Chapter Fifteen
Chapter 15.
Memorial Meeting for the General Public On Wednesday night, February 10th, 1892, the service arranged for the general public, and announced to commence at 10.30 p.m., began about ten o'clock, the building then being entirely filled, a great proportion of the audience being men.
Rev. J. Grainger, of Christ Church, announced the well-known hymn, "There is a fountain filled with blood," a great favourite of Mr. Spurgeon's, and it was sung with zest.
Rev. H. O. Mackey, of Peckham Park Road, led in prayer, entreating a manifest blessing at the close of the day so memorable.
Rev. J. Manton Smith, having first pathetically sung "Rock of Ages," the congregation joining in the last verse, then said: "Thousands of people with weary hearts have gathered in this place from time to time, to listen to him whose body is now lying in that coffin, and he, with a faithful finger, like the mariner's compass, always pointed those burdened ones to where alone they could find true rest. That rest is in Jesus; and 'Jesus' was the sum and substance of his life. Some years ago I saw, in Southampton, a notice on a certain house. The occupier of it lived and carried on his business in the same premises, and this signboard said, 'Workshop below; residence above.' Our dear Pastor knew what it was to work below; his study was his workshop; and now he has gone to his rest, after his life of toil. How well he did his work, God knew, and God will reward him for it. But even in the midst of his labours on earth, he knew that rest which comes to those who trust in Christ. There is no rest to the soul apart from Christ; and if there are any here to-night who are weary and heavy laden, we invite you by the memory of the blessed ministry just closed to come where you may find sweet rest.
"Our Pastor has gone to his long rest; his service is over, but his works are permanent. They will remain and speak, thought he speaketh not. Oh, what vigour he had! what singleness of eye. 'He walked with God,' like Enoch, and he had this blessed testimony that he pleased God. He did not always satisfy other people, but he did not live to please any but his Lord and Master.
"I heard of a man who was taking tickets at a railway station, from an impatient crowd. He would only let them pass one at a time, and someone said, 'My man, you are not very popular with these people.' He answered, 'I do not care about that as long as I am popular with the man up there,' pointing to the station-master who was looking out of the window. Our Pastor acted upon this plan. As long as he had the testimony that he pleased God, he cared not who was offended. For him to live was Christ. Methinks that if it were possible for him to rise up out of that coffin to-night and stand before this congregation, he would crave no higher privilege, nor covet any higher joy, than just once more to ring out the old, old gospel, which it was the joy of his life to proclaim. It was the one passion of his being to invite sinners to the Saviour. How sweet the name of Jesus sounded when with his clear bell-like voice it was uttered in the ear of the believer, or sounded in the sinner's ear, many here remember right well.
"But we need not speak so much of him, who has left us, as of his God, who is still with us. Our Pastor's God is our God. How it would rejoice his spirit if he knew to-night that over his dead body you yielded your broken heart to his Lord! It would add to his joy in glory. Those who have listened to his word on earth, but have not obeyed it, will perhaps hear the silent voice, which now speaks to them; for there is a silence that is better than speech: even the dumbness of that coffin is eloquence to us.
"I think I can hear a voice from it, which seems to say to me, 'Tell the people about Jesus.' I knew a man in this city, who preached Jesus Christ with all his heart. I heard him preaching his last sermon, as he stood in the pulpit supported by two of his deacons, because he was so weak. Turning round to me afterwards, he said, 'Here are my pulpit notes, brother; if they are any use to you, you can have them.'" The next day he was carried to the London Hospital, and put in a little bed in a room set apart for him, over the clock in the Whitechapel Road. The doctor came and after he examined him, said, 'If you will consent to undergo an operation, I think we may save your life; if not, cancer will do its deadly work in a fortnight.'" My friend answered, 'I will consent to the operation, for the sake of the church; I should like to preach again.'" They came to chloroform him, but he said, "'No, not yet. Let me go to the operator's room first.'" Then they took off his clothes, and dressed him in a scarlet robe. That seemed to strengthen him, he thought it was like following his Master, Jesus: they clothed him in scarlet. He was supported into the operator's room, he mounted the table, and knelt down. Then looking at the doctors in the gallery, who were waiting to see the operation, he put his hands together and said, "'Gentlemen, if I live I live unto the Lord; if I die I die unto the Lord; living or dying I am the Lord's. I am ready.'" They chloroformed him, and the operation took place. I went round the same night to his little room, and tapped on the door, which was ajar.
"The nurse said, 'You cannot come in; mortification has set in; your friend is dying.'" He heard my voice, and said, 'Yes, you can let him come.'" When I went in, his wife said, 'Do not speak, he is past that,' but he replied, "'No, I am not,' he said, 'Come to my bedside,' and he put out his hand to grip mine. I almost fancy I feel the chilly sweat now.
"'Oh, brother,' he said, 'I want to tell you how precious Jesus has been to me through all my suffering. Take my dying message, tell the people about Jesus! Wherever you go, tell the people about Jesus! As long as blood shall flow through your veins, as long as the breath is in your body, tell the people—tell the people about Jesus!' And he fell back to be with Jesus.
"Sometimes when I am weary in the work, though, thank God, I am never weary of it, I seem to hear the echo of the old man's voice, saying to me, 'Tell the people about Jesus!' There lies one who did it constantly; all through his life, that was his theme. As long as he had breath left, it was used in speaking about his Master. Methinks he would say to-night, to every student here, to every church member, to every Christian, 'Tell the people about Jesus!' God help us who know the message to tell it, and those who hear to receive it. Amen."
Mr. Ira D. Sankey then said: "About eight months ago there passed across the Atlantic ocean the intelligence that Mr. Charles Haddon Spurgeon was exceedingly ill. I was in the city of Minneapolis, in the Western States, attending a convention of over 12,000 delegates, and when that despatch was read by the Chairman of the meeting, a great hush fell upon that audience. Then it flashed upon my mind, I will sing a hymn—'Only remembered by what I have done,'—and I asked that great congregation to bow their heads in silent prayer for your Pastor here, while I sang those words. As an indication of the hold that this man of God had upon the people there, the whole congregation bowed like one man, and an earnest petition was sent up to God that he might spare his servant. Little did I think then that it would be my privilege in eight months to come and sing the same song here on this consecrated spot. May I ask the friends here to bow their heads, and pray that God may bless the message which has been delivered, and which is to be delivered, and the message of this song, so that souls may be won for Christ; and that from this hour many may consecrate their lives to him whom Mr. Spurgeon so faithfully served, and whom he declared to the multitudes throughout this land, and throughout all lands."
Mr. Sankey then sang the new arrangement of the hymn, "Only remembered by what I have done."
Rev. W. Y. Fullerton said: "Ten nights ago, a thousand miles from here, in a small room on the first floor, there lay upon his bed our beloved pastor. Around him stood a little group of loving friends. Ten nights ago, almost at this very hour, the drowsy eyes were closed in sleep, and the racked body was stilled for ever. That precious body is here today, having been, by the good care of God, brought safely over the sea; but Charles Haddon Spurgeon is gone. He has left behind him millions of bleeding hearts. There are many of you here who feel, as I do, that this is our greatest earthly loss.
"Mrs. Browning once asked Charles Kingsley the secret of his beautiful character, of his fortitude, of his nobility. With great tenderness, he answered: 'I had a friend.' Looking down at that coffin to-night, nothing more appropriate can come from my lips, 'I had a friend.' Any little usefulness in my life has been principally owing, on the human side, to that friend whose body lies before us. Perhaps I ought not to speak all I feel, but I cannot refrain from saying that I would willingly have gone to the grave tomorrow instead of him, if only he could have stood here in my vigour again to preach the glorious Gospel of the blessed God.
"Many of us are so very sorry that we have not yet adequately grasped our loss; we can scarcely bear to think of it, it is so overwhelming. Yet, why should we be sorry? When you come to argue with yourself, why should you so greatly mourn? Three months ago when our dear friend went to the sunny South, after that terrible illness of his, we were glad—glad, though he was going to a strange country, because he was going from fog to sunshine. We were content to bear the exile, because it was not to be for ever; we thought he would soon be better, and then we should see him again.
"Let us be more content to-night, for he has gone, not to a strange country, but to the Homeland, and he is well. He is nearer to us now than he was at Menton; it would have taken two days of quick travelling to have reached him there; but if God willed it, we might now reach him in five minutes. Why, then, should we be sorry? Let us lift up our hearts to-night, as we come to the very hour when his spirit passed away to be with his God.
"It is not exile, rest on high;
It is not sadness, free from strife. To fall asleep is not to die; To dwell with Christ is better life!"
There is a text which was very dear to him, whose mortal remains rest in that coffin—the text that brought light to his soul. It will be the motto of my discourse: 'Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth: for I am God, and there is none else.'—Isaiah 45:22.
"You know the story, how on a wintry morning, in a little chapel, from the lips of an unknown preacher, that text came with power to the heart of C. H. Spurgeon; you know how the preacher picked out the stranger, and looking to him said, 'Young man, you seem to be in trouble: look unto Jesus.' Now we are all in trouble, and I would repeat that word, 'Look unto Jesus.'" This text in Isaiah is not only the message that brought life to Mr. Spurgeon, it is the history of his life. In that light let us view it.
I. "I would say, to begin with, that pre-eminently he was a man of God. 'I am God, and there is none else,' was the central truth of his being. He learned that there was one God, and he knew him. Not only was he a godly man, for there is many a godly man who is not a man of God in this sense. Many a man who lives a godly life, who does not realize the presence of God about him as Charles Haddon Spurgeon did. Oh, how near God came to him! Once when he came back from his rest in France, he came down these steps like a very lion, and standing in his pulpit, he preached a sermon that will never fade from the memory of those who heard it: 'I have yet to speak on God's behalf.' God was his Alpha and Omega. Almost the last letter that he wrote to us, urging us to pray that the scourge of influenza might be taken away, bore as its burden that the people seemed to have forgotten God.
He dwelt in the presence of God. He knew him;he had communion with him; his whole life was spent in the preaching of God to the people. I have had some heart-to-heart talk with him when he was here, but he has had closer heart-to-heart talk with God than ever I had with him. I remember once, when I asked him about his method of prayer, he told me it was on this platform, here in the presence of the people, that he had his nearest approaches to the throne of the Eternal. He was lifted up, even to the very presence of the great God, as he stood here praying with his people, whom he loved so well.
"Moreover, he rested upon God's covenant. The next verse to the text says, 'I have sworn by myself, the word is gone out of my mouth in righteousness, and shall not return, that unto me every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear.' That is the covenant that God has made with his people, that he will save them, and that he will give their world to Christ. There are some of you who think that Mr. Spurgeon imagined that things were always going wrong. He saw the wrong, but he knew that through wrong, and in spite or it, God worked out his own purposes, and that the earth should yet 'be filled with the knowledge of the glory of God, as the waters cover the sea.' It shall be so. He was like Oliver Cromwell, whose last words were, 'The covenant is one. Faith in the covenant is my only support, and if we believe not, he abideth faithful.' He was like Cromwell in his faith in the omnipotent Jehovah, and in the boldness which springs from such faith. He knew that God would reign.
"Dwelling in God's presence, and resting upon God's covenant, he feared none else. 'I am God, and there is none else.' He did not seek to please men, but to witness to them of the verities of our faith. He keenly felt adverse criticism, but he did not fear it. His vision of God made him strong to do and to suffer. God was so much to him that there was practically to him 'none else.'" For such a man, a man who lived with God here, to go and live with God there, is no very great change. It is only a higher development of the same life. It is only as if God, shutting the book of this life, said to him, 'Here endeth the first lesson.' The second lesson, a brighter and more glorious one, has been begun, where now he knows, even as he is known.
II. "In the second place, I will say of dear Mr. Spurgeon, that he was a man of the people. His sympathy went out to 'all the ends of the earth.' He lived on the earth. He did not live in the clouds. He was a man amongst men; he was absolutely the most common-sense minister of the gospel I have ever met; and I have met a good many. He was a true man. I am glad to see so many men at this service. Brothers! if you want to be true men, look unto Spurgeon's Saviour. You cannot say there was anything mawkish or sentimental about him, any unmanly weakness. None! He was a man, a man in Christ, a whole man! Would you be a real man? Look unto Christ, to whom that man of God looked, and you, too, will be every inch a man.
"He helped the people. The man who has most sympathy with Christ can best aid those around him! It was the glory of C. H. Spurgeon, that, like the Saviour, 'the common people heard him gladly.' He did not cater to reach the ear of the superfine few: he wanted to speak to the people. His heart was with the people, and he had experience of men such as very few have. In their temptations and their trials, he could give them a brother's hand. Many of you, when you came to hear him, found he put himself alongside you, and brought life and healing to you.
"He girded the world with his influence. 'All the ends of the earth' heard from him the truth of God. Very few men have helped to accomplish the text more than the dear friend whom we have lost. Little did that Methodist preacher think that day, when that young man looked to Christ, that all the ends of the earth were, through him, to hear the gospel; but so it is—in every civilized land his message has been heard. He might have used Augustines words more truly than Augustine: 'I have a whole Christ for my salvation; a whole Bible for my staff; a whole church for my fellowship; a whole world for my parish.' The whole earth is in his debt. Many a man at the ends of the earth, many a man in the backwoods of America, many a man in the bush of Australia, many a man in the islands of the sea, has, through his words, looked to the Saviour and begun to live the life of God.
III. "He was a man of God; he was a man of the people; and, in the third place, he desired to bring the people to God. This the text hints at, and it was true of him. He knew the people need to 'be saved.'"He did not flatter men, nor say soft things to please them. The crowds did not come to hear him because he made much of the dignity of human nature. He told the people the absolute truth about themselves, and never blinked the fact that they needed to be saved. His message was that sin was ruin; that sin was hell; but the people came to hear notwithstanding. They came because the truth he preached found an echo in their own heart, that is the only echo that has ever been in this building. God grant that the echo may be heard in the hearts of not a few to-night!
"He entreated men to be saved. Why, I have heard him stand here and speak more like a mother than a preacher, as with his whole soul he implored people to turn to God. His faith in the purposes of God did not, as some say, make him 'heartless' in his doctrine. He yearned over the souls of men. Oh, how Christ, his Master, yearns over you! 'Be saved!' Now, here, to-night, at this memorial service, the last night this precious body will ever rest in this Tabernacle; by the memory of the earnest words you have heard from those sealed lips, 'Be saved.' O men, O women, be saved!
"He commanded people to be saved. His was the voice of authority. He did not speak as the scribes, but in God's name, and as an ambassador of Christ, he commanded his hearers to believe, even as we would command you to-night. I think that is what he would have us do.
"Moreover, he expected his hearers to be saved; he looked for it as a natural result of his ministry, and in like manner, we expect that in this meeting, many of you, who have hitherto rejected the message, shall be led by the solemn circumstances of our gathering, to receive it and live. When on Monday I saw that beautiful olive-wood coffin, with the two black seals, which had been placed upon it at Menton, still intact, I could not help thinking of another great earnest servant of Christ. He was a Silesian shoemaker, but he knew God, and many were blessed through his word. On the marble cross, which marks his grave today, there is the inscription, 'Here rests Jacob Böhme, born of God, died in Christ, sealed with the Holy Spirit.' That would be a fitting inscription for the tomb where this body shall rest. Of God his servant was truly begotten; in Christ he has sweetly fallen asleep; and not only with this black seal on the coffin, but with the seal of the Spirit of God on his forehead he rests, claimed by the God of heaven, safe for evermore!
IV. "The last thing suggested by the text is this. Because Mr. Spurgeon desired to bring the people to God, he THEREFORE POINTED THEM TO THE CHRIST OF God. The pith of all his message was 'Look unto Christ.' He never pointed men to himself. I have heard him many times, but never yet have I heard him directing men to himself as the source of any blessing. Priestism he hated with a perfect hatred. Never was man more humble than he. He thought nothing of himself; when the work was done he gave all the credit to God, who worked in him both to will and to do of his good pleasure.
"He blew the trumpet soft and clear, That trembling sinners need not fear; And then with louder note and bold, To raze the walls of Satan's hold; The trumpet coming thus between, The hand that held it scarce was seen."
We thought of the message, and not of the messenger, when we listened to his voice. He preached not himself, but Christ Jesus as Lord.
"He had as his theme the just God and the Saviour. Even as it is written, 'A just God and a Saviour, there is none beside me, look unto me!' He preached no new gospel; he preached that God was a just God, and would punish sin; that he was a Saviour and would receive the sinner. He had marvellous facility of illustration, great freshness of view, and unexhausted fertility of mind, yet it was ever the same old truth which he declared, 'A just God and a Saviour. Look unto me.' Like King James, who always called for his old shoes, because they fitted him the best, he kept to the same grand gospel that he preached when he began his ministry. Yet Christ was more to him than his preaching. Christ was everything. He has left it on record, in one of his latest reviews of books, that he considered Samuel Rutherford's writings the nearest to the inspired Word. One of Rutherford's sentences well expresses the heart of our dear pastor: 'What astonishment shall be mine,' said that saintly man, 'when I first behold that fairest and most lovely face! It would be heaven to me just to look through a hole of heaven's door to see Christ's countenance!' Now he has seen him; it is at this moment almost midnight with us, but midnight is over for him; ten full days he has been in the light of that beautiful countenance! How can we sorrow for him? No! we are glad. We praise God on his behalf. He is in heaven. We are in the midst of sorrow, not for him, but for ourselves; but Christ is with us.
'And only heaven is better than to walk With Christ at midnight over moonless sea!'
The night may be dark, but if Christ is with us, over the billows we will go. Beneath this shadow we are almost sacred. The last thing I will say concerning this man of God is that he declared with all his might that salvation was by faith. He told men constantly that it was by looking to the Crucified One they would be saved. Not by looking to self. God grant that self may die within us, as truly as Spurgeon's body has died! Not by looking to Spurgeon: he never preached that. He ever said while he was with us, 'Look to Christ.' To-night the Lord Jesus himself is speaking to some of you, and his word is, 'You have looked long to my servant for strength and comfort; I have taken away my servant, now look unto me.' And some of you are not saved! You have come and hung upon his lips, and have looked often to the preacher. The Lord says to you now, 'Look unto me. In life and death, look unto me.'" Let me give you one of Mr. Spurgeon's own illustrations. He told how the Duke of Marlborough, when he was dying, was carried by some friends to see a picture of some great battle that he had fought. When he saw it he began to weep, and said, 'Ah! the Duke of Marlborough was something then, but now he is a dying man,' upon which Mr. Spurgeon beautifully says that the Christian is something when he comes to die. It is then he is something. Why! when we come to die we are only beginning to live! He whom we mourn is yet alive.
"Soon the day will come when we shall all look upon Christ, whether we have looked to him or not; we shall see him as he sits on the great throne. The coming of the Lord draweth nigh. The second advent of Christ was, in his later years especially, a great hope to the departed Pastor of this Tabernacle. He looked for the coming of the Saviour, but I have heard him say many times that, if he might have his choice, he would rather experience the bliss of the spirits who are now with their Master, than escape death by being permitted to tarry till Christ should come. The Lord has given him his wish. He is yonder with the enraptured throng before the throne of God, while his body rests until the first resurrection. On the very night in which 'our beloved Pastor entered heaven' an unknown astronomer discovered a new star. On the Monday morning on which we read in the newspapers the terrible news which almost paralyzed us, an anonymous postcard arrived at Edinburgh Observatory saying there was a new star in the heavens, near the Milky Way, almost at the zenith, a star of the fifth magnitude. But in the heavens yonder there was another star that night, another star that shall shine for ever, not of the fifth, but of the first magnitude. The astronomers have been observing their star, and I think the angels have learnt something more of the grace of God from those lips through which we learned so much of it. He turned many to righteousness here; there his theme will be still the same.
"Ten nights ago, just about this hour, from the margin of the tideless blue sea, his happy spirit went up to stand on the sea of glass mingled with fire! From the midst of the palm-trees, he went up to wave the palm-branch in the presence of the Throne. From amid the olive-trees, he, through faith in him who once poured out his soul under the olives, went up to rest beneath the Tree of Life, whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. From that sunny land, he went up to be in that other land where they have no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it, for the glory of God does lighten it, the Lamb is the Light thereof. The last day of the month was the last day of his earthly course; the first day of the week was the first day of his glory.
"'After this, it was noised abroad that Mr. Valiant-for-Truth was taken with a summons,' said John Bunyan, and his words are almost prophetic; 'he had this for a token that the summons was true, that the pitcher was broken at the fountain. When he understood it, he called for his friends and told them of it. Then said he, 'I am going to my Father's, and though with great difficulty I am got hither, yet now I do not repent me of all the trouble I have been at to get where I am. My sword I give to him who shall succeed me in my pilgrimage; my courage and skill to him that can get it. My marks and scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me, that I have fought his battles, who now will be my rewarder.' When the day that he must go home was come, many accompanied him to the river side, into which, as he went, he said, 'Death, where is thy sting?' And as he went down deeper he said, 'Grave, where is thy victory?' So he passed over—and all the trumpeters sounded for him on the other side."
"Servant of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ, The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy."
This hymn, quoted in full on page 109, having been heartily sung, with special emphasis on the line, "The voice at midnight came;" the meeting was concluded by prayer, after which many lingered behind to have a last look at the olive-casket.