18 November 2018

“We shall get home"


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Your weekly Dose of Spurgeon

The PyroManiacs devote some space each weekend to highlights from the lifetime of works from the Prince of Preachers, Charles Haddon Spurgeon.  The following excerpt is from The Sword and the Trowel, September, 1883, Pilgrim Publications.

Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of thine inheritance, in the place, O Lord, which thou hast made for thee to dwell in, in the Sanctuary, O Lord, which thy hands have established. Exodus 15:17

Conversing just now with an elder of the church, I remarked that he must be somewhere about seventy-five, and he replied, “I am eighty-two.” “That,” I replied, “is a good old age.” “Yes,” said he, “it is”; and then he cheerfully nodded his head, and added, “We shall get home; WE SHALL GET HOME!” 

And so we shall, brothers; so we shall, sisters. In chorus we will take up our brother’s word, and say, “We shall get home.” “We shall get home.” There is music in that simple sentence; a soft melody, as of the evening bell. 

Early in life its sound may be more stirring and trumpet-like, nerving our youth to energy, and making us cry “Excelsior” but as our years increase, and the sun descends, its note is sweet and soothing, and we love to listen to it in our quiet moods, for each word has a silvery tone—“We shall get home; WE SHALL GET HOME.” 

This is our great comfort: however long the way, we shall get home. We may live to be eighty-two, or even ninety-nine; but we shall get home in due time. We may not doubt that blessed truth, for the Lord has taught us to sing in the song of Moses, his servant, “Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them in the mountain of thine inheritance.” 

The way may be rough, but it is the king’s highway, and no brigands can drag us off from it: we shall by this road get home to the Father’s own house above. Some of us are not nearing threescore years as yet, and perhaps we have many long leagues to traverse, but we shall get home—glory be to God!

His love has fixed the happy day
When the last tears will wet our eyes,
And God shall wipe those dews away,
And fill us with divine surprise,
To be at home, and see his face, 
And feel his infinite embrace.


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