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Updated: June 18, 2025
After quoting the old verse: 'Tis a point I long to know, Oft it causes anxious thought; Do I love the Lord or no, Am I His or am I not? Mr. Spurgeon made a humorous parody of the verse by making it read: 'Tis a point I long to know, Oft it causes anxious thought; Do I love my wife or no, Am I hers or am I not?
This distinction between Spurgeon and Luther in the matter of strength is an important one; and it is, moreover, a distinction which may easily be derived even if no other source lay open to us from a palpable difference between their faces.
The souls of all men were equally precious in his sight and the value of an immortal creature beyond all estimation. In relation to Mr. Spurgeon, we cannot do better than place ourselves under Mr. W. Y. Fullerton's direction. Mr. Fullerton knew Mr. Spurgeon intimately, and the standard biography of the great preacher is from his pen. Mr.
The sermon occupied exactly an hour in the delivery, and was listened to throughout with profound attention. When it was over, Mr. Spurgeon held a sort of levee from the pulpit, the people pressing round to shake his hand, and it was nearly nine o'clock before the last of the congregation had passed away, leaving Wycliffe's Tree to its accustomed solitude. The next time I heard Mr.
Craik, better known as Miss Muloch; Matthew Arnold, poet, educationalist, critic, whose verse should outlive his criticisms; the noble astronomer Richard Proctor; Gustave Masson, the careful biographer of Milton; Laurence Oliphant, gifted and eccentric visionary; the naturalist J. G. Wood; the explorer and orientalist Burton; the historians Kinglake, Froude, and Freeman; the great ecclesiastics Bishop Lightfoot, Canon Liddon, Archbishop Magee of York, Dean Church, Dean Plumptre, and the Cardinals Newman and Manning; Tennyson and Browning, poets whose mantle has yet fallen on none; Huxley and Tyndall, eminent in science; the justly popular preacher and writer Charles H. Spurgeon; the orator and philanthropist John Bright, whose speeches delight many in book-form; and Robert Louis Stevenson, novelist, essayist, poet.
The good Bishop, in tears of admiration, embraces St. Francis, and covers him with his own mantle. I have read the picture to you as, if Mr. Spurgeon knew anything about art, Mr. Spurgeon would read it, that is to say, from the plain, common sense, Protestant side.
After another prayer from the pastor, and one from one of the deacons who accompanied him on the platform and sat behind in the crimson velvet arm-chairs, a third hymn was sung, and Mr. Spurgeon began his short address.
The word "revival" conjures up memories of less strenuous times, when men were concerned with smaller problems, and uninspired by the bitter experience of the present Spurgeon thundering in his Tabernacle, Salvation Army meetings, small gatherings in wayside villages, at which howling sinners were converted and revivalists counted their game by the dozen.
He told me that for many years he went to his pulpit under such nervous agitation that it often brought on violent attacks of vomiting and produced outbreaks of perspiration, and he slowly outgrew that remarkable sort of physical suffering. Twenty years ago Mr. Spurgeon exchanged Helensburgh House for the still more elegant mansion called "Westwood" on Beulah Hill, near Crystal Palace, Sydenham.
How we would all have loved to hear Him sing! But that voice was music at all times, whether in song or speech. Low, modulated, rhythmic, gentle, rich, resonant wondrous music. Those who have heard Spurgeon and Gladstone almost always speak of the rare musical quality in their voices. So, and more would it be with this Jesus. It has been said that the personality reveals itself in the speech.
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