Good News for the Destitute

A SERMON DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 9, 1873,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise their
prayer." Psalm 102:17.

OBSERVE that the verse which precedes the text describes the Lord as
appearing in His Glory. His Zion is to be built up and therefore her
King puts on the robes of His splendor. The imagery sets forth the Lord
as a great Monarch, superintending with great pomp and state, the
building of a sumptuous palace. We see Him commanding the architects
and the workmen, and passing from point to point amid attending
courtiers. Trumpets are sounding, banners are displayed, princes and
nobles glitter in their array and the King appears in His Glory.

But who is this, whose mournful wail, disturbs the harmony? From where
comes this ragged beggar who bows before the Prince? Surely he will be
dragged away by the soldiers, or cast into prison by the wardens for
daring to pollute so grand a ceremony by such wretched presumption!
Were there not streets, lanes and dark corners enough for beggars? Why
need he thrust himself in where his rags are so much out of place? But
look! The King hears him! The sound of the trumpet has not drowned the
voice of the destitute.

His Majesty listens to him while he asks for an alms and in matchless
compassion pities all his groans. Who is this King, but Jehovah? Of
Him, only, is it said, "He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and
not despise their prayer." The verse is enhanced in its beauty by its
connection, even as a fair jewel receives an added beauty from the
lovely neck upon which it sparkles. Let us read the verse, again, in
this soft silver light. "When the Lord shall build up Zion, He shall
appear in His Glory. He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and
not despise their prayer."

It is clear that the heart of the Lord delights in the cries of needy
souls and nothing can prevent His hearing them. No occupation is so
sublime as to distract the Lord's attention from the prayer of the most
humble of His mourners. The songs of seraphs, the symphonies of angels,
the ceaseless chorales of the redeemed are not more sweet in the ears
of the all-merciful Jehovah than the faint breathings of poor dying
wretches who confess themselves condemned by His Justice and,
therefore, appeal to His lovingkindness and tender mercy!

This morning I am going to preach about the destitute. I hope there are
many of them here. At any rate many are here who once were destitute,
and would be so now, if it were not for the riches of Divine Grace.
Hear me, you poor in spirit, and may the Lord comfort you by my words.
Our first work, this morning, shall be to speak about a spiritual
pauper, the "destitute." Then we will talk of his special
occupation–it is clear that he has taken to begging, for the text
speaks twice of his "prayer," and prayer is the essence of begging.

Then, thirdly, here is a very natural fear of this spiritual beggar,
namely, that his prayer will not be regarded and will even be despised.
And then, fourthly, the whole text is a most comfortable assurance to
this spiritual mendicant that his begging will be successful, for the
Lord of whom he begs will regard his prayer and will not despise his
supplication.

I. First, then, let us go down among the beggars and look upon THE
SPIRITUAL PAUPER. It will do you good to have your spiritual gentility
shocked for a while. And it will be a lasting benefit if you are made
to feel, anew, your own poverty, and to cry, "I am poor and needy, yet
the Lord thinks upon me." The spiritual pauper is, in our text,
described as destitute. And you may take the word in its extreme
sense–the spiritually poor man is not only positively–but utterly,
thoroughly–terribly destitute!

He is destitute of all wealth of merit or possession of righteousness.
Time was, years ago, when he was as good as anybody else, in his own
esteem, and perhaps a little better. He was rich and increased in
goods, and had need of nothing. True, he had some faults, but he
considered them to be outweighed by his excellences. And if he fell,
sometimes, into error and sin, he had most ingenious excuses with which
to shift the blame–either some companions beguiled him, or else his
circumstances necessitated the fault.

He was a sinner, he admitted that, but he put his own meaning upon the
title, so that he did not feel degraded by it. He was no vagrant or
pauper in the universe of God, but rather a fellow citizen with the
worthy, and of the household of self-satisfaction. He was at least as
good as the average of men and possibly better than, under present
circumstances, men may generally be expected to be. And if he did not
actually claim anything of God by way of merit, it was because he
deferred to the crotchets of the Protestant religion. But in his inmost
soul he really thought he could have maintained a decent position on
the score of good works–and have shown up a very presentable
righteousness had it been asked for.

He never did, in his heart, see anything amiss in the Pharisee's
prayer, "God I thank You that I am not as other men are." He, himself,
reflected with a very great deal of comfort upon the fact that he had
never been a drunk, that no profane word had dropped from his mouth,
that he had been upright in his business and that to all intents and
purposes he was a reputable and respectable man, worthy of the Divine
regard. This, however, is all changed.

The man has come down from an emperor to a penniless beggar. His
outward character may not have changed, but his own estimate of himself
is as different as light from darkness. Now he sees the hollowness of
an outward morality which does not proceed from a renewed heart. Now he
knows that the sins which he has committed are exceedingly sinful and
that the religious professions he has made, being nothing better than
mere pretences–the heart not going with them–were a mockery of God
and an insult to the Most High.

Look at him, then, you rich men! Here was one of yourselves, richer
than most, and far superior to the majority! But now he is as poor as
the unfeathered bird which cruelty has flung from its nest. He has no
good work that he dares bring before his God, but he admits to ten
thousands of sins–every one of which accuses him before the Most High
and demands punishment at the hands of Justice. He feels this and
shivers in his wretched rags. Do you inquire, "Where is he?" Is he not
here at this moment? Can I not see his tears and hear his groans? "God
be merciful to me, a sinner," is his cry! He is so far from claiming
anything like merit that he loathes the very thought of
self-righteousness, feeling himself to be guilty, undeserving,
ill-deserving, and Hell-deserving–meriting, only to be banished from
the Presence of God forever!

There is a kind of destitution which is bearable. A man may be quite
penniless, but he may be so accustomed to it that he does not care. He
may even be more happy in rags and filth than in any other condition.
Persons of this order are well known to the guardians of our
workhouses. Have you ever seen the lazzaroni of Naples? Notwithstanding
all their attempts to move your compassion, they generally fail after
you have once seen them lying on their backs in the sun, amusing
themselves the livelong day. You feel sure that beggary is their
natural element. They are perfectly satisfied to be beggars, like their
fathers, and to bring up their sons to the profession. The ease of
poverty suits their constitutions.

But the spiritual pauper is not a member of this free and easy
lazzaroni club by any manner of means–he is destitute of contentment!
The poverty which is upon him is one which he cannot endure, or for a
moment rest under. It is a heavy yoke to him. He sighs and cries under
it. His is hungering and thirsting after righteousness. He knows there
is something better than the state into which he has fallen and he
pines for it. He knows that if he does not escape from his present
condition he will fall into woes infinitely worse–and he trembles at
the grim prospect of it. Therefore he sighs and cries before God in
bitterness of spirit, "Have mercy upon Your poor destitute creature!
Have mercy upon Your undeserving servant."

He has no contentment in his poverty. His penury is irksome to the last
degree and he cannot complacently endure it. A man, however, if he is
without money, is still not utterly destitute if he has strength–a
stout pair of limbs can work and earn wages. Such a man will soon get
out of his destitution. Only give him a chance and those rags will be
exchanged for decent attire. He will no longer be skin and bones. He
will improve into good condition–only give him employment and fair
pay. But this is not the case with the spiritual pauper. He has no
merit and he cannot earn any. His strength is gone.

Once he was so strong that he used to think if Heaven were to be
merited by good works he could do it, or, if not, if eternal life were
to be had by conversion and by believing in Christ, he could be
converted at any time, and believe in Jesus just whenever he liked.
Religion appeared to him to be a very easy matter. "Only believe and
you shall be saved"– could that be managed in the twinkling of an eye?
If ever he heard a sermon about, "Strait is the gate and narrow is the
way, and few there are that find it," he disliked the doctrine and the
preacher. He could not agree with such narrow-

minded views. He felt that he had all requisite spiritual power within
himself and he did not believe either in natural depravity or spiritual
inability.

He had done well in business and was a self-made man. He had worked
himself up from the lowest ranks into an honorable position–surely he
could do the same in the matters of his soul as in the affairs of the
world! That gentleman is not one of the destitute, you clearly see–and
I have nothing to say to him except that I pray God to take away his
fancied power from him and make him feel himself to be weak as water.
The spiritual pauper feels that he can do nothing right and that he
cannot even think a good thought without the help of Divine Grace. As
to believing in Jesus, simple as that matter is, he has come to this
pass–

"I would, but can't believe, Then all would easy be. I would but
cannot, Lord, believe, My help must come from Thee."

He is so staggered with doubts and fears, and so bemisted and beclouded
with dark remembrances of his past sins that he does not seem able to
fix his eyes upon the atoning Sacrifice and to find comfort there. He
is destitute, in the very worst sense, because he is "without
strength." Still, a man may be very poor at present and he may have no
power to earn his bread, but he may not be utterly destitute, for he
may have an estate in reserve. When his long-lived uncle dies he may
come into a fortune. It may be that in some years' time, if the steed
can live till then, the grass will be up to its knees. Many a man
pressingly needs present help, though, by-and-by, he will have enough
to spare.

The spiritual pauper has nothing to look forward to which can at all
alleviate his soul's distress. His future is even gloomier than his
present. Well do I remember when I looked out upon eternity and saw
nothing but a fearful prospect of judgment and fiery indignation for
me! I peered into the future and I could not expect to live a better
life. I had so often tried and failed that I feared I might be left to
a callous conscience and go from bad to worse. In fact I knew I would
unless Christ would interpose and save me. And as for my hope in
another world, alas, alas, I saw nothing but the Great White Throne, an
angry Judge and everlasting fire in Hell!

I had no hopes, but numberless fears. Such is the outlook of every man
whom God really convinces of sin. He is stripped of hope, itself, and
the man who has lost hope has lost all–He is destitute with a
vengeance–for him there remains neither in Heaven nor on earth any
hope, whatever, unless he can obtain one as the gift of Grace. He has,
indeed, reason to cry unto his God. A man who is spiritually destitute
is destitute of all friends who can help him, for those who love him
best can only pray for him–they cannot save him. We who would help
him, if we could, can only point him to the Savior. But he has blind
eyes and how shall he see while he is in the dark?

He is also destitute of all plans for doing better. Schemers sometimes
manage to live by their wits when they can no longer subsist by their
hands, but the poor soul who is really destitute before God has not
even a plan by which to help himself! All his schemes have turned into
mere wind bags and his hopes from his own wisdom have altogether failed
him. He has, in fact, nothing left. Nothing whatever. He is as naked as
Adam and Eve beneath the trees of the garden when God, their offended
Maker, met them, and they sought to cover themselves with fig leaves.
He has come to the very lowest degree of spiritual penury–it is only
necessary for death to put an end to his present misery for him to be
in the ruin that will never end.

Such is the case of the spiritually destitute. I do not know whether I
have managed to depict, in any way, the state of any really distressed
conscience here. I have tried to do so, but if I have failed, suffer me
to add another sentence or two. If any in this place feel that they are
sinful, feel that they deserve the wrath of God, feel that they cannot
help themselves. If any feel that unless Infinite Mercy shall interpose
they must forever be lost. If, moreover, they cannot find any reason
why they should be saved, cannot find any argument which could move the
heart of Justice to have pity on them–they are just the very persons
intended by my description and by the text! I pray them not to put away
from them the comfort which the text contains, but listen to it as we
read it again–"He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not
despise their prayer."

So much, then, for the spiritual pauper.

II. Secondly, here is HIS SUITABLE OCCUPATION–he has taken to begging
and it is a very fitting occupation for him. Indeed, there is nothing
else he can do! When a man is shut up to one course, it is useless to
raise objections to his following it, for necessity has no law and
hunger will break through stone walls. The man can do nothing else but
beg!

And so, since we cannot let him perish and he will not, himself, perish
through lethargy, he turns to do the only thing he can do, namely, to
begging and praying.

Blessed is that soul which is shut up to prayer! It thinks itself
accursed, but, indeed, now the blessing is come upon it. If you feel
you cannot do anything but pray, and equally feel that you must pray, I
have hopes for you. If now you dare not appeal to Justice, but simply
cry, "Mercy, Lord! Mercy, mercy! I have no merits, but, oh, forgive me
for Your mercy's sake!" I am right glad of it. Why, dear Friends, you
are shut up in the very same place where David was shut up when he
could only say, "Have mercy upon me, O God, according to Your
lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of Your tender mercies
blot out my transgressions."

You are shut up where every soul has been shut up that ever was saved,
for unless you are driven to admit that nothing can save you but
undeserved mercy, pity, and free Grace–you have not come to the place
where God can meet with you in pardon. But when you stand as a
condemned criminal at the bar and plead, "Guilty, guilty, guilty," then
you stand where God can look upon you with an eye of pity and can save
you. The trade of begging is one which is most suitable for a spiritual
pauper, because, if he cannot do anything else, I guarantee you he can
do this right well!

They say in London that many of our beggars are mere actors, they mimic
distress. If so, they do it uncommonly well and are splendid imitators.
But I will venture to say that nobody will ask for help so well as the
man whose distress is real. He needs no one to teach him–starvation is
his tutor. Take away his diffidence and give him enough courage, and
his distress will make him eloquent! You may, by chance, have been
accosted by a man who sought alms with awful eagerness–starvation
looking out of his eyes–and speaking from his pinched countenance. He
has held onto you with terrible vehemence and at last has said, "I have
not eaten anything for many hours."

You can see by his very looks that it is true. And he adds, "I could
bear to famish myself, but I have seven little children at home, and
unless I take them bread they will be crying about me and, therefore, I
do entreat you to help me." Now, if all this is true and you look into
the case and find it so, the man's case speaks for itself and he is the
man to move your heart. He does not need to go to a boarding school to
learn elocution–need schools his tone–the words drop into their right
places of themselves and, as to his gestures and postures, they are all
apt and telling, though no teacher of rhetoric ever gave him a lesson.
He will be sure to plead rightly, the suit lies heavy on his heart.

Nobody prays before God like a man who feels his sins. He cries, "God
be merciful to me, a sinner," and says it as it ought to be said. Ah,
Brothers and Sisters, some of us have to pray often in public, but we
never pray so well as when we feel our needs–and the needs of the
times and of the country–pressing urgently upon our hearts. You,
yourselves, pray best when your own sense of sin and need most burden
your souls. You are the men to pray, I say, you destitute people! You
make the best of beggars, for you are most in need! You pray best who
feel that you must have mercy or die! There is this to be said about
the spiritual beggar–he is begging where he is permitted to beg.

I remember being in Paris on a certain day in the year, I forget the
name of the festival, and I was astonished at the immense number of
beggars–and at their perseverance and daring. I had not observed them,
before, in such swarms and such force, but I found that on one special
day license was given to the poor, the lame, and the blind to persecute
everybody for alms! I guarantee you they made good use of the
permission and needed no pressing or inviting! Spiritual paupers! This
day, even this day, is a day of Grace! A warrant has come from the
King's court that you may ask and it shall be given you! You may seek
and you shall find! You may knock and it shall be opened unto you!

Yes, every day is a Free-Grace Day! A festival for prayer! As long as
you live and are in need, you have the King's permit to open your mouth
wide and He will fill it! You have His royal authority that you may
come to His Mercy Seat and ask in every time of need right boldly for
whatever you want! Well may the spiritual pauper take to a trade which
is permitted by the King of Heaven! He is beggar by appointment to the
King's Most Excellent Majesty! Yes, more– spiritual begging is
commanded by supreme authority–"Men ought always to pray, and not to
faint." It is the privilege of a sinner to be allowed to ask for
Grace–it is also the duty of the sinner to seek mercy at the Savior's
hand!

"Acquaint, now, yourself with Him and be at peace." "Seek you the Lord
while He may be found, call you upon Him while He is near." "Let the
wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let
him turn unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him, and to our
God, for He will abundantly pardon." These are promises, but they are
also precepts, precepts with the weight of commands! Oh, who that is
poor will be slow to beg when the Lord of Love, Himself, commands him
to ask? At the back of this there is an implied certainty. There is a
sacred promise that he

who asks shall surely receive, for God would not tantalize us by
commanding us to pray if He had not, at the same time, intended to
give.

Let me further remind every spiritually destitute man here that he may
pray with confidence, because begging has been the source of all the
riches of the saints. Some of them are rolling in heavenly wealth, for
all things are theirs! Their mouths are satisfied with good things and
their hearts are filled with gladness. You may see their riches, for
the joy of their countenances and the bliss of their daily work are
visible to all. Do you not envy them, for they feed on Christ every day
and have the Bread of Heaven always on their tables, and the Water of
Life always flowing at their feet? Do you know how they became so rich?
I will whisper it in your ear. They gained all they have by begging.

"Not very creditable to them," you say. No, but wonderfully creditable
to HIM who gave them all they have! And they are accustomed to give all
the honor and the glory to that dear and blessed, and generous Savior
who has never denied them their requests. If the richest saint on earth
were to take you into his spiritual mansion, he would say to you, "Do
you see this treasure and that Covenant blessing, and yonder priceless
gifts? I obtained all these by begging! I asked and I received. All
that I have came to me in that way." The Lord has said, "For this will
I be inquired of by the house of Israel, to do it for them."

Now, since all the saints on earth have grown rich by begging, I
recommend you poor, destitute souls to take to the business and you
will find it the most remunerative one that ever you undertook! You
cannot dig–do not be ashamed to beg. Your digging will dig your own
grave, that is all you will do by your self-righteous efforts. But you
will obtain Grace for the asking, pardon for the asking and Heaven for
the asking! Who would not be a spiritual beggar when he may be thus
enriched? One thing more I will say and leave this point–you may begin
begging at once. You, who are poor in spirit, may begin begging right
now!

I could not start in some trades tomorrow morning–I would need the
capital and should need to go to the wholesale traders and get what I
needed to stock me in the trade. But a beggar needs neither stock nor
capital to begin with–all his capital lies in his need of capital! He
never makes a good beggar till he has nothing left, and then, when his
clothes are rags and his shoes are old and worn out, and he himself
looks sick and wan–then he is the man for his business! And you,
Sinner, you need no preparations in order to ask for mercy! Nothing
need be done in you, or for you, in order to prepare you for the mercy
of Christ! You may come to Him just as you are. Tarry not to mend, or
wash, or cleanse–come in your foulness! Come in your rags! Come in
your loathsomeness!

Come just as you are–the worse you are, the more room for the display
of the wonders of Divine Grace!–

"Cast your guilty soul on Him,

Find Him mighty to redeem.

At His feet your burden lay

Look your doubts and cares a way.

Now by faith the Son embrace,

Plead His promise, trust His Grace." Still, perhaps, there will be some
here who say, "I do not feel in a fit state to ask for mercy." My dear
Friends, it is your unfitness that is your fitness! Your poverty fits
you for alms, your sickness fits you for the physician, your being
nothing fits you to have Christ made All in All to you! Your emptiness
is all He wants, that He may fill it with all the fullness of His
Grace! Take to begging–that is the way to be rich towards God.

III. But now, thirdly, here is THE BEGGAR'S VERY NATURAL FEAR. He is
afraid that the great King will

despise his prayers, or will not regard them. And he is afraid of this,
first, from the greatness and holiness of that God to whom he addresses
himself. He is thrice holy–can He regard the cry of one who has been a
drunk or a harlot? He is infinitely great and fills immensity–can He
listen to the prayers of a poor little boy, or of a gray-headed old
rebel, whose only inheritance is a place in the workhouse? Can He look
on such an insignificant worm as I am, the creature of a day, whose
non-existence would make no flaw in the universe–whose damnation would
be no loss to Him?

Can He look on worthless me? Infinite God and yet listen to my sigh?
Eternal and yet catch my tears? Can it be? Beloved, many are a long
while in distress of soul because they do not remember that there is a
Mediator between God and man–the Man Christ Jesus. God is thus
glorious, but He is not far from any of us, for there is One who is God
and at the same time a Man like ourselves, even Jesus, who has
compassion on the ignorant and on those that are out of the way. Stop,
then, your fearing, for the gulf is bridged! You may approach the Lord,
for Jesus has paved the way! The same fear

takes another shape. Trembling souls are afraid that God can never look
upon them in love because their prayer itself, is so unworthy of
notice.

"I should not wonder if God despised my prayer," says one, "for my
fellow men despise it. I should not like them to hear it, it is such a
broken, disconnected affair. I could not expect my own parents to have
patience with it! And when I get up from my knees I despise my own
prayer and hardly dare think I have prayed. I feel I have tried and
failed. I have only groaned because I could not groan and mourned
because I could not mourn." Ah, yes, but the Lord looks at the heart
and He does not regard the eloquence nor the style of prayer after the
manner of man. The Pharisee's was a very fine prayer, I dare say, and
very well delivered. The poor Publican's prayer was a very poor affair
by the side of it, and rather undelivered than delivered, for he would
not so much as lift his eyes towards Heaven, but the Lord heard it and
had mercy upon him!

Go and groan before God, that is praying! Go and weep before Him, that
is praying! You need not get the book down and turn up a liturgy! I do
not know of one that would quite suit a sinner in utter destitution.
Men seldom use book prayers when they come before God in real earnest.
Forms will suffice for playing at praying, but when you come to real
earnest work with God, you have to put your books away. And you have to
plead with the Lord with the first words that fly forth from your soul
like sparks from a piece of hot iron beaten with the hammer. When the
heart boils and swells with grief, then prayers roll down from the soul
like lava from Vesuvius, because it cannot help running over and
burning its way! That is the way to pray! May God help us to pray out
of our very souls–and then it matters not what form the prayer
takes–it is beautiful before the Most High.

"Yes," says one, "but I am afraid my prayer may be disregarded, because
my needs are so great. If a beggar in the street asks for a copper, he
may get it. If he were even to venture to ask for silver, he might gain
it. But if he asked for thousand pound notes he might stand a long time
in the street corner before he would find one who would supply him.
Now, Sir, my prayer is for great things–I need the Savior's blood upon
my conscience! I need the Holy Spirit, Himself, to renew my nature! I
need the whole Godhead to come and bless me! I need Heaven,
itself–nothing short of that will satisfy me–and how can I hope that
such a great prayer as mine will be answered?"

Ah, dear Soul, you are dealing with a great God, and a great Savior and
great promises. Do not be afraid to ask for great things, rather be
afraid of limiting the Holy One of Israel! Open your mouth wide and He
will fill it! Ah, and I think I hear one exclaim, "He may well despise
my prayer, for my faith is so weak! If I had more faith, I think, then,
He would listen to me." Well, but the Lord has never said anywhere that
He despises little faith. Can you find a passage of Scripture in which
He says, "I will trample on the bruised reed, and I will quench the
smoking flax"? If you have ever read a passage of Scripture like that,
I never have–the whole run of the Bible goes the other way. "He shall
feed His flock like a shepherd, He shall gather the lambs with His arms
and carry them in His bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with
young."

It seems that the poor and the weak are the chief objects of His care,
and are not, therefore, rejected. Suppose He bruised and crushed the
mustard seed–where would be the tree that is to grow out of it?
Suppose He despised the day of small things–where would the day of
great things be? "Behold your King comes, meek and lowly, riding upon
an ass, and a colt, the foal of an ass." And as He comes, the little
children gather round Him and they say, "Hosanna!" Look, He does not
rebuke them! Rather does He say, "Out of the mouth of babes and
sucklings have You ordained strength, because of Your enemies." Now,
your faith is like a little child–God will grant you full manhood
eventually–but even now He does not despise your feebleness. He looks
upon it with favor and He hears your prayers.

Now, somewhere in this place there is a young man in the same condition
as that in which I was found some 23 years ago. He has learned to weep
in secret before God and pray for mercy. But he has not found it
yet–and he is tempted to give it all up. Hearken, dear Brother, to
this word–"He will regard the prayer of the destitute, and not despise
their prayer." Cry on and look to Jesus, and you shall find all your
destitute soul needs! And one of these days you who have learned to
pray shall learn to praise and bless the prayer-answering God who did
not suffer the soul of the destitute to perish!

The Lord visit you at this moment and give you peace!

IV. Our last head is to be this–our text affords to the destitute
beggar A MOST COMFORTABLE ASSURANCE.

"He will regard the prayer of the destitute." Now, Beloved, whatever is
in Scripture we accept as the Infallible Truth of

God. We dare not doubt when God speaks–if He says it is so, it is so.
Others may doubt the Inspiration of Scripture, but we have not gone
that length yet. Now, poor destitute Sinner, if you believe the
Scripture to be Inspired, believe this passage–"He will regard the
prayer of the destitute, and will not despise their prayer."

Now, there is something about this text I want you to notice, namely,
that God, in order that destitute sinners should never doubt His
willingness to hear their prayers, has left this on record with a very
special note appended to it. I will read you the note, which is in the
18th verse. "This shall be written for the generation to come, and the
people which shall be created shall praise the Lord." You see the Lord
not only said that He would regard the prayer of the destitute, but He
added, "This shall be written," because, when a poor soul is in doubt
and fear, there is nothing like having it in black and white. God has
said it, but, says He, they shall not merely go by their ears, they
shall see with their eyes.

"This shall be written." Look at it. There it stands before you,
written by the pen of Inspiration, no doubt about it. "This shall be
written for the generation to come," that is, for you! It was not
merely true in David's time, or in Hezekiah's time, but this shall be
written for the generation to come–written for you and for your
children–that God will hear the prayer of the destitute! Blessed be
His name for that! I recommend, the next time you kneel down to pray,
to put your finger on this verse and say, "Lord, I have Your Word for
it. No, more–I have your writing for it. Behold I put it to You–You
have said, 'This shall be written.' O fulfill this written pledge to
me!"

When a man brings my own handwriting to me and says, "You promised me,
and there is the writing," I cannot get away from it. And how shall the
Lord draw back from what He has said, "This shall be written for the
generation to come"? Oh, it must stand true! Be of good courage, poor
seeking Sinner, God will hear you! Remember, too, that when the Lord
Jesus Christ was on earth, He used to choose for His associates the
destitute. "This man receives sinners," they said, "and eats with
them." "Then drew near unto Him all the publicans and sinners for to
hear Him." He would sometimes sit in the house of the Pharisee, but
while He was there His heart was after the poor woman that came behind
Him and washed His feet with her tears and wiped them with the hairs of
her head–for His heart was always with needy sinners.

Upon the self-righteous He looked with an eye of indignation. "Woe unto
you, Scribes and Pharisees," He said– but to poor guilty sinners He
always looked with eyes of tenderness. He was ready and glad to receive
them. In fact, it was His life's work to seek and to save that which
was lost! Do not be afraid to come, then! Jesus has made a feast and
has not called in His rich friends nor acquaintances–He has brought in
the poor, the lame and the blind–for they cannot repay Him, but will
forever love Him! And such are you. Come, and welcome! Come, and
welcome! Jesus cast out none when He was here–He will cast out none
that come to Him now.

Remember, in the matter of praying, that God loves to hear sinners
pray. We may be quite sure of that, because He teaches them how to
pray. There are passages in Scripture where God even puts the words
into sinners' mouths. He says, "Take with you words, and say unto Him,
'Receive us graciously, and love us freely, so will we render the
calves of our lips.' " God must be very fond of prayer when He teaches
us how to pray! Do not be afraid, therefore, to pour out those broken
sentences which God the Holy Spirit has taught you. He has never
despised a sinner's prayer yet! Search and look down the chronicles of
His Word and see what sinner He ever rejected. Look round among your
kinsfolk and acquaintance, and find out one who ever fled to Him for
mercy and was repulsed!

I appeal to those who are saved on earth and they will tell you that it
was infinite love and mercy that accepted them. If I could appeal to
the white-robed hosts in Heaven, they would all tell you that, like
yourselves, they were destitute. They had to come in forma pauperis
before the Lord and He did not despise them, nor disregard their
prayers. I wish I could take a poor trembler by the hand and say, "Dear
Brother, come with me." Gladly would I do it! I have a hope of Heaven
this morning and I will tell you what it is. I am as destitute, this
day, of all righteousness of my own as anyone here can be! My eyes are
fixed upon the Lord Jesus on the accursed tree. There He is, my
Substitute, and I trust in Him and in Him, alone.

Now, if you are enabled by the Spirit of God to look right away from
yourself and your misery to Christ Jesus, the sinner's Savior, you
shall have, this very morning, the peace of God which passes all
understanding to keep your heart and mind–and you shall know that you
are saved! I am going to close with a remark upon another subject. You
will have noticed, I dare say, that the whole of this verse is
connected with the building up of Zion. Therefore there must be

some connection between the two–and it is just this–the Church of God
must never expect to see great revivals, nor to see the world converted
to Christ till she comes before the Lord as destitute!

I am afraid that when we plead the most with God, we still feel we are
a very respectable community of Christians with a large number of
ministers and a number of wealthy laymen, a large amount of Chapel
property and a good deal of power and influence. You say, "I am rich
and increased in goods." It may be that all this is the sign of your
poverty–and we may be naked, and poor, and miserable. But when we get
right down and feel we are nothing and nobody–and we could not save a
soul if our lives depended upon it. When we know, by His Grace, that we
are weak as water and must come to God as utterly impotent apart from
the power of the Spirit of God–then will the Lord appear in His Glory!
And then His destitute Church shall become rich in His riches, strong
in His strength, and victorious in His might!

We must be brought down! I see among the various denominations too much
emulation as to their position. We stand in this position and they in
the other, and the voluntaries are doing such wonders. But, Brothers
and Sisters, we are just a lot of poor unworthy sinners who owe
everything we have to the Sovereign Grace of God! And what we are to do
for God must be accomplished, not by might nor by power, but by His
Spirit! When we feel this, the building of Zion will come, and not till
then. The Lord send it!

PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–Psalm 102.
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