Sermons in Candles

This little volume by Rev. Charles H. Spurgeon charmingly discusses the illustrations which may be found in common candles. We congratulate the American publishers on the service which they render in publishing this little book; and we congratulate all its readers on the privilege they will enjoy in studying its pages. Truly the versatility of Mr. Spurgeon is marvellous; he is daily and hourly “anointed with fresh oil.” This is certainly one of the most charming and instructive of the many volumes which he has written. He tells us delightfully in the opening pages how the idea of this lecture was suggested. The little volume gives us striking proofs of his wide reading, his knowledge of history, his practical philosophy, and his ever-present religious purpose. He shows us how much of candle-light there is in the Holy Scriptures, and in so doing he mingles exegesis and exhortation in wise proportions. Most helpful are his remarks on candles in emblems, on candles lighting other candles, on different kinds of candles and candlesticks, on candles in lanterns, on candles under bushels, on candles that sputter, on candles that are protected, on candles that are extinguished, on candles that burn at both ends, on candles that unite with other candles, on candles that are short, and candles that are long, and still other kinds of candles. The illustrations in the little book are illustrations in truth; it is a volume that can be read in a few hours, but which will occupy the thought and stimulate the heart for days. It will delight the young as they gather about the reader under the light of chandelier, lamp, or candle; and it will give instruction and comfort to the most experienced saint. It will furnish illustrations to the Sunday-school teacher and to the pulpit expounder; it has warmed my own heart, and has illumined for me many passages of Scripture and incidents of history. Wonderful man is this Spurgeon! May God continue to have him in His holy keeping, making every product of his pen, even like the Bible itself, a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path.

R. S. MacARTHUR.
Calvary Church.

New York, January 24, 1891.

p ECTURING was once so common an exercise, that I have heard it said that all society might be divided into” Lecturers and the Lectured “; and the division was said to hold good both by night and by day; as Mr. and Mrs. Caudle could bear testimony. Lectures are now” the light of other days.r No longer is Exeter Hall crowded to hear a series of lectures by great divines; and in vain do minor institutions invite an audience to “A Popular Lecture.” The magic spell has departed: the lectured ones are delivered. Who is responsible for the falling ofi in attendance at lectures? Did the talk become too dreary? Were the prelections too abstruse or too common-place? Will mine be like them?

I am not an adept at lecturing, and when I take to it under constraint, I either signally fail in it, or else the successful production is a sermon in disguise. You cannot drive out nature by command: the old pulpit hand must preach, even though you bid him do somewhat else. It would be no good sign if it were otherwise; for a man must keep to one thing, and be absorbed in it, or he will not do it well. I have preached now for so many years, that use is second nature; and a lecture, a speech, an address, and I fear even a conversation, all have a tendency to mould themselves sermon-fashion. It is just the old story over again of the artist who had been painting red lions all his life. The landlord of a public-house in a certain street desired to have his establishment known as “The Angel”, and he commissioned the clever gentleman of the brush to produce one of those flaming spirits. The budding Academician replied, u You had better have a red lion. 1 can paint red lions against any man, and they seem the right sign for publicans who do a roaring trade.” “But “, said Boniface, “there are three of your red lions quite handy already, and we want a little variety. I have made up my mind to have an angel. Cannot you arrange it?” “Well “, said the artist, “I will see what I can do. You shall have your angel, but it will be awfully like a red lion.” So, when I am requested to “lecture”, I reply, “I cannot manage it; my business is to preach.” But if they press their suit, and I am weak enough to yield, I warn them that my lecture will be wonderfully like a sermon.

I suppose “a lecture” signifies a reading; but enough of my brethren use manuscripts, and I will not compete with them. If I cannot speak extemporaneously, I will hold my tongue: to read I am ashamed.

In a lecture one has the advantage of more freedom than in a sermon. One is permitted to take a wider range of subjects, and to use an easier style than a theological discourse allows. I will use this freedom, but my aim will be the same as if I were preaching. I trust my lecture may possibly impress some minds to whom a sermon would seem too dull a business. By calling this lecture “Sermons in Candles”, I claim the right to mingle the severe with the lively, the grave with the gay. In due proportions the mixture may be taken with good effect.

This is how the lecture came about in the first place. It has grown considerably since it was born, as all lively children do. In addressing my students in the College long ago, I was urging upon them the duty and necessity of using plenty of illustrations in their preaching, that they might be both interesting and instructive. I reminded them that the Saviour had many likes in his discourses. He said, over and over again, “The kingdom of heaven is like”; “The kingdom of heaven is like.” “Without a parable spake he not unto them.” The common people heard him gladly, because he was full of emblem and simile. A sermon without illustrations is like a room without windows. One student remarked that the difficulty was to get illustrations in any great abundance. “Yes”, I said, “if you do not wake up, but go through the world asleep, you cannot see illustrations; but if your minds were thoroughly aroused, and yet you could see nothing’ else in the world but a single tallow candle, you might find enough illustrations in that luminary <to last you for six months.” Now, the young brethren in the College are too well behaved to say “Oh!” or give a groan of unbelief, should I perchance say a strong thing; but they loo7c, and they draw their breath, and they wait for an explanation. I understand what they mean, and do not make too heavy a draft upon their faith by long delays in explaining myself. The men who were around me at that particular moment thought that I had made rather a sweeping assertion, and their countenances showed it. “Well”, I said, “I will prove my words;” and my attempt to prove them produced the rudiments of this lecture.

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