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March 2008


from C H Spurgeon

Although best known as a preacher, C H Spurgeon (1834-1892) was also a prolific letter writer. It has been written of him that he maintained such a large correspondence that letter writing might have been his sole occupation. Thankfully it was not so, though his preserved letters make most profitable reading. Here are a few brief selections.

To his father

How sweet is prayer! I would be always engaged in it. How beautiful is the Bible! I never loved it so before; it seems to me as necessary food. I feel that I have not one particle of spiritual life in me but what the Spirit placed there. I feel that I cannot live if He depart; I tremble and fear lest I should grieve him.

To his mother

Many very happy returns of your Birthday! In this instance, my wish will certainly be realised, for in Heaven you are sure to have an eternity of happy days. May you, in your coming years, live beneath the sweet smiles of the God of peace; may joy and singing attend your footsteps to a blissful haven of rest and tranquillity!

To his fiancée

How I love you! I long to see you; and yet it is but half-an-hour since I left you. Comfort yourself in my absence by the thought that my heart is with you. My own gracious God bless you in all things – in heart, in feeling, in life, in death, in Heaven! May your virtues be perfected, your prospects realised, your zeal continued, your love to Him increased, and your knowledge of Him rendered deeper, higher, broader … May we be mutual blessings …

To one of the orphan boys

I was so pleased with your little note. It was so good of you, with all your pain, to sit up and write to me. I hope when the spring weather comes you will feel better, but if not, you know of the ‘sweet fields beyond the swelling flood’ which ‘stand dressed in living green’. The Lord Jesus will be very near you. He feels for dear suffering children. He will keep you patient and joyful. Oh, how He loves! If there is anything you want, be sure to let me know.

To a friend

This is now the third week of my sickness, but things are brighter. I can write, as you see, and I can walk across a room, and I can think, and I can trust, and not be afraid. Bless the Lord with me.