Evening and Morning
By Charles Haddon Spurgeon
May 28
Morning
"Whom He justified, them He also
glorified."—Romans 8:30.
Here is a
precious truth for thee, believer. Thou mayest be
poor, or in suffering, or unknown, but for thine
encouragement take a review of thy "calling" and the consequences
that flow from it, and especially that blessed result here spoken of. As surely
as thou art God's child today, so surely shall all thy trials soon be at an
end, and thou shalt be rich to all the intents of bliss. Wait awhile, and that
weary head shall wear the crown of glory, and that hand of labour
shall grasp the palm-branch of victory. Lament not thy troubles, but rather
rejoice that ere long thou wilt be where "there shall be neither sorrow,
nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain." The chariots of fire
are at thy door, and a moment will suffice to bear thee to the glorified. The
everlasting song is almost on thy lip. The portals of heaven stand open for
thee. Think not that thou canst fail of entering into rest. If He hath called
thee, nothing can divide thee from His love. Distress cannot sever the bond;
the fire of persecution cannot burn the link; the hammer of hell cannot break
the chain. Thou art secure; that voice which called thee at first, shall call
thee yet again from earth to heaven, from death's dark gloom to immortality's
unuttered splendours. Rest assured, the heart of Him
who has justified thee beats with infinite love towards thee. Thou shalt soon
be with the glorified, where thy portion is; thou art only waiting here to be
made meet for the inheritance, and that done, the wings of angels shall waft
thee far away, to the mount of peace, and joy, and blessedness, where,
"Far from a world of grief and sin,
With God eternally shut in,"
thou shalt rest for ever and
ever.
Evening
"This I recall to my mind,
therefore have I hope."—Lamentations 3:21.
Memory is frequently the bondslave of despondency. Despairing minds call to
remembrance every dark foreboding in the past, and dilate upon every gloomy
feature in the present; thus memory, clothed in sackcloth, presents to the mind
a cup of mingled gall and wormwood. There is, however, no necessity for this.
Wisdom can readily transform memory into an angel of comfort. That same recollection which in its left hand brings so many gloomy
omens, may be trained to bear in its right a wealth of hopeful signs. She need
not wear a crown of iron, she may encircle her brow
with a fillet of gold, all spangled with stars. Thus it was in Jeremiah's
experience: in the previous verse memory had brought him to deep humiliation of
soul: "My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me";
and now this same memory restored him to life and comfort. "This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope." Like
a two-edged sword, his memory first killed his pride with one edge, and then
slew his despair with the other. As a general principle, if we would exercise
our memories more wisely, we might, in our very darkest distress, strike a match which would instantaneously kindle the lamp of comfort.
There is no need for God to create a new thing upon the earth in order to
restore believers to joy; if they would prayerfully rake the ashes of the past,
they would find light for the present; and if they would turn to the book of
truth and the throne of grace, their candle would soon shine as aforetime. Be
it ours to remember the lovingkindness of the Lord,
and to rehearse His deeds of grace. Let us open the volume of recollection which is so richly illuminated with memorials
of mercy, and we shall soon be happy. Thus memory may be, as Coleridge calls
it, "the bosom-spring of joy," and when the Divine Comforter bends it
to His service, it may be chief among earthly comforters.