Chapter 1: The Novelties of Divine Mercy

Chapter 1: The Novelties of Divine Mercy "His compassions... are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness."—Lamentations 3:22-23. The Book of the Lamentations of Jeremiah is very dolorous. When you look upon the dragons, and owls, the pelicans, and bitterns in the wilderness, you have a fit picture of his mournful state. He was full of grief, like a bottle wanting vent. His heart was ready to burst with wormwood and with gall. But the whole current changes when the prophet brings to his remembrance the mercy of God. No sooner does he think of the compassion of the Most High than at once he takes his harp from the willows and begins to sing as sweetly as ever that sweet singer of Israel, David, sang before him. Truly, if we, too, instead of harping upon our troubles, would but reflect upon our mercies, we should exchange our mournful ditties for songs of joy.

It is true that God's people are a tried people; it is equally true that their grace is equal to their trials. Through much tribulation they enter the kingdom, but then they do enter, and the thought of the kingdom that is coming sustains them in their present tribulation. They wade through the waters of woe, often breast deep, but then the billows do not, and shall not, go over them; they shall still be able to sing even in the midst of the tempest. I would suggest to any here who are in the habit of complaining—a very bad habit—any who have become chronic murmurers—that this temper of mind is sinful, while, on the other hand, the remembrance of God's mercy, and grateful talk about it, is a virtuous habit, one which is honourable to God, as well as strengthening and profitable to our own souls. Imitate Jeremiah, then, and if you can find no comfort in your present outward circumstances, meditate upon the unfailing mercies of God.

What a blessed word that is which the prophet here uses—'compassions!' David uses the word 'pity' more frequently, but he means the same thing. It is a humbling word, though exceedingly consolatory. I have often felt very deeply chastened in my own soul at that text 'Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him.' What! is this the Lord's attitude to the strongest and the best of saints? Does God only pity them? Yes, it is even so. Those that do exploits, those that lead the van in the day of battle, those to whom we look up to with respect and admiration, God looks upon with infinite love, but that love still takes the form of pity. He can see their weakness where we see their strength; He can discover their defects where we admire the work of the Holy Spirit in them, and He regards them with pity. Yet it is a father's pity, a father who smiles at the weakness of the child, knowing that the attempt which it is making, though a feeble one, will educate it for something better; foreseeing that it will by-and-by outgrow its weakness, and be able to do greater things.

God has compassion for the best of His people, but it is compassion prompted by love. It is not the pity that is akin to scorn, but the pity which melts from love, as the honey drops from the honeycomb. I would again ask our dear friends who are tried and troubled, to think of the infinite pity of God towards them. He has smitten you, but still not as hard as He might have done; out of pity He has stayed His hand. He has spoken sharply in your conscience, but if He had spoken as loudly there as your sins deserved there would have been thunder-claps instead of admonitions.

He has withered your gourds, but if He had done what justice might have demanded it would not have been the gourd that withered, but you, yourself, would have withered away. Admire the compassion of God! If one child in your family is sick, they are not all sick; if He has taken away one friend by death, there are friends still left; you have had heavy losses, but you are not a bankrupt; you are not in good health, but still you have not been stricken with the diseases which have attacked some others; your pain is bearable. It is true the weather is dull and heavy to your spirit, but it is not quite the blackness of the Valley of the Shadow of Death. Take heart even in the midst of smitings, for the compassion of God is still to be seen.

Moved by such thoughts as these, the prophet penned the remarkable words before us:—'His compassions are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness.'

I have been admiring the fiirst part of the sentence which suggests to me the novelties of divine mercy, and as I speak of it I mean to get you to preach to yourselves, to wake up your recollections, to ask you to turn over a few pages in your old pocket-books, to make you look at your diaries, and remember what God has done for you since you knew His name.

I. God's mercies are always novelties.

God's mercies are always novelties. They are new every morning. The water that is in the cistern may be sufficient for a long time, but if it is stored it will not be fresh. It might have been fresh the first morning that I drew it, but it will not be fresh on the morrow, and the longer it lasts the more stagnant will it become. But the water from the spring-head is always new. I drank of it when a boy; I go to it in the prime of manhood; I stoop to drink of it when my hair turns grey, and still it is new and sparkling. God is not the cistern, but the fountain. Our treasures which we lay up on earth are the stagnant pools, but the treasure which God gives us from heaven, in providence and in grace, is the crystal fount which wells up from the eternal deeps, and is always fresh and always new. There are no grey hairs upon the Angel of Mercy; no wrinkles upon His brow. I may say of Him what the sweet writer of Solomon's Song says of the spouse:—'His locks are bushy and black as a raven.' Mercy is of old, and is for ever God's darling attribute, yet it is always bright, and fair, and clear, and young. Mercy is not a tree that yields but once in the year its fruit, which may be stored through the depths of winter, and preserved till, perhaps, it shall have become rotten; Mercy is the tree of life, which beareth its fruit every month. At all times and at all seasons we may share the compassion of God and we shall find that it is new every morning. The thought that God's mercy is always new is a pleasing one, but that it is new every morning is very wonderful. If you had to preach you would find it no small difficulty to have something new every Sunday, but God has something new for us every morning. I suppose the writers in our newspapers often have to vex and agitate their brains to get us something new, but God, with the greatest of ease, sends to the millions of His people something new every morning. He does not need to repeat Himself. If He sends the same mercy, yet there is a something about it which shows it to be fresh. God never gives us old money that has been worn, His mercy always comes fresh from the mint with all the gloss and all the brightness of new coinage. His compassions are new every morning, not some mornings, but every morning, from the first of January to the last of December. God never has to stay His hand. He never has to pause to think of something fresh, but His mercies come to us freely, spontaneously—new every morning. Let us think a little of it. In the first place, every morning brings a new mercy, because every morning ends the night. The night is the hour of danger and dismay. Why do we ask concerning the sick, 'How did he pass the night? 'We do not enquire, 'How did he pass the day?' Is it not because, somehow or other, we have connected the night with the idea of insecurity and danger? We wear the image of death when we sleep, and how slight the difference is between a sleeping man and a dead man is plain to all beholders. Every morning we may say, 'what a mercy that our bed did not become our tomb! What a mercy that, in the night, we were not alarmed with fire, that our couch was not consumed, and ourselves in it; that the house was not broken into by wicked men; that no convulsions of nature terrified us; that no cry of anguish, like the shrieks that woke up every parent in Egypt, was heard in our house because our child was dying!' Such cries have been heard by some of us, and we have had dreadful nights which we never shall forget, let us live as long as we may; but every morning in which we wake, with such terrors past, or after that sweet, quiet night in which God gives to His beloved sleep, we have had a new mercy, and we may at once look to the text and say, 'Because another night is gone; Thy mercies are new every morning.' But every morning also brings a new mercy, because every morning ushers in another day. That is a new call to praise, for we have no right to an hour, much less to a day. To the sinner, especially, it is a great mercy to have another day of grace, another opportunity for repentance, a little more space in which to 'escape from hell and fly to heaven, 'a new reprieve from death. Ah! soul, supposing thou hadst never seen the light of another rising sun, but hadst heard instead thereof the dreadful sentence, 'Depart, cursed one, into the darkness which shall never be pierced by a ray of light!' What a mercy that thou art spared! The Christian may thank God that he has another day in which he may walk with God at Enoch's pace; another day in which he may trust God at Abraham's rate; another day in which he may work for Christ, as Paul did; another day in which he may reap the Gospel harvest; another day in which he may gather pearls for Immanuel's crown; another day in which he may ripen for glory; another day in which he may hold communion with the Lord; another day in which he may be making advances in the divine pilgrimage towards the Celestial City. God gives us our days; may He teach us their value, for they are priceless pearls, and when the morning breaks we may truly say, 'Thy mercies are fresh every morning, for the morning has brought us another day.'

Further, a new mercy comes, at least to the most of us, because each morning brings supplies for the day. I have often thought to myself, 'what a mercy to know that when I wake there is a breakfast for me!' There are many, alas, who do not know where the first meal in the day may come from, That is a sorrowful thing, and a very heavy discipline, but it is certainly not the case with the most of us. There is enough in the cupboard for the next day. When we rise in the morning we are not quite like the sparrows, who have to seek their food; they sing, you know, as soon as they wake; there is nothing in their barn, but they sing, as Luther heard them:—

'Mortal, cease from care and sorrow;

God provideth for the morrow!'

Then they set to work to find their daily bread, and find it they do, for God feeds the fowls of heaven. Now, your day's provision is waiting for you. There is the manna outside the camp for you, and you know where to gather it. As you bless the name of the Lord remember His mercy. But you have not all you could wish, you say, and so are not happy. Ah! remember the Apostle's words, 'Having food and raiment, let us be there with content,' and learn the Apostle's lesson, 'I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.'

Again, let me remind you, because I am afraid some of you—especially those who have abundance, do not remember it enough, that daily you are dependent upon God's providence; that you as much receive your daily bread from God as if the ravens brought it; that you as certainly obtain all that you receive from the hand of God as if it dropped from the clouds, or as if the winds brought you quails. Be thankful, then, that as each day brings its want in the household for daily bread, and clothing, and covering, God is pleased to give also His mercies every morning. In spiritual things, my brethren in Christ, how richly may the text be illustrated. His compassions are new every morning because every morning I commit new sins. Strange creature that I am, I can scarce open my eyes to the light, but my soul begins to display its darkness! Miserable humanity that I am by nature, I can scarcely breathe without offending in the thoughts and imaginations of my heart, and even though I may watch my eyes, and guard my tongue, and keep the members of my body pure, yet still the heart goeth a-wandering, and the tongue ere long speaketh idle words! Well, but then there always comes the new pardon. Thy compassions are new every morning, and so we leave our chamber and go to the 'fountain filled with blood Drawn from Immanuel's veins,' and we wash once again and are clean. When we go to business, and tug and toil, we are prone to wander from God; yet we may still think of our Master, who girded Himself with a towel, took a basin, and did wash His disciples' feet, and then said that they were clean every whit For our daily pollutions need a daily cleansing. We have been once washed in the blood, and so are clean before God, but we need to be daily purged from our hourly defilements, and every morning brings us this grace.

Then, my brethren, we scarcely leave our chamber, nay, we have not left it, before the morning brings new temptations. Some mornings especially bring us temptations that we have never experienced before; insinuations gain entrance into our own mind which never did perplex us till that moment We scarcely know what to do with them, and young Christians, especially, are staggered when these diabolical shafts are winged toward them. Then when we get down from our chamber, who knows when he begins the day how long he shall be before he shall be sorely tempted to sin. Ah! if we did but know at what hour the thief would come we might watch, but lo! Satan and sin come like a thief in the night. The time when the child of God is most likely to sin is when he is in the holiest frame of mind. You may think that an odd remark, but I make it from experience. I have often found when I have been nearest to God in prayer, or when I have most enjoyed a service, that I have then been met by somebody who said something cross, or wicked, or unkind, and I have been tempted to answer, and perhaps have answered, as I have afterwards been sorry to have answered. Because, after having your mind lifted up you are not prepared exactly for these contrary ones. Just in your moments of highest joy something may trip your foot. Well, now, it is such a mercy to think that when I begin the morning, though I cannot know what temptations may come, I can know that God's mercies are new every morning, and therefore that there will be fresh grace to bear me through the fresh temptation. We shall be taken with no temptation but such as is common to man, and God will, with the temptation, also make a way of escape. Put on the Gospel armour, and then, let its shafts fall where they may, they shall not wound, or if a wound be received between the joints of the harness, there is a tree whose leaves are for the healing of the nations, and a heavenly hand shall reach down these healing leaves that the wounds may be staunched. Let us be glad, then, that there is daily grace for daily conflict.

And, my brethren, we do not completely know when we wake what will be the particular tasks of the day: each morning brings new duties. Even though we should know completely, as we know in part, the service appointed for the day, yet it would be a sad thing to wake up to new responsibilities and new duties if we had not also new strength. Every day brings a new duty, or it may be an old duty in another shape and cast in another mould. All that I did yesterday cannot exonerate me if I am idle to-day, and all the service that I did for my Master a year ago will be no excuse if I waste this year. I must take each hour of time on the wing, and I must seek to get wealth from it as it passes by me. Beloved, there shall be daily strength given to you for the daily duty to which God calls you. Depend upon it if God will have us work for Him He will not have us go a warfare at our own charges, but He will provide His soldiers with weapons, and provide the worker in the vineyard with tools. There is daily grace, then, for new duties.

I might go on to mention that each day will bring its trials, that each day will bring its anxieties and necessities, but each morning brings us the promise,

'As thy days'—note that text is in the plural, and not as so many quote it, 'As thy day,' but 'As thy days so shall thy strength be.' As long as days shall last, till days shall all be swallowed up in time, and time shall be swallowed up in eternity, God's compassions shall be new every morning, to meet our new needs, our new relations, our new responsibilities, our new temptations, and our new sins. But we will try to illustrate this subject in another light, for this text is very like a kaleidoscope; you may turn it as many times as you will, and there is constantly a fresh form of beauty to be seen. Remember therefore that—

II. Sometimes the mercies we receive are actually new in themselves.

You have all had events in life when a new mercy has been bestowed upon you. Just think—I shall not mention them—but just think of the Ebenezers all along your pathway, and of the stones of Bethel that you have piled after some distinguishing favour which has made the day memorable. Such mercies as these have been particularly new. Sometimes the mercy is new in substance; you have received what you never received before. At other times the mercy is not so much new in substance as it is new in the way of coming. I am sure that yesterday, when, after praying for the last two or three months that God would remember the vairous works we have in hand, we received a thousand pounds for the Stockwell Orphanage from some unknown donor, I felt that it was a new mercy. Money has been sent for the work at different times, but it has always been sent in a different way or a different form each time, and each time it has wellnigh overwhelmed me. When I heard of that yesterday, I was sitting with a dear brother who had just been saying to me, 'My dear friend, there are some people who say, "Our brother Spurgeon does not know where to stop; he is always going on from one good thing to another; if he should make a failure it would be a very dreadful thing." Now,' he said, 'don't you think it would be a great catastrophe? What a great deal of money is required for the College'—and he mentioned other things. 'Suppose there should be a failure in the income!' I said, 'I never suppose any such thing; I have no purpose to serve, and no end to gain, and no motive but God's glory; I was forced into these works against my will, and God cannot leave me; He must carry on the work, and I am persuaded that He will; my motto is Jehovah Jireh.' At that moment the post came, and the letter was opened which contained the £1,000. Our friend just said, 'My dear brother, let us kneel down and pray,' and so we did, and with many tears thanked God, oh! in such a warm-hearted manner. I then felt how foolish we were to talk about things failing that are undertaken for God, because God is sure to help us. My friend said it was a blessed means of grace to him, and that he should recollect that day as one of the choice days in his life, in which God had showed that He would help those who in His name undertake work for the poor and needy, and try to aid His cause. Well, now, was not that new? It was not a new thing for us to receive help, but it came in a new way, and thus God's mercies are new every morning.

Then, sometimes, when you do not get the mercy exactly in a new way, yet it seems new to you because you are in a new condition. You have more knowledge, and can comprehend the value of the mercy more. You have more experience, and can understand your own need of that mercy better. The mercy which comes to a young man of twenty has a brightness about it; the mercy which comes to that man at seventy may not have so much sparkle, but there will be, I think, if the man is a grown Christian—and age is not always identical with growth in grace—a deeper and more solemn sense of obligation. As we grow in life the glitter of our thoughts may depart, but the solid gold of them will increase and multiply; that is to say, if we do really grow mature in spirit as well as old in years. The Lord grant that we may! I am sure that the light in which the aged man regards a mercy is a different light, in some respects, from that in which the young man regards it. The babe in grace is very grateful, and sees that the mercy is precious, but the man in Christ Jesus has a gratitude of a richer kind. The mercy is new because we see it in a new light, and it finds us in another state. But I will come at once to the practical point.

III. Are God's mercies new every morning? What then?

Then I call upon you for new praise. I ask, in the name of Jesus Christ, whose new mercy, my brethren and sisters, you and I are always receiving, that our hearts should praise Him hour by hour. Weave new crowns for Christ! Sing new sonnets in honour of His blessed person, and of the mercy which flows to us from Him.

Nay, I ask not merely for wordy praise, but for actions, which shall speak louder than new words. Be not content with what you have done; still out of gratitude be doing something new, if possible As the soldier in conflict marches forward let us do something more advanced. Let us be even as the eagle mounts when he soars to the skies, circling higher and higher; as the wind, when it is gathering in its strength, blowing stronger and stronger. God grant that we may not rest on our laurels, saying, 'We did this when we were young, or gave that yesterday,' but still as the new mercy comes let there be on our part new returns of service. And I ask, not only for these new actions, but for new faith. Let every mercy confirm our confidence in the God of mercy. All these compassions of our covenant God are but so many swift witnesses against our unbelief. All these lovingkindnesses are earnest evidences for the confirmation of our confidence in God. 'At what time' may God say to us, 'At what time have I been false to you? Have I been a wilderness unto Israel? Have I received you for a season, and then cast you away? Have I been slack in blessing you? Have I stinted you in mercy? Have I withheld my lovingkindness?'

You dare not say that God has been illiberal towards you. His mercies have been new every morning. Shall God then have to say to you, 'Thou hast bought Me no sweet cane with money, neither hast thou filled Me with the fat of thy sacrifices, but thou hast made Me to serve with thy sins, and thou hast wearied Me with thine iniquities'? Oh! let Him not need thus to upbraid us, but let our reasoning be, 'What shall I render unto the Lord for all His benefits towards me?' and so let us give Him new praise, new gratitude, and new acts of gratitude.

I ask then for new confidence in God, or, if you cannot mount so high as this, at any rate I ask from all here who have known the faithfulness of God that they would offer Him new prayers. If you have been heard already, pray again. The beggar in the street says, 'Help me this time, and I'll never ask again.' Oh! say not that, thou who beggest at mercy's door, but 'From His mercy draw a plea, And ask Him still for more.'

'Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it,' is the promise. Shake thy wings, and go to God, and expect that He will still exceed thy faith and do for thee exceeding abundantly above all that thou dost ask or even think.

Gathering up much into little, I ask of all Christians the exercise of a holy ingenuity in the inventing of new flans for the honour of Christ. I ask the exercise of a holy perseverance in carrying out those plans into action. I ask every morning for the blazing of a holy zeal, to make the carrying out of these plans to be always fervent and always earnest, that, as His lovingkindnesses are new every morning, so also may our grateful recollections be.

I have no time left to enter into the second sentence, though I had intended to do so, 'Great is Thy faithfulness.' I shall, therefore, only utter these few sentences.

IV. 'Great is Thy faithfulness.'

'Great is Thy faithfulness.' So great that there has never been an exception to it. Thou hast never at any time acted towards any one of Thy people otherwise than according to truth and righteousness. It is a marvellous thing: a man may be very honest, and very upright, and yet if he conducts an extensive business it will be very difficult for him to escape from a charge, sometimes, of having overstepped the mark. He may never have done so, but still it will be very difficult, especially if he has many servants, to escape the charge of such a thing. But our God has had millions of people to deal with, throughout all ages, and yet there stands not beneath the copes of heaven, nor even above the stars, a single soul that can say that God in any transaction has ever dealt with him otherwise than according to faithfulness.

But, further than that. No item in the whole roll of Divine promises has been omitted by God towards us. Old Joshua said, 'Not one thing hath failed of all the good things the Lord your God spake concerning you.' If a man shall make many promises I will defy him to keep them all, because even if he be able to keep them, yet still he will not always be able to recollect them. But God remembers every promise that He ever made, and He takes care to honour each of those promises in the experience of those who believe in Him. They who trust in Him shall find God to be good not only in great things, but also in little things; while He keeps the oath of His covenant fast for ever, His faintest word shall abide, and the least truth which He has ever declared shall never grow dim. He is a tree, the leaf whereof shall not wither; He bringeth forth His fruit in His season. The glory of all God's faithfulness is that no sin of man has ever made Him unfaithful. Unbelief is a most damning thing, and yet, though we believe not, He abideth faithful. His children may kick against His law, and they may wander far from His statutes, and He may visit them with stripes, and yet saith He, 'My lovingkindness will I not utterly take away from him, nor suffer My faithfulness to fail.' God's saints may fall under the cloud, and provoke the Most High, yet He will have compassion upon them, and turn unto them and say, 'I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for Mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.' No sin of man can make Him unfaithful.

And, once again, no exigence that can by possibility arise can ever compel God to be unfaithful to His people. If the whole world shall go to wreck and ruin, yet He will bear up the pillars of His peoples' hope. When His saints cannot be safe under heaven He will take them up to heaven. When He shall bid the tongues of fire rise up to consume this world, and the elements shall dissolve with fervent heat, if we are alive and remain at the coming of the Son of Man we shall be caught up together with the Lord in the air. God always provides an ark for Noah before He sends the deluge; He always has a mountain ready for Lot before He destroys Sodom. If His David must be driven from the court, he shall be housed in Engedi, and if, by-and-by, the Philistines shall come against the land, yet still He shall take care to raise up His servant who shall deliver His people from the enemy. At the pinch God will be there. You may count and reckon that He has not forgotten; that when the clock strikes and the bell tolls the hour God will arise for the defence of His people, and show Himself strong on the behalf of all them that trust in Him.

Settle it in your minds, beloved, that He cannot lie. Believe every man to be a liar if you will, but never believe that God can fail you. If thou speakest in thy soul after this fashion: 'Sometimes I see the wicked prosper, and I am in tribulation and distress; and my spirit saith, "Hath God forgotten? Will He give all the good things to those who curse Him, and cause His people to be chastened evermore?" ' Speak thou that in thy soul softly, and then add, 'Yet though all things thus seem, I know that God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart, and though He slay me yet I will trust in Him; the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord; it is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him good; in quietness and patience shall be thy strength; trust in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed.' Cast not away your confidence which hath great recompense of reward. Hold to that faith as the Grecian warrior held to his shield. Therein lies your safety. God help you still clinging to Him. When you cannot rejoice in the light of His countenance, trust in the shadow of His wings, and even there, like David, you may learn to rejoice.

I leave the subject with you for your future meditations, and pray God to quicken in every one of His people a life of holy joy and confidence.

Oh! that some of you who listen to these words knew anything at all of the experiences of God's people! You that live the life of sense and have no faith in God, little know what I mean, for though I have talked largely of the sorrows of God's people, yet the joys of faith are unspeakable. One drop of God's love would sweeten a sea of gall. Ay, I was almost about to say that even the pangs of hell would lose their bitterness if a drop of the love of Christ could once flow there, and be tasted bv those who are lost. Christian, you know already what it is to find roses among the thorns, and to find your pangs and your sufferings to be soul-enriching things, messengers from the King which bring you unto His banquet of wine, and lead you to the discovery of the treasures hidden in the sand. You know this. Tell it to the ungodly, and mayhap their mouths will be set a-watering after the good things of Christ's table. When they once long for them they shall have them, for Christ never refuses a hungry one. And if there be such an one here, a poor, empty, destitute soul, remember, mercy's door stands always open, and Christ, the Host of the Gospel Inn, stands always ready to receive every soul that comes, having written this over the door of the Inn, 'Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out!'