Morning and Evening

Charles H. Spurgeon

August 17, 2010

Morning Reading

The mercy of God.--Psalm 52:8

Meditate a little on this mercy of the Lord. It is tender mercy. With
gentle, loving touch, He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up
their wounds. He is as gracious in the manner of His mercy as in the
matter of it. It is great mercy. There is nothing little in God; His
mercy is like Himself--it is infinite. You cannot measure it. His mercy
is so great that it forgives great sins to great sinners, after great
lengths of time, and then gives great favours and great privileges, and
raises us up to great enjoyments in the great heaven of the great God.
It is undeserved mercy, as indeed all true mercy must be, for deserved
mercy is only a misnomer for justice. There was no right on the
sinner's part to the kind consideration of the Most High; had the rebel
been doomed at once to eternal fire he would have richly merited the
doom, and if delivered from wrath, sovereign love alone has found a
cause, for there was none in the sinner himself. It is rich mercy. Some
things are great, but have little efficacy in them, but this mercy is a
cordial to your drooping spirits; a golden ointment to your bleeding
wounds; a heavenly bandage to your broken bones; a royal chariot for
your weary feet; a bosom of love for your trembling heart. It is
manifold mercy. As Bunyan says, "All the flowers in God's garden are
double." There is no single mercy. You may think you have but one
mercy, but you shall find it to be a whole cluster of mercies. It is
abounding mercy. Millions have received it, yet far from its being
exhausted; it is as fresh, as full, and as free as ever. It is
unfailing mercy. It will never leave thee. If mercy be thy friend,
mercy will be with thee in temptation to keep thee from yielding; with
thee in trouble to prevent thee from sinking; with thee living to be
the light and life of thy countenance; and with thee dying to be the
joy of thy soul when earthly comfort is ebbing fast.

Evening Reading

This sickness is not unto death.--John 11:4

From our Lord's words we learn that there is a limit to sickness. Here
is an "unto" within which its ultimate end is restrained, and beyond
which it cannot go. Lazarus might pass through death, but death was not
to be the ultimatum of his sickness. In all sickness, the Lord saith to
the waves of pain, "Hitherto shall ye go, but no further." His fixed
purpose is not the destruction, but the instruction of His people.
Wisdom hangs up the thermometer at the furnace mouth, and regulates the
heat.

1. The limit is encouragingly comprehensive. The God of providence has
limited the time, manner, intensity, repetition, and effects of all our
sicknesses; each throb is decreed, each sleepless hour predestinated,
each relapse ordained, each depression of spirit foreknown, and each
sanctifying result eternally purposed. Nothing great or small escapes
the ordaining hand of Him who numbers the hairs of our head.

2. This limit is wisely adjusted to our strength, to the end designed,
and to the grace apportioned. Affliction comes not at haphazard--the
weight of every stroke of the rod is accurately measured. He who made
no mistakes in balancing the clouds and meting out the heavens, commits
no errors in measuring out the ingredients which compose the medicine
of souls. We cannot suffer too much nor be relieved too late.

3. The limit is tenderly appointed. The knife of the heavenly Surgeon
never cuts deeper than is absolutely necessary. "He doth not afflict
willingly, nor grieve the children of men." A mother's heart cries,
"Spare my child"; but no mother is more compassionate than our gracious
God. When we consider how hard-mouthed we are, it is a wonder that we
are not driven with a sharper bit. The thought is full of consolation,
that He who has fixed the bounds of our habitation, has also fixed the
bounds of our tribulation.