Morning of, March 17th
“Without Christ there is no peace. See that poor soul hunted by the dogs of Hell? It flies swift as the wind, but far faster do the hunters pursue. It seeks cover yonder in the pleasures of the world, but the baying of the Hellhounds frighten it in the festive haunts. It seeks to toil up the mountain of good works, but its legs are all too weak to bear it beyond the oppressor's rule. It doubles. It changes its tack. It goes from right to left but the Helldogs are too swift of foot, and too strong of wind to lose their prey! And till Jesus Christ shall open His bosom for that poor hunted thing to hide itself within, it shall have no peace!
Without Christ there is no rest. The wicked are like the troubled sea which cannot rest, and only Jesus can say to that sea, ‘Peace, be still.’
Without Christ there is no safety. The vessel must fly before the gale, for it has no anchor on board! It may dash upon the rocks, for it has no chart and no pilot. Come what may, it is given up to the mercy of wind and waves. Safety it cannot know without Christ! But let Christ come on board that soul, and it may laugh at all the storms of earth, and even
the whirlwinds which the Prince of the Power of the air may raise, need not confound it—but without Christ there is no safety for it.
Without Christ again, there is no hope. Sitting wrecked upon this desert rock, the lone soul looks far away, but marks nothing that can give it joy. If, perchance, it fancies that a sail is in the distance, it is soon deceived. The poor soul is thirsty and around it flows only a sea of brine, soon to change to an ocean of fire! It looks upward and there is an angry God—downward, and there are yawning gulfs—on the right hand, and there are accusing sounds—on the left hand, and there are tempting fiends. It is all lost! Lost! Lost!
Without Christ, utterly lost, and until Christ comes, not a single beam of hope can make glad that anxious soul.”
- CH Spurgeon, “A Solemn Deprival”.
“Without Christ there is no peace. See that poor soul hunted by the dogs of Hell? It flies swift as the wind, but far faster do the hunters pursue. It seeks cover yonder in the pleasures of the world, but the baying of the Hellhounds frighten it in the festive haunts. It seeks to toil up the mountain of good works, but its legs are all too weak to bear it beyond the oppressor's rule. It doubles. It changes its tack. It goes from right to left but the Helldogs are too swift of foot, and too strong of wind to lose their prey! And till Jesus Christ shall open His bosom for that poor hunted thing to hide itself within, it shall have no peace!
Without Christ there is no rest. The wicked are like the troubled sea which cannot rest, and only Jesus can say to that sea, ‘Peace, be still.’
Without Christ there is no safety. The vessel must fly before the gale, for it has no anchor on board! It may dash upon the rocks, for it has no chart and no pilot. Come what may, it is given up to the mercy of wind and waves. Safety it cannot know without Christ! But let Christ come on board that soul, and it may laugh at all the storms of earth, and even
the whirlwinds which the Prince of the Power of the air may raise, need not confound it—but without Christ there is no safety for it.
Without Christ again, there is no hope. Sitting wrecked upon this desert rock, the lone soul looks far away, but marks nothing that can give it joy. If, perchance, it fancies that a sail is in the distance, it is soon deceived. The poor soul is thirsty and around it flows only a sea of brine, soon to change to an ocean of fire! It looks upward and there is an angry God—downward, and there are yawning gulfs—on the right hand, and there are accusing sounds—on the left hand, and there are tempting fiends. It is all lost! Lost! Lost!
Without Christ, utterly lost, and until Christ comes, not a single beam of hope can make glad that anxious soul.”
- CH Spurgeon, “A Solemn Deprival”.
Morning of, March 17th
“Without Christ there is no peace. See that poor soul hunted by the dogs of Hell? It flies swift as the wind, but far faster do the hunters pursue. It seeks cover yonder in the pleasures of the world, but the baying of the Hellhounds frighten it in the festive haunts. It seeks to toil up the mountain of good works, but its legs are all too weak to bear it beyond the oppressor's rule. It doubles. It changes its tack. It goes from right to left but the Helldogs are too swift of foot, and too strong of wind to lose their prey! And till Jesus Christ shall open His bosom for that poor hunted thing to hide itself within, it shall have no peace!
Without Christ there is no rest. The wicked are like the troubled sea which cannot rest, and only Jesus can say to that sea, ‘Peace, be still.’
Without Christ there is no safety. The vessel must fly before the gale, for it has no anchor on board! It may dash upon the rocks, for it has no chart and no pilot. Come what may, it is given up to the mercy of wind and waves. Safety it cannot know without Christ! But let Christ come on board that soul, and it may laugh at all the storms of earth, and even
the whirlwinds which the Prince of the Power of the air may raise, need not confound it—but without Christ there is no safety for it.
Without Christ again, there is no hope. Sitting wrecked upon this desert rock, the lone soul looks far away, but marks nothing that can give it joy. If, perchance, it fancies that a sail is in the distance, it is soon deceived. The poor soul is thirsty and around it flows only a sea of brine, soon to change to an ocean of fire! It looks upward and there is an angry God—downward, and there are yawning gulfs—on the right hand, and there are accusing sounds—on the left hand, and there are tempting fiends. It is all lost! Lost! Lost!
Without Christ, utterly lost, and until Christ comes, not a single beam of hope can make glad that anxious soul.”
- CH Spurgeon, “A Solemn Deprival”.
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