Spurgeon Collection

V. In the fifth place: there is the sleep of security. Solomon slept with his armed men round his bed, and thus slumbered securely; but Solomon’s father slept one night on the bare ground—not in a palace—with no moat round his castle wall,—but he slept quite as safely as his son, for he said, “I laid me down and slept, and I awaked, for the Lord sustained me.” Now, some persons never feel secure in this world at all; I query whether one half of my hearers feel themselves so. Suppose I burst out in a moment, and sing this—

I to the end shall endure,

As sure as the earnest is given;

More happy, but not more secure,

Are the glorified spirits in heaven.

You would say, that is too high doctrine; and I would reply, very likely it is for you, but it is the truth of God, and it is sweet doctrine for me. I love to know, that if I am predestinated according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, I must be saved; if I was purchased by the Son’s blood, I cannot be lost, for it would be impossible for Jesus Christ to lose one whom he has redeemed, otherwise he would be dissatisfied with his labours. I know that where he has begun the good work he will carry it on. I never fear that I shall fall away, or be lost; my only fear is, lest I should not have been right at first; but, provided I am right, if I be really a child of God, I might believe that the sun would be smitten with madness, and go reeling through the universe like a drunken man—I might believe that the stars would urn form their courses, and instead of marching with their measured tramp, as now they do, whirl on in wild courses like the dance of Bacchanals—I could even conceive that this great universe might all subside in God, “even as a moment’s foam subsides again upon the wave that bears it;” but neither reason, heresy, logic, eloquence, nor a conclave of divines, shall make me pay a moment’ attention to the vile suggestion that a child of God may ever perish. Hence I tread this earth with confidence. Arguing a little while ago with an Arminian, he said, “Sir, you ought to be a happy man; for if what you say be true, why you are as secure of being in heaven as if you were there.” I said, “Yes, I know it.” “Then you ought to live above cares and tribulations, and sing happily from morning to night.” I said, “So I ought, and so I will, God helping me.” This is security. “He giveth his beloved sleep.” To know that if I died I should enter heaven—to be as sure as I am of my own existence that God, having loved me with an everlasting love, and he being immutable, will never hate me if he has once loved me—to know that I must enter the kingdom of glory—is not this enough to make all burdens light, and give me the hind’s feet wherewith I may stand upon my high places. Happy state of security! “So he giveth his beloved sleep.”

And there is a sleep, my dear friends, of security, which is enjoyed on earth even in the midst of the greatest troubles. Do you remember that passage in the book of Ezekiel, where it is said, “They shall dwell securely in the wilderness and sleep in the woods?” A queer place to sleep in! “In the woods.” There is a wolf over yonder; there is a tiger in the jungle; and eagle is soaring in the air; a horde of robbers dwell in the dark forest. “Never mind,” says the child of God:

He that hath made his refuge God,

Shall find a most secure abode;

Shall walk all day beneath his shade,

And there at night shall rest his head.

I have often admired Martin Luther, and wondered at his composure. When all men spoke so ill of him, what did he say? Turn to that Psalm—”God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of trouble; therefore we will not fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.” In a far inferior manner, I have been called to stand up in the position of Martin Luther, and have been made the butt of slander, a mark for laughter and scorn; but it has not broken my spirit yet; not will it, while I am enabled to enjoy that quiescent state of—”So he giveth his beloved sleep.” But thus far I beg to inform all those who choose to slander or speak ill of me, that they are very welcome to do so till they are tired of it. my motto is cedo nulli—I yield to none. I have not courted any man’s love; I asked no man to attend my ministry; I preach what I like, and when I like, and as I like. Oh! happy state—to be bold, though downcast, and distressed—to go and bend my knee and tell my Father all, and then to come down from my chamber, and say—

If on my face, for thy dear name,

Shame and reproach shall be;

I’ll hail reproach, and welcome shame,

For thou’lt remember me.