1649. Freshness

A Sermon Delivered On Thursday Evening, February 16, 1882, By C. H. Spurgeon, At The Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington. 5/13/2013

My glory was fresh in me, and my bow was renewed in my hand. [Job 29:20]

I shall be anointed with fresh oil. [Ps 92:10]

For other sermons on this text:
   [See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 1122, “Fresh Grace Confidently Expected” 1113]
   [See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 1649, “Freshness” 1650]
   Exposition on Ps 92 [See Spurgeon_Sermons No. 3290, “God’s Hand at Eventide” 3292 @@ "Exposition"]

1. The first text tells us of the renown of Job, and of the way in which the providence of God continued to maintain the glory of his estate, his bodily health, and his prosperity. He was for many days, months, years continuously prospered by God. Everything to which he set his hand succeeded. God had set a hedge around him and all that he had, so that no one broke through to molest him. He grew richer, he grew more influential, he had more honour in the sight of his fellow men each morning that he walked to the gate. In every way he was advanced from day to day, and that throughout a long stretch of years. His glory was fresh in him. He did not achieve a hasty fame and then suddenly become forgotten. He did not blaze out like a meteor and then vanish into darkness; but he seemed to be continually fresh, vigorous, strong, energetic, and successful. He says that his bow was renewed in his hand: whereas usually the bow loses its force by use, and is less able to shoot the arrow after a little while, and needs to lie still with a slack string, it was by no means so with him. He could send one arrow, and then another, and then another, and the bow seemed to gather strength by use. That is to say, he never seemed to be worn out in mind or body. Whatever he began was started with as great a freshness and zest as the last thing which he had accomplished, and that had been begun with the same energy as the first enterprise of his youth. However, this did not always last, for Job in this chapter is telling us about something that used to be — something that was — something the loss of which he very sorrowfully deplored — “my glory was fresh in me.” He found himself suddenly stripped of riches and of honour, and put last in the list instead of first, while his purposes and goals seemed all to miss their mark, and he had no strength and no glory left in him. Now he had reached the winter of his discontent, and those who previously did him homage became his assailants. As far as glory was concerned, he was forgotten as a dead man out of mind.

2. Now, brothers and sisters, this teaches us a lesson that we do not put our trust in the stability of earthly things. It is said of the world that God has founded it upon the floods. How, then, can we expect it to be substantial? Beneath that moon, continually changing, what can we discover that remains the same? Where the very light of heaven is waxing and waning, what is there except mutability? Change is written on the face of all things. If, then, you have built your nest on high, do not be too certain that you shall die in your nest, for the axe may fell the tree, and bring it down at an untimely date. If your children are all around you in good health, do not be too sure about them, for they may be carried to an early grave, and the parent may still be childless. If so far you have been great in the esteem of men, think less than nothing of that, for the breath of popular applause is more fleeting than a vapour. It scarcely comes before it goes; and those who yesterday cried “Hosanna” in the streets at your coming may, before tomorrow’s sun is set, be crying, “Crucify him! crucify him!” They did that to the Master: do not marvel if they do it to the servants. This is the respect that makes all mortal things insignificant to a wise man: he scarcely will put them among his treasures, for they melt before they are accurately counted, like a coinage of ice. They are only as the counters that a child plays with, having only an imaginary value. The things which are seen are shadows: the invisible things are the only substances. Then count this transient glory of wealth at its proper price, health, or fame. Lay up treasure “where neither moth nor rust corrupts,” and seek for stability in other things than these. Get the feet of your joy upon the Rock of Ages, and consider everything else to be only sand at its very best.

3. David in the second text is talking, I think, about spiritual things, and he tells us with great joy that he should be anointed with fresh oil. He did not expect that his glory would depart, but he expected that it should be renewed. He did not think that the bow would lose its force in his hand, but that God would increase his strength from day to day. And if any of you here who are God’s people have any fears about the future concerning your soul’s matters, — if you are alarmed with the fear that you will share the same lot which Job shared concerning his temporal glory, — I would remind you that Job even in temporals received at last twice as much as he had in his best days, and that God can turn his hand one way as well as another, and brighten your prospects as well as darken them. Prognosticate delight rather than despair. Even the lower springs, shall continue to flow until you are beyond the need of them. Just now it is about spiritual matters that I want to speak; and if you have a fear that you must necessarily decline in these, I would remind you of the words of David, “I shall be anointed with fresh oil,” and, still further on, of his other words, “They shall still produce fruit in old age, to show that the Lord is upright.” Never fall into the notion that a spiritual falling off is inevitable, — there need be nothing of the kind; you may be fresh as the dew even to the end.

4. The subject tonight will run in this way — First, the excellency of freshness: “My glory was fresh in me.” Secondly, the fear of its departure. And, thirdly, the hope of its continuance, which hope is greatly encouraged by the words of our text: “I shall be anointed with fresh oil.”

5. I. First, then, notice THE EXCELLENCY OF FRESHNESS. “I shall be anointed with fresh oil.”

6. David had been anointed while still a youth to be king over Israel. He was anointed yet again when he came to the kingdom, that outward anointing with actual oil was the testimony of God’s choice and the sign of David’s authorization, and often when his throne seemed precarious God confirmed him in it, and subdued the people under him. When his dominion became weak, God strengthened him and strengthened his servants, and gave them great victories; so that as a king he was frequently anointed with fresh oil. David’s royal brow was crowned with fresh laurels again and again, and his throne was settled and established by the hand of the Lord. Not with the same old stale anointing, a repetition of what had lost its force, but with oil fresh pressed from the green olive, namely, David was often anointed with a new blessing and a fresh blessing from God’s right hand, as I trust you and I may be. Freshness is a most delightful thing if you see it in another. It is a charm in nature. The other day, when the wind blew cold, someone said to me, “Yes, but how fresh the air is, and how refreshing, — how different from that heavy, muggy atmosphere in which we were half drowned and almost entirely suffocated only a few days ago.” We want something fresh, and when we get it we are refreshed ourselves. How pleasant to go into the garden and see the spring flowers just peeping up. How agreeable to see the rills, with their fresh water leaping down the hills after showers of rain. The young lambs in the meadows and larks in the sky are delightful because of their freshness. Everything that is fresh seems to have a charm about it for our minds. But, dear friends, spiritual freshness has a double charm. Sometimes we know what it is to have a freshness of soul, which is the dew from the Lord. You remember when first your flesh was as that of a new-born child; I mean when you were newly born again and first knew the Lord. How fresh everything was to you! The pardon of sin — how it sparkled! The righteousness of Christ — how brilliant! The idea of being a child of God — how novel and how delightful! To be joint-heir with Christ — how it almost startled you; it was such a new idea to your spirit. And often since then, when your soul has been in a lively condition, everything has been bright, charming, exhilarating — nothing flat, stale, or unprofitable. Even though you heard the same things said again and again, yet, because your soul was fresh, they came to you with unusual power. Your spiritual food, if you are healthy, is always fresh for you, like the manna in the wilderness, which was never stored a single night except for the Sabbath, but it fell fresh and fresh, and Israel gathered it and fed upon it then and there. Oh, it is a blessed thing to have your soul in a fresh state, filled with the ever-flowing, living water. It is glorious to find everything about you fresh and new through the teaching of the blessed Spirit, so that you go from strength to strength, and like a roe or a young hart, leap from hill to hill. If we are now in the possession of it, may we always keep that freshness of soul, and never lose it.

7. How that freshness is seen in a man’s devotions. Oh, I have heard some prayers that are really musty. I have heard them before so often that I dread the old familiar sounds. I remember hearing some hackneyed expressions when I was a boy. I even now hear the vain repetitions: old, worn-out, good-for-nothing, rubbishing expressions they were then; but still they are brought out by regular prayer-makers. Even where the words are new and original you will hear men pray in such a style concerning matter that you say to yourself, “That prayer came out of Noah’s Ark.” As far as that man is concerned there is nothing at all in it of life, sap, or savour. It has been dead long ago, and hung up to dry until not a particle of juice remains in it. But, on the other hand, you hear a man pray who does pray, whose soul is fully in communion with God, and what life and freshness is there! It may be that his expressions are somewhat rough, but they touch you because they come from his heart. Some of the confessions and petitions are strange to you, perhaps, and yet you feel that they are such strangers as it behoves you to entertain at once. You are glad that such words and thoughts have passed through your spirit and blessed you. You feel that you can pray with such people. Their prayers will go to heaven, for they came from heaven. God has inspired them, and their originality is a part of the seal of the Spirit. I like to hear a brother even stop and stammer because he cannot go on; his heart is too full, and he cannot find words. Oh, but it is blessed to get a little freshness, even if it comes through a breakdown. I suppose that those dear friends who pray by the book of Common Prayer somehow or other manage to put freshness into the prayers. I am always glad that they do, for it shows the vigour of their piety. As for me, I am such a poor, weak thing, that after I have repeated the same words about half-a-dozen times they do me no good. I must use words that suit the time, and suit the state of my heart, and suit my desires, and suit my depressions or my joys, and suit my thankful or mournful heart. One seems to need something fresh in prayer; and when the prayer is old and worn, and seems to have been brushed and turned, and very little made of it after all, why, then it does not strike us, or impress us, or help us. I like to feel freshness even in singing a hymn. It may be that we know the words, but then we must put fresh heart into them, and feel them over again as much as if we were the authors of them; then they become a grand vehicle for our praises. How sweet to sing, as it were, a new song! It is a blessed thing to have a freshness about our devotions, whether they are private or public, exultant or repentant.

8. And so, dear friends, it is good to have a freshness about our feelings. I know that we do not hope to be saved by our feelings; neither do we put feeling side by side with faith; yet I would be very sorry to be trusting and yet never feeling. Surely it would be a dead faith. It would be a strange thing to be a living child of God and to have no feelings. I will tell you about feelings as they strike me. Sometimes I have deplored the condition of my heart before God, and thought my feelings to be the worst that could be; but what a foolish judge I have been, for in a week’s time I have wanted to have those despised feelings over again, and thought that now at last I had fallen into a worse state than before. I am persuaded that we are very poor judges of the value of our own inward feelings, and, maybe, when we are lowest in our own esteem we are really highest in the sight of God; and when we feel as if we did not pray we are praying, and the heart may be wrestling with God more when it fears that it does not pray than when you come down complacently out of your prayer closet and say, “I know that I have had a good time, for I feel perfectly self-satisfied.” I long for truth in the inward parts, and wisdom in the secret places of the soul. Anything is good which rids us of pretence. Oh to be broken to pieces by the hand of God, and for every grain of dust to cry out to him! I believe this mode of praying often prospers beyond any other. At any rate, do not give me stereotyped pretension to feeling, but fresh feeling. Whether it is joy or sorrow, let it be living feeling, fresh from the deep fountains of the heart. Whether it is exaltation or depression, let it be true, and not superficial or simulated. I hate the excitement which needs to be pumped up. There is something delightful to my mind in coming to the throne of grace weeping, — something delightful in coming to the Lord’s Supper full of joy and gladness: to come to either place cold and dead is horrible. There is something delightful in knowing that what you do feel is true, and comes up from the very bottom of your soul, and has a point and edge about it which proves how sincere it is. May God keep us from stale feelings, and give us freshness of emotion.

9. I believe, dear friends, that there is a very great beauty and excellence in freshness of utterance. Do not hinder yourself from that. How I long for it as a preacher. When one has day after day to stand before the same assembly and to talk about the things of God, one dreads lest he should be so monotonous and full of repetition that even the things of God should come to be a weariness to God’s own people. I have often thought that if some brethren, who are very careful to say what they do say extremely well, would be a little more careless and speak as it comes, letting their heart flow over at their lips spontaneously, there would be a far greater freshness about their utterance than there is when every sentence smells of the lamp and reeks of midnight oil. May God forbid that we should say a word against the deepest study and the most profound research of God’s word, but still we may get to be so much students that we scarcely speak like practical men who live among the people. By striving at a very superior style we may fall into a thoroughly inferior one, and all our freshness may be gone. I like, for my part, the wild bird’s note. Men get the bullfinch and teach it to sing a few notes, and then the piping bullfinch is greatly prized. But I have finches outside my window, any one of which will beat any finch in the world that only pipes a note or two, for they pipe much more melodiously, though they were never taught except by God and nature. There is a range of sweetness about their wild notes that a tutored bird cannot reach. Nature, pure and unsophisticated, is the best instrument for grace. I like to hear men speak of God as they have known him, every man in his own order, and with his own voice. Coming fresh, perhaps, from the very haunts of sin, out of which free grace has brought them, let them speak like Israelites fresh from the brick-kilns, — coming from the plough or from the forge wearing all the clothing of their trade, and speaking just as they are, without pretending to be anything other than what they are, and proclaiming God’s amazing love to them, — not quoting the experience of others, but relating their own, this will be their wisdom and strength. Oh, there is a freshness about that, and a great power to catch the ear and to move the heart when God the Holy Spirit is present to bless it.

10. Now, you who have recently been converted, do not go and learn all the pretty phrases that we are accustomed to use. Do not go and sit down at the feet of your dear teacher in the class and feel that you must talk just like him. Strike out on your own course. Be yourself. “But I would be odd,” you say. All right: so is your pastor. You need not mind that. You will not be the only odd fellow around. Be encouraged by that. I think that a little of what people call oddness is just, after all, leaving God’s work alone. All the trees that God makes are odd. The Dutchmen clip them around or make them into peacocks, but that style of gardening is not to our mind. And some people say, “What a lovely tree!” I say, “What a horribly ugly thing it is.” Why not let the tree grow as God would have it? Do not clip yourselves round or square, but keep your freshness. There will be no two Christian men exactly alike if they do that.

11. There should be a freshness, dear friends, about our labour. We ought to serve the Lord today with just as much novelty in it as there was ten years ago. I may even dare to say thirty years ago. Oh, I remember the seriousness with which I went out to preach the first half-dozen sermons I ever preached, and what a burden it was from the Lord; and how I went about it with all my might — very clumsily, but still with all my soul and spirit. And do you remember when you began to teach the class, or began to take your tract district? Did you not pray over it? It seemed almost too good to be true that you should be trusted with doing anything for your Lord and Master. And you did it, oh, so intensely, and therefore you had God’s blessing. You did it well, though you blundered a good deal; for all your heart was in it, your motive was pure, and your faith was childlike. You blundered the right way, for you blundered with your heart, and so blundered into other men’s hearts. Your heart was serving God, even in the mistakes you made. And now, perhaps, you can go around the district, and you are pretty well half asleep over it; and you can teach the class, but there is not the vigour, the force, the energy, the intense desire, the burden that there once was; perhaps not all the joy. You can stand up and preach, dear brother, and you have gotten pretty well accustomed to it; and the people have gotten accustomed to it too, and they can nearly go to sleep, and you can, too, and preach asleep. It is an easy thing to do, if you once learn the wretched art. There is a kind of sleep-walking in preachers: they can talk in their sleep in a very precise way — much more wonderful than walking. You cannot say, “I sleep, but my heart is awake.” The fact is that it is the other way around — “I am awake, but my heart sleeps,” and it is a great pity when it comes to be so. We should pray to God that we may do everything freshly, just as if we had never done it before, only doing it with all the improvements which experience will bring to us. Pray with your children tonight as if it were your first prayer with them. Speak with them about their souls as if you had never mentioned the subject before. Talk about Jesus as if you were telling news. Why, are you not? Is it not always glad tidings? always news fresh from heaven? So may God grant us grace that, when we come to be grey, and when we totter with our staff for very age, yet still we may proclaim the story, if with feebleness of utterance yet with juvenility of heart, feeling that we are producing fruit still even to old age, for the Lord still anoints us with fresh oil.

12. So much for the beauty and excellence of freshness. It ought to run into everything.

13. II. Now, dear friends, in the second place, I will dwell upon the fear of losing it — THE FEAR OF ITS DEPARTURE.

14. I have heard some express the thought that perhaps the things of God might lose their freshness for us by our familiarity with them. I think that the very opposite will turn out to be the case if the familiarity is that of a sanctified heart. In other things “familiarity breeds contempt,” but in the things of God familiarity breeds adoration. The man who does not read his Bible much is the man who has a scanty esteem for it; but he who studies it both day and night is the very man who will be impressed by its infinitude of meaning, until he will be ready to cry, like Jerome, “I adore the infinity of Scripture.” I know that he who prays most loves prayer most; and he who is most occupied with the praises of God is the very person who wishes that he could praise God day and night without ceasing. These things grow on you. Hence I would have no man fear that familiarity with holy things can take away from him their freshness and their beauty. You may drink at other wells until you are no longer thirsty, but, strange to say, this all thirst-quenching water nevertheless produces a much deeper thirst after its own kind. He who eats from the bread of heaven shall hunger for no other, but shall grow ravenous after this. His capacity for feeding on it shall be increased by what he has fed on, and, whereas at first the crumb from under the table might have satisfied him when he knew himself to be only a dog, at last, when he knows himself to be a child, he wishes for everything that is set upon the table.

   Less than thyself will not suffice
      My comfort to restore.

He must have all that is to be had; such is his desire. Dismiss, then, any fear from your mind about that. When we first of all began to break bread on every first day of the week, I heard some say that they thought that the coming to the table so often might take away the impressiveness of the holy feast. Well, I have scarcely ever missed a Sabbath now these twenty years, and I never was so impressed with the solemnity and the sweetness of the Master’s Supper as I am now. I feel it to be fresher every time. When it was once a month I did not have half the enjoyment in it; and I think that where friends have the communion once a quarter, or once a year, as in some churches, they really do not give the ordinance a fair opportunity to edify them. They do not fairly test the value of an ordinance which they so grossly neglect, as it seems to me. No; you may have more, and more, and more, and more of everything that Christ has instituted and ordained, especially more and more of himself; and the more you have the more freshness there will be.

15. Yes, but we have had a fear sometimes that there will be a lack of freshness about ourselves. Well, that fear is a very natural one. Let me tell you some points on which, I fear, we have good reason for alarm, for we do our best to rob ourselves of all life and freshness.

16. Christian people can lose their freshness by imitating each other. By adopting as our model some one form of the Christian life other than what is embodied in the person of our Lord, we shall soon manufacture a set of paste gems, but the diamond flash and glory will be unknown. Many godly people have a very deep sense of their corruption and inward sin, and this, together with a sorrowful spirit, combines to make them a rather gloomy race. Often deeply taught in other respects, they fail to rejoice in the Lord. Certain of these have formed a school, and they have set up a standard, and they judge everyone to be a deceiver or a mere babe in grace who cannot groan as deep down as they can. This is not wise. If you do that you will lose your freshness, for you will for ever be scattering your dust and ashes over all the joys of your life. Why should the children of the bride-chamber mourn while the bridegroom is with them? Let us be happy while we may. There is another set of brethren who are always glad and happy, for they are healthy and competently provided for, and out of the way of temptation, and so they believe that they are perfect: they also set up a standard, and they cut down everyone who cannot sing right up into the alto notes as high as they can. Well, you will get stale, too, brother, whoever you may be, for self-praise never keeps fresh for very long. When we have heard about half-a-dozen brethren boast who they are nearly perfect, it is about as much as some of us can stomach. I cannot stand more than two of them without feeling my pugilistic propensities set in motion. Poor fools, how have they persuaded themselves to hope that self-praise will be thought to be the height of piety? It is nauseous even to those of us who are prepared to make a measure of excuse for the vivid imaginations of the brethren. Drop into one particular groove, and run in it; take up one line of things, and stick to it; and you will very soon find yourself as far from freshness as a bit of leather which has been worked on an engine to revolve for ever and ever in the same course. The beauty of real life lies much in its variety. A brother comes to me on Sunday morning sighing. Thank you, brother, for that: I am glad that you are in that state, for that is the state where I am, and we can sympathize with each other. Perhaps tomorrow I meet this same friend, and he is full of joy and delight, and I say, “Thank you, brother; I am glad to meet someone who is rejoicing in the Lord. You give me a lift up. Now I shall be helped to rejoice in him too.” Sometimes, in this pilgrimage to the Celestial City, I join company with a brother worker who laments that he has many difficulties in dealing with poor sinners. I say to him, “I am glad for that, for I have more difficulties than you; but I see that I am not alone in my anxieties.” I meet another who says that he has been so happy in meeting with souls that have found the Lord; and I reply, “Yes, and I am glad to see you, for I am happy, too, for I have met many who have just found the Saviour.” These changes and ups and downs are like the delightful vicissitudes of the seasons — they are not always autumn, not always spring, not always winter, not always even the plenitude of summer. So with our souls, we are never so long in one state as to find monotony in life. No, the monotony is in death; the freshness is in life. These changes and varieties create a splendid freshness which we might not hope to have if we tied ourselves to some one man’s chariot, and resolved that our experience should be uniformly like his.

17. Another way of spoiling your freshness is by repression. The more feeble kind of Christians dare not say, feel, or do, until they have asked their leader’s permission. I have known a little village chapel in which, when the preacher had delivered a sermon, the people did not know whether he was sound or not until they had asked the principal deacon; or they waited until they got outside and consulted a little clique of good old men and women who had to act as tasters for all the others, and give a verdict concerning the orthodoxy of the performance. A few good souls thought the sermon to be very sweet: the man seemed to be preaching the gospel; but they did not like to commit themselves to the tune until they had gotten the keynote; and when they had seen the brother who led them all, then they knew; and if he said that it was all right, why, then it was all right. Now, dear friend, if you feel that God is blessing you in any religious exercise, take care that you are blest, and let other people who do not like to be blest go without it if they must; but, as for you, be blest when you can. Do not be ashamed to enjoy what others despise. Sit down and quietly feast on the kernel while others are breaking their teeth over the shells. If you feel that you must sing, sing without restraint! Why not? In the kitchen — in the parlour — sing. Never mind if remarks are made; do not worldlings sing to their own liking: why should you not? If sometimes you feel that you cannot sing, well, then, do not sing. Be yourself and be natural, as grace makes you natural, — that is the thing. Let your mind have play, and do not feel as if you went around in fetters, bound to this and pledged to that. In the living kingdom of the living God there is no rule that you groan at eight o’clock in the morning, and sing at twelve o’clock; that you sigh at half-past three, and get the plenitude of the Spirit at a quarter past seven. Nothing of the kind. It is a free Spirit under whose power we dwell, and he comes like the wind and goes like the wind, and acts according to his own pleasure. Lord, uphold me with “your free Spirit.” Do not repress him. “Do not quench the Spirit.” Yield yourselves to his influences, and if you feel inclined to shout, be indecorous enough to do so, and give the praise to God. This is a successful way of keeping up freshness — to have gotten rid of repression, and to be free before God.

18. If we want to keep up our freshness, however, the main thing is never to fall into neglect about our souls. Do you know what state the man is generally in when you are charmed by his freshness? Is he not in fine health? Some of my dear friends were accustomed to call and see me when I was laid up some time ago, and I am afraid that they did not find much freshness about me then. On the contrary, they heard much the same old story — weary nights and painful days: I hope I did not display much impatience, but still the tendency is to give a good deal of telling what one had to endure. There is not much freshness about that. But a man is fresh generally when he is well, and everything is going right within his internal economy. Then he thinks fresh thoughts and uses fresh words, for all around him life is in its flowery age, and sparkles like the morning. I am sure that it is so with the soul. When the soul is healthy, when you are feeding on the bread of heaven, when you are living near to God, when you are believing the promises and embracing them, when you are getting in to the very sunlight of the Lord’s fellowship, oh, it is then that fresh words, and striking words not often heard, will drop from you. Pearls will fall from your lips if those lips have been with Jesus, and he has kissed you with the kisses of his mouth. Do not neglect yourself, then. Let the fountain of the heart be right, and then the freshness will speedily be seen.

19. I have shown you the things by which a man may lose his freshness: avoid them carefully.

20. Those of you who are workers for God may have a fear that you will lose the freshness of your utterances — a fear which haunts a good many of us. Now, that may happen to us by our own fault if there is a lack of searching the word, if there is a lack of fresh acquisitions of sacred knowledge, and it may happen to us again, if we are always gathering the thoughts of others, and do not think for ourselves. Then we shall lose freshness, and become mere dealers in second-hand observations. Many thoughtful brethren are afraid that they may lose it through age. It does happen to men as they grow old that much of the vivacity of youth departs, and we all know ministers who have lost much of their power to edify because their freshness and variety have gone. It is a sad thing that it should have to be so with any of us; but what a blessed thing it is if we can fall back upon that assurance, “I shall be anointed with fresh oil.” Nature decays, but grace shall thrive. The Holy Spirit will renew our youth. The grace of God can give us freshness after nature has ceased to yield it; and it shall be a better freshness; not the dew of our youth, but the dew of the Spirit of the Lord. If Jesus Christ is preached, age becomes an important help in bearing testimony to his faithfulness and power to bless. I can imagine it to be the duty of the aged minister to retire from the prominent sphere where he has long been the preacher, and I hope in my own case I shall not occupy this pulpit an hour too long; but the man of God can find another pulpit, and when he has found that I can suppose him often beginning his youth again as he relates the story of the cross, and speaks of Jesus, and proclaims the doctrines of grace again; beginning in his country sphere much in the same way as he set out at the first. At any rate, he has always that to fall back on, “I shall be anointed with fresh oil”: the Holy Spirit will remain with him continually, and give him an anointing of freshness. And so with you, dear friends. You think, when you have finished addressing the class, “Well, I am pretty well spun out. I shall never be able to get another address.” Shall you not? Read that, — “I shall be anointed with fresh oil.” And you who go out preaching in the villages, and often cry, “I do not know what I shall do for a sermon next Sunday,” think of this and be consoled — “I shall be anointed with fresh oil.” Fall back on that. If you are called to speak to the same people for any length of time it will make the promise all the more dear to you, as you can plead it before God, “Lord, anoint your servant with fresh oil.”

21. I pray that all of us in heart and soul, and life and utterance and labour, may always be kept fresh; and may God grant that we do not backslide, for that would kill our freshness, and put in the place of its sweet smell the foul odours of sin. Oh to be holy, sweet, and vigorous even to the end. May the Lord grant that we may make large requests from him for greater faith, greater love, and greater joy, then we shall have greater freshness. May we also be sustained from within by his blessed Spirit, and so may our freshness continue to our dying day.

22. III. I close with the third point, which is this precious word which gives us HOPE OF ITS RENEWAL. Let us not think that we must grow stale and heavenly things grow old with us.

23. For first, our God in whom we trust renews the face of the year. He is beginning his work again in the fair processes of nature. The dreary winter has passed away. The time of the singing of birds is coming on, and the sweet flowers are peeping out from their graves, enjoying a resurrection of glory and beauty. Now, this is the God whom we serve; and if we have been passing through our winter-time, let us look out for our spring. If any of you have been growing cold of late — if any of you have grown stale and mechanical, and have fallen into ruts, come, look up: look up, and pray for the great Renewer to visit you.

   Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove,
   With all thy quickening powers.

“He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.” It will not take the Lord long to restore you. “His word runs very swiftly.” He speaks even to ice and frost, and by his word they pass away. He only has to will it, and all the congenial days of spring and summer come hurrying on, and the banner of harvest is waving. “Wake up you who sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.” Be hopeful: be joyful. There are better days for you. Put your trust in God, who renews the face of the earth, and look for his Spirit to revive you.

24. Moreover, there is an excellent reason why you may expect to have all your freshness coming back again: it is because Christ dwells in you. Do you not know it? Christ is formed in you the hope of glory; and, if so, your glory will be fresh about you, for he never grows stale. It is God who said of him, “You have the dew of your youth.” Oh, the doctrine of the indwelling of Christ in the believer — let us never forget it! As long as that is a truth there is always a hope for us.

25. Then there is the other grand doctrine of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. He dwells in you. If your bodies are the temples of the Holy Spirit, shall he not be always for you a fountain of new life — a spring of fresh delights? Why, it must be so. The Holy Spirit is not exhausted. His power is not even lessened in any degree whatever. He can make your face to shine again, and your tongue to sing again. He can make your heart to leap again with unspeakable joy. Come, you who sit in dust, begin to rejoice, for God the Spirit is still with you, and shall be with you — the Comforter whom Christ has given never to be taken away. Rejoice in him, and ask him now by his mercy to restore your soul; and he will do it.

26. Oh, what a blessing it is to get very deep down into God’s word, for that word also is always new, and the source of new thoughts in those who feed upon it. This is the Book of yesterday, today, and for ever: the Book which, though many of its verses were written thousands of years ago, is as new as though it were only written yesterday. From the mouth of God the promises come at this moment, full of life and freshness and power. Come to it: it is all yours: every acre of this blessed land of Canaan is yours, and will yield you grain and wine and oil. Every star in the great firmament of Scripture shines for you; you may take every text in all this mighty treasury of God and spend it, and live upon its produce. Therefore, while the word of the Lord is so fresh and so full, it cannot be that you shall be stale in thought and conversation. You shall be anointed with fresh oil. God himself is with you, and he is always full. God himself is with you, and he is living for ever. God himself is with you, and he is ever fresh, and he shall refresh your spirit. Therefore come away: come away from all that is stale and flat, and from all the dead past, and enter into eternal life, where flowers for ever bloom, and fruits for ever ripen, and the fresh springs for ever flow. Come and eat the new grain of the land, and drink the new wine of the kingdom; and may the Lord make you glad in his house of prayer for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

[Portion Of Scripture Read Before Sermon — Ps 92]
[See Spurgeon_Hymnal “The Christian, Courage and Confidence — God Is All Sufficient” 676]
[See Spurgeon_Hymnal “The Christian, Courage and Confidence — Be Of Good Courage” 677]
[See Spurgeon_Hymnal “The Christian, Joy and Peace — God’s Presence Is Light In Darkness” 711]
The Sword And The Trowel. Edited by C. H. Spurgeon.
Contents for March, 1882.
Bible Enterprise. By G Holden Pike.
A Meditation in the longest Psalm. By C. H. Spurgeon.
The Harbour of Refuge.
“To Them That Love God.” By Vernon J. Charlesworth
Among the Tea-planters of the Darjeeling District.
Mental Athletics. By Thomas Spurgeon.
He gave up his class.
Demas.
Henry Moorhouse. By C. A. Davis.
Is it True?
Lambeth Auxiliary Sunday School Union. By C. H. Spurgeon.
Notices of Books.
Notes.
Pastors’ College.
Stockwell Orphanage.
Girls’ Orphanage Building Fund.
Colportage Association.
Society of Evangelists.
Pastors’ College Balance Sheet.
Society of Evangelist.
Loan Building and Reserve Fund.
Passmore & Alabaster, 4 Paternoster Buildings; and all Booksellers.

The Christian, Courage and Confidence
676 — God Is All Sufficient (l.m.)
1 Awake our souls, away our fears,
   Let every trembling thought begone
   Awake, and run the heavenly race,
   And put a cheerful courage on.
2 True, ‘tis a strait and thorny road,
   And mortal spirits tire and faint;
   But they forget the mighty God
   That feeds the strength of every saint.
3 Thee, mighty God, whose matchless power
   Is ever new and ever young,
   And firm endures, while endless years
   Their everlasting circles run.
4 From thee, the overflowing spring,
   Our souls shall drink a fresh supply,
   While such as trust their native strength,
   Shall melt away, and droop, and die.
5 Swift as an eagle cuts the air,
   We’ll mount aloft to thine abode;
   On wings of love our souls shall fly,
   Nor tire amidst the heavenly road.
                           Isaac Watts, 1709.

The Christian, Courage and Confidence
677 — Be Of Good Courage (c.m.)
1 Whence do our mournful thoughts arise,
      And where’s our courage fled?
   Have restless sin and raging hell
      Struck all our comforts dead?
2 Have we forgot the Almighty Name
      That form’d the earth and sea;
   And can an all creating arm
      Grow weary or decay?
3 Treasures of everlasting might
      In our Jehovah dwell;
   He gives the conquest to the weak,
      And treads their foes to hell.
4 Mere mortal power shall fade and die,
      And youthful vigour cease;
   But we that wait upon the Lord
      Shall feel our strength increase.
5 The saints shall mount on eagles’ wings,
      And taste the promised bliss,
   Till their unwearied feet arrive
      Where perfect pleasure is.
                           Isaac Watts, 1709.

The Christian, Joy and Peace
711 — God’s Presence Is Light In Darkness (c.m.)
1 My God, the spring of all my joys,
      The life of my delights,
   The glory of my brightest days,
      And comfort of my nights.
2 In darkest shades if he appear,
      My dawning is begun;
   He is my soul’s sweet morning star,
      And he my rising sun.
3 The opening heavens around me shine
      With beams of sacred bliss,
   While Jesus shows his heart is mine,
      And whispers, I am his.
4 My soul would leave this heavy clay
      At that transporting word,
   Run up with joy the shining way
      T’ embrace my dearest Lord.
5 Fearless of hell and ghastly death,
      I’d break through every foe;
   The wings of love, and arms of faith,
      Should bear me conqueror through.
                        Isaac Watts, 1709.