The Cholera Year in London

Whether ive gather in the harvest or not, there is a reaper irfio is silently gathering it every hour. Just now, it is whispered that he is sharpening his sickle. That reaper is DKATII! You may look upon this great city as theharvest-held, and every week the bills of mortality tell us how steadily and how surely the scythe of death moves to and fro, and how a lane is made through our population, and those who were once living men arttaken, like sheaves to the garner, carried to the graveyard, and laid aside. You cannot stop their dying; but, oh, that God might help you to stop their being damned! You cannot stop the breath from going out of their bodies; but, oh, that the gospel might stop their souls from going down to destruction! It can do it, and nothing else can take its place. Just now, the cholera has come again. There can be little doubt, I suppose, about it being here already in some considerable force, and probably it may be worse. The Christian need not dread it, for he has nothing to lose, but everything to gain, by death. Still, lor the sake of others, he may well pray that God would avert His hand, and not let His anger burn. But. since it is here, I think it ought to be a motive for active exertion. If there ever be a time when the mind is sensitive, it is when death is abroad. I recollect, when first I came to London, how anxiously people listened to the gospel, for the cholera was rawing terribly. There was little scoffing then. All day, and sometimes all night long, I went about I mm ‘”house to house, and saw men and women dying, and, oh. how glad they were to see my face! When many were afraid to enter their houses lest they should catch the deadly disease, we who had no fear about such things found ourselves most gladly listened to when we spoke of Christ and of things Divine. And now, again, is the minister’s time; and now is the time for all of you who love souls. Yon may see men more alarmed than they are already; and if they should be, mind that you avail yourselves of the opportunity of doing them good. You have the Balm of Gilead; when their wounds smart, pour it in. You know of Him who died to save; tell them of Him. Lift high the cross before their eyes. Tell them that God became man that man might be lifted to God. Tell them of Calvary, and its groans, and cries, and sweat of blood. Tell them of Jesus hanging on the cross to save sinners.

Tell them that

ThcTc is life for a look ;it the Crucified One.”

Tell them that He is able to save to the uttermost all them that come unto God by Him. Tell them that He is able to save even at the eleventh hour, and to say to the dving thief, “To-day shall thou be with Me in Paradise.” — C. 11. S., /;/ Sermon preached at the Metropolitan ‘J’abernacle, July 29, uS66.

X the year 1854, when I h;ul scarcely been in London twelvemonths, the neighbourhood in which I laboured was visited by Asiatic cholera, and my congregation suffered from its inroads. Family after family summoned me to the bedside of the smitten, and almost every day 1 was called to visit the grave. At first, I gave myself up with youthful ardour to the visitation of the sick, and was sent for from all corners of the district by persons of all ranks and religions; but, soon, I became weary in body, and sick at heart. My friends seemed falling one by one, and 1 felt or fancied that I was sickening like those around me. A little more work and weeping would have laid me low among the rest; I felt that my burden was heavier than I could bear, and 1 was ready to sink under it.

1 was returning mournfully home from a funeral, when, as God would have it, my curiosity led me to read a paper which was watered up in a shoemaker’s window in the Great Dover Road. It did not look like a trade; announcement, nor was it, for it bore*, in a good bold handwriting, these worels :-

“Because thou hasl made the Lord, which is my refuge, even (he Most High, thy habitation; (here shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.”

rhe effect upon my heart was immediate. Faith appropriated the passage as her own. I felt secure, refreshed, girt with immortality. I went on with my visitation of the; dying, in a calm and peaceful spirit; I felt no fear of evil, and I suffered no harm. I he; Providence which moved the tradesman to place those- verses in his window, I grate-fully acknowledge: and in the remembrance of its marvellous power, I adore; the Lorel my ( iod.

(In a pamphlet entitled, “The Best Refuge in Times of Trouble,” published about the; time; of Mr. Spurgeon’s “home-going,” Mr. W. Ford, of 1911, Peabody Buildings, Orchard Street, Westminster, wrote-: “In the- year 1854, the- first year of Mr. Spurgeon in London, the- cholera raged in the- locality of his church, and the neighbourhood where he resided. The parochial authorities were- very thoughtful for the; poor, and caused bills to be placed at the corners of the streets, headed CHOLERA, — in large- type, informing the public where advice and medicines would be’ supplied gratis. At that time, I lived in the Great Dover Road, and Mr. Spurgeon lived a little further towards Greenwich, in Virginia Terrace. See-ing the; bills above-name-el at every turning, I was forcibly impressed that they were- very much calculated to terrify the- people. VIth the- concurrence of a friend, I procured one-, and wrote in the; centre these worels: ‘Ik-cause thou hast made the; Lord, which is my refuge-, even the- Most High, thy habitation; there shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.’ This bill I place-el in my shop-window, hundreds read it, and I am not aware of one- jeer or improper re-mark, -so subdued and solemnized were- the- people; by the awful visitation. Among the readers of the; bill, was Mr. Spurgeon.”)

During that epidemic of cholera, though I had many engagements in the; country, I gave them up that 1 might remain in London to visit the; sick and the; dying. I felt that it was my duty to be; on the; spot in such a time; of disease and death and sorrow. One- Monday morning, I was awakened, about three o’clock, by a sharp ring- Of the- door-bell. I was urged, without delay, to visit a house not very far from London Bridge;. I we;nt; anel up two pairs of stairs I was shown into a room, the only occupants of which were; a nurse anel a dying man. “Oh, sir! e;lclaimed the; nurse-, as I ente;re-el, “about half-an-hour ago, Mr. So-and-so begged me: to send for you.” “What eloe;s he want?” I aske;el. “He; is elying, sir,” she re-plie-d. I saiel, “Yes, I see; that he; is; what sort of a man was he-?” The; nurse; answe-reel, “He- came home- from Brighton, last night, sir; he; had been out all elay. I lookeel tor a Bible, sir, but there is not one- in the- house-; I hope you have; brought one; with you.” “Oh! ‘I said, “a Bible would be ol no use- to him now. II he coulel understand me-, I coulel tell him the; way of salvation in the; ve;ry worels ol Scripture-.” I stood by his side, anel spoke- to him, but he gave; me- no answer. I spoke again; but the only consciousness he hael was a lore-boding ot terror, mingled with the- stupor ol approaching death. Soon, even that was gone-, tor se-nse- had lied, anel I stood the-re, a te.;w minutes, sighing with the- poor woman who had watched over him, and altogether hopeless about his soul, (iaxing at his lace-, I perceived that he; was ele-ael, anel that his soul hael de-parte-el.

That man, in his lifetime-, had be-en wont to jeer at me. In strong language-, he hael often denounced me- as a hypocrite-. Ye-t he was no sooner smitten by the- darts ol eleath than he sought my pre-se-nce- and counse-1, no doubt lee-ling in his he-art that I was a servant of God, though he elid not care- to own it with his lips. I here- I stood, unable- tep help him. Promptly as 1 hael re-sponded to his call, what ceuilel 1 elo but look at his corpse-, anel mourn over a lost soul? He- hael, when in health, wickedly re-fuseel Christ, ve-t in his death-agony he hael superstitiously se-nt for me-. Too late-, he sighed lor the- ministry ol re-conciliation, and sought to e-nter in at the closed door, but he- was not able-. The-re; was no space left him the-n lor re-pe-ntance;, for he hael wasteel the; opportunities which (iod hael long grante-d to him. I we-nt home-, anel was soon calle;el away again; that time;, to se;e; a young woman. She- also was in the last extremity, but it was a lair, ,air sight. She was singing, though she; knew she was eh’ing, — anel talking to those- round about he-r, te-lling her brothers anel sisters to follow her to Heaven, bidding good-bye; to he-r lathe-r, anel all the while; smiling as it it hael been he-r marriage- day. She- was happy anel blessed. I ne-ver saw more; conspicuously in my life, than I elid that morning, the; eliflerence the-re is be-tween one who feareth ( ioel anel one who feareth Him not.