The Sympathy of the Two Worlds

Charles H. Spurgeon
Sermon No. 203 · The New Park Street Pulpit · Volume IV · July 4, 1858 · Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens
Scripture: Luke 15:10

The Sympathy of the Two Worlds

A Sermon

(No. 203)

Delivered on Sabbath Morning, July 4, 1858, by the

REV. C.H. SPURGEON

at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens

"There is joy in the: presence of the angels of God over one sinner
that repenteth."–Luke15:10.

MAN'S HEART IS NEVER BIG ENOUGH to hold either its joys or its sorrows.
You never heard of a man whose heart was exactly full of sorrow; for no
sooner is it full, than it overflows. The first prompting of the soul
is to tell its sorrow to another. The reason is, that our heart is not
large enough to hold our grief; and we need to have another heart to
receive a portion thereof It is even so with our joy. When the heart is
full of joy, it always allows its joy to escape. It is like the
fountain in the marketplace; whenever it is full it runs away in
streams, and so soon as it ceases to overflow, you may be quite sure
that it has ceased to be full. The only full heart is the overflowing
heart. You know this, beloved, you have proved it to be true; for when
your soul has been full of joy, you have first called together your own
kindred and friends, and you have communicated to them the cause of
your gladness; and when those vessels have been full even to the brim,
you have been like the woman who borrowed empty vessels of her
neighbors, for you have asked each of them to become partakers in your
joy, and when the hearts of all your neighbors have been full, you have
felt as if they were not large enough, and the whole world has been
called upon to join in your praise. You bade the fathomless ocean drink
in your joy; you spoke to the trees and bade them clap their hands,
while the mountains and hills were invoked by you to break forth into
singing; the very stars of heaven seemed to look down upon you, and you
bade them sing for you, and all the world was full of music through the
music that was in your heart. And, after all, what is man but the great
musician of the world? The universe is a great organ with mighty pipes.
Space, time, eternity, are like the throats of this great organ; and
man, a little creature, puts his fingers on the keys, and wakes the
universe to thunders of harmony, stirring up the whole creation to
mightiest acclamations of praise. Know ye not that man is God's high
priest in the universe? All things else are but the sacrifice; but he
is the priest,–carrying in his heart the fire, and in his hand the
wood, and in his mouth the two-edged sword of dedication, with which he
offers up all things to God.

But I have no doubt, beloved, the thought has sometimes struck us that
out praise does not go far enough. We seem as if we dwelt in an isle
cut off from the mainland. This world, like a fair planet, swims in a
sea of ether unnavigated by mortal ship. We have sometimes thought that
surely our praise was confined to the shores of this poor narrow world,
that it was impossible for us to pull the ropes which might ring the
bells of heaven, that we could by no means whatever reach our hands so
high as to sweep the celestial chords of angelic harps. We have said to
ourselves there is no connection between earth and heaven. A huge black
wall divides us. A strait of unnavigable waters shuts us out. Our
prayers cannot reach to heaven, neither can our praises affect the
celestials. Let us learn from our text how mistaken we are. We are,
after all, however much we seem to be shut out from heaven, and from
the great universe, but a province of God's vast united empire, and
what is done on earth is known in heaven; what is sung on earth is sung
in heaven; and there is a sense in which it is true that the tears of
earth are wept again in paradise, and the sorrows of mankind are felt
again, even on the throne of the Most High.

My text tells us, "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God,
over one sinner that repenteth." It seems as if it showed me a bridge
by which I might cross over into eternity. It doth, as it were, exhibit
to me, certain magnetic wires which convey the intelligence of what is
done here to spirits in another world. It teaches me that there is a
real and wonderful connection between this lower world, and that which
is beyond the skies, where God dwelleth, in the land of the happy.

We shall talk about that subject a little this morning. My first head
will be the sympathy of the world above with the world below; the
second, the judgment of the angels–they rejoice over repenting
sinners; we shall see what is their ground for so doing. The third,
will be a lesson for the saints; if the angels in heaven rejoice over
repenting sinners, so should we.

I. In the first place, our text teaches us THE SYMPATHY OF THE TWO
WORLDS. Imagine not, O son of man, that thou art cut off from heaven:
for there is a ladder, the top whereof doth rest at the foot of the
throne of the Almighty, the base whereof is fixed in the lowest place
of man's misery! Conceive not that there is a great gulph fixed between
thee and the Father, across which his mercy cannot come, and over which
thy prayers and faith can never leap. Oh, think not, son of man, that
thou dwellest in a storm-girt island, cut off from the continent of
eternity. I beseech thee, believe that there is a bridge across that
chasm, a road along which feet may travel. This world is not separated,
for all creation is but one body. And know thou, O son of man, though
thou in this world doth but dwell, as it were on the foot, yet from the
feet even to the head, there are nerves and veins that do unite the
whole, The same great heart which beats in heaven beats on earth. The
love of the Eternal Father which cheers the celestial, makes glad the
terrestrial too. Rest assured that though the glory of the celestial be
one and the glory of the terrestrial be another, yet are they but
another in appearance, for after all, they are the same Oh! list thee,
son of man, and thou wilt soon learn that thou art no stranger in a
strange land–a homeless Joseph in the land of Egypt, shut out from his
Father, and his children, who still remain in the happy paradise of
Canaan. No, thy Father loves thee still. There is a connection between
thee and him. Strange that though leagues of distance lie between the
finite creature and the infinite Creator, yet there are links that
unite us both! When a tear is wept by thee, think not thy Father doth
not behold; for, "Like as a father pitieth his children so the Lord
pitieth them that fear him." Thy sigh is able to move the heart of
Jehovah; thy whisper can incline his ear unto thee; thy prayer can stay
his hands; thy faith can move his arm. Oh! think not that God sits on
high in an eternal slumber, taking no account of thee. "Shall a mother
forget her suckling child, that she should not have compassion on the
son of her womb? Yea, she may forget, yet will I not forget thee."
Engraven upon the Father's hand thy name remains; and on his heart
recorded there thy person stands. He thought of thee before the worlds
were made; before the channels of the sea were scooped, or the gigantic
mountains lifted their heads in the white clouds, he thought of thee.
He thinketh on thee still. "I, the Lord, do keep it; I will water it
every moment: lest any hurt it, I will keep it night and day." For the
eyes of the Lord run to and fro in every place, to show himself strong
on the behalf of all them that fear him. Thou art not cut off from him.
Thou dost move in him; in him thou dost live and have thy being. "He is
a very present help in time of trouble."

Remember, again, O heir of immortality, that thou art not only linked
to the Godhead, but there is another one in heaven with whom thou hast
a strange, yet near connection. In the center of the throne sits one
who is thy brother, allied to thee by blood. The Son of God, eternal,
equal with his Father, became in the fullness of time the Son of Mary,
an infant of a span long. He was, yea is, bone of thy bone and flesh of
thy flesh. Think not that thou art cut off from the celestial world,
while he is there; for is he not thy head, and hath he not himself
declared that thou art a member of his body, of his flesh and of his
bones? Oh, man, thou art not separated from heaven whilst Jesus tells
thee–

"I feel at my heart all thy sighs and thy groans,

For thou art most near me, my flesh and my bones,

In all thy distresses, thy Head feels the pain,

They all are most needful, not one is in vain."

Oh, poor, disconsolate mourner, Christ remembers thee every hour. Thy
sighs are his sighs; thy groans are his groans; thy prayers are his
prayers:–

"He in his measure feels afresh,

What every member bears."

Crucified he is when thou art crucified; he dies when thou diest; thou
livest in him, and he lives in thee, and because he lives shalt thou
live also: thou shalt rise in him, and thou shalt sit together in the
heavenly places with him. Oh, never was husband nearer to his wife, and
never head nearer to the members, and never soul nearer to the body of
this flesh, than Christ is unto thee, and while it is so, think not
that heaven and earth are divided. They are but kindred worlds; two
ships moored close to one another, and one short plank of death will
enable you to step from one into the other: this ship, all black and
coaly, having done the coasting trade, the dusty business of to-day,
and being full of the blackness of sorrow; and that ship all golden,
with its painted pennon flying, and its sail all spread, white as the
down of the sea-bird, fair as the angel's wing–I tell thee, man, the
ship of heaven is moored side by side with the ship of earth, and rock
though this ship may, and careen though she will on stormy winds and
tempests, yet the invisible and golden ship of heaven sails by her side
never sundered, never divided, always ready, in order that when the
hour shall come, thou mayest leap from the black, dark ship, and step
upon the golden deck of that thrice happy one in which thou shalt sail
for ever.

But, O man of God, there are other golden links besides this which bind
the present to the future, and time unto eternity. And what are time
and eternity, after all, to the believer, but like the Siamese twins,
never to be separated? This earth is heaven below, the next world is
but a heaven above; it is the same house–this is the lower room, and
that the upper, but the same roof cover both, and the same dew falls
upon each. Remember, beloved, that the spirits of the just made perfect
are never far from you and me if we are lovers of Jesus. All those who
have passed the flood have still communion with us. Do we not sing–

"The saints on earth, and all the dead,

But one communion make;

All join in Christ, the living Head,

And of his grace partake."

We have but one Head for the church triumphant and for the church
militant;

"One army of the living God,

To his command we bow;

Part of the host have cross'd the flood,

And part are crossing now."

Doth not the apostle tell us that the saints above are a cloud of
witnesses? After he had mentioned Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and
Gideon, and Barak, and Jephthah, did he not say, "Wherefore seeing we
also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay
aside every weight." Lo, we are running in the plains, and the
glorified ones are looking down upon us. Thy mother's eyes follow thee,
young man; a father's eyes are looking down upon thee, young woman. The
eyes of my godly grandmother, long since glorified, I doubt not, rest
on me perpetually. No doubt, in heaven they often talk of us. Methinks
they sometimes visit this poor earth–they never go out of heaven, it
is true, for heaven is everywhere to them. This world is to them but
just one corner of God's heaven, one shady bower of paradise.

The saints of the living God, are, I doubt not, very near unto us, when
we think them very far away. At any rate, they still remember us, still
look for us; for this is ever upon their hearts–the truth that they
without us cannot be made perfect. They cannot be a perfect church till
all are gathered in, and therefore do they long for our appearing.

But, to come to our text a little more minutely. It assures us that the
angels have communion with us. Bright spirits, first-born sons of God,
do ye think of me? Oh, cherubim, great and mighty; seraphim, burning,
winged with lightning, do ye think of us? Gigantic is your stature. Our
poet tells us that the wand of an angel might make a mast for some tall
admiral; and doubtless he was right when he said so. Those angels of
God are creatures mighty and strong, doing his commandments, hearkening
to his word–and do they take notice of us? Let the Scripture answer,
"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister unto
those that shall be heirs of salvation?" "The angel of the Lord
encampeth round about them that fear him." "For he shall give his
angels charge over thee; to keep thee in all thy ways; they shall bear
thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone." Yes,
the brightest angels are but the serving men of the saints; they are
our lacqueys and our footmen. They wait upon us; they are the troops of
our body guard; and we might, if our eyes were opened, see what Elisha
saw, horses of fire and chariots of fire round about us; so that we
should joyously say, "More are they that are with us than they that are
against us."

Our text tells us that the angels of God rejoice over repenting
sinners. How is that? They are always as happy as they can be; how can
they be any happier? The text does not say that they are any happier;
but perhaps that they show their happiness more. A man may have a
Sabbath every day, as he ought to have if he be a Christian, and yet on
the first day of the week he will let his Sabbatism come out plainly;
for then the world shall see that he doth rest. "A merry heart hath a
continual feast;" but then even the merry heart hath some special days
on which it feasteth well. To the glorified every day is a Sabbath, but
of some it can be said, "and that Sabbath was an high day." There are
days when the angels sing more loudly than usual; they are always
harping well God's praise, but sometimes the gathering hosts who have
been flitting far through the universe, come home to their center; and
round the throne of God, standing in serried ranks, marshalled not for
battle but for music, on certain set and appointed days they chant the
praises of the Son of God, "who loved us and gave himself for us." And
do you ask me when those days occur? I tell you, the birthday of every
Christian is a sonnet day in heaven. There are Christmas-days in
paradise, where Christ's high mass is kept, and Christ is glorified not
because he was born in a manger, but because he is born in a broken
heart. There are days–good days in heaven; days of sonnet, red letter
days, of overflowing adoration. And these are days when the shepherd
brings home the lost sheep upon his shoulder, when the church has swept
her house and found the lost piece of money; for then are these friends
and neighbors called together, and they rejoice with joy unspeakable
and full of glory over one sinner that repenteth.

I have thus, I hope, shown you that there is a greater connection
between earth and heaven than any of us dreamed. And now let none of us
think, when we look upward to the blue sky, that we are far from
heaven; it is a very little distance from us. When the day comes we
shall go post-haste there, even without horses and chariots of fire.
Balaam called it a land that is very far off; we know better–it is a
land that is very near. Even now

"By faith we join our hands

With those that went before.

And greet the blood-besprinkled bands

Upon the eternal shore."

All hail, bright spirits! I see you now. All hail, angels! All hail, ye
brethren redeemed! A few more hours, or days, or months, and we shall
join your happy throng; till then your joyous fellowship, your sweet
compassion shall ever be our comfort and our consolation–and having
weathered all storms of life, we shall at last anchor with you within
the port of everlasting peace.

II. But the angels are said to sing whenever a sinner repents. Let us
see if there is any JUDGMENT IN THEIR SONG, or whether they make a
mistake. Why do angels sing over penitent sinners?

In the first place, I think it is because they remember the days of
creation. You know, when God made this world, and fixed the beams of
the heavens in sockets of light, the morning stars sang together, and
the sons of God shouted for joy; as they saw star after star flying
abroad like sparks from the great anvil of Omnipotence, they began to
sing; and every time they saw a new creature made upon this little
earth, they praised afresh. When first they saw light they clapped
their hands, and said, "Great is Jehovah; for he said Light be!' and
light was." And when they saw sun and moon, and stars, again they
clapped their hands, and they said, "He hath made great lights; for his
mercy endureth for ever. The sun to rule the day; for his mercy
endureth for ever. The moon to rule the night; for his mercy endureth
for ever." And over everything he made, they chanted evermore that
sweet song, "Creator, thou art to be magnified; for thy mercy endureth
for ever." Now, when they see a sinner returning, they see the creation
over again; for repentance is a new creation. No man ever repents until
God makes in him a new heart and a right spirit. I do not know that
ever since the day when God made the world, with the exception of new
hearts, the angels have seen God make anything else. He may, if he hath
so pleased, have made fresh worlds since that time. But perhaps the
only instance of new creation they have ever seen since the first day,
is the creation of a new heart and a right spirit within the breast of
a poor penitent sinner. Therefore do they sing, because creation cometh
over again.

I doubt not, too, that they sing because they behold God's works afresh
shining in excellence. When God first made the world, he said of it,
"It is very good"–he could not say so now. There are many of you that
God could not say that of. He would have to say the very reverse. He
would have to say, "No, that is very bad, for the trail of the serpent
hath swept away thy beauty, that moral excellence which once dwelt in
manhood has passed away;" but when the sweet influences of the Spirit
bring men to repentance and faith again, God looks upon man, and he
saith, "It is very good." For what his Spirit makes is like
himself–good, and holy and precious; and God smiles again over his
twice-made creation, and saith once more, "It is very good." Then the
angels begin again, and praise his name, whose works are always good
and full of beauty.

But, beloved, the angels sing over sinners that repent, because they
know what that poor sinner has escaped. You and I can never imagine all
the depths of hell. Shut out from us by a black veil of darkness, we
cannot tell the horrors of that dismal dungeon of lost souls. Happily,
the wailings of the damned have never startled us, for a thousand
tempests were but a maidens whisper, compared with one wail of a damned
spirit. It is not possible for us to see the tortures of those souls
who dwell eternally within an anguish that knows no alleviation. These
eyes would become sightless balls of darkness if they were permitted
for an instant to look into that ghastly shrine of torment. Hell is
horrible, for we may say of it, eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the horrors
which God hath prepared for them that hate him. But the angels know
better then you or I could guess. They know it; not that they have felt
it, but they remember that day when Satan and his angels rebelled
against God. They remember the day when the third part of the stars of
heaven revolted against their liege Lord; and they have not forgotten
how the red right hand of Jehovah Jesus was wrapt in thunder; they do
not forget that breach in the battlements of heaven when, down from the
greatest heights to the lowest depths, Lucifer and his hosts were
hurled. they have never forgotten how, with sound of trumpet, they
pursued the flying foe down to the gulphs of black despair; and, as
they neared that place where the great serpent is to be bound in
chains, they remember how they say, Tophet, which was prepared of old,
the pile whereof is fire and much wood, and they recollect how, when
they winged back their flight, every tongue was silent, although they
might well have shouted the praise of him who conquered Lucifer; but on
them all there did sit a solemn awe of one who could smite a cherubim,
and cast him in hopeless bonds of everlasting despair. They knew what
hell was, for they had looked within its jaws, and seen their own
brothers, fast enclosed within them; and, therefore, when they see a
sinner saved, they rejoice, because there is one less to be food for
the never-dying worm–one more soul escaped out of the mouth of the
lion.

There is yet a better reason. The angels know what the joys of heaven
are, and therefore, they rejoice over one sinner that repenteth. We
talk about pearly gates and golden streets, and white robes, and harps
of gold, and crowns of amaranth, and all that; but if an angel could
speak to us of heaven, he would smile and say, "All these fine things
are but child's talk, and ye are little children, and ye cannot
understand the greatness of eternal bliss, and therefore God has given
you a child's horn book, and an alphabet, in which you may learn the
first rough letters of what heaven is, but what it is thou dost not
know. O mortal, thine eye hath never yet beheld its splendours; thine
ear hath never yet been ravished with its melodies; thy heart has never
been transported with its peerless joys." Thou mayest talk and think,
and guess, and dream, but thou canst never measure the infinite heaven
which God has provided for his children: and therefore it is, when they
see a soul saved and a sinner repenting, that they clap their hands;
for they know that all those blessed mansions are theirs, since all
those sweet places of everlasting happiness are the entail of every
sinner that repenteth.

But I want you just to read the text again, while I dwell upon another
thought. "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one
sinner that repenteth." Now, why do they not save their joy till that
sinner dies and goes to heaven? Why do they rejoice over him when he
repents? My Arminian friend, I think, ought to go to heaven, to set
them right upon this matter. According to his theory, it must be very
wrong of them, because they rejoice prematurely. According to the
Arminian doctrine a man may repent, and yet he may be lost, he may have
grace to repent and believe, and yet he may fall from grace and be a
castaway. Now, angels, don't be too fast. Perhaps you may have to
repent of this one day, if the Arminian doctrine be true, I would
advise you to save your song for greater joys. Why, angels, perhaps the
men that you are singing over to-day, you will have to mourn over
to-morrow. I am quite sure that Arminius never taught his doctrine in
heaven. I do not know whether he is there–I hope he is, but he is no
longer an Arminian; but if he ever taught his doctrine there, he would
be put out. The reason why angels rejoice is because they know that
when a sinner repents, he is absolutely saved; or else they would
rejoice prematurely, and would have good cause for retracting their
merriment on some future occasion. But the angels know what Christ
meant when he said, "I give unto my sheep eternal life, and they shall
never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my hand;" and
therefore they rejoice over repenting sinners, because they know they
are saved.

There is yet one more fact I will mention, before I leave this point.
It is said that the angels "rejoice over one sinner that repenteth."
Now this evening it shall be my happy privilege to give the right hand
of fellowship to no less than forty-eight sinners that have repented,
and there will be great joy and rejoicing in our churches to-night,
because these forty-eight have been immersed on a profession of their
faith. But how loving are the angels to men; for they rejoice over one
sinner that repenteth. There she is, in that garret where the stars
look between the tiles. There is a miserable bed in that room, with but
one bit of covering, and she lieth there to die! Poor creature! many a
night she has walked the streets in the time of her merriment. but now
her joys are over; a foul disease, like a demon is devouring her heart!
She is dying fast, and no one careth for her soul! But there, in that
chamber, she turns her face to the wall, and she cries, "O thou that
savedst Magdalene, save me; Lord I repent; have mercy upon me; I
beseech thee." Did the bells ring in the street? Was the trumpet blown?
Ah! no. Did men rejoice? Was there a sound of thanksgiving in the midst
of the great congregation? No; no one heard it; for she died unseen.
But stay! There was one standing at her bedside, who noted well that
tear; an angel, who had come down from heaven to watch over this stray
sheep, and mark its return. and no sooner was her prayer uttered than
he clapped his wings, and there was seen flying up to the pearly gates
a spirit like a star. The heavenly guards came crowding to the gate,
crying, "What news, O son of fire?" He said, "Tis done." "And what is
done?" they said, "Why, she has repented." "What! she who was once a
chief of sinners? has she turned to Christ?" "Tis even so," said he.
And then they told it through the streets, and the bells of heaven rang
marriage peals, for Magdalene was saved, and she who had been the chief
of sinners was turned unto the living God.

It was in another place. A poor neglected little boy in ragged clothing
had run about the streets for many a-day. Tutored in crime, he was
paving his path to the gallows; but one morning he passed by a humble
room, where some men and women were sitting together teaching poor
ragged children. He stepped in there a wild Bedouin of the streets;
they talked to him, they told him about a soul and about an
eternity–things he had never heard before; they spoke of Jesus, and of
good tidings of great joy to this poor friendless lad. He went another
Sabbath. and another; his wild habits hanging about him, for he could
not get rid of them; At last it happened that his teacher said to him
one day, "Jesus Christ receiveth sinners." That little boy ran, but not
home, for it was but a mockery to call it so–where a drunken father
and a lascivious mother kept a hellish riot together. He ran, and under
some dry arch, or in some wild unfrequented corner, he bent his little
knees, and there he cried, that poor creature in his rags, "Lord save
me, or I perish;" and the little Arab was on his knees–the little
thief was saved! He said–

"Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly;"

And up from that old arch, from that forsaken hovel, there flew a
spirit, glad to bear the news to heaven, that another heir of glory was
born to God. I might picture many such scenes; but will each of you try
to picture your own? You remember the occasion when the Lord met with
you. Ah! little did you think what a commotion there was in heaven. If
the Queen had ordered out all her soldiers, the angels of heaven would
not have stopped to notice them; if all the princes of earth had
marched in pageant through the streets, with all their robes, and
jewellery, and crowns, and all their regalia, their chariots, and their
horsemen–if the pomps of ancient monarchies had risen from the
tomb–if all the might of Babylon and Tyre and Greece had been
concentrated into one great parade, yet not an angel would have stopped
in his course to smile at those poor tawdry things; but over you the
vilest of the vile, the poorest of the poor, the most obscure and
unknown–over you angelic wings were hovering, and concerning you it
was said on earth and sung in heaven, "Hallelujah, for a child is born
to God to-day."

III. And now I must conclude with this LESSON TO THIS SAINTS. I think
beloved, it will not be hard for you to learn. The angels of heaven
rejoice over Sinners that repent: saints of God, will not you and I do
the same? 1 do not think the church rejoices enough. We all grumble
enough and groan enough: but very few of us rejoice enough. When we
take a large number into the church it is spoken of as a great mercy;
but is the greatness of that mercy appreciated? I will tell you who
they are that can most appreciate the conversion of sinners. They are
those that are just converted themselves, or those that have been great
sinners themselves. Those who have been saved themselves from bondage,
when they see others coming who have so lately worn the chains, are so
glad that they can well take the tabret, and the harp, and the pipe,
and the psaltery, and praise God that there are other prisoners who
have been emancipated by grace. But there are others who can do this
better still, and they are the parents and relations of those who are
saved. You have thanked God many times when you have seen a sinner
saved; but, mother did not you thank him most when you saw your son
converted? Oh! those holy tears; they are not tears–they are God's
diamonds–the tears of a mother's joy, when her son confesses his faith
in Jesus. Oh! that glad countenance of the wife, when she sees her
husband, long bestial and drunken at last made into a man and a
Christian! Oh, that look of joy which a young Christian gives, when he
sees his father converted who had long oppressed and persecuted him. I
was preaching this week for a young minister, and being anxious to know
his character, I spoke of him with apparent coolness to an estimable
lady of his congregation. In a very few moments she began to warm in
his favor. She said, "You must not say anything against him, sir; if
you do, it is because you do not know him." " Oh," I said, "I knew him
long before you did; he is not much, is he?" "Well,' she said, "I must
speak well of him, for he has been a blessing to my servants and
family." I went out into the street, and saw some men and women
standing about; so I said to them, "I must take your minister away" "If
you do," they said, "we will follow you all over the world, if you take
away a man who has done so much good to our souls."" After collecting
the testimony of fifteen or sixteen witnesses, I said, "If the man gets
such witnesses as these let him go on; the Lord has opened his mouth,
and the devil will never be able to shut it." These are the witnesses
we want–men who can sing with the angels because their own households
are converted to God. I hope it may be so with all of you; and if any
of you are yourselves brought to Christ to-day–for he is willing to
receive you–you will go out of this place singing, and the angels will
sing with you. There shall be joy in earth, and joy in heaven; on earth
peace, and glory to God in the highest. The Lord bless you one and all,
for Jesus' sake.
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