There was a day, as I took my walks abroad, when I came hard by a spot forever engraven upon my memory, for there I saw this friend, my best, my only Friend.... MURDERED.

I stooped down in sad affright, and looked at Him. I saw that His hands had been pierced with rough iron nails, and His feet had been rent in the same way. There was misery in His dead countenance so terrible that I scarcely dared to look upon it. His body was emaciated with hunger, His back was red with bloody scourges, and His brow had a circle of wounds about it: clearly could one see that these had been pierced by thorns.

I shuddered, for I had known this Friend full well. He never had a fault; He was the purest of the pure, the holiest of the holy.

Who could have injured Him? For He never injured any man: all His life long He "went about doing good." He had healed the sick, He had fed the hungry, He had raised the dead: for which of these works did they kill Him? He had never breathed out anything else but love — and as I looked into the poor sorrowful face, so full of agony, and yet so full of love, I wondered who could have been a wretch so vile as to pierce hands like His.

I said within myself, "Where can these traitors live? Who are these that could have smitten such an One as this?"

Had they murdered an oppressor, we might have forgiven them; had they slain one who had indulged in vice or villainy, it might have been his desert; had it been a murderer and a rebel, or one who had committed sedition, we would have said, "Bury his corpse: justice has at last given him his due."

But when Thou wast slain, my best, my only-beloved, where lodged the traitors? Let me seize them, and they shall be put to death! If there be torments that I can devise, surely they shall endure them all. Oh! what jealousy; what revenge I felt! If I might but find these murderers, what would I do with them!

The Criminal Discovered

And as I looked upon that corpse, I heard a footstep, and wondered where it was. I listened, and I clearly perceived that the murderer was close at hand! It was dark, and I groped about to find him. I found that, somehow or other, wherever I put out my hand, I could not meet with him, for he was NEARER to me than my hand would go.

At last I put my hand upon MY BREAST. "I have thee now" said I — for lo! he was IN MY OWN HEART — the murderer was hiding within my own bosom, dwelling in the recesses of my INMOST SOUL.

Ah! then I wept indeed, that I, in the very presence of my murdered Master, should be harboring the murderer — and I felt myself most guilty while I bowed over His Corpse, and sang that plaintive hymn..."Twas you, MY SINS, my cruel sins, His chief tormentors were; Each of my crimes became a nail, and unbelief the spear."

Amid the rabble rout which hounded the Redeemer to His doom, there were some gracious souls whose bitter anguish sought vent in wailing and lamentations, fit music to accompany that march of woe. When my soul can, in imagination, see the Saviour bearing His cross to Calvary, she joins the godly women, and weeps with them; for, indeed, there is true cause for grief, cause lying deeper than those mourning women thought. They bewailed innocence maltreated, goodness persecuted, love bleeding, meekness about to die — but my heart has a deeper and more bitter cause to mourn.

If Christ has died for me, ungodly as I am, without strength as I am, then I cannot live in sin any longer, but must arouse myself to love and serve Him who hath redeemed me. I cannot trifle with the evil which slew my best Friend. I must be holy for His sake.

HOW CAN I LIVE IN SIN WHEN HE HAS DIED TO SAVE ME FROM IT?

Author: C. H. Spurgeon

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A Brief Autobiographical Excerpt of his Conversion and Subsequent Experiences

The original material (in full) is in C. H. SPURGEON'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY Vol 1, pages 97-115 and 157-166, and Pilgrim Publications has adapted it to the following booklet: CONVERSION — The Great Change, and Experiences After Conversion  ISBN 1-56186-326-2 

— FREE upon REQUEST [a single copy of the CONVERSION Booklet]  

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The Deception of Sin

Rowland Hill illustrated the folly of sinners by the story of a butcher who was followed by the swine right into the slaughterhouse. As pigs are not usually in the mind to go where they are wanted, it seemed a mystery how these animals were so eager to follow their executioner, but when it was seen that he wisely carried a bag of peas and beans with which he enticed the creatures of the ward, the riddle was solved at once. Unsuspicious of impending death, the hogs cared only for the passing gratification of their appetites, and hastened to the slaughter — and in the same manner ungodly men follow the great enemy of souls down through the jaws of hell, merely because their depraved passions are pleased with the lusts of the flesh and the pleasures of sin which the devil gives them by handfuls on the road. Alas, that there should be such likeness between men and swine!

The joys of sin are so short and so unsatisfactory, that they can never be thought of for a moment as a fitting inducement for a rational being to lose his immortal soul. Will a few hours' foolery, gambling, drinking, or wantoning, compensate for eternal fire? Is the momentary indulgence of a base passion worth the endurance of flames which can never be quenched? To moan in vain for a drop of water! To be tormented by the never dying worm! To be shut out from hope forever! To be eternally cursed of God! Is any sin worth this? Can any gain make up for this? O ye who delight in the poisonous sweets of sin, remember that though pleasant in the mouth for the moment, sin will be as wormwood and gall in your bowels for ever.

Why will ye swallow the bait when ye know that the hook is there? Why will ye be lured by the Satanic fowler? Surely in vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird, but you are more foolish than the birds and fly into the snare when you know it to be there. O that ye were wise, and would consider your latter end. Let that one word, ETERNITY, ring in your ears and drive out the giddy laughter of worldlings who prefer the present joys of sense. "The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life by Jesus Christ." Jesus receiveth sinners. Go to him and He will in no wise cast you out.

Carnal Security

A number of men are upstairs in a house, amusing themselves with a game of cards. What is that? The window is red! What is that cry in the streets? "The house is on fire!" says one. "Oh," answers another, "shuffle the cards again, let us finish the game; we have plenty of time."

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" The cry rises more sharply from the streets, but the gamblers continue their game. One of them swaggeringly boasts, "It's all right, my brave boys, yonder door leads to the roof, and we can get out at the last minute. I know the way over the leads — it's all right, go ahead with the game."

Presently one of them nervously enquires, "Are you sure that we can get through that door?" and he goes to try, but finds it locked. "Never mind," is the answer, "I have the key."

"But are you sure you have the key?"

"Oh yes! I am sure I have, here it is; try it for yourself, and do not be such a coward, man; try it."

The man tries the key. "It will not turn," says he.

"Let me try," says his friend.

He puts it in the lock, but lo, it will not turn! "Oh God!" he shreks, "it's the wrong key!"

Spurgeon: Now, sirs, will ye go back to your game again? No, now they will strain every nerve, and labour with might and main to open the door, only to find that it is all too late for them to escape.

So many of our hearers are saying, "Oh, yes! what the preacher says is well enough, but you know we can repent whenever we like; we have power to obtain the grace of God whenever we please; we know the way; have we not been told over and over again simply to trust Christ? — and we can do that whenever we please — we are safe enough."

Ah, but suppose you cannot believe whenever you please?

Suppose the day will come when you shall call upon the Lord, and he will not answer; when you shall stretch out your hand, but no man shall regard! Suppose you should one day cry, "Lord, Lord, open to us," and the answer should be, "I never knew you, depart, ye cursed!"

O procrastinator, if you think that you can repent now, why do you not repent now? You believe that you have full power to do so! Oh, do it, do it, and do not trifle with that power, lest when the power is gone, you find, too late, that in one sense you never possessed it!

— From C. H. Spurgeon's book, FEATHERS FOR ARROWS (1870), pgs 23-24

True Religion — No Joking Matter

Mr. Spurgeon loved true mirthfulness, and was an advocate for cheerfulness in a preacher. He loved a good joke, and sometimes made them [as seen in Lectures To My Students] but he observed the Scriptural rule: "To everything there is a season."

He tells of a man who was dying, and sent for the minister to visit him. When the minister came in, the dying man said to him, "Do you remember a young man walking with you one evening, some years ago, when you were going to preach?"

"No; I do not."

"I recollect it very well," said the sick man. "Do you not remember preaching at such and such a village, from such and such a text, and after the service a young man walked home with you."

"Oh, yes, I remember that very well."

"Well, I am the young man who walked home with you that night; I remember your sermon; I shall never forget it."

"Thank God for that," said the preacher.

"No," answered the dying man, "you will not thank God when you have heard all I have to say. I walked with you to the village, but you did not say much to me on the way there, for you were thinking over your sermon. You deeply impressed me while you were preaching, and I was led to think about giving my heart to Christ. I wanted to speak to you about my soul on the way home; but the moment you got out you cracked a joke, and all the way back you made such fun upon serious subjects that I could not say anything about what I felt, and it thoroughly disgusted me with religion and all who professed it; and now I am going to hell, and my blood will lie at your door as sure as you are alive."

And so he passed out of the world.

— From the small book, C. H. Spurgeon ANECDOTES (1900), Anecdote #92 above

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