped they did not permit it to be a mere empty-handed adoration. Ask yourself, "What shall I render unto the Lord?" Bowing before the young child, they offered "gold, frankincense and myrrh," the best of metals and the best of spices; an offering to the King of gold; an offering to the priest of frankincense; an offering to the child of myrrh. Wise men are liberal men. Consecration is the best education. To-day it is thought to be wise to be always receiving; but the Savior said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." God judges our hearts by that which spontaneously comes from them: hence the sweet cane bought with money is acceptable to him when given freely. He doth not tax his saints or weary them with incense; but he delights to see in them that true love which cannot express itself in mere words, but must use gold and myrrh, works of love and deeds of self-denial, to be the emblems of its gratitude. Brothers, you will never get into the heart of happiness till you become unselfish and generous; you have but chewed the husks of religion which are often bitter, you have never eaten of the sweet kernel until you have felt the love of God constraining you to make sacrifice. There is nothing in the true believer's power which he would not do for his Lord: nothing in our substance which we would not give to him, nothing in ourselves which we would not devote to his service.

God give to you all grace to come to Jesus, even though it be by the starlight of this Sermon, for his love's sake! Amen.

Piper MP3s

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John Bunyan's Prison Meditations - 1665

PRISON MEDIATIONS
DIRECTED TO THE HEART OF
SUFFERING SAINTS AND REIGNING SINNERS

By John Bunyan, in Prison, 1665

1. Friend, I salute thee in the Lord,
And wish thou may’st abound
In faith, and have a good regard
To keep on holy ground.

2. Thou dost encourage me to hold
My head above the flood,
Thy counsel better is than gold,
In need thereof I stood.

3. Good counsel’s good at any time,
The wise will it receive,
Though fools count he commits a crime
Who doth good counsel give.

4. I take it kindly at thy hand
Thou didst unto me write,
My feet upon Mount Zion stand,
In that take thou delight .

5. I am, indeed, in prison now
In body, but my mind
Is free to study Christ, and how
Unto me he is kind.

6. For though men keep my outward man
Within their locks and bars,
Yet by the faith of Christ I can
Mount higher than the stars.

7. Their fetters cannot spirits tame,
Nor tie up God from me;
My faith and hope they cannot lame,
Above them I shall be.

8. I here am very much refreshed
To think when I was out,
I preached life, and peace, and rest
To sinners round about.

9. My business then was souls to save,
By preaching grace and faith;
Of which the comfort now I have,
And have it shall till death.

10. They were no fables that I taught,
Devised by cunning men,
But God’s own Word, by which were caught
Some sinners now and then.

11. Whose souls by it were made to see
The evil of their sin;
And need of Christ to make them free
From death which they were in.

12. And now those very hearts that then
Were foes unto the Lord,
Embrace his Christ and truth, like men
Conquered by his word.

13. I hear them sigh and groan, and cry
For grace, to God above;
They loathe their sin, and to it die,
‘Tis holiness they love.

14. This was the work I was about
When hands on me they laid,
‘Twas this from which they pluck’d me out,
And vilely to me said,

15. You heretic, deceiver, come,
To prison you must go;
You preach abroad, and keep not home,
You are the church’s foe.

16. But having peace within my soul,
And truth on every side,
I could with comfort them control,
And at their charge deride.

17. Wherefore to prison they me sent,
Where to this day I lie,
And can with very much content
For my profession die.

18. The prison very sweet to me
Hath been since I came here,
And so would also hanging be,
If God would there appear.

19. Here dwells good conscience, also peace
Here be my garments white;
Here, though in bonds, I have release
From guilt, which else would bite.

20. When they do talk of banishment,
Of death, or such-like things;
Then to me God sends heart’s content,
That like a fountain springs.

21. Alas! they little think what peace
They help me to, for by
Their rage my comforts do increase;
Bless God therefore do I.

22. If they do give me gall to drink,
Then God doth sweetn’ning cast
So much thereto, that they can’t think
How bravely it doth taste.

23. For, as the devil sets before
Me heaviness and grief,
So God sets Christ and grace much more,
Whereby I take relief.

24. Though they say then that we are fools
Because we here do lie,
I answer, goals are Christ his schools,
In them we learn to die.

25. ‘Tis not the baseness of this state
Doth hide us from God’s face,
He frequently, both soon and late,
Doth visit us with grace.

26. Here come the angels, here come saints,
Here comes the Spirit of God,
To comfort us in our restraints
Under the wicked’s rod.

27. God sometimes visits prisons more
Than lordly palaces,
He often knocketh at our door,
When he their houses miss.

28. The truth and life of heavenly things
Lift up our hearts on high,
And carry us on eagles’ wings,
Beyond carnality.

29. It take away those clogs that hold
The hearts of other men,
And makes us lively, strong and bold
Thus to oppose their sin.

30. By which means God doth frustrate
That which our foes expect;
Namely, our turning th’ Apostate,
Like those of Judas’ sect.

31. Here comes to our rememberance
The troubles good men had
Of old, and for our furtherance,
Their joys when they were sad.

32. To them that here for evil lie
The place is comfortless,
But not to me, because that I
Lie here for righteousness.

33. The truth and I were both here cast
Together, and we do
Lie arm in arm, and so hold fast
Each other; this is true.

34. This goal to us is as a hill,
From whence we plainly see
Beyond this world, and take our fill
Of things that lasting be.

35. From hence we see the emptiness
Of all this world contains;
And here we feel the blessedness
That for us yet remains.

36. Here we can see how all men play
Their parts, as on a stage,
How good men suffer for God’s way,
And bad men at them rage.

37. Here we can see who holds that ground
Which they in Scripture find;
Here we see also who turns round
Like weathercocks with wind.

38. We can also from hence behold
How seeming friends appear
But hypocrites, as we are told
In Scripture every where.

39. When we did walk at liberty,
We were deceiv’d by them,
Who we from hence do clearly see
Are vile deceitful men.

40. These politicians that profest
For base and worldly ends,
Do now appear to us at best
But Machiavellian friends.

41. Though men do say, we do disgrace
Ourselves by lying here
Among the rogues, yet Christ our face
From all such filth will clear.

42. We know there’s neither flout nor frown
That we now for him bear,
But will add to our heavenly crown,
When he comes in the air.

43. When he our righteousness forth brings
Bright shining as the day,
And wipeth off those sland’rous things
That scorners on us lay.

44. We sell our earthly happiness
For heavenly house and home;
We leave this world because ‘tis less,
And worse than that to come.

45. We change our drossy dust for gold,
From death to life we fly:
We let go shadows, and take hold
Of immortality.

46. We trade for that which lasting is,
And nothing for it give,
But that which is already his
By whom we breath and live.

47. That liberty we lose for him,
Sickness might take away:
Our goods might also for our sin
By fire or thieves decay.

48. Again, we see what glory ‘tis
Freely to bear our cross
For him, who for us took up his,
When he our servant was.

49. I am most free that men should see
A hole cut thro’ mine ear;
If others will ascertain me,
They’ll hang a jewel there.

50. Just thus it is we suffer here
For him a little pain,
Who, when he doth again appear,
Will with him let us reign.

51. If all must either die for sin
A death that’s natural;
Or else for Christ, ‘tis beset with him
Who for the last doth fall.

52. Who now dare say we throw away
Our goods or liberty,
When God’s most holy Word doth say
We gain thus much thereby?

53. Hark yet again, you carnal men,
And hear what I shall say
In your own dialect, and then
I’ll you no longer stay.

54. You talk sometimes of valour much,
And count such bravely mann’d,
That will not stick to have a touch
With any in the land.

55. If these be worth commending then,
That vainly show their might,
How dare you blame those holy men
That in God’s quarrel fight?

56. Though you dare crack a coward’s crown,
Or quarrel for a pin,
You dare not on the wicked frown,
Nor speak against their sin.

57. For all your spirits are so stout,
For matters that are vain;
Yet sin besets you round about,
You are in Satan’s chain.

58. You dare not for the truth engage,
You quake at prisonment;
You dare not make the tree your stage
For Christ, that King, potent.

59. Know then, true valour there doth dwell
Where men engage for God,
Against the devil, death, and hell,
And bear the wicked’s rod.

60. These be the men that God doth count
Of high and noble mind;
These be the men that do surmount
What you in nature find.

61. First they do conquer their own hearts,
All worldly fears, and then
Also the devil’s fiery darts,
And persecuting men.

62. They conquer when they thus do fall,
They kill when they do die:
They overcome then most of all,
And get the victory.

63. The worldling understands not this,
‘Tis clear out of his sight;
Therefore he counts this world his bliss,
And doth our glory slight.

64. The lubber knows not how to spring
The nimble footman’s stage;
Neither can owls or jackdaws sing
If they were in the cage.

65. The swine doth not the pearls regard,
But them doth slight for grains,
Though the wise merchant labours hard
For them with greatest pains.

66. Consdier man what I have said,
And judge of things aright;
When all men’s cards are fully played,
Whose will abide the light?

67. Will those, who have us hither cast?
Or they who do us scorn?
Or those who do our houses waste?
Or us, who this have borne?

68. And let us count those things the best
That best will prove at last;
And count such men the only blest,
That do such things hold fast.

69. And what though they us dear do cost,
Yet let us buy them so;
We shall not count our labour lost
When we see others’ woe.

70. And let saints be no longer blam’d
By carnal policy;
But let the wicked be asham’d
Of their malignity.