the fact, the manner we need not pry into. "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him": they know experimentally what it is to be born again, but they themselves could not explain how it is that the sacred wind bloweth, nor how the Spirit operates upon the human heart. Many discussions there have been as to whether the Spirit of God, as it were, comes nakedly into contact with the nature of man, or whether he always works in and by truth and thought, and so on. Into all this it is not necessary for us to go. We would rather admire, wonder, and adore, for these are better than merely to comprehend; since a man may understand all mysteries and yet be as a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal.

It is a mystery as to the supernaturalness of the operation, for evermore truc regeneration is always supernatural. There is no doubt that moral suasion does much with men, that the influence of association will often improve men's manners and habits; that great results may flow from education, especially if it be of the right kind; and that much may be developed in mankind that is admirable, honest, lovely, and of good repute. But this is nothing to the purpose, since it is not what our Saviour meant-it falls short of the new birth, and is indeed quite another thing. The Holy Spirit, the third person in the blessed Trinity must as much come to work upon us as God came forth to work upon this world in its creation, or else we are not born again. It is not enough that we of our own selves and in the energy of our old nature begin to pray, repent, and so on; for all that which can come of our flesh will still be flesh; but in regeneration it is the Spirit who begins. by infusing the life, and then the new nature begins to pray and repent. That which is born of the Spirit is spirit, and hence the new birth must be a spiritual operation in order to produce that spiritual nature without which we cannot see and enter into the things of God. This is a solemn matter for you, my hearer, if you have been merely an attendant upon the means of grace and a lover of the outward forms of religion. Do I mean to tell you that you must undergo a change which is beyond your own working, which all the men in this world and all the angels in heaven could not work in you, but which God himself must perform? I do mean that-I mean nothing less than that. "Am I to understand," say you," that almighty power must work upon me as much as in my creation?" I mean all that, and that it needs as much power to cause you to be born again as it did to make a world: ay, and that the same power which raised Jesus Christ from the dead when he had slept three days in the grave is needed in all its fulness to raise you from your death of sin, and must be exerted if ever you are raised at all. It is a wonderful thing that the Spirit of God should condescend to undertake this work, and that the Lord should set himself a second time to the work. It is surprising that when the vessel was marred upon the wheel and spoiled, instead of breaking it up and consigning it to destruction, he should put forth all his power again and fashion the clay to his own model. He stoops to make us twice Lorn, new-created, begotten again, that we might at the last come to wear the image of Jesus, the first-born among many brethren. "Ye must be born again": the infinite Jehovah must deign to be a second time our Creator or we must perish hopelessly,

this word of caution, I am often glad to hear that "David's place was empty."

It is to be feared that too easily we could find SEATS EMPTIED for NO GOOD REASON. Ministers in many congregations are distressed by the irregular attendance of their hearers. A little rain, a slight indisposition, or some other frivolous excuse will keep many at home. A new preacher has come into the neighbourhood, and the rolling stones are moved in his direction for a season to the grievous discouragement of the pastor. This evil of irregular attendance is most manifest at weekday services: there often enough David's seat is empty. No, not David's, for he longs to be even a door-keeper in the house of his God: we mean the seat of Didymus, who was not with the apostles when Jesus came; of Demas, who loved this present evil world; and of many a hearer who is not also a doer of the word. In many a congregation those who gather at meetings for prayer are shamefully few. I have no reason to complain of this as a fault among my own beloved people to any large extent, and yet I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that there are some members of the church who would have to carry their memories a long way back to recollect what a prayer-meeting is like. Little do they know what they have lost by their neglect. Ah, my friend, does that refer to you? Is David's place empty? Then mend your ways and fill it. Of all soul-refreshing seasons I have often found week-night services to be the best. Like oases in a desert, these quiet periods amid the cares of the week wear a greenness peculiar to themselves. Come and try whether your experience will not tally with mine. I believe you will find it good to be there. Children it is said should be fed like chickens, "little and often"; and to my mind, short, lively services coming frequently, on Sabbaths and week-days, are more refreshing than hearing two or even three long sermons on one day in the week only. At any rate it is good for us to keep the feast with our brethren and not to make them ask, "Wherefore cometh not the son of Jesse either yesterday or to-day?"

I must take the liberty of being very personal to the usual attendants at the Tabernacle. Dear friends, do not let your seats be empty during my absence. I shall be distressed beyond measure if I hear that the congregations are declining. The best preachers we can obtain are selected to address you, and therefore I hope you will see no need to forsake your usual place. If you do so it will reflect but small credit upon your pastor's ministry, for it will be manifest that you are babes in grace, dependent upon one man for edification. "All are yours, whether Paul, or Apollos, or Cephas"; and if you are men in Christ Jesus you will get good out of them all, and will not say, "Our own blunt Cephas is away, and we cannot hear any one else." I beseech you be very regular in your attendance during my absence, lest those who preach to you should be discouraged, and ourselves also. Above all, keep up the prayer-meetings. Nelson said, "England expects every man to do his duty," and at this time, which is an emergency in our church history, I would say,-the church expects every member to sustain all meetings, labours, and offerings with unflagging energy, and especially to keep up the prayer-meetings. There, at any rate, let it not be said of any one of you, "David's place was empty."

Grace, mercy, and peace be with you all in Christ Jesus. Amen.

THE POOR MAN'S PRAYER.

A Sermon

DELIVERED BY

C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"Remember me, O Lord, with the favour that thou bearest unto thy people: 0 visit me with thy salvation; that I may see the good of thy chosen, that I may rejoice in the gladness of thy nation, that I may glory with thine inheritance.”Psalm cvi. 4, 5.

BELOVED, we always reckon it a very hopeful sign when a man begins to think of personal religion. Merely to come with the crowd and professedly to worship is but poor work; but when a man gets to feel the weight of his own sin, and to confess it with his heart before God,-when he wants a Saviour for himself, and begins to pray alone that he may find that Saviour,-when he is not content with being the child of pious parents, or with having been introduced into the church in his childhood after the fashion of certain sects; but when he pines for real godliness, personal religion, true conversion, it is a blessed sign. When the stag separates itself from the herd we reckon that the dart has struck home; the wound is grievous, and the creature seeks solitude, for a bleeding heart cannot bear company. Blessed are God's woundings, for they lead to a heavenly healing!

We are still more glad when this desire for personal salvation leads a man to prayer, when he begins really to cry out before God on his own account, when he has done with the prayers he used to repeat by rote like a parrot, and bursts out with the language of his heart. Though that language may be very broken, or consist only of sighs and tears and groans, it is a happy circumstance. "Behold, he prayeth" was enough for Ananias; he was sure that Paul must be converted; and when we find a man praying, and praying earnestly, for personal salvation, we feel that this is the finger of God, and our heart is glad within us.

The passage before us is one of those earnest personal supplications which we love to hear from any lips. I will read it again, and then proceed to use it in two or three ways. "Remember me, O Lord, with the favour that thou bearest unto thy people: O visit me with thy salvation; that I may see the good of thy chosen, that I may rejoice in the glad. ness of thy nation, that I may glory with thine inheritance,"

Now, first, this is a very suitable prayer for the humble believer: it was a humble believer who first uttered it. Next, it would make a very suitable petition for a penitent backslider; and, thirdly, it would be a very sweet gospel prayer for a seeker. May the Spirit of God bless the word to each of these characters.

I. First, then, this is an admirable prayer FOR A POOR HUMBLE CHRISTIAN. I think I can hear him using the very words.

Notice with interest the first fear felt by this poor trembling Christian. He is afraid that he is such a little one that God will forget him, and so he begins with, "O remember me with the favour which thou bearest to thy people." I know this man well. I think very much of him, but he thinks very little of himself. I admire his humility, but he often complains that he feels pride in his heart. He is a true believer, but he is a sad doubter. Poor man, he often hangs his head, for he has such a sense of his own unworthiness; I only wish he had an equal sense of Christ's fulness to balance his humility. He is on the road to heaven, but he is often afraid he is not, and that makes him watch every step he takes. I almost wish some confident professors were altogether as doubtful as he is if they would be half as cautious. He is afraid to put one foot before another, lest he should go wrong, and yet he mourns his want of watchfulness. He is always complaining of the hardness of his heart, and yet he is tenderness itself. Dear man-you should hear him pray. His prayers are among the most earnest and blessed you ever listened to, but when he has done he is afraid he never ought to have opened his mouth. He is not fit to pray before others, he says. He thinks his prayers the poorest that ever reach the throne of God; indeed, he is afraid they do not get there, but spend themselves as wasted breath. He has his occasional gleams of sunlight, and when he feels the love of God in his soul he is as merry as the cricket on the hearth. There is not a man out of heaven more gay than he when his hope revives. But, oh, he is so tender about sin that when he finds himself growing a little cold, or in any measure backsliding, he begins to flog himself,-at which I am very glad, but he also begins somewhat to doubt his interest in his Lord, of which I am not glad, but pity him much and blame him too, though with much sympathy for him. Now, I am not quite sure about this good man's name,-it may be Littlefaith, or Feeblemind. Or is it Mr. Despondency I am thinking of? Or am I talking of Miss Much-afraid? Or is it Mr. Ready-to-halt? Well, it is some one of that numerous family. This poor soul thinks, "Surely God wil! forget me!" No, no, dear heart, he will not forget you. It is wonderful how God does think of little things. Mungo Park picked up a little bit of moss in the desert, and as he marked how beautifully it was variegated, he said, "God is here: he is thinking of the moss, and therefore he will think of me." Once upon a time a little plant grew right in the middle of the forest, and the trees stretched for many a mile all around it, and it said to itself, "The sunlight will never get at me. I have a little flower which I would fain open, but it cannot come forth till the sunbeam cherishes me. Alas! it will never reach me. Look at the thick foliage: see the huge trunks of those towering oaks and mighty beeches, these will effectually hide the sun from my tiny form." But in due season the sun looked through the trees like a king through the lattices and

smiled on the little flower; for there never was a flower that God has not thought of and provided for. Say ye not right well that "each blade of grass hath its own drop of dew," and think you that God will forget you, little as you are? He knows when swallows fly, and when emmets awake and gather their stores, and will he not think of you? Because you are little you must not suspect the love of your heavenly Father. Mother, which child is that which you never do forget? If you ever went to bed at night and left one of the children out of doors, I know which one it was not. It was not the babe which lies helpless in your bosom. You never forget that. And ye helpless ones, ye timid trembling ones, if the Lord must forget any, it would be the strong, but certainly not you. As you breathe the prayer, "Remember me with the favour that thou bearest to thy people," the Lord answers you, “I do earnestly remember thee still."

Observe next, that this poor trembling heart seems to be in great trouble for fear the Lord should pass it by, but at the same time feels that every good thing it can possibly receive must come from the Lord, and must be brought to it by the Lord. Note the words: "O visit me with thy salvation," as if he had said, "Lord, I cannot come to thee: I am too lame to come, I am too weak to come, but visit me. O Lord, I am like the wounded man between Jericho and Jerusalem: I am half dead, and cannot stir. Come to me, Lord; for I cannot move to thee. Visit me, for only thy visitations can preserve my spirit. I am so wounded and sore broken, and undone, that if thou do not visit me with thy salvation even as if I never had been saved before, I must be lost."

Now, poor trembler, let me whisper a half word into thine ear, and may God the Holy Spirit make it a comfort to thee. Thou needest not say, if thou hast a broken heart, "Lord, visit me." Do you not know that he dwells in you, for is it not written, "To this man will I look, and with this man will I dwell, even with him that is poor and of a contrite spirit, and that trembleth at my word"? Are you not the very person? I wish you could rejoice at God's word, but as you cannot, I am glad you tremble at it, for you are the man that God has promised to dwell with. "Trembleth at my word,"-lay hold on that, and believe that the Lord looks towards you, and dwells with you.

What a plaintive prayer this is! Carefully consider that this poor, weak, humble, trembling one longs to partake in the blessings which the Lord gives to his own people, and in the joy which he has in store for them. This is the way in which he speaks, "I hear many Christians around me say that they know and are persuaded, O that I had a little of their certainty. I hear them speak so confidently, with such full assurance, and I see the light leap out of their eyes when they talk about their sweet Lord and Master, and all his love to them; oh, how I wish I could talk so! Poor I, I am only able to say, 'Lord, I believe help thou mine unbelief.' I see them sitting at a loaded table, and they seem to feast most abundantly, but as for me, I am glad it is written that the dogs eat the crumbs which fall from the Master's table, for if I get a crumb now and then, I feel so happy with it; but I wish I could sit and feast where others of God's children do. Oh that I could talk of rapt fellowship and close communion and inward joy, and overflowing