The Young Man’S Prayer

The Young Man'S Prayer
A SERMON DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, JUNE 7, 1863, BY THE REV. C. H.
SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
O satisfy us early with Your mercy, that we may rejoice and be glad all
our days."
Psalm 90:14.
ISRAEL had suffered a long night of affliction. Dense was the darkness
while they abode in Egypt, and cheerless was the glimmering twilight of
that wilderness which was covered with their graves. Amidst a thousand
miracles of mercy, what must have been the sorrows of a camp in which
every stop was marked with many burials–until the whole trail was a
long cemetery? I suppose that the deaths in the camp of Israel was
never less than fifty each day–if not three times that number–so that
they learned experimentally that verse of the Psalm, "For we are
consumed by Your anger, and by Your wrath are we troubled."
Theirs was the weary march of men who wander about in search of tombs.
They traveled towards a land which they could never reach, weary with a
work the result of which only their children should receive. You may
easily understand how these troubled ones longed for the time when the
true day of Israel should dawn, when the black midnight of Egypt, and
the dark twilight of the wilderness should both give way to the rising
sun of the settled rest in Canaan. Most fitly was the prayer offered by
Moses–the representative man of all that host–"O satisfy us early
with Your mercy." Hasten the time when we shall come to our promised
rest. Bring on speedily the season when we shall sit under own vine and
our own fig tree, "and shall rejoice and be glad all our days."
This prayer falls from the lips of yonder Brother, whose rough pathway
for many a mile has descended into the Valley of Death. Loss after loss
has he experienced, till as in Job's case, the messengers of evil have
trod upon one another's heels. His griefs are new every morning, and
his trials fresh every evening. Friends forsake him and prove to be
deceitful brooks. God breaks him with a tempest. He finds no pause in
the ceaseless shower of his troubles. Nevertheless, his hope is not
extinguished, and his constant faith lays hold upon the promise, that,
"weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning." He
understands that God will not always chide, neither does He keep His
anger forever.
Therefore he watches for deliverance even as they that watch for the
morning, and his most appropriate cry is, "O satisfy us early with Your
mercy. Lift up the light of Your countenance upon us. Show Your
marvelous loving kindness in this present hour of need. O my God, make
haste to help me, be a very present help in time of trouble. Fly to my
relief lest I perish from the land. Awake for my rescue, that I may
rejoice and be glad all my days."
See yonder sick bed! Tread lightly, lest perchance you disturb the
brief slumbers of that daughter of affliction. She has tossed to and
fro days and nights without number, counting her minutes by her pains,
and numbering her hours with the attacks of her agony. From that couch
of suffering where many diseases have conspired to torment the frail
body of this child of woe, where the soul itself has grown weary of
life, and longs for the wings of a dove, methinks this prayer may well
arise, "O satisfy us early with Your mercy." "When will the eternal day
break upon my long night? When will the shadows flee away? Sweet Sun of
Glory! When will You rise with healing beneath Your wings? I shall be
satisfied when I wake up in Your likeness, O Lord. Hasten that joyful
hour. Give me a speedy deliverance from my bed of weakness, that I may
rejoice and be glad throughout eternal days."
Methinks the prayer would be equally appropriate from many a distressed
conscience where conviction of sin has rolled heavily over the soul
till the bones are sore vexed, and the spirit is overwhelmed. That poor
heart indulges the hope that Jesus Christ will one day comfort it, and
become its salvation–it has a humble hope that these wounds will not
last forever but shall all be healed by Mercy's hand. That He who
looses the bands of Orion will one day deliver the prisoner out of his
captivity. Oh, conscience-stricken Sinner, you may on your knees now
cry out–"O satisfy me early with Your mercy! Keep me not always in
this house of bondage. Let me not plunge forever in this slough of
despair. Set my feet upon a rock, wash me from my iniquities. Clothe me
with garments of salvation and put the new song into my mouth, that I
may rejoice and be glad all my days."
Still, it appears to me that without straining so much as one word even
in the slightest degree, I may take my text this morning as the prayer
of a young heart, expressing its desire for present salvation. To you,
young men and maidens, shall I address myself. And may the good Spirit
cause you in the days of your youth to remember your Creator, while the
evil days come not, nor the years draw near when you shall say, we have
no pleasure in them. I hope the angel of the Lord has said unto me,
"Run, speak to that young man," and that like the good housewife in the
Proverbs, I shall have a portion also for the maidens!
I shall use the text in two ways, first, as the ground of my address to
the young. And then, secondly, as a model for your address to God.
I. WE WILL MAKE OUR TEXT THE GROUND WORK OF A SOLEMN PLEADING WITH
YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN TO GIVE THEIR HEARTS TO CHRIST THIS DAY.
The voice of Wisdom reminds you in this, our text, that you are not
pure in God's sight, but NEED HIS MERCY. Early as it is with you, you
must come before God on the same footing as those who seek Him at the
eleventh hour. Here is nothing said about merit, nothing concerning the
natural innocence of youth or the beauty of the juvenile character. You
are not thus flattered and deceived. But Holy Scripture guides you
aright, by dictating to you an evangelical prayer, such as God will
deign to accept–"O satisfy us early with your mercy."
Young men, though as yet no outward crimes have stained your character,
yet your salvation must be the work of reigning Grace, and that for
several reasons. Your nature is at the present moment full of sin and
saturated with iniquity, and therefore you are the object of God's most
righteous anger. How can He meet an heir of wrath on terms of justice?
His holiness cannot endure you! What if you are made an heir of Glory?
Will not this be Divine Grace and Divine Grace alone? If ever you are
made meet to be a partaker with the saints in light, this must surely
be Love's own work– inasmuch as your nature, altogether apart from
your actions–deserves God's reprobation.
It is mercy which spares you, and if the Lord is pleased to renew your
heart, it will be to the praise of the glory of His Grace. Be not
proud, repel not this certain Truth of God–that you are an alien, a
stranger, an enemy–born in sin and shapen in iniquity! By nature you
are an heir of wrath, even as others. Yield to its force, and seek that
mercy which is as really needed by you as by the hoary-headed villain
who rots into his grave, festering with debauchery and lust–
"True you are young, but there's a stone Within the youngest breast
One-half the crimes which you have done Would rob you of your rest."
Besides, your conscience reminds you that your outward lives have not
been what they should be. How soon did we begin to sin! While we were
yet little children we went astray from the womb, speaking lies.
How rebellious we were! How we chose our own will and way, and would by
no means submit ourselves to our parents! How in our riper youth we
thought it sport to scatter fire-brands and carry the hot coals of sin
in our bosom! We played with the serpent, charmed with its azure
scales, but forgetful of its poisoned fangs. Far be it from us to boast
with the Pharisee–"Lord, I thank you that I am not as others." But
rather let the youngest pray with the publican–"God be merciful to me
a sinner." A little child, but seven years of age, cried when under
conviction of sin–"Can the Lord have mercy upon such a great sinner as
I am, who have lived seven years without fearing and loving Him?"
Ah, my Friends, if this babe could thus lament, what should be the
repentance of those who are fifteen, or sixteen, or seventeen, or
eighteen, or twenty, or who have passed the year of manhood? What shall
you say, since you have lived so long, wasting your precious days–more
priceless than pearls, neglecting those golden years, despising Divine
things and continuing in rebellion against God? Lord, You know that
young though we are, we have multitudes of sins to confess, and
therefore it is mercy, mercy, mercy, which we crave at Your hands!
Remember, beloved young Friends, that if you are saved in the morning
of life, you will be wonderful instances of preventing mercy. It is
great mercy which blots out sin, but who shall say that it is not
equally great mercy which prevents it? To bring home yonder sheep which
has long gone astray, with its wool all torn, its flesh bleeding, and
its bones broken, manifests the tender care of the Good Shepherd. But,
oh, to reclaim the lamb at the commencement of its straying–to put it
into the fold and to keep it there and nurture it–what a million
mercies are here compressed into one! The young saint may sweetly
sing–
"I still had wandered but for You; Lord, it was Your own all-powerful
Word, Sin's fetters broke and set me free, Henceforth to own You as my
Lord."
There are depths of mercy to pluck the sere brand from out of the fire
when it is black and scorched with the flame. But are there not heights
of love when the young wood is planted in the courts of the Lord and
made to flourish as a cedar? However soon we are saved, the glory of
perfection has departed from us, but how happy is he who tarries but a
few years in a state of nature. As if the fall and the rising again
walked hand in hand. No soul is without spot or wrinkle, but some
stains are spots the young Believer is happily delivered from. Habits
of vice and continuance in crime he has not known. He never knew the
drunkard's raging thirst. The black oaths of the sailor never dirtied
his mouth.
This younger son has not been long in the far country. He comes back
before he has long fed the swine. He has been black with sin in the
sight of God, but in the eyes of men, and in the open vision of
onlookers, the young Believer seems as if he had never gone astray.
Here is great mercy–mercy for which Heaven is to be praised forever
and ever. This, me-thinks, I may call distinguishing Grace with an
emphasis. All election distinguishes, and all Divine Grace is
discriminating. But that Grace which adopts the young child so early is
distinguishing in the highest degree! As Hadad was brought up in the
court of Pharaoh, and weaned in the king's palace, so are some saints
sanctified from the womb.
Happy is it for any young man–an elect one out of the elect is he–if
he is weaned upon the knees of piety and candled upon the lap of
holiness–if he is lighted to his bed with the lamps of the sanctuary
and lulled to his sleep with the name of Jesus! If I may breathe a
prayer in public for my children, let them be clothed with a little
ephod, like young Samuel, and nourished in the chambers of the temple,
like the young prince Joash. O my dear young Friends, it is mercy,
mercy in a distinguishing and peculiar degree, to be saved
early–because of your fallen nature, because of sins committed, and
yet more–because of sins prevented, and distinguishing favor bestowed
by the Grace of God!
2. But I have another reason for endeavoring to plead with the young
this morning, hoping that the Spirit of God will plead with them. I
remark that salvation, if it comes to you, must not only be mercy, but
it must be mercy through the Cross. I infer that from the text, because
the text desires it to be a satisfying mercy, and there is no mercy
which ever can satisfy a sinner, but mercy through the Cross of Christ.
There is no mercy apart from the Cross. Many say that God is merciful,
and therefore, surely, He will not condemn them. But in the pangs of
death and in the terrors of conscience, the uncovenanted mercy of God
is no solace to the soul.
Some proclaim a mercy which is dependant upon human effort–human
goodness or merit–but no soul ever yet did or could find any lasting
satisfaction in this delusion. Mercy by mere ceremonies or mercy by
outward ordinances is but a mockery of human thirst. Like Tantalus, who
is mocked by the receding waters, so is the ceremonialist who tries to
drink where he finds all comfort flying from him. Young man, the Cross
of Christ has that in it which can give you solid, satisfying
comfort–if you put your trust in it. It can satisfy your judgment.
What is more logical than the great doctrine of Substitution?–God is
so terribly just that He will by no means spare the guilty, and that
justice is wholly met by Him who stood in the place of His people!
Here is that which will satisfy your conscience. Your conscience knows
that God must punish you. It is one of those Truths which God stamped
upon it when He first made you what you are. But when your soul sees
Christ punished instead of you, it pillows its head right softly. There
is no resting place for conscience but at the Cross. Priests may preach
what they will, and philosophers may imagine what they please, but
there is in the conscience of man, in its restlessness, an indication
that the Cross of Christ must have come from God, because that
conscience never ceases from its disquiet till it hides in the wounds
of the Crucified. Never again shall conscience alarm you with dreadful
thoughts of the wrath to come, if you lay hold of that mercy which is
revealed in Jesus Christ.
Here, too, is satisfaction for all your fears. Do they pursue you today
like a pack of hungry dogs in full pursuit of the stag? Fly to Christ
and your fears have vanished! What has that man to fear for whom Jesus
died? Need he alarm himself when Christ stands in his place before the
Eternal Throne and pleads there for him? Here, too, is satisfaction for
your hopes. He that gets Christ gets all the future wrapped up in Him.
While–
"There's pardon for transgressions past;
It matters not how black their cast," There are also peace, and joy,
and safety for all the years and for all the eternity to come in the
same Christ Jesus who has put away your sin. Oh, I wish, young Man, I
wish young Woman, that you would put your trust in Jesus now, for in
Him there is an answer to this prayer–"O satisfy us early with Your
mercy."
3. Furthermore, anxiously would I press this matter of a youthful faith
upon you, because you have a dissatisfaction even now. Do I not speak
the truth? When looking into the bright eyes of the gayest among you, I
venture to say that you are not perfectly satisfied. You feel that
something is lacking. My Lad, your boyish games cannot quite satisfy
you. There is a something in you more noble than toys and games can
gratify. Young Man, your pursuits of business furnish you with some
considerable interest and amusement, but still there is an aching
void–you know there is–and although pleasure promises to fill it, you
have begun already to discover that you have a thirst which is not to
be quenched with water, and a hunger which is not to he satisfied with
bread. You know it is so.
The other evening when you were quite alone, when you were quietly
thinking matters over, you felt that this present world was not enough
for you. The majesty of a mysterious longing which God had put in you
lifted up itself and claimed to be heard! Did it not? The other day,
after the party was over at which you had so enjoyed yourself, when it
was all done and everybody was gone–and you were quite quiet, did you
not feel that even if you had these things every day of your life–yet
you could not be content? You want, you know not what, but something
you do want to fill your heart.
We look back upon our younger days and think that they were far happier
than our present state, and we sometimes fancy that we used to be
satisfied then, but I believe that our thoughts imagine a great
falsehood. I do from my soul confess that I never was satisfied till I
came to Christ. When I was yet a child I had far more wretchedness than
ever I have now. I will even add more weariness, more care, more
heartache, than I know at this day. I may be singular in this
confession, but I make it and know it to be the truth. Since that dear
hour when my soul cast itself on Jesus, I have found solid joy and
peace! But before that all those supposed gaieties of early youth, all
the imagined ease and joy of boyhood were but vanity and vexation of
spirit to me.
You do feel, if I know anything about you, that you are not quite
satisfied now. Well, then, let me say to you again, that I would have
you come to Jesus. Depend upon it, there is that in Him which can
thoroughly satisfy you. What can you want more to satisfy your heart
than love to Him? Our hearts all crave for an object upon which they
may be set. We often surrender ourselves to an unworthy object which
betrays us, or proves too narrow to accommodate our heart's desire. But
if you love Jesus you will love One who deserves your warmest
affection, who will amply repay your fullest confidence, and will never
betray it.
You say that not only does your heart want something, but your head. My
witness is that there is in the Gospel of Christ the richest food for
the brain. Before you know Christ, you read, you search, you study, and
you put what you learn into a wild chaos of useless confusion. But
after you have found Christ, everything else that you learn is put in
its proper place. You get Christ as the central sun, and then every
science and fact begins to revolve round about Him just as the planets
travel in their perpetual circle around the central orb. Without Christ
we are ignorant, but with Him we understand the most excellent of
sciences, and all others shall fall into their proper place.
This is an age when, without a true faith in Christ, the young mind has
a dreary pilgrimage before it. False guides are standing, arrayed in
all sorts of garbs, ready to lead you first to doubt this book of
Scripture, then to distrust the whole. Then to mistrust God and
Christ–and then to doubt your own existence and to come into the
dreary dream land where nothing is certain–where everything is myth
and fiction. Give your heart to Christ, young Man, and He will furnish
you with anchors and a good anchor-hold to your mind. And then when
stormy winds of skepticism sweep across the sea, and other boats are
wrecked, you shall outride the storm and shall evermore be safe.
It is a strange thing that people should be so long before they are
satisfied. Look at some of my hearers today. They mean to be satisfied
with money. When they were apprentices they thought they should be so
satisfied when they earned journeymen's wages. But they came to be
journeymen, and then they were not satisfied till they were foremen.
And then they felt they never should be satisfied till they had a
concern of their own. They got a concern of their own and took a house
in the city–but then they felt they could not be content till they had
taken the adjoining premises.
Then they had more advertising and more work to do, and now they begin
to feel that they never shall be quite easy till they have purchased a
snug little villa in the country. Yes, there are some here who have the
villa, and handsome grounds, and so on. But they will not be satisfied
till they see all their children married. And when they have seen all
their children married, they will not be at rest then. They think they
will, but they will not. There is always a something yet beyond. "Man
never is, but always to be blessed," as Young puts it. There are
Fortunate Isles for the mariner to reach, and failing these, there is
no haven for him even in the safest port.
We know some, too, who, instead of pursuing wealth, are looking after
fame. They have been honored for that clever piece of writing, but they
are desirous of more honor. They must write better, still. And when
they have achieved some degree of notoriety through a second attempt,
they will feel that now they have a name to keep up, and so they must
have that name widened, and the circle of their influence must extend.
The fact is, that neither wealth, nor honor, nor anything that is of
mortal birth can ever fill the insatiable, immortal soul of man. The
heart of man has an everlasting hunger given to it, and if you could
put worlds into its mouth it would still crave for more.
It is so thirsty that if all the rivers drained themselves into it,
still, like the deep sea which is never full, the heart would yet cry
out for more. Man is truly like the horseleech–he forever say, "Give!
Give! Give!" And until the Cross is given to the insatiable heart, till
Jesus Christ–who is the fullness of Him that fills all in all–is
bestowed, the heart of man never can be full. Where shall we find a
satisfied man but in the Church of Christ? And in the Church of Christ
I find him, not in the pulpit merely, where success and position might
satisfy, but I find him in the pew humbly receiving the
Truth of God.
I find him in the pew, not among the rich, where earthly comforts might
tend to make him satisfied, but among the poor, where cold and
nakedness might cause him to complain. I could point you today to the
workman who earns every bit of bread he eats with more sweat of his
brow than you would dream of, but he is content. I could point you to
the poor work-girl who scarcely earns enough to hold body and soul
together–and yet in this House of God her heart often leaps for
joy–for she is wholly resigned. I could show you the bedridden woman
whose bones come through the skin through long lying upon a bed which
friendship would gladly make soft, but which is all too hard for her
weakness– and yet she is content–though a parish pittance is all that
is given her to feed upon.
I say we have no need to exaggerate, or strain, or use hyperboles. We
do find in the Church of Christ those who have been, and are satisfied
with the mercy of God. Now, would it not be a fine thing to begin life
with being satisfied? There are some who do not end it with this
attainment. They hunt after satisfaction till they come to their dying
beds, and then still do not find it. But oh, to begin life with being
satisfied! Not to say at some future date I will be satisfied, but to
be content now. Not when I have climbed to such-and-such a pinnacle I
shall have enough, but to have enough now. To begin with satisfaction
before you launch upon a world of troubles! You may do so, my Brother.
You may do so, my young Sister, if now with a true heart you look to
Him who hangs upon yonder Cross, and commit your soul into His keeping,
praying this prayer–"O satisfy us early with Your mercy."
The reason which our text gives I must comment upon for a moment. Our
text says–"O satisfy us early with Your mercy. That we may rejoice and
be glad all our days." We never rejoice in the true sense of the term.
We never possess solid gladness till we are satisfied with God's mercy.
It is all a mockery and a pretence. The reality never comes to us till
God's mercy visits our heart. But after that, what joy we know! Tell me
that the Christian is miserable! O Sir, you do not know what the
Christian is! We need not appear before you with laughing faces, for
our joy is deeper than yours, and needs not express itself out in
immodest signs.
The poor trader puts all his goods in the window, but the rich man has
rich stores even in the dark cellar–his warehouses are full and he
makes no show. Still waters run deep and we are sometimes still in our
joy because of the depth of our delight. Say we are not happy, Sirs! We
would not change one moment of our joy for a hundred years of yours! We
hear your joy, and we understand that it is like the crackling of
thorns under a pot–which crackle all the louder because they burn so
furiously and will so soon be gone. But ours is a steady fire.
We do mourn sometimes. We mourn oftener than we ought to do. We are
free to confess this. But it is not our religion which makes us mourn.
It is because we do not live up to it, for when we live up to it and
have the company of Jesus, we tell you–
"We would not change our blessed estate
For all that earth calls good or great. And while our faith can keep
her hold, We envy not the sinner's gold."
Our sickbeds are often as the doorstep of Heaven. Even when we are cast
down, there is a sweet solace in our sorrow, and a profound joy about
our apparent grief which we would not give away. God gave it to us and
the world cannot destroy it.
They who love Jesus Christ early have the best hope of enjoying the
happiest days as Christians. They will have the most service and the
service of God is perfect delight. Their youthful vigor will enable
them to do more than those who enlist when they are old and decrepit.
The joy of the Lord is our strength. And on the other hand, to use our
strength for God is a fountain of joy. Young Man, if you give fifty
years of service unto God, surely you shall rejoice all your days! The
earlier we are converted, having the longer time to study in Christ's
college, the more profound shall be our knowledge of Him.
We shall have more time for communion, more years for fellowship. We
shall have more seasons to prove the power of prayer, and more
opportunities to test the fidelity of God than we should if we came
late. Those who come late are blessed by being helped to learn so much,
but those that come in early shall surely outstrip them. Let me be
young, like John, that I may have years of loving service, and like he
may have much intimate acquaintance with my Lord. Surely those who are
converted early may reckon upon more joy, because they never will have
to contend with and to mourn over what later converts must know.
Your bones are not broken, you can run without weariness–you have not
fallen as some have done–you can walk without fainting. Often the
gray-headed man who is converted at sixty or seventy finds the
remembrance of his youthful sins clinging to him. When he would praise,
an old lascivious song revives upon his memory. When he would mount up
to Heaven, he suddenly remembers some scene in a haunt of vice which he
would be glad to forget. But you, saved by Divine Grace before you thus
fall into the jaw of the lion, or under the paw of the bear, will
certainly have cause for rejoicing all your life.
If I may have heavenly music upon earth let me begin it now, Lord. Put
not away the viol and the harp for my fingers when they tremble with
age. Let me use them while yet I am young. Now, Lord, if there is a
banquet, do not bring me in at the end of the feast, but let me begin
to feast today! If I am to be married to Jesus, let it not be when my
hair is gray, but marry me to Jesus now! What better time for joy than
today? Now shall my joys swell and grow like a river, which rolls on to
a mightier breadth and depth as its course is prolonged! I shall
rejoice and be glad in You all my days, good Lord, if You will now
begin with me, in this the morning of my days.
I cannot put my thoughts together this morning as I could desire, but I
still feel an earnest longing to shoot the arrow to its mark, and
therefore one or two stray thoughts before I turn to the prayer itself,
and these shall be very brief. My dear young Friends, you who are of my
own age, or younger still, I beseech you ask to be satisfied with God's
mercy early, for you may die early. It has been our grief this week to
stand by the open grave of one who was, alas, too soon, as we thought,
snatched away to Heaven. You may never number the full ripe years of
manhood. We say that our years are threescore and ten, but to you they
may not even be a score.
Your sun may go down while it is yet noon. God often reaps His corn
green–long before the autumn comes He cuts down His sheaves. "Because
I will do this, prepare to meet your God." Then, on the other hand, if
you should live–in whose service could you spend your days better than
in the service of God? What more happy employment, what more blessed
position than to be found, like Samuel, a waiting servant upon God
while yet you need a mother's care? Remember how early temptations
beset you. Would you not wish to secure your early days? And how can
you cleanse your ways except by taking heed unto them according to
God's Word?
Do you not know, too, that the Church wants you? Your young blood shall
keep her veins full of vigor and make her sinews strong. Should not the
love of Jesus Christ win you? If He died and shed His blood for men,
does He not deserve their best service? Would you desire to give to God
an offering of the end of your days? What would you have thought of the
Jew who brought an old bullock–who, after having used an ox in his own
fields till it was worn out, should then consecrate it to God? Let the
lambs be offered. Let the firstlings of the herd be brought. Let God
have the first sheaves of the harvest. Surely He deserves something
better than to have the devil's leavings put upon His holy altar!
"Oh, but," you say, "would He accept me if I came to Him early?" Why,
you have more promises than the old man has. It is written that God
will be found of them that seek Him, but it is specially written, "They
that seek Me early shall find Me." You have a peculiar promise given to
you. If there were any who could be rejected, it could not by any
possibility be the young. If there were one whom Jesus Christ could
leave, it would not be you, for He gathers the lambs in His bosom.
"Suffer the little children to come unto Me and forbid them not, for of
such is the kingdom of Heaven." May not that cheer you, however young
you are?
Jesus Christ loves to see young men and maidens join in His praise. We
find that the best of saints in the Old and New Testament were those
who came to Jesus young. Certain it is that the pick and cream of the
Church in modern times will be found among those who are early
converts. Look at those who are Church officials and ministers, and in
most cases– and the exception only proves the rule–in most cases the
leaders in our Israel are those who, as young Hannibal was devoted by
his parents to the great cause of his country, were devoted by their
parents to the great cause of Zion and to the interests of Jerusalem.
If you would be strong for God, eminent in His service, and joyful in
His ways. If you would understand the heights and depths of the love of
Christ which passes knowledge, if you would give yourselves before your
bones are broken and before your spirit has become tinctured through
and through with habits of iniquity–then offer this prayer–"O satisfy
us early with Your mercy, that we may rejoice and be glad all our
days."
II. And now very briefly we shall take the text as YOUR ADDRESS TO GOD.
Every word here is significant. "O." This teaches us that the prayer is
to be earnest. I will suppose that I have led some of you young people
here now to breathe this prayer to God. Am I so unhappy as to suppose
that none of you will do it? Are there not some who now say, "I will,
with my whole heart, God the Holy Spirit helping me, now in my pew
offer this supplication to Heaven." It begins with an "O." Dull prayers
will never reach God's Throne. What comes from our heart coldly can
never get to God's heart.
Dull, dead prayers, ask God to deny them. We must pray out of our very
souls. The soul of our prayer must be the prayer of our soul. "O
satisfy us." Young Man, the Lord is willing to open the door to those
who knock, but you must knock hard. He is fully prepared to give to
those who ask, but you must ask earnestly. The kingdom of Heaven
suffers violence. It is not a gentle grasp which will avail. You must
wrestle with the angel. Give no sleep to your eyes nor slumber to your
eyelids till you have found the Savior. Remember, if you do but find
Him, it will well repay you though you shed drops of blood in the
pursuit.
If instead of tears you had given your heart's blood, and if instead of
sighs you were to give the shrieks of a martyr, it would well
recompense you if you did but find Jesus–therefore be earnest. If you
find Him not, remember, you perish, and perish with a great
destruction. The wrath of God abides on you and Hell must be your
portion. Therefore, as one that pleads for his life, so plead for
mercy. Throw your whole spirit into it and let that spirit be heated to
a glowing heat. Be not satisfied to stand at the foot of the Throne and
say, "Let God save me if He will." No, but put it thus, "Lord, I cannot
take a denial! O satisfy me! O save me!" Such a prayer is sure to be
accepted.
Again, make it a generous prayer, when you are at it. "O satisfy us
early!" I am glad to see among our young sisters in the catechumen
class such a spirit of love for one another, so that when one is
converted, she is sure to look round for another. The scores in that
class who have found the Lord are always searching out some stray young
woman in the street, or some hopeful ones attending the congregation
whom they try to bring in, that Jesus may be glorified. The very first
duty of a convert is to labor for the conversion of others, and surely
it will not spoil your prayer, young Man, if when you are praying for
yourself, you will put it in the plural–"O satisfy US."
Pray for your brothers and sisters. I am sure we are verily guilty in
this thing. Those that sprang from the same loins as ourselves–would
to God that they were all saved with the same salvation. You may, some
of you, be happy enough to be members of a family in which all are
converted. Oh that we could all say the same! May the remembrance of
this text provoke you and me to pray for unconverted brothers and
sisters more than we have ever done. "O satisfy us." If you have
brought in the eldest, Lord, stop not till the youngest is converted.
If my brother preaches the Word, if my sister rejoices in Your fear,
then let other sisters know and taste of Your love. You young people in
shops, in warehouses, in factories–pray this prayer and do not exclude
even those who have begun to blaspheme–but even in their early youth
pray for them–"O satisfy us with Your mercy."
See to it, dear Friends, in the next place that your prayer be
thoroughly evangelical. "O satisfy us early with Your mercy." The
prayer of the publican is the model for us all. No matter how amiable
or how excellent we may be, we must all come together and say, "God, be
merciful to me a sinner." Do not come with any hereditary godliness. Do
not approach the Lord with the fact of your infant sprinkling. Do not
come before Him to plead your mother's covenant. Come as a sinner, as a
black, foul, filthy sinner, having nothing to rely on or to trust to
but the merit of God in Christ Jesus. And let the prayer be just such
as a thief might offer, or a prostitute might present–"O satisfy us
early with Your mercy."
Let the prayer be put up now at once. The text says, "O satisfy us
early." Why not today? Oh that it had been done years ago! But there
was time enough, you thought. There is time enough, but there is none
to spare. Acquaint yourself now with God, and be at peace. "Today is
the accepted time. Today is the day of salvation." I would to God we
would not pray our prayers meaning to have them heard so late. Let it
be–"O satisfy us early." The man who truly repents always wants to
have pardon on the spot. He feels as if he could not rise from his
knees till God has been favorable to him–and mark you–when a man has
really come to that point that he must be saved now, or else he feels
that it will be too late, then has come the solemn juncture when God
will say, "Be it unto you even as you will."
I must leave this poor sermon of mine with the people of God to pray
over it. Sometimes when most I long to plead with men's souls I find
the brain distracted although the heart is warm. God knows, that could
I plead with the young, I would do it even unto tears. I do feel it
such a solemn thing for our country. Happy shall she be if her sons and
daughters give their young days to God! It will be such a blessed thing
for London, if our young men in business, and our young women in
families become missionaries for Christ. But what a happy thing it will
be for them! What joy shall they know! What transports shall they feel!
What a blessing will they be to their households! What happy families
they will be!
Unconverted fathers shall be made to feel the power of godliness
through their daughters. And mothers who despise religion shall not
dare to neglect it any longer because they see it exemplified and
illustrated in their sons. We want missionaries everywhere! This great
city never can by any possibility become the Lord's except by
individual action. We must have all Christians at work, and since we
cannot get the old ones to work as we would–since preach as we may,
they will settle on their lees–we long for new recruits, whose ardor
shall rekindle the dying enthusiasm of the seniors. We want to see
fresh minds come in all aglow with holy fervor to keep the fire still
blazing on the altar.
For Jesus Christ's sake I do implore you, you who number but few
years–offer this supplication in your pew. Do it now. It is a
Brother's heart that begs the favor. It is for your own soul's sake,
that you may be blessed on earth, and that you may have the joys of
Heaven. There is a prayer-hearing God. The Mercy Seat is still open.
Christ still waits. May the Spirit of God compel you now to come before
Him in supplication. Now may He compel you to come in, with this as
your cry–"O satisfy us early with Your mercy, that we may rejoice and
be glad all our days."