God’s Fatherly Pity

DELIVERED ON THURSDAY EVENING, MARCH 2, 1882,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities them that fear
Him." Psalm 103:13.

IN the former part of this Psalm, the Psalmist sang of God's deeds of
love, His gifts, His benefits and His acts of kindness. But here he
goes deeper into the Divine motive and, therefore, he finds sweeter
incentives to devout gratitude. There is a fullness of consolation in
the fact that the heart of God is towards His people. He not only
dispenses blessings–so does the sun, so do the clouds, so do the
fruitful fields–but He takes a warm interest in our welfare and has a
feeling towards us of kindly, gentle affection. And that of such
intensity that one of the highest forms of earthly love is here used as
a figure to set forth the tender mercy of our God towards us. I have
always been taught as an axiom in theology that God has no griefs–that
He is "without parts or passions"–I think was the definition. But I
have often inwardly objected to such statements. They seemed to me so
inconsistent with the tone and tenor of Scripture, for He appears to
take pleasure in His people and to be "grieved" with their ill manners.

Surely, metaphors that are Inspired must have a meaning that is
instructive! If the Father's "heart yearns." If our Lord and Savior is
"moved with compassion." And if the Holy Spirit is "vexed," there must
be something analogous to what we call emotion, among ourselves, in the
acknowledged attributes of the Most High! At least He appears to
sympathize with us, so that "in all our afflictions He is afflicted,"
and He pities us, "as a father pities his children." "That is speaking
after the manner of men," somebody says. True. And it is exactly the
way I do speak. In no other way do I know how to speak! And until I
learn to speak after the manner of angels, you must pardon me and
accept an apology–not only for my own ignorance of any other tongue
than that in which I was born–but also for the incapacity of my
hearers to understand any other than human language.

Neither do I know anything, so limited is my intelligence, except after
the manner of men. It seems to me that if there is any other manner or
means of communicating thoughts and emotions, it must belong to some
other being than man. And if it is correct to speak after the manner of
men, then be it understood I do speak after that manner, and I am
perfectly satisfied that I am able so to speak the truth as shall give
a faithful and adequate impression to your minds. There is a feeling
which has a measure of pain in it, familiarly known to us as, "pity."
It is a love which so sympathizes with its objects that, in a manner,
it makes itself one with them–and if it should involve suffering, pity
shares the pang. If there is any kind of grief in the one that is
pitied, he that pities becomes a partaker of that grief.

I believe in a God who can feel. As to Baal and the gods of the
heathen, they may be passionless and without emotion, or without
anything that is akin to feeling. Not so do I find Jehovah to be
described. How did His anger kindle when He gave His people over to the
sword and was angry with His inheritance! And how transporting is His
love to the daughter of Zion when He rejoices over her with joy! He has
a pity, yes, and a sorrow, too, according to this Book. I dismiss,
therefore, the theology of the schoolmen–I am quite satisfied with the
Divinity that I find in these Scriptures! Believe it then, dear
Friends, with all your hearts, that God has kindly feelings towards
them that fear Him, such as a father has towards his children!

This is a Truth of God of which I feel jealous and I do not wish to see
it toned down. There is a sentiment abroad that sounds plausible and is
accepted by many Christian people, that God puts us to much sorrow,
wisely and for our good, while His own heart is unaffected or callous
to our suffering because He foresees, according to His own purpose, the
good that will come out of it. Some kind of analogy might, in that
case, be suggested between our gracious God and a skillful surgeon, who
cuts and cuts deeply, when he would remove a cancer from the flesh. Or
a physician who administers potent drafts of medicine, which, perhaps,
cause excruciating pain. The surgeon would be too intent on the success
of his opera-

tion, or the physician would watch with too much anxiety, the effect of
his prescription on the patient to bestow much thought or sympathy on
those present sufferings which he confidently anticipates will effect a
permanent cure.

So he calmly looks on, intent upon the result in the future, as he
ignores, to some extent, the anguish of the passing hour. But I pray
you not to think that it is exactly so with God. Of course, in a higher
scale, He has all the wisdom of the physician and He views our
afflictions that we now endure in the light of that hereafter when He
will heal all our diseases, give unto us beauty for ashes, the oil of
joy for mourning and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.
Still, He does not steel His heart to the immediate and the present
trouble of His people, but, "As a father pities his children, so the
Lord pities them that fear Him."

I can understand the surgeon looking at the patient, while causing him
acute pain under the operation, with the bravery of a man whose nerves
cannot easily be shaken. But the father must leave the room! He cannot
bear it. The mother cannot look on–they are carried away with the
immediate grief. And so it is with God, albeit that the splendor of His
wisdom and His foreknowledge enable Him to see the end as well as the
beginning, yet, believe me, like as a father is pitying his children,
so the Lord is pitying them that fear Him! For it is in the present
tense and carries the idea of con-tinuity–at this very moment He is
pitying them that fear Him! Though He knows your trials will work for
your good, yet He pities you! Though He knows that there is sin in you,
which, perhaps, may require this rough discipline before you are
sanctified, yet He pities you!

Though He can hear the music of Heaven–the songs and glees that will
ultimately come of your present sighs and grief–yet He still pities
those groans and wails of yours, for, "He does not afflict willingly
nor grieve the children of men." In all our distresses and present
grief, He takes His share. He pities us as a father pities his
children. Let us look at the text, then, believing in its meaning and
not frittering it away by saying, "That is after the manner of men."
For again, I say, there is no other manner in which we can speak and no
other manner in which God, Himself, can speak if He means us to
understand Him.

There is, doubtless, some high and vast meaning which, like the
covering cherub, stands high over all, but, for all that, I am but a
child and cannot reach it. I am content with what I can reach;
satisfied with what is obviously the meaning of this text, "As a father
pities his children, so the Lord pities them that fear Him." Hear it,
dear Friends, first, for your encouragement, and hear it, next, for
your imitation. Hear it that you may be encouraged! God is not
unfeelingly afflicting you, but He is pitying you! Hear it that you may
be impelled to go into the world with a like pitying eye. If you ever
have to say a rough word in fidelity, or are required to utter a stern
rebuke, do it after the manner of your heavenly Father, pitying even if
you have to blame, and gently delivering the expostulation which it
grieves you to have to deliver at all!

I am not, tonight, able to preach to you much by way of set discourse,
for I am one of those children, just now, who needs his Father's pity!
I half think He would have bade me go home and not speak to you at all,
had it not been that the sight of this assembly stirs my spirit and
makes it imperative that when you come together to hear, I should have
something to say to you–therefore, as best I can, I shall simply call
attention to some things in our condition and our circumstances which
make us resemble children towards whom God has pity. Will you please
observe, on the outset, that the pity of the Lord extends to all those
that fear Him. There are none of them that are not fit objects of His
compassion– the very best and brightest of His saints, the brave
heroes, the well-instructed fathers, the diligent workers–God pities
you, my dear Brothers and Sisters! Will you take that home to
yourselves because there is a beautiful lesson of humility in so
accounting ourselves as pitiable creatures in the eyes of the
Lord–even when we are at our best estate.

I have seen some Brothers and Sisters that really did not seem at all
good subjects for pity because they imagined that the very roots of sin
had been eradicated out of their hearts. Their character and their
conduct were akin to perfection in their own esteem. I forget how many
weeks they had lived without a sin except they had some wandering
thoughts, once or twice–but they could hardly remember or refer to
that as a fault! Yes, but I venture to say I pity people that talk so!
If they are God's children, all that God does with them is pity them
and well He may, for He says to Himself, "Poor dear creatures! How
little they know of themselves and how different their estimate of
perfection is from Mine!" He still pities them, but that is as far that
He goes. I do not find Him admiring them or exalting and extolling
them. The biggest child He has, the child that is most like His Father
and has learned most of Jesus, may come to this text and see himself
depicted in it, "As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities
them that fear Him."

As for us who are not so big and are still among His little children, I
am sure the Lord, first, pities our childish ignorance. He is not angry
with us because we do not know everything. He is not angry with us
because the little we do know we mostly turn topsy-turvy, upside down.
He is not angry with us because what He has taught us we are very apt
to forget by reason of our fickle memory. No–He pities us!
Schoolmasters of the olden type used to think that the boys must do all
the lessons that were given them and learn everything that was
contained in their school books. Then they asked them questions which,
if the pupils could answer, there would be no need for any teachers.
But if the boys did not know the answers, there was nothing for them
but a fierce word and a hard blow!

That is not how fathers teach–true fathers–but when their children do
not know, they tell them. If they cannot quite understand them, they
watch their faces and they put the thing into another shape. And if the
child has not got it then, they try again and, at last, they find the
keyhole of the child's understanding and put the key in! And
straightway the mind is opened and the truth, like a precious treasure,
is stowed therein! A father does not act like a schoolmaster, but he
pities his children and he is willing, patiently, to teach them. Does
the father expect his child to know as much as himself? Does the
politician expect the little boy to understand the secrets of the
Cabinet? Does the tradesman expect his child to come into his shop and
perceive the intricacies of his business? Certainly not!

And when the child makes many mistakes, at which others laugh and mock
and make some bitter jest till the tears rise in his tender eyes and
roll down his little cheeks, the father feels the affront and pities
his child. He, too, smiles at the strange things–the freaks of the
child's mind–yet there is not an atom of scorn in that smile! He loves
him too much to ever think of him in that way and he goes on to teach
him more. "Why did you tell your child that piece of information 20
times?" asks one. "Why," said the mother, "I told him 20 times because
when I had told him 19 times he did not know it–so I went on to 20
times." And that is how God does with us! He has taught, some of us, 19
times and we do not know it–so He will teach us 20 times, for He
pities us.

Oh, if He were to treat us as some lads have been treated at
schools–where they dismiss a boy as incorrigible, too dull, too stupid
ever to shine–some of us would have been turned away long ago! But He
takes us, dull scholars as we are, and He tires not of teaching, as He
gently insinuates one Truth after another–not too much at a time–for
He says, "You cannot bear them now, though I have many things to say
unto you." And so by degrees He does get a little into us. Blessed be
His name for that little! It is worth all the world! One thing 1 know,
whereas I was blind, now I see! I have got that drilled into me. To
know Him and to know something of the power of His Resurrection, and
something of conformity to His death–these are lessons we are going on
to learn with a sweet prospect of being taught yet more and more! And
we need never fear of being dismissed because of our dullness, for, "As
a father pities his children, so the Lord pities them that fear Him."

Let us take a word of admonition from this instance of pity before we
go any further. Do not let us think that we have not the privileges of
children because we do not know as much as more experienced saints, or
because we cannot engage in the devotion at Prayer Meetings, or conduct
a Bible class, or, perhaps, can hardly understand the creed of the
Church well enough to give a clear account of it! Do not let us think
our heavenly Father does not love us; that He will refrain from keeping
His eyes upon us, or cease to watch our growth in Grace and in the
knowledge of Christ until He shall have more fully instructed us. Do
not let us begin to condemn those of God's children that do not know as
much as we do. We have not got far ourselves.

Still, there is a tendency in some to say, "Why, this cannot be genuine
Grace, for it is accompanied with such little knowledge." Well, now, if
that suspicion shall lead you to give more instruction, it is well! But
if it shall lead you to set aside the uninstructed one, it is evil. In
the Church of God it behooves us to have the same pity on the ignorant
as our heavenly Father has shown towards us in our ignorance–and we
ought to have even more, seeing He has no ignorance of His own and we
have much! Let us, therefore, be very compassionate and exceedingly
pitiful towards those of our Brothers and Sisters who as yet know but
little.

Another thing in which our heavenly Father shows Himself pitiful to us
is in our weakness. Children cannot do much; they have but little
strength, especially little children too young, too helpless to run
alone. The mother does not despise–she rather dotes on the babe whose
little body is a burden she has to carry because it cannot walk. Her
heart is not hardened against her infant because the wee baby is unable
to help itself! Our heavenly Father knows our weaknesses! Some of you
know something of your own lack of strength. You are bowed down under a
sense of your infirmity tonight.

Now, do not let your weakness lead you into any unbelief or mistrust of
God. He knows our frame–He remembers that we are but dust. An infant's
incapacity never excites a parent's ire. You, being evil, know how to
be tender with your offspring–how much more shall the Father of
Spirits sympathize with such weakness as He knows we are all prone to
experience!

Possibly the weakness that distracts you comes from languor of body. I
have been, sometimes, so sorely sick as scarcely able to pray, that is
to say, not to express my desires in a consecutive prayer. And I
remember one who said to me, "I appeal to you, as a father, were your
child suffering from a fever, his mind wandering and his speech
delirious, would you reproach him because he did not address you just
as he has been accustomed to do when he was in health?" I felt I should
have rather commiserated his sickness than complained of his frenzy.
Neither will our heavenly Father deviate from the instincts that He has
implanted in the nature of His creatures! He has revealed to us as an
illustration of His own emotions toward those that fear Him!

If you who have been accustomed to guide your class in their studies,
cannot find anything instructive to teach them. Or if you are a
minister and it should seem to you that the tide runs out when you
looked for your thoughts to flow freely–and that the words fall frozen
when you hoped they would fire volleys from your lips–there may be
some rational solution for your languor. If there is any wrong in your
heart or in your habits, you may well blame yourselves! But if it is
pure weakness–whether it comes from the body or from the mind that you
are weary, disorganized, depressed and bowed down–do not think of
aggravating your distress by self-reproach, but hear the text say, "As
a father pities his children, so the Lord pities them that fear Him.
For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust."

Some of our Brethren seem to think we are made of cast iron. They would
have us preach all day and all night long. At times they are so
thoughtless as to make use of very bitter language when some servant of
Christ cannot, through physical or mental weakness, do all they want of
him. "So-and-So does it," they say. A man in perfect health and
strength may joyfully accomplish what another man cannot even think of
undertaking. So are God's servants misjudged by the sterner sort. But
they are not misjudged by God, for He pities the weakness of His people
and blames them not! I wish I could speak a word that would be
encouraging to any here that would go about Christ's service if they
could, but cannot.

I remember John Bunyan's little picture of the man that is sent for the
doctor and he has to go on a horse. He has to go as quickly as he can,
but the horse is a sorry jade and cannot go very fast. "Oh," he says,
"look at the man, how he kicks, how he tugs at the bridle and his
Master knows he would go if the horse would only carry him." Under such
circumstances the messenger could not, surely, be to blame! So
sometimes God sees the efforts of His servants to work for Him. Why,
they would drive the Church before them and pull the world behind them
if they could! And if they do not seem to be able to do it, does He
blame them? No, verily, but He pities the weakness of them that fear
Him! We will go a step further now. In children there is something much
worse than ignorance and weakness–and that is their childish follies.
There are some persons who have a great affection for children and find
great pleasure in being with them by the days together.

I confess I find a larger portion of pleasure when they are out of the
way. Perhaps it is because I need quiet and stillness that I am better
able to bear with them a little at a time. But there are persons who
seem to take a delight in all their childish pranks and game, and all
their romps and frolic. Well, that is good, and I hope you will have
plenty of it, you that like it. But the father is the one who can bear
with his children when other people cannot. I have occasionally been in
houses where I have felt that I was glad the father could bear with
them, for I did not feel inclined to be very patient with their play,
myself, however proper I may think it for young people to be lively!
And you know a father and mother will put up with a thousand little
things in their children that strangers would frown at.

Those dear, kind mothers, with a little tribe about them–they do not
seem wearied and worn out! And if anybody says, "Oh, look what he is
doing." "Ah, well," says the mother, "he is only a boy." "Oh, but see
that girl." "Oh, well, she is so young, she must have her little
frolics." There are all sorts of excuses made on their behalf and it is
right enough that it should be so. It is not weakness in the child, it
is just childishness. And when we were children, we did the same, and
others bore with us–and so parents bear with their children. But oh,
how God our Father bears with us! We think we are very wise–it is
highly probable that we are never such fools as when we think we are
displaying our wisdom! We think we are pleasing God, sometimes, and in
that very act we are displeasing Him, though we know it not! There are

sins in our holy things–oh, how strange must some of the things that
we do seem to our great God! We have gotten so accustomed to them! We
have seen them in others. We have come to put up with them in others
and others put up with them in us!

Now, we who talk, sometimes, about our doubts and fears, why, there
must be much in them that must be very depressing to the mind of the
great Father. Do we doubt Him? Do we distrust His promises? We try to
make out that we do not, but if you sift it thoroughly, it does come to
that! Oh, the Father knows that we do not mean it; that we shrink in a
moment from the idea of making Him to be a liar! And if anybody else
were to put forward the very doubt which we have been entertaining, we
should be horrified with it! And I believe it is a great part of our
heavenly Father's pity that He should thus look on us and often
construe what we do in such a kind and tender way. You know how Jesus
prayed for His murderers–"Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do." And the Son is very like the Father–our Father does the same
with us–He forgives us because we "know not what we do."

It was very beautiful of our Lord, even with Pilate, to say, "He that
delivered Me unto you has the greater sin." It was the best He could
say for Pilate, that though his sin was great, yet there was a greater.
And our Father has all those kind thoughts ready, we may be sure, for
His children's wild and wayward deeds. Jesus had them ready, even, for
His most fierce and wicked adversaries. Yes, He pities our follies and
still bears with us! But children have something worse than
follies–they have faults to be forgiven. Now, our Father pities the
faults of His children and He shows His pity by this fact–that He has
provided for their cleansing and He freely gives them the use of that
provision–and readily forgives them their iniquities.

A good child, when it has done wrong, is never satisfied until it gets
to the father and says so, and asks the father's forgiveness. Some
fathers, perhaps, think it wise to withhold the forgiving word for a
little time and so may our great Father. But as a rule is it not
wonderful how readily He forgives? He does, for a little time, perhaps,
make us smart under the sin, for our good, but it is not often. As a
rule, the kiss is on our cheek almost before the confession has left
our lips! Oh, have we not gone to Him and we have thought, "He will
chasten me for this. I may expect to be put in the dark and to be
without communion with Him for many days." But we have just ingenuously
opened up our heart and told Him that we grieved–and asked Him to make
us even more grieved that we might hate the fault–and never fall into
it again. And almost at once He has said, "I have blotted out your sins
like a cloud, and like a thick cloud your iniquities; go and sin no
more."

Do you not think that Peter ought to have been thrown out of the Church
a good long while after denying his Master with oaths and cursing?
Well, perhaps he would have if we had been consulted in the matter, but
when Jesus Christ was here on earth, by a kind look or a gentle word He
could set very crooked things straight! So we see Peter in company with
John and the rest of the Brothers within two or three days of his
committing that serious trespass. The Lord is very ready to forgive–it
is the Church that is unmerciful, sometimes, but not the Master–He is
always willing to receive us when we come to Him and to blot out our
transgression. Come along, then, you that have erred and gone astray,
you backsliders that are sensible of sin–you, His children that did
walk in the light but a few days ago, and have got into the dark by
some sad slip–come along!

You are very ready to forgive your children, are you not? Do you not
remember, you that are too old to have them about the house, how
readily, in your younger days, you picked up your little ones in your
arms and said–"Dear Child, do not cry any more, you must not do it
again, but father fully forgives you this time"? Just so does your
heavenly Father wait to pick you up and to press you to His bosom and
say, "I have loved you with an everlasting love." Not, "with a love
that can soon be set aside by your fault." "I have loved you with an
everlasting love, therefore, I will blot out, again, your
transgression–and set your feet on a rock and strengthen you to sin no
more." Oh, it is a sweet, sweet thought– our Father pities us in our
faults!

Go a step further. A father's pity tenderly lifts up those that fall.
When your child falls down, as children are very apt to do, especially
when they first begin to walk, do you not pity them? Is there a nasty
cut across the knee? It cries and the mother takes it up in her arms,
directly. And look, she has some sponge and water to take the grit out
of the wound! And she gives a kiss and makes it well. I know mothers
have wondrous healing lips! And sometimes, when God's servants do
really fall, it is very lamentable. It is very sad and it is well that
they should cry. It were a pity that they should be willing to lie in
the mire! But when they are up again and begin crying, and the wound
bleeds–well, let them not keep away

from God, "For as a father pities his fallen children, so the Lord
pities them that fear Him." Have you come in here tonight with that cut
knee of yours? I am sorry you should have fallen, but I am glad that
our blessed Master is still willing to receive you! Come and trust in
Him who is mighty to save, just as you did at first, and begin, again,
tonight! Come along! Some of us have had many times to begin again. Do
the same! If you are not a saint, you are a sinner–and Jesus Christ
came into the world to save sinners. Put your trust in Him and you
shall find restoration and, maybe, through that very fall you shall
learn to be more careful–and from now on you shall walk more uprightly
to His honor and

Glory!

But how the pity of a father comes out to a child in the matter of
pain! With what exquisite tenderness a child's pains are soothed by a
parent! It is very hard to stand by the bedside and see a dear child
suffer. Have not some of you felt that you would gladly take your
children's pains if they might be restored? You have one dear one at
home now, the tears are in your eyes as I mention it–a life of
suffering she has. Well, it may be others of you have children who have
mental troubles–the body is healthy, but the little one has a fret and
a worry. I hope you sometimes have seen your children weeping on
account of sin–it is a blessed grief, and the sooner it comes, the
better. In such a grief as that, as, indeed, in all others, I am quite
sure you pity your children. So does your Father pity you! Broken
heart, God's heart is longing to heal you! Weeping, weeping for your
transgressions, the Father longs to clasp you to His bosom.

Tried child of God, you that are often despondent and always ailing,
God would not send this to you if there were not a necessity for it!
And in sending it, He shares it as far as this text goes–and it goes
blessedly far, for He pities you! Sometimes hard-hearted persons do not
pity those that suffer and some forms of suffering do not awaken
sympathy. But all the sufferings of God's people touch the heart of
Jesus and sympathy comes to them at once. I know some of you say, "I am
quite alone in the world and I have much sorrow." Please revise that
hard saying! You are like your Master, of whom it is written that He
said, "You shall leave Me alone: yet I am not alone, because the Father
is with Me." Your Father is with you!

I wish you had some Christian friend to speak with you as a companion,
but in the absence of such a social confidant, there is a Friend that
sticks closer than a brother! And there is One above who is a Father to
you. Oh, believe it, there is no poverty, there is no reproach, there
is no sorrow of heart, there is no pain of body in this world among
them that fear God, but what the Lord sees it and knows all about it,
and has a pity to them that endure it! Still passing on, our children
have our pity when anybody has wronged them. I have heard say that
there are some men that you might insult, almost with impunity, and
should you even give them a blow they would stop to ask the reason
before showing any resentment. But, if you put a hand on their
children, you shall see the father's blood come up into his face and
the most patient man will, all of a sudden, become the most passionate!

There was a livid blue mark where you struck the child and the father
looks as though he could forgive you if that were on his own body–but
on his child? No, that he cannot endure! He turns it over and over and
he cannot resist his indignation, that his child should be wantonly
made to suffer! The wrongs of children call loudly for redress in the
ears of every sensitive man or woman, but they are sure to awake a
thrilling echo in a father's heart. "And shall not God revenge His own
elect, which cry day and night unto Him?" I tell you that He will
avenge them speedily, though He bears long with the adversary.

That cry of Milton's–when he prayed God to avenge God's elect among
the valleys of Piedmont for all the accursed persecutions of the Church
of Rome–was certainly heard and answered! Look at Spain to this
day–degraded among the nations because she was chief in the army of
inquisitors and crushed out the Word of God from her midst. She cannot
rise, the blood of saints is on her! And other nations, too, that have
shed the blood of the righteous like water, have had to smart for it.
That revolution in France, when blood flowed at the guillotine, was
God's reply to St. Bartholomew, for He remembered it and took vengeance
for His saints! And so He will till the end of the world shall come!
There is no wrong done to His people but it is registered in God's
archives. "He that touches you touches the apple of My eye." Christ
seemed to sit still in Heaven till He saw the blood of His saints shed.
And then He stood up as in indignation when they stoned Stephen. You
remember how He cries, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?" It was
Jesus that suffered, though His saints were made to die. Leave, then,
your wrongs with God. "Vengeance is Mine; I will repay, says the Lord,"
and let your reply be always gentleness and kindness towards those who
hate you for righteousness' sake.

And now, once more, the father will pity his children so as not only to
set right their wrongs, but to remove his children's dreads. There are
some people in the world that seem to take delight in frightening
children with old bogey stories so that they hardly dare go out at
night. But a kind father, if he finds his child frightened so, explains
it all to him–he does not like to see him blanched with fear or
haunted with terror. It may be that some here present are suffering,
just now, because they are sorely afraid. Are any of you under a dread
of some boding evil, as though the dark shadow of a calamity you cannot
define were flitting before your eyes? Be sure of this–your heavenly
Father pities you!

There are some of our hymns that always speak of death as associated
with pains and groans and agonizing strife. Very much of that is old
bogey–

"Imagination's fool and error's wretch, Man makes a death which Nature
never made! Then on the point of his own fancy falls, And feels a
thousand deaths in fearing one."

How many of God's people have we seen die without pains or groans or
dying strife! I remember one who used to be, all her life, subject to
fear of death. She retired as usual to bed one night and when they went
to call her in the morning, there she lay with a sweet smile upon her
face–she had gone to Heaven in her sleep–it was evident she never
knew anything at all about it. Are God's people, by their observation
of other saints, driven to conclude that death is always the terrible
thing the world says it is? I think not!

There may be some whom God puts to bed in the dark, as we sometimes do
our children, but usually He takes the candle with Him and sits and
talks with His child till he falls asleep. And when he wakes up, there
he is among the angels! God kisses the souls of His saints out of the
bodies–

"One gentle sigh, the fetter breaks–

We scarcely can say, 'they're gone!'

Before the ransomed spirit takes

Her mansion near the Throne."

Go to your heavenly Father and tell Him you are frightened and He has
ways of taking away these fears, for though they may be ridiculous to
some, a child's dreads are never too frivolous for the sympathy of a
loving father! He meets them as if there were some great reality in
them and so sets them aside. Whatever your needs, your woes, your
griefs, fly away to your great Father's Mercy Seat and spread them
there and He will give you comfort! Believe, from this night forward,
that God pities all them that fear Him and whatever He sees of weakness
in their nature and of sorrow in their lot He will help them. So may
you find it now and evermore, for Christ's sake. Amen.
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A Delusion Dispelled