Chapter 105: Last Days, Death, and Funeral

Chapter 105.
Last Days, Death, And Funeral

Opening of the Year 1891—Family Prayer at Menton—Return to the Tabernacle—Last Conference—The Influenza—Preaches at the Tabernacle for the Last Time—Final Breakdown—Great Sympathy of the General Public—Immense Number of Messages—The Prince of Wales—Mr. Gladstone's Letter—Daily Prayer Meetings—Letters—Eastbourne—Last Days at Menton—Death—Striking Scenes at the Funeral.

The year 1891 opened ominously, though it may not have been possible for any ordinary spectator to understand its portents. As might well be the case, Spurgeon was depressed by seeing those veterans fall on the right hand and on the left whom he had regarded as his standard-bearers in the holy war. Thus the death of William Olney was quickly followed by that of the devoted B. Wildon Carr, a deacon of the Tabernacle, and a man who successfully laboured for a lengthened period in the pastorate at Newcastle-on-Tyne. He had been associated in one way or another with Spurgeon from early days, and being a man of culture, who saw eye to eye with the great preacher in theological matters, he frequently rendered acceptable assistance of a literary kind. If an outline of the history of the church was needed for any particular occasion, Carr would most likely be called upon to occupy the place of honour. He wrote many reviews of theological works for The Sword and the Trowel, and not very long before he died he edited the new edition of Gaussen's well-known work on the Inspiration of Scripture at Mr. Spurgeon's special request. The opening weeks of the year were passed at Menton, and were, on the whole, as happy a season as had ever been passed in that sunny retreat. The daily family-prayer congregation increased from over thirty to nearly sixty, all having to be in their places by half-past nine o'clock, though some had to walk several miles to be present. "They said they would have walked for three hours rather than not attend," remarked Mr. Spurgeon to his students after his return. "It needed not that the speaker should say anything fresh. If I had had to give a poem or a tale I should have broken down, but the Holy Spirit made truth ever new." He said this in order to show that "there was a wonderful power in the Word," for morning by morning he expounded the Book of Genesis. On Sunday, February 8, he once more appeared at the Tabernacle, the subject of the sermon being "A Call to Prayer and Testimony" (Isa 62:6-7). On the following evening at the prayer meeting he was in excellent spirits, and remarked that, although he was ill when he left England, and had been ailing during the first month of his stay at Menton, he had returned in what he hoped was full health, so that he was looking forward to a lengthened term of happy service. Just before, Mr. William Stott, of Abbey Road Chapel, St. John's Wood, had been appointed assistant minister at the Tabernacle, and the chief pastor already set a high value on his friend's services. Though Mr. Stott was not a Pastors' College man, he had been acquainted with Spurgeon from early days, and was a great favourite. The work at St. John's Wood was taken up by Mr. H. E. Stone, one of Spurgeon's "own men," who for some years had carried on an effective work at the Nottingham Tabernacle. On Friday afternoon, February 13, I heard him address the students at the College for the last time, so far as I was personally concerned, the subject being "Styles of Preaching." He pointed out that there were many preachers who did not sufficiently take into account the varied conditions their hearers were in, or under which they listened. He thus compared their discourses to the Prayer-Book, which seemed to be intended for all, as though all were in the same state. Practically, I suppose, this would correspond to that defect which John Foster detected in the preaching of Robert Hall—it was too general. "You must know who are in Christ and who are out of Christ," said Spurgeon, looking earnestly round the lecture-room, many settled pastors being present with the students. "There are some duties common to all," he added; "but the unconverted need to be told that it is not by these, but by the blood of Christ, that they must find acceptance." Those who were present will not soon forget the way in which he mentioned a widely circulated brochure as "shaving near to Scripture. There is rest to be found, but the reader has to obtain it by character. This is salvation by works, and the Reformation in England will have to be fought over again. In drawing lines, however, you must take care that you do not shut out any part of Scripture. All things considered, we have the greatest possible reason for sticking to the old truths. The truth reached me when a lad, and the same kind of preaching reaches the lads still." As he walked from his private room to the lecture-hall on that memorable afternoon he seemed to be in excellent spirits, and even to walk with some elasticity in his step. He was not really so well as he appeared to be, however; and the severe cold which obliged him to stay away from the Tabernacle prayer meeting on the Monday following was not reassuring when influenza was in the air. Nevertheless, he was able to preside at the annual church meeting on Tuesday, February 17, when special allusion was made to the seventy-four members who had died during the year. The decrease of membership in 1892 was somewhat greater than the increase, though the total number was 5,328. Connected with the church there were also twenty-three mission stations, with sittings for nearly 4,000 persons, besides twenty-seven Sunday-schools with 8,000 scholars and nearly 600 teachers. Such was the outlook at the last church meeting at which the great preacher was permitted to preside. The work continued to prosper in such a degree that in the course of a few weeks after his return from the Continent the pastor had eighty-four persons to propose for church membership. The Sunday-school building, raised as a memorial of the Surrey Gardens services, was also approaching completion. A good deal continued to be said about false doctrine, churches providing their members with amusements, etc.; and, at the same time, some sensation was caused by Spurgeon's secession from the Liberation Society. In this instance his own words were quoted against himself; for what he had written years previously in his article, "A Political Dissenter," seemed hardly to tally with the reasons he now gave for breaking away from the Society.

Many heard Spurgeon's voice for the last time on Easter Tuesday, March 31, when the Tabernacle was densely crowded to hear Mr. Charles Cook describe his experiences as a visitor of Russian prisons. Great interest was shown in the subject, and it was generally felt that the Government of the Czar represented an iniquitous system. The last Conference of the College in which the great preacher would ever take part opened on Monday, April 20, at Upton Chapel, Lambeth Road. If he could have known that his life-work was so nearly completed, the founder of the College would have derived some solace from the results achieved, as well as in the general outlook. To that date eight hundred and forty-five men had been received into the institution, and six hundred and eighteen were still labouring in connection with the Baptist denomination. No less than four hundred and fourteen churches supplied statistics for 1890, and these reported close upon eight thousand persons received into communion. He might well have reminded those present of a great general speaking of his veterans, when he said at the public meeting in the evening: "The brethren present have come from the war, and they have brought their shields with them. They remind me of the Spartan woman who told her son either to bring his shield back or to come back on it." As regarded the Lord's second coming, he said: "The wheels of Christ's chariot are already red-hot. He went to heaven to prepare and to set all things right that Satan had ruined, and He is coming back quickly."

He entered the Conference Hall at the College on the following morning with a bad headache; but, notwithstanding, he rose at or about noon to give forth that last great manifesto which has since found its way into all English-speaking countries as "The Greatest Fight in the World." Mr. F. W. N. Lloyd presided at the annual supper on the following evening, when the collection amounted to £3,100. It was then that Spurgeon mentioned that Norcott's little work on Baptism, which he had republished, had been translated into four of the languages of the East, while he had received a bottle of otto of roses from Bulgaria from those who had benefited by the book. "There an order has gone forth that Servian priests must preach; but there are pulpits in that country in which no sermon ever has been preached, and the only thing to be done is to read Spurgeon's sermons, which have been lithographed for the purpose. Thus we have only to blow the seed," he added, "and it will blow across the Bosphorus." On Friday, April 24, he preached before the College Association for the last time, the text being John 16:14 : "He shall glorify me," etc. This sermon, the last I heard him preach, was in all respects one of his greatest efforts. An epidemic of influenza was then raging in London, but Spurgeon worked on, apparently alike defying his own physical weakness and the stealthy march of the pestilence which seemed to walk in darkness. He had been exhausted by the Conference, delightful as the week had otherwise been to him, but none the less he seemed to enter into the religious festivals of May with all of his old enthusiasm. It was reckless ardour, nevertheless—the last supreme effort of the great man, who was visibly breaking down. On Monday, May 4, after preparing that week's sermon for the press, and seeing a number of inquirers at the Tabernacle, he presided at the prayer meeting in the evening, when he asked his friends to pray for a blessing on the services of the coming days, and made reference to a collection of old Bibles in which he showed particular interest. On the following evening he preached a sermon to Sunday-school teachers at Bloomsbury Chapel; and on Thursday evening he gave a special discourse to sailors in the Tabernacle from Job 7:12 : "Am I a sea, or a whale?" On Friday he attended the Ministers' Fraternal Society at Hendon. On May 15, in a weakly bodily condition, he spoke at Exeter Hall on behalf of Presbyterian Missions; and when it is remembered that all of these engagements were supplementary to the Sunday services, no one will be surprised that there was a sudden breakdown. He preached on Sunday morning, May 17. He intended to do so in the evening; but though he appeared in the chapel, he was overtaken by pain and sickness, which obliged him to hurry away to take to his bed, leaving Mr. Stott to give the sermon and finish the service. A few days previously I saw Mr. Spurgeon, and heard his voice for the last time, the occasion being the meeting of the colporteurs at the Pastors' College, when he and Mr. Scott, of 12, Paternoster Buildings, addressed the men. The illness from which Mr. Spurgeon was suffering was said to be influenza; and by the first week in June he was thought to be so far on the high road to recovery that he decided to preach on the morning of Sunday, June 7. The sermon then given, and founded on 1Sa 30:21-25, concluded his great life-work at the Metropolitan Tabernacle. Though he had not quite completed the fifty-seventh year of his age, he had preached the Gospel for forty years.

He was in such good spirits that he thought to hasten his recovery by taking an excursion to the scenes associated with his youth—his grandfather's country. He was the guest of Mr. Gurteen at Haverhill, and enjoyed greatly the opportunity of visiting the old-time sites and scenes. On Thursday of that week a severe headache came on, however, and on the following day he was so much worse that he had to hasten home, as one who had completely broken down. This was on Friday, June 12, and the symptoms soon became more alarming. The Lord Mayor (Mr. Alderman Savory) and the Lady Mayoress, as well as the late Dr. Donald Fraser, attended the Stockwell Orphanage festival on June 18; but the Vice-President had to do duty on behalf both of himself and his brother. Mr. Spurgeon had also been looking forward to the opening of the new schools, called the Surrey Gardens Memorial; but when his brother also undertook that service the great preacher of M. Jullien's music-hall was too prostrate even to send a message. The patient grew worse day by day. Dr. Miller, of Norwood, desired to have the professional opinion of Dr. Kidd; and friends at the Tabernacle became so anxious that an all-day prayer-meeting was held on Monday, June 29. The meeting was maintained from seven o'clock a.m. to nine p.m.—fourteen hours—and the day was in all respects remarkable. Clergymen of the Establishment and ministers of all denominations attended, while the number of letters and telegrams received was quite extraordinary. For the time all were sanguine, but some days later the symptoms became so serious that Dr. Kidd said: "The case is a very difficult and dangerous one." The number of messages received at Westwood was overwhelming; the telegraph-office at Norwood broke down under the pressure. Among those who sent inquiries were the Prince of Wales, several members of the nobility, and high dignitaries of the Established Church. The Chief Rabbi sent a cordial letter, while Mr. Gladstone wrote to Mrs. Spurgeon as follows:—

"Corton, Lowestoft, July 16, 1891.

"My dear Madam,—In my own home, darkened at the present time, I have read with studied interest the daily accounts of Mr. Spurgeon's illness, and I cannot help conveying to you the earnest assurance of my sympathy with you and with him, and of my cordial admiration, not only of his splendid powers, but still more of his devoted and unfailing character. May I humbly commend you and him in all contingencies to the infinite stores of the Divine love and mercy, and subscribe myself, my dear Madam, faithfully yours, "W. E. Gladstone."

When a reply was sent to this letter, this was added by the invalid himself:—

"P.S.—Yours is a word of love such as those only write who have been in the King's Country and have seen much of His face.

—My heart's love to you.

"C. H. Spurgeon."

Though the sufferer's condition might seem to vary from day to day, the alarming fact that the ailment was Bright's disease of a severe type must have driven hope from many a breast. The doctors found it a difficult thing to write a bulletin every day exactly describing the patient's condition. At length, when the Rev. C. H. Kelly, the ex-President of the Wesleyan Conference, preached on August 9, the following letter was read in the pastor's own handwriting:—"Dear Brethren,—The Lord's name be praised for first giving, and then hearing, the loving prayers of His people. Through those prayers my life is prolonged. I feel greatly humbled and very grateful at being the object of so great a love and so wonderful an outburst of prayer. I have not strength to say more. Let the name of the Lord be glorified.—Yours most heartily, "C. H. Spurgeon."

The prayer-meetings at the Tabernacle continued to be held twice a day. At length the distressing delirium from which Mr. Spurgeon had suffered ceased, and he was reported to be getting better, he himself being confident of going on to recovery. On September 12 his old friend, George Rogers, the ex-Principal of the Pastors' College, and the oldest Congregational minister in England, passed away; but while the College still retained the services of such tried veterans as his own brother, David Gracey, and F. G. Marchant, there was no anxiety as to its future. The early days of September were fine and warm, so that for the first time since his rallying, a drive could be indulged in, though the story that he was seen leaning over Westminster Bridge looking at the little vessel Goodwill, intended for the Congo, was quite devoid of truth. On Sunday, September 13, the following letter was read to the congregation:—

"September 13, 1891

"Dear Friends,—I cannot write much, but I cannot withhold my heart and pen from saying, 'O bless the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together.' This week has, by its fine weather, set me free from a three months' captivity. Those believers of all denominations who so lovingly prayed for me will now help me to praise the Lord. Verily, the loving Lord heareth prayer!

"I fear my doctors would have a mournful tale to tell of my disease, and from inward consciousness I must agree with them; but I feel better, and I get into the open air, and therefore I hope my face is turned towards recovery. Reading, writing, thinking, etc., are not yet easy to me. I am forced to vegetate. I fear it will be long before I can be at my beloved work.

"I send my hearty love to you all, and my humble gratitude to that great army of praying people who have been heard of the Lord in their cries for the prolongation of my life. May we believe more, pray more, and therefore receive more!—Yours, in bonds of true affection, "C. H. Spurgeon."

Colder winds and rainy weather hindered his getting out into the open air; hut on Sunday, September 20, the following was read:—

"Beloved Friends,—May this Sabbath be a high day with you. May this be a day wherein the Good Shepherd shall find His lost sheep and lay them on His shoulders, rejoicing! Mr. Fullerton, whom I greatly love in the Lord, has won many souls abroad. May he again have many gracious captives among us at home. I would not write of myself, only you want to know, and you desire to know, all that I can tell. I am sitting up this morning to write you before the doctor comes at half-past eight, and so I cannot tell what he will say of me. The affectionate and effectual prayers of the saints dragged me back to life, and only by the same means shall I recover strength. I will not touch upon my present affliction. You will guess at it when I say that, although the stairs to my bedchamber are very easy, I cannot ascend them, but have to be carried up by others. The heart as yet will not endure even that small climb; therefore I need your prayers still, and I know I shall have them, for your love never ceases. You have kept together most lovingly during the four months now nearly over. Can you abide my further absence, which is painful to me, and yet absolutely needed? The Lord grant it, I shall come among you fit for service; but it cannot be for months. The Lord does not give half mercies. He will perfect that which concerneth us. How He has heard prayer! Had I died, all infidelity would have noted it as a proof that prayer was useless. We have a right now to score one on the other side. You would have been much discouraged if prayer had not been answered, and it is fair that now you should be equally encouraged and established in your confidence in the prayer-hearing Jehovah. The Lord bless every one of you! Let our love continue in all patience of hope.—Yours ever heartily, "C. H. Spurgeon." The next letter, read by Mr. A. G. Brown at the Tabernacle on September 27, well described the invalid's condition at the time:—

"Dear Friends,—Every time I see a church officer I am cheered by tidings of your good condition as a church and people. In this there is joy to me. May our Lord keep us evermore united in love, fervent in prayer, and diligent in service. As for myself, I have made no progress this week, but have rather gone backward than forward. When a man cannot eat how can he gather strength? I should have left home for the seaside if I had felt equal to the effort; but I am without energy, and must stay where I am. Oh, that I could be among you! But I must be patient and wait our Father's will. Your prayers included health and strength for me, and these I shall yet have; for mere life is scarcely a blessing without them. May I beg you to continue in supplication? I am sure you will. If sharp pruning makes fruit-bearing branches bring forth more fruit it is not a thing to be lamented when the great Vinedresser turns His knife upon us. If I may in the end be more useful to you and to those who come in and out among us, I shall rejoice in the woes which I have endured. May you each one when tried with sickness improve your school-time, that you may be the sooner able to learn and know all the Master's mind. God bless you this day, through my dear brother A. G. Brown. May he be happy in your midst, and may God be glorified. Few are the men like-minded with Mr. Brown—a brother tried and proved. Peace be to you and to your families!—Yours most lovingly, "C. H. Spurgeon." On Saturday, October 8, he went to Eastbourne, and derived some benefit from the change. He returned on Friday, the 16th; and no sooner was it understood that he was a little better than he received a large number of begging letters. He left for Menton on October 26, and at the same time Dr. A. T. Pierson, of Philadelphia, commenced his ministry at the Tabernacle. The first letter written from the sunny South seemed to come from one who was decidedly on the mend. "All the story of my cure has been marvellous, and this last part of it is all of a piece with the rest," wrote Mr. Spurgeon. "My brother, whose care has made the journey less formidable, when he returns will have a cheering tale to tell of me and of my dear wife, whose presence with me makes every single enjoyment into seven." In the letter read to his people on November 8 his great weakness became very apparent, however:—"To go up a few steps, to take a short walk, to move a parcel, and all such trifles, becomes a difficulty; so that Solomon's words are true, 'The grasshopper is a burden.' I think I could preach, but when I have seen a friend for five minutes I begin to feel that I have had as much of speaking as I can well manage." In his letter of a week later he had "no striking progress to report." Then he added, "But I feel I must be better, whatever the signs may say. Still, feelings are doubtful evidences. One thing is forced upon my mind—namely, that I am weak as water, and that building up is slower work than pulling down." The last letter I ever received from him came to hand towards the end of November, and in this he asked me to write an article for The Sword and the Trowel on the Flower Girls of London. This was in connection with the Flower Girls' Mission, which has its headquarters at Clerkenwell Close, and of which Mr. John A. Groom has been the hon. superintendent for nearly thirty years. This work was an enterprise in which the late Earl of Shaftesbury had shown the keenest interest. A third of a century ago a flower-seller would hardly have been met with in the streets of London; but in consequence of the development of the cut-flower trade, the girls, women, and children engaged in this industry in the Metropolis alone number several thousands, many being Roman Catholics who have come over from Ireland. The Flower Girls' Brigade is for the teaching of artificial flower making, and many find their way into service. It is altogether a most valuable work.

Both Spurgeon himself and those who had accompanied him from England really thought that he was gradually recovering. There was a time, indeed, when the invalid felt "strangely better," and planned impossible schemes, such as surprising his congregation by suddenly appearing in their midst. He issued his brochure, "Memories of Stambourne;" and the accounts in December seemed to be more cheering. "In compensation for these dumb Sabbaths the Lord will give me years of free utterance of His Word," remarked the invalid, and what he wrote he believed most sincerely. A week later he said: "I feel better, and have no fear but in due season I shall be as strong as aforetime." A fine Kerry cow arrived at West wood, from the west of Ireland, from an anonymous donor, the milk being of a specially nutritious kind.

Writing shortly before Christmas to Dr. Newman Hall, Mr, Spurgeon said: "I feel I have turned the corner;" and in a letter to the people he expressed himself as peaceful and hopeful. On the shortest day he wrote to his great family at the Stockwell Orphanage:—

"Menton, December 21, 1891.

"Dear, Boys and Girls,—I send you all my love so far as the post can carry it at twopence-halfpenny for half-an-ounce. I wish you a real glorious Christmas. I might have said a jolly Christmas if we had all been boys; but as some of us are girls, I will be proper, and say, 'A merry Christmas!' Enjoy yourselves and feel grateful to the kind friends who find money to keep the Stockwell Orphanage supplied. Bless their loving hearts, they never let you want for anything; may they have pleasure in seeing you all grow up to be good men and women. Feel very grateful also to the trustees. These gentlemen are always at work arranging for your good. Give them three times three. Then there are Mr. Charlesworth, Mr. Ladds, and all the masters and the matrons. Each one of them deserves your love and gratitude and obedience. They try to do you good; try to cheer them all you can. I should like you to have a fine day—such a day as we have here; but if not, you will be warm and bright indoors. Three cheers for those who give us the good things for this festival. I want you for a moment in the day to be all still and spend the time in thanking our Heavenly Father and the Lord Jesus for great goodness shown to you and to me, and then pray for me that I may get quite well. Mrs. Spurgeon and I both send our love to all the Stock well family.—Yours very heartily, "C. H. Spurgeon." On Christmas Eve, being Thursday, he wrote to his people: "I have nearly finished thirty-eight years of my ministry among you, and have completed thirty-seven volumes of published sermons preached in your midst. Yet we are not wearied of each other. I shall hail the day when I may again speak with you." The first number of the sermons for 1892 was entitled "Gratitude for Deliverance from the Grave" (Psa 118:17-18), the text which Luther had inscribed on his study wall, and which may also be seen on the memorial slab of Jubilee House at the back of the Tabernacle. On January 4 Archibald G. Brown celebrated his pastoral "Silver Wedding" in East London, and his chief wrote:—

"Menton, January 2, 1892.

Beloved Brother,—Receive the assurance of my heart-love, although you need no such assurance from me. You have long been most dear to me; but in your standing shoulder to shoulder with me in protest against deadly error we have become more than ever one. The Lord sustain, comfort, perfect you! Debtors to free and sovereign grace, we will together sing to our Redeeming Lord, world without end.—Yours most heartily, "C. H. Spurgeon.

"To your faithful church the abiding presence of the Lord and the continued manifestation of His power."

About the same time he wrote to Mr. John Kirk, of the Ragged School Union, in reference to the death of Mr. Francis Passmore, superintendent of the school at Lansdowne Place, "God bless ragged-schools this next year, and make 1892 a true year of our Lord"; and then he spoke of himself as "weak, but hopefully improving." To his people on the first Sunday of 1892 he wrote in a still more sanguine mood:—

"I believe I am right in reporting a greater change in the disease than could be spoken of before. It is still a great drain upon me; but as it has improved so far, I believe it will make more rapid diminution. What a joy it will be to be within measurable distance of the time to return to my pulpit and to you! I have not reached that point yet."

Among the last letters that he wrote at Menton was one to the late Dr. Doudney, the then venerable editor of The Gospel Magazine, who had written to thank Mr. Spurgeon for his article, "Sweet Experiences in 1842 and 1892":—

"Menton, January 6, 1892.

"Dear Venerable Brother,—I know that a bit of real deep and grateful experience like my grandfather's is sure to suit you even as it does me. We rejoice to hear from our old friend. The Lord bless thee. You are now enjoying ripe fruit. The Gospel is good when it is green and new to us, but it suits us better and better as our autumn of life mellows our knowledge. We have no inclination to change: I might almost say 'no temptation to alter.' None but Jesus; nothing but grace. Our love to you. I am slowly improving.—Yours heartily, "C. H. Spurgeon."

Three days later, on January 9, Mr. Spurgeon wrote to Mr. Cuff, Pastor of the Shoreditch Tabernacle:—

"I cannot write letters, but I can manage to sign a cheque. It is with much pleasure that I send this £50, and I wish that you might not have need of any more, though I see you will; yours is a long task, and I wish I had a long purse with which to help you; but wishing will not bring it. Doctor says I hold my own. In this broken weather it is all I can expect, and more. I am truly grieved that you have so much family affliction. What fine clusters our Vinedresser will yet get from so much pruning! Is it not a happy thing to live to see some of you who were my young lads becoming such truly great fathers in Israel, with your fruitful churches around you?.... The rest I need not write." The now ever-memorable addresses which he gave on the last evening of 1891 and the first morning of 1892 were the last he was destined to give. Still he continued so hopeful that in the letter read to his people on January 10 he said that "the steady and solid progress which had begun is continued and will continue." His last written communication was read at the Tabernacle on Sunday, January 24: "The sun shines at length, and now I hope to get on." That cheery message, however, was followed by a telegram telling of a serious relapse. Some even still clung to hope; but the preacher at length seemed to realise that his work was done. Just before the stupor of death came over him on the last day of his life he dictated his last message of love to his church, sending one hundred pounds for Tabernacle expenses. "They will want to know how you are," said his secretary; but the characteristic reply was, "Let them find out!" A little later—in the last hour of January, 1892—he passed away into eternal rest. Among the last messages he sent was one to the Prince and Princess of Wales on the occasion of the death of their eldest son.

Though it was not unexpected, the death of Spurgeon seemed to startle the English-speaking world on the morning of Monday, February 1; and on the following Sunday references were made to the event in thousands of pulpits. On Monday, February 8, the remains of the departed preacher arrived in London, and on the following day over sixty thousand people passed through the Tabernacle to see the coffin, which, surrounded by palm-branches from Menton, and with many memorial-cards attached to it, bore the inscription— In Loving Memory of CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON, Born at Kelvedon, June 19th, 1834.

Fell Asleep in Jesus on Sunday, January 31st, 1892.

"I Have Fought A Good Fight, I Have Finished My Course, I Have Kept The Faith."

The funeral services took place on Wednesday and Thursday in the Tabernacle, and were very fully attended. The morning meeting of Wednesday was for members of the church, and for those who laboured in connection with the forty mission-stations connected with the Tabernacle. The afternoon meeting was for ministers and students of all denominations; the gathering at seven o'clock was for Christian workers; and a fourth meeting at 10.30 p.m. was for the general public. The service of the following morning was for the chief mourners and friends associated with the Tabernacle, or for those specially invited. When at noon the coffin was carried out of the chapel to be placed on the funeral-car, the scene without was as though London had for the time suspended business to witness the procession to the grave in Norwood Cemetery, five miles distant. Since the burial of the Duke of Wellington, about forty years previously, no such funeral had ever been seen in England. The occasion will live in the memories of those who witnessed it as something quite unique of its kind—a national tribute to the memory of Spurgeon. The departed preacher's valued friends—the Bishop of Rochester, Dr. Pierson, and A. G. Brown—conducted the service at the grave, and Mr. Brown said:—

"Beloved President, faithful pastor, prince of preachers, brother beloved, dear Spurgeon,—We bid thee not farewell, but only for a little while, 'Goodnight.' Thou shalt rise soon at the first dawn of the Resurrection Day of the redeemed. Yet is not the 'Goodnight' ours to bid, but thine. It is we who linger in the darkness; thou art in God's own light. Our night, too, shall soon be past, and with it all our weeping. Then with thine our songs shall greet the morning of a day that knows no cloud or close; for there is no night there. Hard worker in the field, thy toil has ended. Straight has been the furrow thou hast ploughed. No looking back has marred thy course. Harvests have followed thy patient sowing, and heaven is already rich with thine in-gathered sheaves, and shall be still enriched through years yet lying in eternity. Champion of God, thy battle, long and nobly fought, is over. The sword which clave to thine hand has dropped at last; the palm-branch takes its place. No longer does the helmet press thy brow, oft weary with its surging thoughts of battle; the victor's wreath from the Great Commander's hand has already proved thy full reward. Here, for a little while, shall rest thy precious dust. Then shall thy Well-beloved come, and at His voice thou shalt spring from thy couch on earth, fashioned like unto His glorious body. Then spirit, soul, and body shall magnify thy Lord's redemption. Until then, beloved, sleep. We praise God for thee, and, by the blood of the Everlasting Covenant, hope and expect to praise God with thee."

Thus lived and died a great—if not the greatest—preacher of the nineteenth century, Charles Haddon Spurgeon. He, being dead, yet speaketh; his work lives after him; he has left his mark on the age. It was in a great degree a career of suffering as well as of commanding influence. Though he wished for life to carry on his aggressive work, death, in his case, was a release from pain; it was what he would himself have called the consummation of life: the battle was fought; his work was done. We no longer think of him as the suffering champion of the church militant; his untrammelled spirit is in the land of eternal freedom and of unending rest—

"Thou art gone, my brother, to climes afar, Where seraphs, saints, and angels are; Where fruits and flowers immortal grow, And silent streams of silver flow; Where sweet sounds float on the balmy air, Where all is pure and bright and fair:

Through the dark portals of the tomb Thou hast passed to that land of bliss and bloom."