Evening and Morning
By Charles Haddon Spurgeon
August 9
Morning
"The
city hath no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it."—Revelation 21:23.
Ponder in the better world, the inhabitants are independent of all creature
comforts. They have no need of raiment; their white robes never wear out,
neither shall they ever be defiled. They need no medicine to heal diseases,
"for the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick." They need no sleep to
recruit their frames—they rest not day nor
night, but unweariedly praise Him in His temple. They
need no social relationship to minister comfort, and whatever happiness they
may derive from association with their fellows is not essential to their bliss,
for their Lord's society is enough for their largest desires. They need no
teachers there; they doubtless commune with one another concerning the things
of God, but they do not require this by way of instruction; they shall all be
taught of the Lord. Ours are the alms at the king's gate, but they feast at the
table itself. Here we lean upon the friendly arm, but there they lean upon
their Beloved and upon Him alone. Here we must have the help of our companions,
but there they find all they want in Christ Jesus. Here we look to the meat which perisheth, and to the
raiment which decays before the moth, but there they find everything in God. We
use the bucket to fetch us water from the well, but there they drink from the
fountain head, and put their lips down to the living water. Here the angels
bring us blessings, but we shall want no messengers from heaven then. They
shall need no Gabriels there to bring their
love-notes from God, for there they shall see Him face to face. Oh! what a blessed time shall that be when we shall have mounted
above every second cause and shall rest upon the bare arm of God! What a
glorious hour when God, and not His creatures; the Lord, and not His works,
shall be our daily joy! Our souls shall then have attained the perfection of
bliss.
Evening
"He
appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom He had cast seven
devils."—Mark 16:9.
Mary of Magdala
was the victim of a fearful evil. She was possessed by not one devil
only, but seven. These dreadful inmates caused much pain and pollution to the
poor frame in which they had found a lodging. Hers was a hopeless, horrible
case. She could not help herself, neither could any human succour
avail. But Jesus passed that way, and unsought, and probably even resisted by
the poor demoniac, He uttered the word of power, and Mary of Magdala became a trophy of the healing power of Jesus.
All the seven demons left her, left her never to
return, forcibly ejected by the Lord of all. What a blessed deliverance! What a
happy change! From delirium to delight, from despair to peace, from hell to
heaven! Straightway she became a constant follower of Jesus, catching
His every word, following His devious steps, sharing His toilsome life; and
withal she became His generous helper, first among that band of healed
and grateful women who ministered unto Him of their substance. When Jesus was
lifted up in crucifixion, Mary remained the sharer of His shame: we find
her first beholding from afar, and then drawing near to the foot of the cross.
She could not die on the cross with Jesus, but she stood as near it as she
could, and when His blessed body was taken down, she watched to see how and
where it was laid. She was the faithful and watchful believer, last at
the sepulchre where Jesus slept, first at the grave
whence He arose. Her holy fidelity made her a favoured
beholder of her beloved Rabboni, who deigned to
call her by her name, and to make her His messenger of good news to the
trembling disciples and Peter. Thus grace found her a maniac and made her a
minister, cast out devils and gave her to behold angels, delivered her from
Satan, and united her for ever to the Lord Jesus. May
I also be such a miracle of grace!