Spurgeon Collection

MUSIC HATH Charms.” I am sure sacred music has; for I have felt something of its charms whilst we have been singing that glorious hymn just now. There is a potency in harmony; there is a magic power in melody, which either melts the soul to pity, or lifts it up to joy unspeakable. I do not know how it may be with some minds; they possibly may resist the influence of singing; but I cannot. When the saints of God, in full chorus, “chaunt the solemn lay,” and when I hear sweet syllables fall from their lips, keeping measure and time, then I feel elevated; and, forgetting for a time everything terrestrial, I soar aloft towards heaven. If such be the sweetness of the music of the saints below, where there is much of discord and sin to mar the harmony, how sweet must it be to sing above, with cherubim and seraphim. Oh, what songs must those be which the Eternal ever hears upon his throne! What seraphic sonnets must those be which are thrilled from the lips of pure immortals, untainted by a sin, unmingled with a groan: where they warble ever hymns of joy and gladness, never intermingled with one sigh, or groan, or worldly care. Happy songsters! When shall I your chorus join? There is one of your hymns that runs—

“Hark! how they sing before the throne!”

and I have sometimes thought I could “hark! how they sing before the throne.” I have imagined that I could hear the full burst of the swell of the chorus, when it pealed from heaven like mighty thunders, and the sound of many waters, and have almost heard those full-toned strains, when the harpers harped with their harps be fore the throne of God; alas, it was but imagination. We cannot hear it now; these ears are not fitted for such music; these souls could not be contained in the body, if we were once to hear some stray note from the harps of angels. We must wait till we get up yonder. Then, purified, like silver seven times, from the defilement of earth, washed in our Saviour’s precious blood, sanctified by the purifying influence of the Holy Spirit—

“We shall, unblemished and complete,

Appear before our Father’s throne,

With joys divinely great.”

“Then loudest of the crowd we’ll sing,

Whilst heaven’s resounding mansions ring

With shouts of sovereign grace.”

Our friend John, the highly favoured apostle of the Apocalypse, has given us just one note from heaven’s song; we shall strike that note, and sound it again and again. I shall strike this tuning-fork of heaven, and let you hear one of the key notes. “And hast made us unto our God kings and priests; and we shall reign on the earth.” May the great and gracious Spirit, who is the only illumination of darkness, light up my mind whilst I attempt, in a brief and hurried manner, to speak from this text. There are three things in it: first, the Redeemer’s doings—“ and hast made us; secondly, the saints’ honors—“ and hast made us kings and priests unto our God;” and, thirdly, the world’s future—“ and we shall reign upon the earth.”

I. First, then, we have THE REDEEMER’S DOINGS. They who stand before the throne sing of the Lamb—the Lion of the tribe of Judah, who took the book and broke the seals thereof—“ Thou hast made us kings and priests unto our God.” In heaven they do not sing

“Glory, honor, praise, and power

Be unto ourselves for ever;

We have been our own Redeemers;—Hallelujah!”

They never sing praise to themselves; they glorify not their own strength; they do not talk of their own free-will and their own might; but they ascribe their salvation, from beginning to end, to God. Ask them how they were saved, and they reply, “The Lamb hath made us what we are.” Ask them whence their glories came, and they tell you, “They were bequeathed to us by the dying Lamb.” Ask whence they obtained the gold of their harps, and they say, “It was dug in mines of agony and bitterness by Jesus,” Inquire who stringed their harps, and they will tell you that Jesus took each sinew of his body to make them. Ask them where they washed their robes and made them white, and they will say—

“In yonder ‘fountain filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel’s veins.’”

Some persons on earth do not know where to put the crown; but those in heaven do. They place the diadem on the right head; and they ever sing—“ And he hath made us what we are.”