A Sermon
(No. 1843)
Delivered on Lord's Day Morning, May 31st, 1885, by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At [11]the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"–Psalm 77:9.
ASAPH was very grievously troubled in spirit. The deep waters were not
only around his barque, but they had come in even unto his soul. When
the spirit of a man is wounded, then is he wounded indeed; and such was
the case with this man of God. In the time of his trouble he was
attacked with doubts and fears; so that he was made to question the
very foundations of things. Had he not taken to continual prayer he had
perished in his affliction; but he cried unto God with his voice, and
the Lord gave ear unto him. Nor did he only pray, but he used the
fittest means for escaping from his despondency. Very wisely this good
man argued with himself, and sought to cure his unbelief. He treated
himself homoeopathically, meeting like with like. As he was attacked by
the disease of questioning, he gave himself questions as a medicine.
Observe how he kills one question with another, as men fight fire with
fire. Here we have six questions, one after another, each one striking
at the very heart of unbelief. "Will the Lord cast off for over? Will
he be favourable no more? Is his mercy clean gone for ever? Doth his
promise fail for evermore? Hath God forgotten to be gracious? Hath he
in anger shut up his tender mercies?" If questions are raised at all
let us go through with them; and as the Saviour answered one question
of his opponents by another, so may we also silence the questions of
unbelief by further questions which shall strip our doubt of all
disguises.
The question which makes our text is meant to end other questions. You
may carry truth as far as ever you like, and it will always be truth.
Truth is like those crystals which, when split up into the smallest
possible fragments, still retain their natural form. You may break
truth in pieces, you may do what you like with it, and it is truth
throughout; but error is diverse within itself, and evermore bears its
own death within itself. You can see its falsehood even in its own
light. Bring it forward, strip it of its disguises, behold it in its
naked form, and its deformity at once appears. Carry unbelief to its
proper consequences, and you will revolt from it, and be driven by the
grace of God to faith. Sometimes our doubts assume appearances which
are not their own, and so are hard to deal with; but if we make them
take their own natural shapes, we shall easily destroy them. The
question before us is what the logician would call a reductio ad
absurdum; it reduces doubt to an absurdity; it puts into plain and
truthful words the thought of an unbelieving mind, and at once it is
seen to be a horrible notion. "Is his mercy clean gone for ever?" One
might smile while reading a suggestion so absurd, and yet there is
grave cause for trembling in the profanity of such a question. "Hath
God forgotten?" We stumble at the first word. How can God forget? "Hath
God forgotten to be?" We snap the question at that point, and it is
blasphemous. It is no better when we give it as a whole,–"Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?" The bare idea is both ridiculous and
blasphemous. Again, I say, it is wise when we are vexed with evil
questioning to put down the questions in black and white, and expose
them to the daylight. Drive the wretched things out of their holes;
hunt them in the open; and they will soon be destroyed. Let the light
of God into the dark cellar of your despondency, and you will soon quit
the den in sheer disgust at your own folly. Make a thought appear to be
absurd and you have gone a long way towards conquering it.
The question now before us is one of very wide application. I shall not
attempt to suggest all the ways in which it may be employed, but I am
going to turn it to three uses this morning. The first is for the man
of God in distress. Let him take this question, and put it to his own
reason and common sense, and especially to his own faith, "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?" When we have handled the question in that
way, we will pass it over to the seeking sinner who is despondent, and
we will ask him whether he really believes that God hath forgotten to
be gracious. When this is done, we may have a moment or two left for
the Christian worker who is dispirited, who cannot do his work as he
would wish to do, and who mourns over the little result coming from it.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Will you be allowed to go forth
weeping, bearing precious seed, and will you never come again
rejoicing, bringing your sheaves with you? We shall have quite enough
matter to fill up our time, and many fragments remaining when the feast
is over. May God the Holy Spirit bless the word!
I. TO THE MAN OF GOD IN DISTRESS, this question is commended, "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?"
What kind of distress is that which suggests such a question? Where had
Asaph been? In what darkness had he wandered? In what tangled wood had
he lost himself? How came he to get such a thought into his mind?
I answer, first, this good man had been troubled by unanswered prayers.
"In the day of my trouble," he says,–"In the day of my trouble I
sought the Lord"; and he seems to say that though he sought the Lord
his griefs were not removed. He was burdened, and he cried unto God
beneath the burden, but the burden was not lightened. He was in
darkness, and he craved for light, but not a star shone forth. Nothing
is more grievous to the sincere pleader than to feel that his petitions
are not heeded by his God. It is a sad business to have gone up, like
Elijah's servant, seven times, and yet to have seen no cloud upon the
sky in answer to your importunity. It tries a man to spend all night in
wrestling, and to have won no blessing from the covenant angel. To ask,
and not to receive; to seek, and not to find; to knock, and to see no
open door,–these are serious trials to the heart, and tend to extort
the question, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Unanswered prayer is
very staggering even to strong faith; but the weak faith of a tried
believer is hard put to it by long delays and threatened denials. When
the mercy-seat itself ceases to yield us aid, what can we do? You will
not wonder, then, considering your own tendency to doubt, that this man
of God, when his prayers did not bring him deliverance, cried out,
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Besides that, he was enduring continued suffering. Our text says, "My
sore ran in the night." His wound was bleeding ever: there was no
cessation to his pain. At night he woke up and wished it were morning,
and when the daylight came he wished for night again, if, perchance, he
might obtain relief; but none came. Pain of body, when it is continuous
and severe, is exceedingly trying to our feeble spirits; but agony of
soul is worse still. Give me the rack sooner than despair. Do you know
what it is to have a keen thought working like an auger into your
brain? Has Satan seemed to pierce and gimlet your mind with a sharp,
cutting thought that would not be put aside? It is torment indeed to
have a worm gnawing at your heart, a fire consuming your spirit: yet a
true child of God may be thus tormented. When Asaph had prayed for
relief, and the relief did not come, the temptation came to him to ask,
"Am I always to suffer? Will the Lord never relieve me? It is written,
'He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds'; has he
ceased from that sacred surgery? 'Hath God forgotten to be gracious?'"
In addition to this, the man of God was in a state of mind in which his
depression had become inveterate. He says, "My soul refused to be
comforted." Many plasters were at hand, but he could not lay them upon
the wound; many cordials offered themselves, but he could not receive
them–his throat seemed closed. The meadows were green, but the gate
was nailed up, and the sheep could not get in; the brooks flowed
softly, but he could not reach their margin to lie down and drink.
Asaph was lying at the pool of Bethesda, and he saw others step in to
be healed, but he had no man to put him into the pool when the waters
were troubled. His mind had become confirmed in its despondency, and
his soul refused to be comforted.
More than that, there seemed to be a failure of the means of grace for
him. "I remembered God, and was troubled." Some of God's people go up
to the house of the Lord where they were accustomed to unite in worship
with delight, but they have no delight now; they even go to the
communion-table, and eat the bread and drink the wine, but they do not
receive the body and blood of Christ to the joy of their faith. Anon
they get them to their chambers, and open their Bibles, and bow their
knees, and remember God; but every verse seems to condemn them; their
prayers accuse them, and God himself seems turned to be their enemy;
and then it is little wonder that unbelief exclaims, "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?"
At the back of all this there was another trouble for Asaph, namely,
that he could not sleep. He says, "Thou holdest mine eyes waking." It
seemed as if the Lord himself held up his eyelids, and would not let
them close in sleep. Others on their beds were refreshed with "kind
nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep"; but when Asaph sought his couch
he was more unrestful there than when he was engaged in the business of
the day. We may speak of sleeplessness very lightly, but among
afflictions it is one of the worst that can happen to men. When the
chamber of repose becomes a furnace of anguish it goes hard with a man.
When the Psalmist could not find even a transient respite in sleep, his
weakness and misery drove him to say, "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?"
Moreover, there was one thing more: he lost the faculty of telling out
his grief: "I am so troubled that I cannot speak." There are some
people to whom we would not tell our trouble, for we know they would
not understand it, for they have never been in deep waters themselves;
there are others to whom we could not tell our trouble, though they
might help us, because we feel ashamed to do so. To be compelled to
silence is a terrible increase to anguish: the torrent is swollen when
its free course is prevented. A dumb sorrow is sorrow indeed. The grief
that can talk will soon pass away; that misery which is wordless is
endless. The brook that ripples and prattles as it flows is shallow;
but deep waters are silent in their flow. When a man falls under the
power of a dumb spirit it needs Christ himself to come and cast the
devil out of him, for he is brought into a very grievous captivity. We
who know what a poor thing human nature is when it is brought into
affliction, are not surprised that the man of God said in such a case,
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
Having thus, you see, put the doubt in the most apologetic style, and
mentioned the excuses which mitigate the sin of the question, I am now
going to expose its unreasonableness and sinfulness, by considering
what answers we may give to such a question? I shall endeavour to
answer it by making it answer itself–
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Answer: Hath God forgotten
anything? If he could forget, could he be God? Is it not absurd to
speak of him as short of memory, of whose understanding there is no
searching? Shall we speak of him as forgetting, when to his mind all
things are present, and the past and the future are ever before him as
in a map which lies open before the beholder's eye? Oh child of God,
why doest thou talk thus? Oh troubled heart, wilt thou insult thy God,
wilt thou narrow the infinity of his mind? Can God forget? Thou art
forgetful. Perhaps thou canst scarce remember from hour to hour thine
own words and thine own promises; but is the Lord such an one as thou
art? Not even the least thing is passed over by him. He hath not
forgotten the young ravens in their nests, but he heareth when they
cry. He hath not forgotten a single blade of grass, but giveth to each
its own drop of dew. He hath not forgotten the sea monsters down deep
in the caverns of ocean. He hath not forgotten a worm that hides itself
away beneath the sod; therefore banish the thought once for all, that
thy God hath forgotten anything, much less that he hath forgotten to be
gracious.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Then hath he forgotten an old,
long, ancient, aye, eternal habit of his heart. Hast thou not heard
that his mercy endureth for ever? Did he not light up the lamps of
heaven because of his mercy? Do we not sing, "To him that made great
lights: for his mercy endureth for ever. The sun to rule by day, and
the moon and stars to rule by night: for his mercy endureth for ever"?
Since the creation hath he not in providence always been gracious? Is
it not his rule to open his hand, and supply the want of every living
thing? Did he not give his Son to redeem mankind? Hath he not sent his
Spirit to turn men from darkness to light? After having been gracious
all these myriads of ages, after having manifested his love and his
grace at such a costly rate, hath he forgotten it? Thou, O man, takest
up a practice, and thou layest it down; thou doest a thing now and
then, and then thou ceasest from thy way, but shall the eternal God who
has always been gracious forget to be gracious? Oh, Lord, forgive the
thought.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Why, then, he must have forgotten
his purpose! Hath thou not heard that or ever the earth was he purposed
to redeem unto himself a people who should be his own chosen, his
children, his peculiar treasure, a people near unto him? Before he made
the heavens and the earth, had he not planned in his own mind that he
would manifest the fulness of his grace toward his people in Christ
Jesus, and dost thou think that he has turned from his eternal purpose,
and rent up his divine decrees, and burned the book of life, and
changed the whole course of his operations among the sons of men? Dost
thou know what thou art at to talk so? Doth he not say, "I am the Lord,
I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed"? Hath he
said, and will he not do it? Hath he purposed, and shall it not come to
pass? Banish, then, the thought of his forgetting to be gracious.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Then he must have forgotten his
own covenant; for what was the purport of his covenant with Jesus
Christ, the second Adam, on the behalf of his people? Is it not called
a covenant of grace? Is not grace the spirit and tenor and object of
it? Of old he said, "I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and
will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy"; and in his covenant he
ordains to show this grace to as many as are in Christ Jesus. Now, if a
man's covenant be confirmed it stands fast. Nothing that occurs after a
covenant has been made can alter it; and God having once made a
covenant turneth not from his promise and his oath. The law which was
four hundred and thirty years after the covenant made with Abraham
could not change the promises which the Lord had made to the believing
seed, neither can any accident or unforeseen circumstance make the
covenant of grace null and void; indeed, there are no accidents with
God, nor any unforeseen circumstances with him. He hath lifted his hand
to heaven and hath sworn; he hath declared, "If my covenant be not with
day and night, then will I cast away the seed of Jacob." The Lord hath
not forgotten his covenant with day and night, neither will he cast off
his believing people. He cannot, therefore, forget to be gracious.
More than that, when thou sayest, "Has God forgotten to be gracious?"
dost thou not forget that in such a case he must have forgotten his own
glory? for the main of his glory lies in his grace. In that which he
does out of free favour and love to undeserving, ill-deserving,
hell-deserving men, he displays the meridian splendour of his glory.
His power, his wisdom, and his immutability praise him; but in the
forefront of all shines out his grace. This is his darling attribute;
by this he is illustrious on earth and in heaven above. Hath God
forgotten his own glory? Doth a man forget his honour? Doth a man turn
aside from his own name and fame? He may do so in a moment of madness;
but the thrice holy God hath not forgotten the glory of his name, nor
forgotten to be gracious.
Listen, and let unbelief stand rebuked. If God hath forgotten to be
gracious, then he must have forgotten his own Son, he must have
forgotten Calvary and the expiatory sacrifice offered there; he must
have forgotten him that is ever with him at his right hand, making
intercession for transgressors; he must have forgotten his pledge to
him that he shall see of the travail of his soul and be satisfied.
Canst thou conceive that? It is verging upon blasphemy to suppose such
a thing; yet it must be that he has forgotten his own Son if he hath
forgotten to be gracious.
Once more; if this were the case, the Lord must have forgotten his own
self; for grace is of the essence of his nature, since God is love. We
forget ourselves and disgrace ourselves, but God cannot do so. Oh
beloved, it is part and parcel of God's own nature that he should show
mercy to the guilty and be gracious to those who trust in him. Hast
thou forgotten as a father thy children? Can a woman forget her sucking
child that she should not have compassion upon the son of her womb?
These things are barely possible, but it is utterly impossible that the
great Father should forget himself by forgetting his children; that the
great Lord who hath taken us to be his peculiar heritage and his jewels
should cease to value us and forget to be gracious to us.
I think I hear some one say, "I do not think God hath forgotten to be
gracious except to me." Doth God make any exceptions? Doth he not speak
universally when he addresses his children? Remember, if God forgot to
be gracious to one of his believing people he might forget to be
gracious to them all. If there were one instance found in which his
love failed, then the foundations would be removed, and what could the
righteous do? The Good Shepherd doth not preserve some of his sheep,
but all of them; and it is not concerning the strong ones of his flock
that he saith, "I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall never
perish;" but he has said it of all the sheep, aye, and of the smallest
lamb of all the flock, of the most scabbed and wounded, of all that he
has purchased with his blood. The Lord hath not forgotten himself in
any one instance; but he is faithful to all believers.
Now, let us attend to the amendment of the question. Shall I tell thee,
friend, thou who hast put this question, what the true question is
which thou oughtest to ask thyself? It is not, "Hath God forgotten to
be gracious?" but "Hast thou forgotten to be grateful?" Why, thou
enjoyest many mercies even now. It is grace which allows thee to live
after having asked such a vile question. Grace is all around thee, if
thou wilt but open thine eyes, or thine ears. Thou hadst not been
spared after so much sin if God had forgotten to be gracious.
Listen: Hast thou not forgotten to be believing? God's word is true,
why dost thou doubt it? Is he a liar? Has he ever played thee false?
Which promise of his has failed? Time was when thou didst trust him;
then thou knewest he was gracious; but thou art doubting now without
just cause; thou art permitting an evil heart of unbelief to draw thee
aside from the living God. Know this, and repent of it, and trust thy
best Friend.
Hast thou not also forgotten to be reverent? Else how couldst thou ask
such a question? Should a man say of God that he has forgotten to be
gracious? Should he imagine such a thing? Should the keenest grief
drive to such profanity? Shall a living man complain, a man for the
punishment of his sins? Shall anyone of us begin to doubt that grace,
which has kept us out of the bottomless pit, and spared us to this
hour? Oh, heir of glory, favoured as thou hast been to bathe thy
forehead in the sunlight of heaven full often, and then to lean thy
head on the Saviour's bosom,–is it out of thy mouth that this question
comes,–"Hath God forgotten to be gracious"? Call it back and bow thine
head unto the dust, and say, "My Lord, have mercy upon thy servant,
that he hath even thought thus for an instant."
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Why, surely thou hast forgotten
thyself, or thou wouldest not talk so: thou hast forgotten that thou
owest everything to thy Lord, and art indebted to him even for the
breath in thy nostrils. Thou hast forgotten the precious blood of
Jesus; thou hast forgotten the mercy-seat; thou hast forgotten
providence; thou hast forgotten the Holy Spirit; thou hast forgotten
all that the Lord has done for thee: surely, thou hast forgotten all
good things, or thou wouldest not speak thus. Shake thyself from the
dust; arise, and leave the dunghill of thy despair, and sing, "His
mercy endureth for ever." Say in thy soul,–"Though he slay me, yet
will I trust in him."
Thus much to the child of God. May the Holy Spirit, the Comforter,
apply it to every troubled heart.
II. Furthermore, I desire to talk a little with THE SEEKING SINNER IN
DESPONDENCY. You have not yet found joy and peace through believing,
and therefore I will first describe your case, and what it is that has
made you say, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
You labour under a sense of guilt; you know that you have transgressed
against God, and you feel that this is a terrible thing, involving
wrath to the uttermost. The arrows of God are sticking in your soul,
and rankling there. You cannot trifle with sin as you once did; it
burns like a fiery poison in your veins! You have been praying to get
rid of that sense of sin, but it deepens. The case I am stating is very
clear to every child of God; but it is not at all clear to the man who
is enduring it. He cries, "The more I pray, the more I go to hear the
word, the more I read the Bible, the blacker sinner I seem to be. 'Hath
God forgotten to be gracious?'"
Moreover, a sense of weakness is increasing upon you. You thought that
you could pray; but now you cannot pray. You thought it the easiest
thing in the world to believe; but now the grappling-irons will not lay
hold upon the promise, and you find no rest. You cannot now perform
those holy acts which you once thought to be so easy. Your power is
dried up, your glory is withered. Now you groan out, "I would but I
can't repent, then all would easy be. Alas, I have no hope, no
strength; I am reduced to utter weakness." We understand all this, but
you do not; and we do not wonder at your crying,–"Hath God forgotten
to be gracious." "Oh, but sir, I have been crying to God that he would
be pleased to deliver me from sin, and the more I try to be holy the
more I am tempted; I never knew such horrible thoughts before, nor
discovered such filthiness in my nature before. When I get up in the
morning I resolve that I will go straight all the day, and before long
I am more crooked than ever. I feel worse rather than better. The world
tempts me, the devil tempts me, the flesh tempts me, everything goes
wrong with me. 'Hath God forgotten to be gracious'? I have prayed the
Lord to give me peace, and he promises to give rest; but I am more
uneasy than ever, and cannot rest where I used to do. I used to be very
happy when I was at chapel on Sunday; I thought I was doing well to be
at public worship; but now I fear that I only go as a formalist, and
therefore I mock God, and make matters worse. I rested once in being a
teetotaller, in being a hard-working, honest, sober man; but now I see
that I must be born again. I used to rest once in the idea that I was
becoming quite religious; but now it seems to me that my betterness is
a hollow sham, and all my old nests are pulled down.
My friend, I perfectly understand your case, and think well of it; for
the like has happened to many of us. You must be divorced from self
before you can be married to Christ; and that divorce must be made most
clear and plain, or Jesus will never make a match with you. You must
come clear away from self-righteousness, self-trust, self-hope, or else
one of these days, when Jesus has saved you, there might be a doubt as
to whether he is to have all the glory, or to go halves with self. He
makes you nothing that he may be all in all to you. He grinds you to
the dust that he may lift you out of it for ever. Meanwhile, I do not
wonder that the question crosses your mind, "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?"
Let me show how wrong the question is. "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?" If he has, he has forgotten what he used to know right well.
David was foul with his adultery–remember that fifty-first Psalm–but
how sweet was the prophet's message to the penitent king: "The Lord
hath put away thy sin; thou shalt not die!" "Wash me, and I shall be
whiter than snow," was a prayer most graciously answered in that royal
sinner's case. Remember Jonah, and how he went down to the bottom of
the mountains in the whale's belly, and was brought even to hell's
door; yet he lived to sing "Salvation is of the Lord," and was brought
out of the depths of the sea. Remember Manasseh, who shed innocent
blood very much, and yet the grace of God brought him among thorns, and
made him a humble servant of the Lord. Remember Peter, how he denied
his Master, but his Master forgave him, and bade him feed his sheep.
Forget not the dying thief, and how in the extremity of death, filled
with all the agonies of crucifixion, he looked to the Lord, and the
Lord looked on him, and that day he was with the King in paradise.
Think also of Saul of Tarsus, that chief of sinners, who breathed out
threatenings against the people of God, and yet was struck down, and,
before long was in mercy raised up again, and ordained to be a chosen
vessel to bear the gospel among the heathen. If God has forgotten to be
gracious, he has forgotten a line of things in which he has wrought
great wonders, and in which his heart delighted from of old. It cannot
be that he will turn away from that which is so dear to him.
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Then why are all the old
arrangements for grace still standing? There is the mercy-seat; surely
that would have been taken away if God had forgotten to be gracious.
The gospel is preached to you, and this is its assurance, "Whosoever
believeth in him is not condemned." If the Lord had forgotten to be
gracious he would not have mocked you with empty words.
Our Lord Jesus Christ himself is still living, and still stands as a
priest to make intercession for transgressors. Would that be the case
if God had forgotten to be gracious? The Holy Spirit is still at work
convincing and converting; would that be so if God had forgotten to be
gracious? Oh brothers, while Calvary is still a fact, and the Christ
has gone into the glory bearing his wounds with him, there is a
fountain still filled with blood wherein the guilty may wash. While
there is an atoning sacrifice there must be grace for sinners. I cannot
enlarge on these points, for time flies so rapidly; but the continuance
of the divine arrangements, the continuance of the Son of God as living
and pleading, and the mission of the Holy Spirit as striving,
regenerating, comforting–all this proves that God hath not forgotten
to be gracious.
Remember that God himself must according to nature be ever gracious so
long as men will put their trust in the great sacrifice. He has
promised to be gracious to all who confess their sins and forsake them
and look to Christ; and he cannot forget that word without a change
which we dare not impute to him. God might sooner forget to be than
forget to be gracious to those to whom he has promised his grace. He
has promised to every poor, guilty, confessing soul that will come and
put his trust in Christ that he will be gracious in pardoning sin, and
so it must be.
I shall come to close quarters with you. I know your despair has driven
you to the question, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" and I would
silence it by putting other questions to you. Is it not you that have
forgotten to believe in Christ? "I have been praying," says one. That
is all very well, but the gospel is, "He that believeth and is baptized
shall be saved," not "he that prays." "I have been trying to come to
Christ." I know that, but I read nothing about this trying in Holy
Scripture, and I fear your trying is that which keeps you from Jesus.
You are told to believe in Christ, not to try to believe. A minister in
America, some time ago, was going up the aisle of his church during a
revival, when a young man earnestly cried to him, "Sir, can you tell me
the way to Christ?" "No," was the answer, very deliberately given; "I
cannot tell you the way to Christ." The young man answered, "I beg
pardon; I thought you were a minister of the gospel." "So I am," was
the reply. "How is it that you cannot tell me the way to Christ?" "My
friend," said the minister, "there is no way to Christ. He is himself
the way. All that believe in him are justified from all things. There
is no way to Christ; Christ is here." O! my hearer, Christ himself is
the way of salvation, and that way comes right down to your foot, and
then leads right up to heaven. You have not to make a way to the Way,
but at once to run in the way which lies before you. The way begins
where you now are; enter it. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ now, and
you are saved; and then you will no more ask the question, "Is his
mercy clean gone for ever?"
"Oh," says one, "but I have been looking to reform myself and grow
better, and I have done a good deal in that way." That is not the
gospel; it is all very right and proper, but the gospel is, "He that
believeth in him is not condemned." The other day I saw my bees
swarming; they hung on a branch of a tree in a living mass; the
difficulty was to get them into a hive. My man went with his veil over
his face and began to put them into the skep; and I noticed that he was
particularly anxious to get the queen bee into it; for if he once had
her in the hive the rest would be sure to follow, and remain with her.
Now, faith is the queen bee. You may get temperance, love, hope, and
all those other bees into the hive; but the main thing is to get simple
faith in Christ, and all the rest will come afterwards. Get the queen
bee of faith, and all the other virtues will attend her.
"Alas!" cries one, "I have been listening to the gospel for years."
That is quite right, for "faith cometh by hearing"; but recollect, we
are not saved by mere listening, nor even by knowing, unless we advance
to believing. The letter of the word is not life; it is the spirit of
it which saves. When tea was first introduced into this country a
person favoured a friend with a pound of it. It was exceedingly
expensive, and when he met his friend next, he enquired, "Have you
tried the tea?" "Yes, but I did not like it at all." "How was that?
Everybody else is enraptured with it." "Why," said the other, "we
boiled it in a saucepan, threw away the water, and brought the leaves
to table; but they were very hard, and nobody cared for them." Thus
many people keep the leaves of form, and throw away the spiritual
meaning. They listen to our doctrines, but fail to come to Christ. They
throw away the true essence of the gospel, which is faith in Jesus. I
pray you, do not act thus with what I preach. Do not bury yourself in
my words, or even in the words of Scripture; but pass onward to the
life and soul of their meaning, which is Christ Jesus, the sinner's
hope. All the aroma of the gospel is in Christ; all the essence of the
gospel is in Christ, and you have only to trust him to enjoy eternal
life. You guilty, worthless sinner, you at the gates of hell, you who
have nothing to recommend you, you who have no good works or good
feelings, simply trust the merits of Christ, and accept the atonement
made by his death, and you shall be saved, your sin shall be forgiven,
your nature shall be changed, you shall become a new creature in Christ
Jesus, and you shall never say again, "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?"
III. The time has gone; therefore THE DISAPPOINTED WORKER must be
content with a few crumbs. You have been working for Christ, dear
brother, and have fallen in to a very low state of heart, so that you
cry, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" I know what state you are in.
You say, "I do not feel as if I could preach; the matter does not flow.
I do not feel as if I could teach; I search for instruction, and the
more I pull the more I cannot get it." "Hath God forgotten to be
gracious?" Can he not fill thine empty vessel again? Can he not give
thee stores of thought, emotion, and language? He has used thee; can he
not do so again? "Ah, but my friends have gone; I am in a village from
which the people remove to London, and I lose my best helpers." Or,
perhaps you say, "I work in a back street, and everybody is moving out
into the suburbs." You have lost your friends, and they have forgotten
you; but, "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" You can succeed so long
as the Lord is with you. Be of good courage; your best friend is left.
He who made a speech in the Academy found that all his hearers had gone
except Plato; but as Plato remained, the orator finished his address.
They asked him how he could continue under the circumstances, and he
replied that Plato was enough for an audience. So, if God be pleased
with you, go on; the divine pleasure is more than sufficient. "The Lord
of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." Did not Wesley
say when he was dying, "The best of all is, God is with us"? Therefore
fear not the failure of friends.
"But, sir, the sinners I have to deal with are such tough ones: they
reject my testimony; they grow worse instead of better; I do not think
I can ever preach to them again." "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
You cannot save them, but he can. "But I work in such a depraved
neighbourhood, the people are sunk in poverty and drunkenness." "Hath
God forgotten to be gracious?" Does not he know the way to save
drunkards? Does not he know how to rescue the harlot and the
whoremonger, and make them clean and chaste?
"Ah, but the church in which I labour is in a wretched state; the
members are worldly, lukewarm, and divided. I have no brethren around
me to pray for me, as you have; they are always squabbling and finding
fault with one another." That is a horrible business, but "Hath God
forgotten to be gracious?" Cannot God put you right, and your church
right? If he begins with you by strengthening your faith, may you not
be the means of healing all these divisions, and bringing these poor
people into a better state of mind, and then converting the sinners
round about you? "Hath God forgotten to be gracious?"
"Ah, well," saith one, "I am ready to give it all up." I hope you will
not do so. If you have made up your mind to speak no more in the name
of the Lord, I hope that word will be like fire in your bones; for if
God has not forgotten to be gracious, provoked as he has been, how can
you forget to be patient? Is it possible while God's sun shines on you
that you will refuse to shine on the fallen? If God continues to be
gracious, you ought not to grow weary in well-doing.
Perhaps I speak to some dear brother who is very old and infirm; he can
hardly hear, and scarcely see, so that he reads his Bible with
difficulty. He gets to the service now, but he knows that soon he will
be confined to his chamber, and then to his bed. His mind is sadly
failing him; he is quite a wreck. Take this home with you, my aged
brother, and keep it for your comfort if you never come out again:
"Hath God forgotten to be gracious?" Oh, no; the Lord hath said, "Even
to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I
have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you."
Having loved his own which were in the world, the Lord Jesus loved them
unto the end; and he will love you to the end. When the last scene
comes, and you close your eyes in death, blessed be his name, you shall
know that he has not forgotten you. "I will never leave thee, nor
forsake thee," is the Lord's promise, and his people's sheet-anchor.
Therefore, let us not fear when our frail tabernacles are taken down,
but let us rejoice that God hath not forgotten to be gracious. Though
our bodies will sink into the dust, they will ere long rise again, and
we shall be in glory for ever with the Lord. Blessed be his name. Amen.
Portion of Scripture read before Sermon–Psalm 77.
Hymns from "Our Own Hymn Book"–196, 77, 502.
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Israel And Britain. A Note of Warning