Chapter Thirteen

Chapter 13.
Memorial Meeting for
Ministers and Students On Wednesday afternoon, February 10th, 1892, commencing at three o'clock, the Memorial Service for Ministers and Students of all Denominations was held, a magnificent congregation assembling, representing all sections of the visible church.

Rev. David Davies, of Brighton, after prayer by Dr. Pierson, announced the opening hymn,—

"Come, let us join our friends above Who have obtained the prize, And on the eagle wings of love To joy celestial rise.

"Let all the saints terrestrial sing, With those to glory gone; For all the servants of our King, In earth and heaven, are one.

"One family we dwell in him, One church above, beneath, Though now divided by the stream, The narrow stream of death.

"One army of the living God, To his command we bow;

Part of his host have crossed the flood, And part are crossing now.

E'en now by faith we join our hands With those that went before; And greet the blood-besprinkled bands On the eternal shore."

The singing by such a number of cultivated male voices, accustomed to congregational praise, was of a most inspiring character.

Rev. Alexander McLaren, D.D., the Chairman of the meeting, then said: "Dear brethren and comrades in the ministry of the Lord Jesus,—We gather this afternoon united in one sentiment of affectionate reverence for the greatest preacher of his age. I suppose that such a gathering as this, of men more or less directly and exclusively engaged in the ministry of the gospel, differing widely from one another in opinion, forms of government, casts of mind, methods of discharging our work, and yet giving one unanimous suffrage as to the supremacy of our departed brother, is an unheard-of thing. It was not only the genius that we admired; it was not only the splendour of his popular gift, or the diligence with which he cultivated it and offered it to his Master; but it was the profound faith, the earnestness, the devotion, the self-oblivion, which endeared him to many hearts, and were the secret of his power. Instead of eulogizing the dead preacher, I venture to ask you, with myself, to try to draw lessons from that extraordinary career, which has ended, so far as we are concerned, today. It seems to me, meditating on the loss of my dear friend and brother, your brother and friend, that I have learned for myself some lessons, which I venture, with all respect and deference, to press upon you.

"Thinking of C. H. Spurgeon's life, I have learned what is the staple of a successful ministry. I would not narrowly construe the word. I would make all allowances for diversities of natural temperament, and for differences of audience to whom we have to speak; but, making all allowances for these, and remembering likewise that no one man is capable of all things, I still point to that coffin, and say that, to myself, it proclaims that if a man desires to reach, and to hold, and to bless, the largest number of his fellowmen, he must keep fast to the great central verities of the Christian faith—salvation through Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Lamb of God; life through the Divine Spirit; faith in Christ, the uniting bond; and simplicity of good works, the manifest token. We do not need—we shall be unwise if we seek—other sources for the power and blessedness of our ministry than the adherence to the regnant facts of man's need, and the all-sufficient supply of that need in Jesus Christ our Lord.

"There is one thing in which all the world is alike, and that is, sin and misery. There is one message that will find its way to all hearts, and that is, the message which our dear brother consecrated his life to proclaim. This needs and implies the consecration of the loftiest intellect, and will reward the energies of the most sedulous cultivation. For there is no greater mistake than to suppose that plainness and efficiency can be secured without toil and pain.

"Our brother was gifted with a natural genius for forceful utterance, which sets him by the side of the greatest masters of the English tongue; but it was not because of natural genius only, but because he had set himself to be 'understanded of the common people,' that his words crystallized themselves into proverbs, that they flashed and glowed with illustration, and never transcended the possibilities and comprehension of the lowest of his audience. That is an ambition which the most learned amongst us, and the most cultured and refined among us, may well set before themselves. I do not believe that any truth is so deep that it is not capable of expression in the English tongue which John Bunyan and C. H. Spurgeon wielded. I do not believe that we Christian ministers have got anything much worth saying today which cannot be said in language, that the old women in their garrets, and the little children in their nurseries, can understand and remember. And so, I say, let us take the lesson of the staple of a successful ministry.

"Will you bear with me while I go a step further, and venture to crystallize another set of thoughts into words, that we may all learn here today, what is the spirit of a Christ-taught and therefore successful ministry? I know nothing more beautiful, as there was nothing more winning and powerful, in our brother's work, than his utter selfforgetfulness. No affectation; no contortions; few exaggerations; a rich variety of tone and subject; and all made mighty because you could see that the last thing that he was thinking about was himself. The least stain of the opposite thing spoils everything. The harp-string, when it is struck and touched so as to make melody, vibrates and becomes invisible when it is musical;and you and I, dear brethren, must consent to efface ourselves if we would set forth Jesus Christ. The wall on which the pictures hang must be of a neutral tint; and the men who will glorify Jesus must forget themselves.

"Nor is the accent of conviction and the spirit of robust and unfaltering belief less needful. Our friend was little touched by questions and difficulties which torture some of us; but let a man preach the things that he is sure of, be they few or many, and let him keep to himself his doubts. 'Yeast,' the title of a book well-known in its day, was self-condemned, by its title, for yeast is meant to be kept till it has passed through a process before it is fit for human lips. So what we have to set forth is the belief, which, by God's grace, we have won; if we stick to that, we shall not fail to learn and find more. From this bier there comes a voice, 'I believed;therefore have I spoken.' Brethren, let us answer, 'We also believe, and therefore speak.'" May I say, before I sit down, that the hidden spring of a successful ministry is no less taught us today than its staple and its spirit. No man will forget himself, or preach with supreme power the great truths of the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, unless in many a silent and secret hour he himself has fed upon these, and unless the way into the holiest of all is very familiar to his willing feet. We know that the marvellous power of fusing all this mighty mass of people, and bearing up their hearts to the throne, which our brother possessed, and which some of us think yet more helpful than his ministry to men, was not gained or kept except by the simple, childlike, continual, close, penitent, aspiring, and yearning communion of his own heart with the Father in the heavens. Brethren, the river that has to fertilize a continent must rise up on the mount of God, and be fed with the pure snows that lie there.

"Pardon me that I have occupied so much of your time, but I sought, if I might, by my humblest and truest testimony of love and of loss in this great grief, to make you share in the lessons which I hope it has taught me." A hearty "Amen" from many in the audience showed how deep was the response to these words.

Rev. Canon Fleming, B.D., being next called upon, said:—"There are times when our hearts are quite too full to find utterance, and this is one of them. Even if I could speak as I wish, I could not pretend to embalm your grief for your pastor and friend today. As the Chairman has told you, I am with you in a double capacity. I am here as Honorary Secretary of the Religious Tract Society—a society which owed much to the pen, and also to the voice of Spurgeon—a society which he loved, because he loved everything that was catholic, good, and evangelical. I also stand here as an old personal friend who enjoyed his friendship for more than five-and-twenty years, ever since I came to the metropolis and began to work near to him in South London. It goes without saying that he loved his friends; you have only to recall the grasp of his warm hand, and the 'God bless you!' that leaped to his honest lips, to be sure of that.

"I am also glad to stand here as a clergyman of the Church of England, not taking upon myself in the slightest degree to represent my own church, but taking the full responsibility, as one of its working clergy, to say that I feel honoured by being invited to take part in this memorial service. I have not forgotten words which I heard Mr. Spurgeon speak many years ago in South London. He said, 'I would not give a headless pin for a man who did not belong to that denomination which he conscientiously believed to be the best; but I have learned to love truth better than any sect, and Christ more than any church.' Those were strong words. Yes, and in order to Christian union, which we all desire today, and which the Church at large, with all its differences, desires and longs and prays for, we must be one in Christ, holding those great cardinal truths which cluster round the cross; which bring men to God, and draw man to man. There are differences of administration, but there is one Lord. There are diversities of opinion, but there is one body. We are under different standards; but I feel that as ministers of all denominations, assembled here today, though we may be ranged under very different banners, with names that we love and cherish and honour inscribed on them, yet we have one sovereign standard under which we all rally, and upon which is inscribed the name that is above every name—the name of Jesus.

"Our friend was called for a long time to pass through the baptism of pain. The whole world watched his sick bed; and the letters that he then wrote to you, and the messages that he then sent to you and to others, made that sick bed the best pulpit from which he ever preached. He is now in the Father's house, where are many mansions, and there is no sick room there. No tear can fall within the crystal gates of that kingdom; no pain, no sorrow, no sin, no death can enter there.

"His life had no evening, not even a twilight. His end was so gradual and so gentle, that we may say of him, as our Master said of Lazarus, 'Our friend Lazarus sleepeth.' Who of us, I ask, except those who have a right to personal and domestic sorrow, can mourn for a man who died so happily, his nobly-used faculties possessed up to the last, his life lived out from birth to death like a fruit which blossomed in his youth, and then fell ripe and mellow before the frosts of winter had even touched it? There is no idea of incompleteness resting upon his work. He would have been great in any calling to which he might have devoted himself, but he was greatest of all in that which was the passion of his life—to preach the gospel in order to bring souls to Christ.

"He had the endowment of a surpassing memory, and that, humanly speaking, was a wonderful key to his power and his success. Not only did he forget nothing, but he could command and use whatever he had learned. Yet all the gold, and myrrh, and frankincense of his genius were laid at the feet of Christ, with the humility of a little child, and he was wholly unconscious of the gift that he carried in his hand. He has gone, as a writer has said, a little nearer to the Master of all teachers, himself a great teacher; not always polished, sometimes rugged, plain, homely, but always sweet and pure. His sermons and his books always carry diamonds in disguise.

"How much do all the students here owe in gratitude to him? The old students, many of you now enrolled in the ranks of the ministry, can never forget the depth of his piety, the tenderness of his spirit, the fertility of his illustrations, the power of his prayer, and the sympathy of his marvellous voice, hushed now here below, but richer than ever above. He taught you what it was to be teachable, and not censorious towards others; to be large-hearted, yet true and firm and discriminating, never tampering with truth, and never parleying with error. He made you feel that the Bible is a book not to be suspected, not to be apologized for, but to be believed, trusted, and received with docility as the very Word of God. How are you all, and especially the young men of this generation who are to take up the standard, and carry on the great work to which he devoted his life, to pay him the debt which you feel in your hearts, you owe to him? You can only try to do it by imitating him, and by following him in the spirit of those lessons to which we have just listened from our Chairman. But I venture to suggest that a man will best imitate Spurgeon by not attempting to imitate him at all, and he will best follow him by following Him whom he loved and served.

"The world today is colder, darker, duller, poorer, for his absence; but heaven is fuller, warmer, richer for his presence."

Rev. William Cuff led the assembly in a very earnest prayer in which, beseeching God for the present power of the Holy Spirit in the lives of many of the ministers of the Word, he evidently touched a chord which gave a ready response.

Rev. John Bond announced the next appropriate hymn,—

"Far down the ages now, Her journey well-nigh done, The pilgrim Church pursues her way, In haste to reach the crown.

"No wider is the gate, No broader is the way, No smoother is the ancient path, That leads to light and day.

"No sweeter is the cup, No less our lot of ill;

'Twas tribulation ages since, 'Tis tribulation still.

"No slacker grows the fight, No feebler is the foe, No less the need of armour tried, Of shield and spear and bow.

"Still faithful to our God, And to our Captain true;

We follow where he leads the way, The Kingdom in our view."

The singing was again phenomenal, surging around the building like the voice of many seas.

Rev. J. Monro Gibson, D.D., Moderator of the English Presbyterian Synod, then said:—"If the angel of this church&mdashand that title from the Apocalypse seems to be the fittest for him now—were with us once again, guiding this meeting, as he has guided so many in this place, and having it according to his own heart, I am sure that he would forbid that the prevailing tone should be a tone of lamentation. While he was yet alive we fasted and wept, for we said, 'Who can tell whether God will be gracious unto us, that his servant yet may live?' but now that he is dead wherefore should we fast? Can we bring him back again? We shall go to him, but he shall not return to us. Like David, in his great sorrow, we have come to worship him who gave, and who now has taken away. The honoured and beloved widow has given us the true keynote in that beautiful message of hers, which so touches all our hearts, showing, as it does, that she is strong in faith, even as her husband always was: 'He hath done all things well.' Never were palms more appropriate than they are here today. Never with more emphasis could the song be sung in Zion, 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Thanks be to God, who hath given his servant the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.'" But then there comes the thought of loss, immeasurable and unspeakable loss. We cannot express nor realize it.

Still we do not forget that, measureless as is the loss, just so measureless was the gift. Forty years of such service! And shall we murmur because it was not lengthened to sixty years, as it might have been? Before we murmur let us consider how rarely in all the history of the church, if ever, there has been just such forty years as this, so real, so full, so worldwide in reach and power.

"We have spoken of the loss as immeasurable, but we may not speak of it as irreparable—not at least in the largest sense. To the dear ones in the home, to those who called him Pastor, and to those who called him friend, it is irreparable; not till the morning of the resurrection can that loss be repaired. But let us not imagine or suggest in our unbelief that God cannot repair to his cause even so great a loss. Is not 'the residue of the Spirit' with him? It is not within the bounds of probability that those of us who have silver in our hairs will ever look upon his like again; but is there any reason to believe that there cannot be such another raised up in the coming generation? May there not be among the young men in this assembly today many Spurgeon-like souls? May we not hope and pray that, in this very hour, the petitions which we have been offering may find an answer, perhaps beyond what we have imagined, and that God by his Spirit may already have touched, may be touching now, or may touch ere the service closes, some young hearts with that same fire which began to burn in the soul of Charles Haddon Spurgeon long ago, and has without failing burnt on all these forty years? Oh, may God answer that prayer, and grant his Spirit to many of the students gathered here! Though it is not possible that any of the older men may attain to the measure of the stature of our dear friend, may not everyone of us add just a little to his stature? To the natural stature we cannot add a cubit by taking thought, but to the spiritual stature we can most unquestionably add by the grace of God. How great would be the power if there were just now some increment of spiritual force all over this vast sea of hearts that mourn today for Charles Haddon Spurgeon!

"And why should we not expect it? Suppose that, just in proportion as the spirit of sympathy and love has been poured out, there was a spirit of grace and supplication poured out? If only we continue in prayer, and have our hearts open to receive the answer to our prayers, might it not be that the spiritual forces available for the cause of Christ would be even greater now than in the days when the pastor of this church was in his prime? Then it may well be that, marvellously as Christ was magnified in the life, he will be still more marvellously magnified through the death of his great servant, who made his gospel ring out from this spot where we stand, even to the very ends of the earth." The Rev. Herber Evans, D.D., Chairman of the. Congregational Union, said:—"Little did I think, when I came here on a Thursday night in May last to hear my friend Mr. Spurgeon; to have another touch of his hand; and to pay my first visit anywhere after I was elected to the chair of the Union; that I should be called upon by the Committee of that Union to attend his funeral, and to express a tribute to his memory. We unite in the unspeakable grief which we all suffer by his departure. Some of us thought, in coming up from the country, that we should look once more upon his face, but perhaps it is better that we should not, because we should be obliged to say for the first time, 'He will not speak to me.' But we are here, in the presence of death, to take a look over into the unseen. It has been said that our dear friend could always preach better on the Sunday, if, on the Saturday, he had been to see the dying, and to have just a look over the brink. I hope that this meeting will help us preachers of the gospel to carry with us home to our different spheres of labour some of the secret power which enabled him to wield such influence, so that we, too, may serve our Master with greater devotedness and earnestness.

"All men, as far as I know, admit now that at the back of all Spurgeon did and all he said there was a man, a true man, a large-hearted man, or, as Milton said of Cromwell, a man of men. He was possessed by the gospel, and he had the deepest conviction of its power to save men, because he knew that it had saved him. He once said in this Tabernacle, 'Next to the Holy Spirit who sets us praying and sets us working, I owe prosperity in preaching the gospel to the gospel that I preach.'" Everybody who came to hear him, of late years anyhow, would, I think, confess, 'Here is a man that preaches from the bottom of his heart. He believes, without a doubt, what he says.' Dr. Charles Stanford once said, 'Whatever use there may be in doubts, they are not good to preach.' God could not have conferred a greater blessing on this age, than by giving us this man—a man with a great soul, and that soul fully possessed with love towards God and the gospel. He lived not only his own personal life; he moulded the lives of thousands. His character was not like a watch hidden in a pocket, to tell upon the life of one man, but rather like a great clock in a high tower, directing and correcting the lives, shall I say, of millions; showing them time by the light of eternity.

"We must not be misled by the way which some critics have of explaining his great influence. They say that he had a beautiful voice. So he had. They say that he had great humour and great dramatic power and unique eloquence, which is quite true. But his sermons did not carry those things with them when they were printed, and you must therefore explain their success in some other way. Neither did the work that he did as a Christian philanthropist come from those gifts. They must therefore have had another source. This is the grand chapter in Charles Haddon Spurgeon's history, and it is this chapter of philanthropy which has compelled men outside the Christian church to admit that at any rate he was no hypocrite. No, my dear friends, there is only one force sufficient to account for all that this man did. He was a man of God, 'full of faith and of the Holy Ghost.'" I have heard it said too often to please me, of late, that Mr. Spurgeon had no great advantages of birth and training. I do not believe that. Was it not a great advantage to be born of godly, prayerful parents? Was it not a great advantage to be able to trace his pedigree back for two hundred years to a martyr for Christ in Job Spurgeon, and to a long and unbroken line of preachers who preached because they believed in the gospel? From such a line came this grandest preacher of the age, who preached the word of God without a single hesitation, and who preached all of it. I think he had great advantages of birth and training. Was he not trained in the way he should go? And when he became old, did he depart from it? Was he not led in 'the way everlasting'? And is he not on it now, only a turning or two farther on?

"But there was one thing that he did not inherit, and one thing that he could not transmit—his personal piety. It was from this that his enthusiasm for Christ arose. It was this that kept his life and his zeal kindling to the very last. Let us thank God for such a preacher in our day. He suffered more than many a martyr, but he 'endured as seeing Him who is invisible.' He never could have had such sympathy for orphans without homes, for students without means, for widows without friends, had he not been made perfect by great suffering. The high price which everyone must pay for the power to be a great healer is to suffer even to agony. The old principle is still true, that we can only heal one another with blood.

"There are two Charles Haddon Spurgeons. One is to be buried tomorrow in the midst of great sorrow and grief, in the heart of this city which he loved so well, and which he gave his life to save. Many a man from distant parts will come to that grave, and will say, 'I read his words far away in my distant home, and they turned me to Jesus; and I vowed that when I came to London I would drop a tear over his grave. It is not a tear of sadness, when I think of him it falls as naturally as April rain.' Mothers will take their little children to that grave, and tell them quietly the name of the man that turned them heavenward, and changed their earthly home to a place of peace."

Here the speaker almost reached his native Welsh hwyl, and hundreds of strong men in the congregation sobbed like little children.

"But there is one Charles Haddon Spurgeon whom we cannot bury; there is not earth enough in Norwood to bury him—the Spurgeon of history. The good works that he has done will live. You cannot bury them.

"Mr. Spurgeon was the strongest believer in prayer that I ever met. I have preached for him in this place several times, and I have gone away each time with this one conviction: 'This is the greatest believer in prayer I ever met.' His deacons and elders are also men of prayer; it is prayer throughout the place. And that is the reason that Spurgeon was not only a preacher, but a prophet. He was always waiting upon God for his message, and he came to his people with the message he had freshly received from his Lord.

"He has gone, but his works remain. What a grand thing it is, that when we do good it remaineth for ever. I know not from what tree the rail on this platform was cut, but I know that every little leaf that grew upon the parent tree helped to make it strong and helped it to grow. Oh, it is a very sad thing, in one sense, that we Christian ministers and Christian workers pass away so soon, like the leaves of autumn before the blast. But the work remaineth for ever. The world is richer today because Daniel opened his window to pray towards Jerusalem. Yes; and the world is a richer inheritance for our children and grandchildren who shall come after us, because Charles Haddon Spurgeon lived. Sleep on, then, dear brother after thy great toil, in that dreamless bed, until the time shall come which thou hast prayed for—the resurrection of the body. Friendship and love will cast their garlands on thy memory, and good men and women here and hereafter shall bless thee for the noble work which thou hast done so well." The Rev. T. B. Stephenson, D.D., President of the Wesleyan Conference, said:—" 'If you would find his monument look around.' Those words have been in my mind ever since I looked upon this sea of faces today. I refer now not so much to this building, which will always be associated with the memory of our brother, as to this wonderful gathering, one gathering only amongst many wonderful gatherings. This meeting is unique; it will be historical; and it answers to all the world the question, 'What was Spurgeon's place in the Christian Church?' People are already asking whether Spurgeon was a great man, and with their lilliputian measuring-rods they are trying to find the size of his faith, of his work, and of his character. How idle it all is. Men, even in the hour of their death, are not always appreciated at their real greatness, but no man, who was not in the noblest sense a great man, could have won. or have deserved, such a testimony as your presence here today is giving to his memory.

"I am here on behalf of the Methodist churches, which desire, through my poor lips, first of all to give glory to God for the abounding grace which has shone through the words and life of his servant; and secondly, to pay to his honoured and fragrant memory our tribute of affection, of admiration and gratitude. He did not belong to us except as he belonged to all the churches, but he did belong to us because he belonged to all.

"Like the loftiest and strongest servants of God, he was a denominationalist. He believed in something; he believed it strongly, and he believed it intelligently. Therefore he belonged to a defined and recognizable section of the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church. But because his was a lofty spirit, his brotherly affection flowed far and wide beyond the boundaries of his own church. His quick eye recognized the essential truth wherever it was found, and he called every man brother who was true to the Master, Christ, and who desired that all his work should find its centre at the cross of Calvary.

"Even when ministering to his own, as we all know well, his influence was never confined to his own. Out of him, because of his great faith, flowed rivers of living water, and the streams thereof found their way to the very ends of the earth. He belonged to us all. We were all the better because of him. To this church, of course, he belonged in a more special and intimate sense; but it has shown by the arrangements in which we have been suffered to take part, that it does not grudge to any of us that we should claim our heritage in his great work and life.

"In his early years he spoke of the Methodist theology with some tartness, not to say severity. We have always thought that then he did not quite understand us. As his career progressed, he came to find that we were nearer a good deal to him than he thought in those earliest days. At all events he loved us much; he served us nobly on many occasions; and he showed that he was not to be divided from those who earnestly and honestly loved the Lord Jesus Christ, by any of those minor points of division which he held to be light indeed, in comparison with the great central truths. But if he had spoken of any views which we may hold far more severely than he ever did, we would not think of it, we could not think of it today. We think today only of his exultation of his Master, Christ; only of the passionate fervour with which he besought men to come to Christ and be saved; only of the Spirit of Christ which shone in all his works throughout his noble life.

"Many things have been said today which will, I am sure, dwell in your memory, and which I will not attempt to repeat; but there are two thoughts which I venture to suggest to you in reference to our dear friend who has gone. I think that he rendered a great service to his age, and to the coming age also, in that he upheld during so long a life the majesty of preaching. Men say that preaching is played out, and that the pulpit is superfluous. The editor is to be the great minister of God in the future, and the people are to get their gospel from the newspapers. God grant that they may get gospel from the newspapers, and that the editors may be equal to the duty which some of them are prepared to accept. But with that coffin before us, none of us can doubt that the pulpit is the power in the world still—that still by the foolishness of preaching God is pleased to save men. And I am quite sure that in the fact that from this place there rolled forth over the world a voice which it was willing to hear, and which it listened for—yes, listened for, even through the strife and din of politics, of commerce and pleasure—there has been maintained a testimony to the power of the simple preaching of the gospel, the value of which it is impossible for us to estimate now.

"I confess to one thing that always drew me very strongly to our dear friend, and which, I think, has accounted for the wonderful hold that he has had upon, not religious circles only, but upon the mass of the people throughout this country, and that is the fact that with all the gracious and abounding unction which attended his words and ministry, there was a healthy and natural manliness. It is not always easy when we are speaking of the deepest things of God to avoid a look and tone which the world is very ready indeed to misinterpret. Sometimes it is difficult for us ourselves to keep clear, altogether, from the unreal in thought and feeling when we are dealing with those subjects which lie deepest in our hearts; and the world is not slow to call by the ugly name of 'sanctimoniousness' that which we very often are delighted to recognize as the working in us and out of us of the Spirit and mind of God. Mr. Spurgeon, though he delighted to speak of the deepest things, and though he allowed his delight in speaking of those deepest things to be obvious to everybody, yet, when he was speaking of his closest and deepest relations to the Lord Jesus Christ, he always had in tone and manner a naturalness, a brightness, a cheeriness, which went to every man's heart, and which made men say, 'That is a true man. However, he may be talking about things that are beyond me, and belong to a region that is higher and farther than I have yet penetrated, yet he is a true man.'" In showing to the world the glorious example of a fine, healthy, natural manliness in connection with the sweetest evangelical doctrine, and the richest evangelical experience, he has also rendered very great service to the Church of God. During the last two or three days, those words of the Saviour, applied to the Baptist, have been running very often in my mind with reference to our departed friend.

" 'What went ye out to see? A reed shaken with the wind?' No, this was no reed shaken with the wind. This was a man who knew his mind, and had a will of his own, and could not be bent hither and thither by every passing breeze.

" 'What went ye out to see? A man clothed in soft raiment? behold, they that are gorgeously apparelled and live delicately are in kings' courts.' No courtier was this man, seeking carefully for the word which would not grieve his patron. This was a man who dared to speak the truth to anybody, even to the great king 'Mob.' This man was ready to take the consequence of his deed. His life was not devoted to having the softest bed, the pleasantest place, the healthiest work, and the largest honour. He was ready to bear the consequences of his faith and duty—ready to suffer and endure, rather than to be false to his convictions, or negligent of his opportunities.

" 'But what went ye out to see? A prophet?' Yea, a foreteller, a messenger whom God sent, and who, because he was a true messenger, was, above all other things, anxious to deliver his message. If the prophets whom God raises up even now have ever a message given to them&mdashsomething that comes from the divine mind and must pass through other minds to the people—happy is he who is willing and content to be the messenger of God.

"Those wonderful lips, upon which many of us hung so often with delight, are closed now, and we shall hear the silver voice no more: but we thank God that we have heard it. We glorify God for the grace that dwelt so constantly upon those lips; and, amid all the sorrow of today, we rejoice in this consolation, that the voice, though stilled on earth, is already heard in praise before the throne of God." The Rev. A. T. Pierson, D.D., who was the next speaker, said:—When the whole Church of Christ gathers about the bier of a saint, it is very proper that America should be represented, and I am here, inadequate as I am, as such a representative, to lay the garland of American Christians alongside of this grave.

I am not one of those who share the faintest hope that Charles Haddon Spurgeon will be reproduced in this age, or in any other. God never reproduces a man; and when he made Charles Haddon Spurgeon he broke the mould. But we may, from this blessed and sanctified life, learn something about the way to live. The alabaster flask has been broken, and the whole house is full of the odour of the ointment. But, if we cannot construct another alabaster flask like this which is shattered, we may, at least, by the odour that fills the whole Church of God today, learn what it is that makes a life fragrant to holy men, and even to a gainsaying world.

I think that I never felt the responsibility of speaking for a few moments, more than in this marvellous assembly, in which, I presume, more ministers of Christ and students of the Word are represented than, perhaps, in any single assembly that has met in the British Isles for half a century.

One danger in reviewing such a life as this is, that we shall hastily dismiss our own responsibility by simply saying of such a man, "He was an inimitable genius." Has it ever occurred to us that Mr. Spurgeon was great, not so much on account of any single faculty, or achievement, or peculiarity, which was so colossal as to overtop all else; but rather that he was great by the rare combination of beautiful and useful characteristics? And, if we may not aspire to the like combination for ourselves, may we not, from the individual peculiarities, learn something of what is possible to be embodied and illustrated in our own individual lives?

I am deeply persuaded that, whatever we may say about this marvellous man, there is for his greatness, a basis, both natural and supernatural, which it is possible for us to understand, and in some measure to reproduce. For example, as to the natural basis of his usefulness, I would remark, first of all, his love of truth—of what was genuine, of what was honest, of what was outspoken. He reminds me of Seneca's pilot, who, in the midst of the stormy waves, looked out on the waters, and said, "Neptune, you may sink me, or you may save me, but I will hold my rudder true!" You may not have agreed with Mr. Spurgeon in the course which he lately pursued with regard to his convictions of doctrine and of duty; but no man is here present who can withhold his hearty admiration from one of the most heroic acts known in the century. There are very few men that make new friends after the age of fifty years. When a man cuts himself loose from the friends of his manhood and his maturer life, and stands virtually isolated and alone because he feels that in some matters, which others consider minor matters, but which he himself thinks are major matters, he is called upon to suffer, for the truth's sake, such heroism would have led a man to the stake in the days of martyrdom. And then, dear Mr. Spurgeon, besides having a love of truth, was never afraid of hard work. We speak of "a man of genius" as though genius need not be allied with industry to accomplish results. I am not so much a believer in genius as some men are; but I am thoroughly a believer in the genius of industry. He spared himself no effort, down to the last days of his life. Even in the midst of the weakness and suffering at Menton, within the last few months, he painstakingly revised a considerable portion of his forthcoming Commentary on the Gospel according to Matthew. Spinoza, among many things that are false and fallacious, says very many true things; among others he says this: "There is no hindrance in the way of personal advancement that is more fatal than simple self-conceit and the laziness which self-conceit begets." To think that we have accomplished anything, and to lie by on our oars and let ourselves drift, because, forsooth, something has been achieved that lies in the past, is the death-blow to all real progress. My brother, the best work which you did ten years ago will not take the place of the best work you can do today, any more than the nutritious bread that was baked a month ago will answer for your present appetite. We must have new experiences, fresh accumulations, and higher exaltations of spirit, if we are to keep up with the demands of the multitude about us, nay, with the demands of our own souls.

Then I greatly admired in dear Mr. Spurgeon the marvellous singleness and simplicity of his aims. Archbishop Whalely said, that "many a man aims at nothing, and hits it with remarkable precision." We must have something to aim at if we want to secure results in this life of ours. Charles Haddon Spurgeon aimed at something desirable to be accomplished, and by the grace of God attainable in the way of accomplishment, and steadily pursued his aim; therefore he was the man that he was. And what zeal such singleness of aim gave him. I was taking up yesterday a little analysis made by Dr. Andrew Bonar, when he sat down in his study to contemplate modern zeal. He felt compelled to write that he believed, in his own case, oftentimes what he would call zeal for his Lord, if it were analyzed and divided into a hundred parts, would be found to consist of—

Personal ambition 23 parts Love of praise 19 parts Pride of denomination 15 parts Pride of talent 14 parts Love of authority 12 parts Bigotry 10 parts Love of God 4 parts Love of Man 1:3 parts Making in all 100 parts

Here ninety-three parts are carnal, leaving but four parts for love to God, and three parts for love to man. When we come to submit our zeal to this awful divine chemistry, how fearfully humbling are the analysis and the result! As I am speaking to fellow ministers, I want to say here, that because of this singleness of aim, among other things, he never lost sight of the oratorical character of a sermon. I pray you to notice that sermo is speech, whose means is eloquence, and whose end is persuasion. A sermon is not an essay; it is not a theological discussion; it is not a poetic production. It is, first of all, something that has an aim. That aim should be to bring men to Jesus Christ, the Justifier, the Sanctifier, the Redeemer. The oratorical character of a sermon depends on the supremacy of a practical aim, an aim outside of self, an aim so unselfish and absorbed in God that it shall lead a man to say, what Ignatius said, when he stood in the arena at Rome, awaiting the onset of the Numidian lions: "I am grain of God. I must be ground between the teeth of lions to make bread for God's people."

We may not have the genius of Charles Haddon Spurgeon, but, if we will imitate his love of hard work, his love of the truth, his love of souls and the singleness of his aim, we may attain to results of a similar kind to his, even though not in a similar measure. But now in full view and sense of my responsibility I want to say, before I close, a word on the supernatural basis of his power; and may God give me special grace in the most important duty. The supernatural basis is the only one that will account for the marvellous character or the marvellous career of that man whose ashes are before you.

Mr. Spurgeon believed first of all in the full infallible inspiration of the Word of God. To him the Bible was God's book par excellence, not pre-eminently God's book, but solely God's book, inspired in such a sense as makes the word inspiration applicable to no other book ever put before the human race.

He believed, in the second place, in the inspiring Spirit as a personal Spirit; that, when God revealed his will in ancient times, holy men of old were moved to write the Scriptures by the Holy Ghost, so that the product was essentially the product of the Spirit of God, and not of the spirit of man. I speak emphatically on this subject, for the modern theories of inspiration are so constructed as to let out entirely the supernatural element. When we are told, for instance, that a prophet, knowing certain fundamental principles of God's moral government, and being himself an accurate observer of human affairs, and a close student of human nature, was thereby enabled to predict the future of his people, I would like to know what is to hinder any other man who knows God's great moral principles, who is an accurate observer of events, and who is a student of character, from being himself a prophet and uttering predictions! But what does Peter say concerning the prophets themselves? "Searching what, or what manner of time the Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify, when it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ, and the glory that should follow." I pray you, intelligent, educated, cultivated brethren, to notice the two intelligences which Peter recognizes: the spirit of the prophet, and the Spirit of God that was in the prophet; these two intelligences being actually engaged in a sort of conflict among themselves, so that the inferior intelligence searches to know what the superior intelligence indicates in the unintelligible words which the prophet writes and speaks. Now, Mr. Spurgeon believed in those two intelligences—the Spirit of God and the spirit of man; and in his preaching and study of the Word of God, he sought to rise into the atmosphere of the superior Intelligence, that he might bring down the thoughts of God to the level of man. That is, more than any other assignable cause, the secret of his preaching. In the third place, he believed in the personal indwelling of the Spirit of God in the soul and body of the believer, constituting him a temple of the Holy Ghost.

Put these three things together, and see whether any man can heartily believe in them without being a mighty and spiritual preacher. See the effect in the interpretation of the Word! If human authors produced the Bible, then how are we in interpreting the Bible to secure the aid of the authors? Can we go into the catacombs and summon from their tombs the dead whose pens were concerned in the production of the Scriptures? But if the Holy Ghost is the author of the Scriptures—if the handwriting is the handwriting of God, though the hand is the hand of man, then I submit to you, that in the interpretation of the Bible, we may reverently call the Author himself to our aid. What is the consequence? Mr. Spurgeon found out, and others who believe like him have grasped the same truth, that the originality of sermons depends not on our invention, but on our discovery. That is to say, instead of inventing a discourse out of our own minds, and attaching it by the artificial hinge of a text to the Holy Scripture, we search to know what the Holy Ghost means in the Word of God; and when, by his gracious aid, we have discovered his meaning, we unfold that meaning in the discourse. So the greatest sermon is that which unfolds the greatest discovery of the hidden Spirit.

Now, Mr. Spurgeon had to cultivate his own individual life of piety, or all this would have become impossible to him. If the Spirit of God dwells in a man, and is to illumine the pages of the Word, the clearness of such illumination will depend on the unobstructiveness of the media through which his light shines. If we would have fellowship with God which is constant and uninterrupted, we must keep the panes of glass, in the windows, clear. Then the Spirit's light, burning within us, and shining through the undimmed medium upon the pages of Scripture, will unfold to us the wondrous things of God. But if we close those windows with dark shutters, if our failure to realize divine communion and to live in fellowship with God intercepts and hinders the Spirit; if, in other words, as Paul says, we "quench the Spirit," how can the light of the Spirit which must shine through our own experience, illustrate and illuminate the pages of the Word that we are to expound and explain?

Oh, my brethren, we need in these days, more than all else, one more touch of the supernatural in our individual lives! Give me the man that preaches with a deep personal sense that God lives in him by the Spirit, and that this Book is a living book, which the living Spirit inspired, and in which the living Spirit still dwells; then bring the man, who is himself a living temple of the Spirit of God, into contact with the Book, which is the living utterance of the Spirit of God, and how can there but come from such a ministry power to convert, power to sanctify, power to edify, and power to redeem? This is the message which your American brother brings in humility and simplicity this afternoon to this great assembly of ministers and students of the Word. God give us the spirit of Charles Haddon Spurgeon, tor that spirit was the Spirit of God!

D. L. Moody sent his greeting by telegraph from Paisley. The message was read at this juncture, and ran, "Heartiest sympathy with sorrowing friends in London. 'Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and today, and for ever.'"

Rev. F. B. Meyer, B. A., the last speaker, was called upon when the time for the meeting had expired, and when already the crowd was gathering at the doors for the evening service. He spoke amid interruption, caused by some who were compelled to leave, and said:—"In the midst of a great campaign, one of the leading officers may suddenly fall fatally wounded, and for a moment his comrades in arms may call a halt around his body, but there is not a thought of renouncing the campaign in which they with him were engaged. Every man feels himself once again called by that event to more entire consecration to the great ends for which his leader died. Surely it would be a mistake if we were to allow the feelings which have been called out by this memorial meeting to subside, without our gathering around this coffin with these remains, and once again pledging ourselves, one and all, to renewed devotion to the Captain of our salvation, and to renewed energy in the preaching of his holy gospel. The prophet may have been taken up into heaven, but it is not wise for us to stand gazing thither, we must seek again to be clothed about with the power that made him what he was. Then let us betake ourselves along the lonely way to the Jordan, to the sons of the prophets, and to the work that still remains to be done in the land. The man of God who has been taken from us was indeed a golden vessel, and the most of us are but of earth or wood; but it was not because he was gold that he was what he was, but because the Master used him. If we today will only once again put ourselves into the hands of the Master, and seek an enduement of that same Spirit, surely from this gathering there will go forth a tide of holy influence that shall touch, and illuminate, and fill many a church with new power. I ask you, therefore, to join with me in a few moments of solemn dedication, that we may again lay ourselves on that altar that sanctifies the gift, and that we may seek a fresh enduement of the Holy Ghost. Then men shall say of us, 'The spirit of Elijah doth rest upon Elisha,' then Jordans shall part before the mantle, then we shall go forth to follow our departed brother in his works of healing and salvation."

Mr. Meyer then led the assembly in a dedicatory prayer, in which occurred the following passage:—"We know how rich thou art, else thou hadst not been able to spare from this earth so rare a man as this. How royal thou art, how full thy hand is of those ascension gifts, unexhausted by the flight of ages, and the demands of thy Church, since thou art able to give men like this, and then to take them to thyself again." Thanking God for Mr. Spurgeon's unblemished, stainless character, and for his sweet humility so unaffected, the speaker mourned the years in our own lives which the cankerworm and the caterpillar had eaten, and besought renewed grace which would enable all to fight the good fight, to finish the course with joy, and to keep the faith unto the end.

Rev. J. McEwan, D.D., pronounced the Benediction, and this remarkable meeting was at an end.