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REIGNING GRACE
NO. 330
DELIVERED ON SABBATH MORNING, AUGUST 26, 1860,
BY THE REV. C. H. SPURGEON,
AT EXETER HALL, STRAND.
“That as sin has reigned unto death, even so might grace reign through
righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Rom_5:21.
I shall not pretend to enter into the fullness of this text, but merely select that topic, “Grace reigns through
righteousness unto eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Our Apostle represents man as being subject to two great kings. Sin is the grim tyrant, to whom, in the first place,
man has bowed his willing neck. The reign of sin is a reign of terror and delusion. It promises pleasure but being full of
all manner of deceivableness, of unrighteousness, it gives pain even in this world—and in the world to come—death
eternal. An awful contemplation is that of the reign of sin. Permitted to come into this world as an usurper—having
mounted its throne upon the heart of man by flattering blandishments and crafty pleasantries, it was not long before it
fully developed itself.
Its first act was to smite Eden with blast and mildew by its breath. Its next act was to slay the second child of man
and that by the hand of the eldest-born. Since then, its reign has been scarlet with blood, black with iniquity and fraught
with everything that can make the heart of man sad and wretched. Oh sin, you tyrant monster, all the demons that ever
sat upon the throne of Rome were never such as you are. And all the men, who, from the wild north, have come forth as
the scourges of man, the destroying angels of our race, though they have waded up to their knees in the blood of mortals,
have never been so terrible as you are. You have reigned unto death and that a death eternal—a death from which there
shall be no resurrection—a death which casts souls into an eternal grave—a grave of fire.
Our Apostle now changes the subject and represents man under the gracious state, as rejoicing in another
government, ruled by another king. Just as sin has reigned and with despotic and irresistible power has ground his
subjects in the very dust and then cast them into the flames, so does grace with irresistible goodness, constrain the chosen
multitude to yield obedience and thus prepares them for eternal bliss. Look, it lifts up the beggar from the dunghill and
makes him to sit among princes.
Mark its shining course and behold it blessing the sons of man wherever it stretches out its silver scepter, chasing
away the misery of night and giving the gladsomeness of Gospel day—sending back the fiends of discord and of cruelty
to the dens from which they once escaped. See its bidding the angels of mercy keep perpetual watch and ward over the
sons of Adam who have given themselves up to its sway of the kingdom of grace.
My business this morning is not with sin, but with grace—a pleasing and a glowing theme. May God fill souls and
touch our tongue, that we may speak of those things which we may have touching the King and may God greatly bless
what shall be said to each of our hearts. I shall invite you, first of all, to see grace in its reigning acts and then I shall bid
you come with joy and wonder and behold grace as it sits upon its Throne.
I. First, then, I shall need your attention to a series of pictures, in which you shall see grace manifesting its
REIGNING POWER and reigning, too, in places the most unlikely ever to have yielded to its power. Come with me
then, Brothers and Sisters and I will take you in spirit to the Valley of Vision. See, strewn there among the rugged rocks,
the bleached and dried bones of the house of Israel—a skull there and the arm which once was allied to it, scattered so far
apart that human wisdom could not bring them bone to bone, much less could human strength clothe the bones with
flesh.
Death reigns there—that irresistible all-subduing power, before whom monarchs and all their armies, though they
be numberless as the host of Xerxes, must bow themselves. O, Death! We come this day to see you defeated, to see you cast
from your throne. But who shall do it? Come forth, you ministers of Christ and see what you can do. Here are souls
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spiritually dead—no, dry—as far away from hope as the bones of the morgue are from life. Come, you ministers, attune
your eloquence and see what you can do.
Behold, Chrysostom speaks, the golden-mouthed John showers forth his marvelous sentences, but the bones stir not.
And now Whitfield speaks with seraph voice as though he would move Heaven and earth, but there is not a motion
among those crisp particles that once might have lived, but which live no more. Come, Isaiah and let us hear your
thundering appeals, or you, Jeremy, cannot your tears bedew these bones with the circulating drops of life? Come,
Ezekiel, with your eagle eye and with your soaring wing, or you Daniel, with your fiery words piercing through the
thick clouds of the future and exposing, as with lightning fire, the glory that is to come.
I hear them speak and Seer follows Seer in noble emulation of earnest utterance, but the dry bones move not. They
are locked in the fell embrace of death and life comes not to them even by these living words. Alas, eloquence and human
might and wisdom and rhetoric and logic—yes, and zeal and earnestness and God-given passion—cannot wake the soul
of the spiritually dead. Though all the men whom God has chosen to be His representatives from the beginning of the
reign of grace even to the end thereof—though all should strive and persuade and plead with eloquence that might move
a rock, yet souls dead in trespasses and sin could not and would not live by power so weak as this.
Come, you Apostles and confessors, Paul and Peter and John and all the holy brotherhood of inspired ambassadors!
Come, I say and spend your strength in vain, for apart from Divine Grace, you cannot charm the dull cold ear of death,
or stir the torpor of a spirit dead in sins. And now Moses, you who did smite the first-born of Egypt, the chief of all her
strength—come you forth and lift up the fiery tables of stone and bid these men live by the works of the Law. But no, he
declines the futile task. He knows that he is of no power to deal with souls that are dead.
But hearken, the voice Divine exclaims with trumpet voice, “Almighty Grace, arise and quicken these dead souls,”
and behold, grace stands before you, in angel form—no, better in the form of Man, or rather incarnate God, and I hear
Him say, “Thus says the Lord, You dry bones live.” Hark to the rustling as every bone hastens to its fellow! See how the
skeleton starts upright and how the flesh grows on the frame. “Come from the four winds, O breath and breathe upon
these slain, that they may live!” It is done and in the place of a morgue you see an army and what once seemed to be the
rubbish and sweepings of a tomb now stands before you a great host as the host of God, a host of men full of life and who
shall soon be clothed with glory. “Grace reigns unto eternal life.”
Ah, do you understand this parable? Has this act ever been performed in you? Oh, there are some of you over whom a
mother wept and for whom a father prayed. And many a time have these eyes wept for you, too. I have longed for your
soul’s salvation and sought out goodly words which might move your heart. But you were like the deaf adder, you would
not hear nor be charmed—charm we never so wisely.
Ah, but glory be to God, you heard at last. How was it? How was it, I say? Speak! Speak! You that have been
brought out from spiritual death, how was it accomplished? By the might of the creature? By the power of the Law? By
the energy of nature? “No,” unanimously you cry, “Grace has done it, God’s Grace has reigned in us unto eternal life.”
Rest awhile now, and come with me and behold another scene. The man is alive. He has been quickened—but no
sooner is he quickened than he feels the terrible bondage of sin. See him yonder? I see him now in vision before my very
eyes. He is a man who has been a drunkard, a swearer and all else that is vile. All manner of sins has he committed, but
now he feels that this mode of life will surely end in eternal death and he therefore longs to escape. But see how he is
bound with a hundred chains and held in bondage by seven fierce and strong devils!
See him yonder? The hot sweat is on his brow while he strives to free his right arm of one huge bloated devil, called
drunkenness, who seeks to hold him down and rivet the fetters about his wrist. See how he struggles with foot and hand,
for he is a prisoner everywhere, like Laocoon of old, whom the serpents enfolded from head to foot, although he strove to
rend away those awful folds and to escape the jaws which stained his holy fillets with their venom.
Shall that man ever be delivered? Can that slave of lust snap fetters so strong which have for years been about him till
they have grown into his very flesh and become part of his nature? Shall that lip be freed from the propensity to swear?
Can that heart be delivered from pride? Shall that foot be so turned from all its paths that it shall hate the road of
wickedness? And shall that eye no longer be filled with lust and crime, but shall it flash with purity and joy?
Come here, Sirs, you that are wise. You who understand how to reform mankind—come and ply your arts upon him
and see what you can do. The man sincerely longs to be delivered, but when he thinks he has pulled off one coil of the old
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serpent, lo—like a huge constrictor it has folded itself again. He goes back again, like the sow that was washed to her
wallowing in the mire. There seems for him no deliverance. His nature still is vile and though he longs to be free, yet that
nature has the mastery over him.
Oh, some of you know what this means. You know how you took the pledge, perhaps a dozen times, but you broke it
as often. You know how you promised yourself you would never curse God again, but in a moment of passion you were
overpowered and again the oath came trembling from your tongue. All these things—all your resolutions and your vows
were powerless. They could not deliver you. They could not set you free. But, Grace—come here and see what you can do.
Grace speaks the word and says, “Get you hence, Satan—Avaunt you Fiends—let the man be free.” And free he is, no
more to be a slave.
Now he hates the things which once he loved. Now he abhors the vice in which he once indulged. Now to be holy is
not hard for him. It would be harder far to make him live in sin as once he did. His nature is changed. Grace has so
entirely created new the man that he is a new creature in Christ Jesus and he runs with delight and joy in all the paths of
holiness. Grace has done it. Grace reigns unto eternal life.
But now come with me to another scene. There in the prison of conviction bound in affliction and iron—there sits a
miserable wretch. The walls of his dungeon are of solid granite and the door thereof is of brass, with many bolts most fast
and firm. The captive sits both day and night with tangled hair, weeping, weeping, weeping. Ask him why and his answer
is, “I have sinned—I have sinned and I cannot look up. Beneath me there is the yawning gulf of death and deeper still a
devouring Hell. Above me there is an angry God and a judgment-seat blazing with vengeance. Within me there is an
accusing conscience, the foretaste of the wrath to come.”
“But is there not hope for you?” “No,” says he, “none. I am righteously bound and it is only longsuffering mercy
which spares me yet a little while, for if I had my due deserts I should be taken out to execution and that at once.” Oh,
come here, you sons of mirth and see what you can do for this poor prisoner. Can your music and your dancing open
yonder gates, or shake those Adamantine walls? Come here, you that are masters of the art of consolation, see what you
can do. But as one that sings songs to a sad heart and as vinegar upon niter, so are you.
In vain even the minister himself, knowing the blessings of the Gospel, sets before that man the grace of Christ and
the riches of His love. All that the minister can say, though sent of God, seems but to plunge him deeper in the mire.
“Ah,” groans the mourner, “Christ is merciful, but I have no part in Him. Yes, I know He is able to save the chief of
sinners, but not such an one as I am. My heart is too hard, too vile.” He puts from him the way of salvation and goes back
again to his cold stony state, weeping, weeping, weeping, both by night and day.
Grace, come and see if you can reign even here. I see him come and bearing in his hand the Cross, he speaks to the
prisoner and cries, “Look here, look here,” and oh, let us wonder to tell it, when the prisoner lifts his eyes he sees a
Savior bleeding on the tree and in a moment a smile takes the place of his sorrow. He receives the oil of joy for mourning
and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. “Rise, rise,” says Grace, “you are free, you are free. Shake yourself
from the dust, pluck off your sackcloth and put on your beautiful garments. Lo,” says he, “see what I have done.”
And he breaks the gates of brass and cuts the bars of iron in pieces. As the walls of Jericho fell down before the blast
of the trumpet, so fall the walls of the dungeon and the man finds himself rejoicing and glad and free—an heir of Heaven,
a child of God, his feet are set upon the Rock and his goings are established. Oh, Grace Divine, what have you done?—
you are indeed triumphant, O reigning Grace, where despair itself had triumphed.
Thus have I painted you three pictures. O that I had the hand of those mighty masters who could depict these things
until they stood out visibly before your eyes. I shall want your patience this morning—I know I shall have your attention
as I take you from place to place and show you how God’s Grace reigns. And now, the sinner set free both from the chains
of his old lusts and of his old despairing, says within himself—
“I’ll to the gracious king approach,
Whose scepter mercy gives;
Perhaps he may command my touch,
And then the suppliant lives.”
I see him journeying towards a palace exceeding fair and beautiful to look upon. As he enters the gate, he hears a
whisper in his heart which is, “This is the Palace of Justice, you will be driven forth with shame from these walls for you
are too vile to have an audience here.” Ah, but says he—
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“I can but perish if I go,
I am resolved to try;
For if I stay away I know
I must forever die.”
He traverses the passages of the house with beating heart, until at last he comes to the audience chamber and there,
enthroned on light, he beholds a glorious King. The sinner dares not so much as look up, for he knows not whether he
shall feel devouring fire, or whether mercy shall speak to him with her silver voice.
He trembles. He all but faints. When lo, reigning Grace who sits smiling upon a throne of love, stretches out its
scepter and says, “Live, live.” At that sound the sinner revives, he looks up and before he has fully seen the wondrous
vision, he hears another voice—“Your sins which are many are all forgiven you. I have blotted out like a cloud yours
iniquities and like a thick cloud your sins. I have chosen you and not cast you away,”
And now, the sinner, bowing low before the Throne of Mercy, begins to kiss its feet with rapture and delight and
Mercy cries, “Rise, rise, my beloved one. I have put a fair jewel upon your neck. I have clothed you with ornaments—I
have decked you with pearls and precious stones as a bridegroom decks out his bride. Go then and rejoice, for you are my
son who was lost, but are found, who was dead, but is alive again.”
Never, perhaps, does Grace seem more glorious than when, with the silver scepter in her hand, she touches the
despairing, fainting sinner and cries, “Live.” My soul remembers that glad hour. I speak from out of the fullness of my
heart. Oh, you golden moment, you shall never be forgotten, when Mercy said, “Son, be of good cheer, your sins are
forgiven you.”
But we must pass on. The man has now become a forgiven one—a saint—but Grace has not ceased to reign, nor has
he ceased to need its reign. It is after sin is forgiven that the battle begins. If we had only grace enough to transform us
from sinners into saints, it were not worth having, because saints would soon return to their sins—unless grace were
constantly bestowed.
And now let me show you a saint after he has been renewed by grace. There he stands, Sir, and did you ever see a man
in such a position as that! You have heard of battles and you have sometimes read the story of some valiant hero around
whom the battle made fearful center. He had to fight, with horses slain beneath him, standing on heaps of bodies which
he had slain. Behold his ardor, his courage, his burning valor, as he finds that he is the target for all arrows, that all the
battle-axes and the spears are dashed and thrust against his person—that every son of wrath is thirsting for his blood.
See now, he hurls about him a hail of iron blows. Right, left and all around, his sword sweeps in awful circle. Now
such is the true Christian—such and yet more solemn is his position. There has never such a fight been seen on earth as
that man must wage who hopes to enter into the kingdom of Heaven, for no sooner are we converted than at once Hell is
alive against us and earth is on fire with anger and we have both earth and Hell to dispute our salvation.
Young Christian do you tremble? Let me do with you as Elias did with his servant of old. Young man, you see horses
and chariots that are innumerable—come with me and I will pray for you and touch yours eyes. What see you now?
“Oh,” says he, “I see the mountain full of horses of fire and chariots of fire that are round about Elijah,” Blessed be his
name, it is no vision—it is the very truth—“More are they that are for us than all they that be against us.”
And if the fray thickens, angels shall rush to the valley with their good swords to drive back the foe and the
standard-bearer shall not fall, though fall full well he may. The soldier of Christ shall stand, for underneath him are the
everlasting arms. He shall tread upon his enemies and shall destroy them, in the words of Deborah of old, “Oh my soul,
you have trod down strength.” So then, Grace reigns in the thick battle of temptation and makes those who are the
subjects of its kingdom more than conquerors through Him that has loved them.
To push further still. The man, being kept in temptation, has a work to do for his Lord. I have often felt that there is
no case where grace reigns more powerfully than in the use which God makes of such poor, infirm, feeble, decrepit
creatures as His servants are. Let me show you a picture of grace reigning. Do you see Peter there in the hall, afraid of a
little maid? He denies his Master and with oaths and curses he says, “I know not the Man.”
Wait awhile. Some six or seven weeks have passed and there is a great crowd in the streets. There is a multitude
gathered from all countries—Parthians, Medes, Elamites and the dwellers in Mesopotamia. Who is to preach to them—
who shall be the minister? Grace—to your honor let it be told—you did not select John who stood at the foot of the
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Cross. Nor he who was surnamed Zelotes, because of his zealousness—no, Peter, who denied his Master—must come
forth to own him afresh.
And here he comes. Methinks I see him. Perhaps as he ascends the place where he is to speak his heart whispers to
him, “Simon, son of Jonas, what are you doing here?” The cock crows, Simon, and it reminds you that you did deny your
Lord, what are you doing here? And then conscience seemed to say, “Are you the man to be a preacher—you? Give
place. Can you hope to do any good, or to save immortal souls, such a feeble head-strong, presumptuous worm as you
are?”
But Grace is with him. Grace has touched his lip and the cloven tongue is like a sword of fire within his mouth. He
comes forward—and he begins to speak. Soon the heavenly fire descends from him upon the multitude and that day,
three thousand Baptisms tell what God can do and how grace can reign in the feeblest instrumentality. I am the living
witness that God can make use of the weakest means to accomplish the mightiest results.
In that day when you shall review the sling of David and the ox-goad of Shamgar, when you shall have to look back
upon Jael’s nail and these little things which have done great exploits, then shall I beg you to write down my name as that
of one by whom many souls have been saved, but who, himself has wondered more than you all, whenever God has blessed
him and whenever a soul has been saved by such an unworthy one. Grace, grace, you can prevail. You have done it, you
can make use of the meanest instruments to produce the grandest effects and to increase your glory among men!
I must still trespass upon you while I take you to another spot, to show you how Grace can reign where you little
think it would ever live at all. The sea is agitated with a great storm and a man has just been thrown into the sea, it is
Jonah. A fish has swallowed him. That fish dives into unfathomable depths, till the ocean has covered up both fish and
Prophet. The earth with her bars is about him forever. The weeds are wrapped about his head. As the creature sucks in
mouthful after mouthful of its food, there lies this man and yet he lives.
Grace is there preserving his life. Grace was there, even when the fish was led to swallow him. But can that man ever
find deliverance? Is he not in trouble too great and cast out from the very presence of God? Listen! he groans out of the
darkness of that living prison. He begins to cry, towards the temple of God. Grace, Grace, come forth—she divides the
sea—she speaks to Leviathan—he comes up upon the dry land, he vomits forth the Prophet and he lives.
Have you ever seen the like of that in your own case? Have you ever been in a strait and a trouble so difficult that you
imagined there was no deliverance? If you ever have, I turn you to your own history as an illustration of how grace can
reign in redeeming you out of the most terrible trials. I tell you Brethren, if all the troubles that ever came from Heaven,
all the persecutions that ever came from earth and all the afflictions that ever arose from Hell could meet on your poor
devoted head, the reigning Grace of God would make you master of them all.
You have never need to fear. Storms are the triumph of His art and Grace can steer the ship the better for
tempestuous waves. Trust in the Lord and do good. Rest on His Grace and hope in His mercy. When the water is very
deep He will put His hand beneath your chin, so that you shall not lose your breath. Or if you shall sink, He will sink
with you. And if you should go to the very bottom, He will be at the very bottom with you. Wherever you go, He will be
your companion, saying to you, “Fear not, I will help you. I will be with you. When you go through the waters you shall
not be drowned and when you go through the fire you shall not be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon you.”
I have thus shown you Grace reigning in the midst of spiritual death, spiritual bondage, spiritual despair—grace
reigning in the effort of judgment, grace in the battle of temptation, grace in the quagmires of infirmity and grace
triumphant also in the midst of our direst afflictions. I shall need to give you but one other picture—grace reigning in
the hour of death—and triumphing in the moment of our entrance into Heaven.
Last Friday evening, as I lay upon my bed having been much tossed about and tempted and tried, it pleased God to
visit his servant and cheer him somewhat. And among many sweet thoughts which gladdened my mind, I fell into a halfsleeping
and half-waking state and I thought I saw an angel who came from the upper skies and who had in his hand a
crown. He said to me, “You have fought the good fight, behold your reward.” And I waved my hand and said, “No, no, I
cannot receive it. I am not worthy of it. I cannot take it.”
He said, “Heaven lies before you—enter.” And I said “No, I cannot. I deserve it not. I have no claim to any reward,
no right to any rest, though it will be given to the children of God.” And he looked at me and he said, “It is of grace and
not of merit.” Then I thought I would take the crown, but lo! I awoke and the dream was over. Yes, and I mused on that
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a long, long while and I thought, if Heaven were by merit, it would never be Heaven to me, for if I were even in it I
should say, “I am sure I am here by mistake. I am sure this not my place. It is not my Heaven. I have no claim to it.”
I should walk among the redeemed with their golden harps and say, “No, no, you have what you have fought for and
have won, but I am an intruder here.” I should be afraid of losing an inheritance to which I had no title and of being cast
out at last from a portion which I had no right to have obtained. But if it is of God’s Grace and not of works—why,
then, we may walk into Heaven with boldness. We may receive the crown with gladness and sit down with the redeemed
with joy and confidence. I protest I never could enter Heaven, even if I might, if it were not of grace.
I dare not in common honesty enter. Neither you nor I could claim a reward, or could ever dare to take it as a
merited recompense. It must be given simply of God’s free love and covenant faithfulness, or else indeed when given we
should seem like robbers who had taken to ourselves what was not ours and should always feel that the possession was
not safe, because the title was not sound. It is of grace, then.
And so, Beloved, when you come to die, grace shall bear you up in the midst of Jordan and you shall say, “I feel the
bottom and it is good.” When the cold waters shall chill your blood, grace shall warm your heart. When the eye gathers
the death-glaze and the light of earth is being shut out from you forever, grace shall lift the curtains of Heaven and give
you visions of eternity. And when at last the spirit leaps from time into eternal space, then grace shall be with you to
conduct you to your Father’s house.
And when the Judgment Throne is set, grace shall put you on the right hand. Grace shall robe you about with Jesus’
righteousness. Grace shall make you bold to stand where sinners tremble and Grace shall say to you, “Come, you blessed
of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”—
“It lays in Heaven the topmost stone.
And well deserves the praise.”
And now I have conducted you into the many scenes, or rather into a few of them, where grace reigns. I want you
now, if you can, before we close, to take by faith a view of GRACE SITTING ON ITS THRONE.
Begone vain thoughts, far removed be every worldly imagination now. We are about to come into an awful presence
and well may we cry, “Put off your shoes from off your feet, for the place whereon you stand is holy ground.”
Methinks I see the Throne of Grace. It is but through a glass darkly, but these eyes behold it. The Throne is placed
upon the eternal hills of God’s immutable purpose and decree. Deep settled in unfailing wisdom and unswerving love
these mountains never move. There they stand. While nature changes they move not and though the sun may rise and set,
they abide forever and forevermore the same. The Throne itself, standing upon those lofty hills has for its pedestal Divine
Fidelity, Divine Faithfulness and the Eternal Will of God. Did ever see such a Throne as that? The thrones of monarchs
rock and reel, but this is settled and abides forever in God’s faithfulness and truth.
It is true that the throne of many a dynasty has been cemented by blood and so is this, indeed, but not with the blood
of murdered men, or of soldiers slain in battle. To make this Throne secure it is cemented with the precious blood of the
Son of God, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot. No, as if this did not suffice, this Throne is settled by the
eternal oath. God swears by Himself because He can swear by no greater, that by two immutable things wherein it was
impossible for God to lie, we might have strong consolation who have fled for refuge to Christ Jesus our Lord.
Oh, Grace—I see your Throne, I mark its solid base! A faithful and unchanging God lays the foundation of this
throne in oaths and promises and blood. And now look upward. Do you see the shining steps? The throne is of pure
white alabaster and every step is of solid light. The steps are the Divine openings of Providence as He gradually develops
His mighty scheme. And see on either side—as on the Throne of Solomon there were lions that did lie upon the steps—so
on either side of the steps of the Throne of Grace I see two lions ready to guard and protect it. And who are these? Their
names are Justice and Holiness. Let any attempt to assail that Throne and Justice will devour them and Holiness with its
fiery eyes will utterly consume them.
Oh, glorious thought, Christian! That very Justice which once seemed to stand in the way of Grace is one of the lions
which guard the Throne. And that very Holiness which seemed once to put a barrier between your soul and bliss, now
stands there as a mighty one to guard the seat and Throne of Sovereign Grace.
Now look upward, if your eyes can bear the light. You cannot see the full form and visage of the Lord of Grace—the
King. But if you can dimly discern it—I see upon that Throne, One who—
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“Looks like a Lamb that has been slain,
And wears His priesthood still.”
Yes, though you cannot see Him, yet He sees us and that Divine image is scattering mercies upon us even now. The eyes of
Grace are the suns of the spiritual universe. The hands of Grace scatter lavish bounties throughout all the Church of the
first-born and those lips of Grace are uttering continually those once unspoken decrees which speak when they are
fulfilled and carried out in gracious providences.
But come here and look upward. Bow yourself in that Presence before which the angels cry, “Holy, holy, holy,” and
veil their faces with their wings. See above the Throne and above the image and likeness of Him that sits thereon—above
that Throne of Grace, behold, behold, THE CROWN. Was ever such a crown? No, it is not one, it is many—there are
many crowns and many jewels in each of the many crowns. And from where came these crowns of grace? Oh, they are
crowns that have been won in fields of fight. They are crowns, too, that have been given by grateful hearts.
And there, as I gaze, methinks I see many a soul that was once black with sin, made bright and sparkling and there it
is in the crown of grace, glittering like a diamond and, my soul, shall you be there? Shall you be one of those everglittering,
undimmed jewels? Shall you be in that crown? Oh, glorious day, when shall you come, when I shall be a real
jewel in the crown of Jesus? But are you not there now, Brothers and Sisters? Have you not crowned Jesus Christ already,
some of you? Have not you in your songs and in your fires, felt that you must crown Him? And often, as we have sung
that hymn, could you not sing it again?—
“All hail the power of Jesus’ name,
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem,
And crown Him Lord of all.”
Jesus, we crown You, we crown You. All hail! All hail! You King of kings—You God of love. Behold Your Church
bows herself before You—
“With vials full of odor sweet,
And harps of sweeter sound.”
The elders chant before Your presence and we, even we, adore You. Though silver of angelic praise and gold of perfect
melody we cannot boast—yet such as we have we give You. Unto Him that sits upon the Throne—unto Him that lives
and was dead—unto Grace, in the Person of the Lord Jesus, be glory and honor and majesty and power and dominion
and might, forever and ever. Amen.
Adapted from The C.H. Spurgeon Collection, Version 1.0, Ages Software, 1.800.297.4307