In Bethlehem A Child Is Born

While they were in Bethlehem, the time came for Mary to deliver her child.

And she gave birth to her first born son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in  a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

As the palace and inn have no room for Christ, and as the places of public resort have none, have you room for Christ? “Well”, one says, “I have room for him, but I am not worthy that he should come to me.” Ah! I did not ask about worthiness; but have you room for him?

(Charles Haddon Spurgeon: 1834-1892)

How many of us can truthfully say that we have room for Christ in our often frenetically busy lives?

Even on the Sabbath day more and more people prefer to go shopping or watching football instead of praising and worshipping our Father God in church!

And, sadly, many people who do attend church regularly do not read their Bible (always assuming that they actually own one) from one Sunday until the next.

Too often, living as we do in our own personal comfort zones, we forget that Jesus died on the cross at Calvary to save our sins.

Will you join me in making room for Christ this Christmastide?

Let him not have died in vain!

With many heartfelt blessings





Praise My Soul, The King Of Heaven

A tiny and remote country parish in Southern Ireland did not seem the ideal place for the brilliant young graduate to start his ministry – six feet tall with dark curly hair, a classical scholar with great gifts as a speaker.

But here in County Wexford, as a brash new curate, Henry Francis Lyte had an encounter which turned his ideas inside out.

A neighbouring clergyman was terminally ill. He confessed to lyte that he had begun to re-examine his life, as he read and studied the New Testament.

He urged his younger friend to do what he had at last done: to stop relying on religious duties and good deeds for his peace with God, but trust completely in the mercy of Christ and his saving power.

This meeting immediately checked Lyte’s contempt for the Methodists and enthusiasts’ in the area. It gave him for the first time a truly personal faith. And it inspired him to write hymns such as this famous version of Psalm 103.

Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven:
To His feet they tribute bring.
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who like thee His praise should sing?
Praise Him! Praise Him!
Praise the everlasting King.

Praise Him for His grace and favour
To our fathers in distress;
Praise Him still the same for ever,
Slow to chide and swift to bless.
Praise Him! Praise Him!
Glorious to His faithfulness.

Father-like, he tends and spares us;
Well our feeble frame He knows;
In His hands he gently bears us,
Rescues us from all our foes.
Praise Him! Praise Him!
Widely as His mercy flows.

Angels in the height, adore Him;
Ye behold Him face to face;
Sun and moon, bow down before Him;
Dwellers all in time and space
Praise Him! Praise Him!
Praise with us the God of Grace.

With many peaceful blessings


Only A Little One

A few days ago I received a copy of a book entitled ‘The Sword and the Trowel’ edited by Charles Spurgeon and published in 1879.

It is a truly fascinating book and I want to share with you this very tender poem that is included in the book, and which has a very powerful message; it is based on Matthew 18: 5.


Dark was the night, and cold the wintry wind,
When at my door a feeble knock I heard;
To leave the genial warmth I had no mind,
Until a thought of pity in my bosom stirred.

Perchance some traveller, wandering from his road,
In unknown parts was lost amid the storm;
Would ask the pathway to his own abode,
Or beg a shelter till the dawn of morn.

Bitter the gust which through the portal blew;
My light was quenched, the evening was so wild;
But, drenched and trembling, from the storm I drew,
All pale with fright, a little stranger child.

A little child, in thin and tattered garb;
All tangled by the wind his golden hair:
By no ill feature was his beauty marred,
I thought him one almost divinely fair.

I took away his torn and dripping dress,
And wrapped him in a raiment of my own:
He drank my cup, which first he sweetly blessed,
And shared the food I thought to eat alone.

I know not how it was, but all that night
Sweeter than e’er before was evening rest;
There seemed to hover round me beings bright,
And a sabbatic calm was in my breast.

With morning light I sought my storm-brought child,
And, lo! he was not there:
But in his place, all dignified and mild,
One filled his vacant chair.

A thorn-crown wore he on his regal brow,
A wound was in the hand he gently raised.
All filled with shame unto the dust I bowed,
While thus my evening ministry he praised.

“Heaven’s blessings on thee for thy kindly deed;
Such acts of mercy I do always see:
Feed thou a hungry little one in need
And thou hast made a royal feast for me.”

by Alfred Bax


With many peaceful blessings


Charles Spurgeon: The Power of the Word

Charles Spurgeon called upon one of his congregation one Monday. He found her very busy washing wool in a sieve under a pump.

“Well, Mary,” said he, “How did you enjoy last Sabbath’s discourses?”

“Very much, sir; they did me much good.”

“Well, what was the text?”

“I’m sorry, I do not recollect.”

“Perhaps you remember the subject?”

“No,” said she, “it is quite gone from me.”

“Do you remember any of the remarks which I made?”

“No; they are all gone.”

“Well then, Mary,” said Charles Spurgeon, “it could not have done you much good.”

“Oh! But they did me a great deal of good.”

“How can that be?” he asked.

“I will tell you, sir, how it is; I put this wool in the sieve under the pump, I pump on it, and all the water runs through the sieve, but then it washes the wool.

So it is with your sermons; they come into my heart, and then they run right through my poor memory, which is like a sieve, but it washes me clean, sir.”

“You might talk for long while about the cleansing and sanctifying power of the Word,” said Mr Spurgeon, “and it will not make such an impression on your congregation as this simple story would.”


With many peaceful blessings


A Humorous Occurrence recalled by Charles Spurgeon

At a meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Stockwell Orphanage, attended by Charles Spurgeon, at the conclusion of the day’s agenda, Charles Spurgeon said in a very grave and solemn manner:-

“Before we depart, I have a most serious matter to bring before you. It has to do with the Headmaster, Mr Charlesworth. He has recently introduced a child into the Orphanage without the consent of any of us trustees.”

The trustees were astonished and their faces all looked very serious. Questions were asked, and they began to discuss the Headmaster’s conduct when Charles Spurgeon began to smile and it soon came into their memories that the Headmaster’s wife had recently given birth to a son.

With many peaceful blessings