Charles Spurgeon warns that the devil always serves “the good wine first, and afterward that which is worse,” meaning sin begins sweet but ends in misery. He describes four tables in Satan’s feasting hall: the profligate, who starts with the thrilling “wine of pleasure” but soon drinks the bitter cups of satiety, disease, and finally eternal ruin; the self‑righteous, who sip the flattering “wine of self‑satisfaction” only to face inner doubt, the collapse of their false hopes, and the terror of discovering too late that their works cannot save them; the worldly, who enjoy the first cup of wealth and success but later suffer anxiety, greed, and the emptiness of a life built on possessions; and the secret sinner, who begins with the “sweet stolen waters” of hidden sin but soon drinks the torment of a guilty conscience and the shame of eventual exposure. Spurgeon contrasts all this with the feast of Christ, where—unlike Satan—Jesus “keeps the good wine until now,” offering joy that grows richer, forgiveness that is real, and a feast that leads not to destruction but to eternal life.

Sermon delivered on November 28th, 1858.

Using Samson's tragic fall as his framework, Spurgeon argues that every genuine Christian is a consecrated person — set apart entirely for God — and that this total dedication is both the source of extraordinary strength and the very thing most in danger of being quietly stolen away. He identifies the "razors" the devil uses to shear away a believer's consecration: pride that takes God's glory for oneself, self-sufficiency that forgets all strength comes from above, and the subtle shift from living for God's purposes to living primarily for personal comfort, reputation, or financial security. He closes with a sobering description of what a fallen, de-consecrated Christian looks like — blind, fettered, grinding away in the enemy's mill — and urges every believer to guard their consecration fiercely, rely daily on fresh grace from the Holy Spirit, and keep their eye single on God, since that singleness of purpose is what makes ordinary people capable of extraordinary things for Christ.

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on November 21st, 1858.

Charles Spurgeon’s sermon teaches that people can only understand the gospel when they feel its truth—especially the weight of their own sin. He argues that sin is far more serious than most people admit, using examples like Adam’s single sin bringing ruin to all humanity and the “impertinence” of a tiny creature daring to rebel against an infinite God. Spurgeon describes how terrifying it is when a person finally sees their sin clearly, recalling seasons of his own life when guilt felt heavier than physical pain. Yet he turns from this darkness to the hope of 1 John 1:7, insisting that “the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanses us from all sin,” not by minimizing sin but by completely washing it away. He emphasizes that Christ’s forgiveness is available now, even for the worst sinner, and urges listeners to trust in Christ alone—not in prayers, feelings, or good works—saying, “Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling.”

Sermon delivered on November 14th, 1858.

Spurgeon opens by confessing his own experience of deep, unexplained sadness during a week of illness, and uses it to unlock what he believes is the true meaning of the text: the promise is not primarily for those who endure suffering heroically without flinching, but for the weaker Christian who genuinely sinks under the weight of trial — and he argues there is a real and necessary place for this emotional heaviness, because it makes believers more like Christ in Gethsemane, humbles pride, teaches lessons only learned in the depths, and creates the sympathy needed to comfort others. He then turns to the deep undercurrent of joy that coexists with this surface heaviness, drawing from Peter's surrounding words: the Christian can greatly rejoice because of election before the foundation of the world, the righteousness and blood of Christ covering them, the inheritance reserved in heaven, and above all the doctrine that they are kept not by their own strength but by the power of God — a truth that makes the final perseverance of the saints the anchor of Christian comfort in the darkest hours. He closes with a brief sobering contrast: the believer's heaviness is temporary and working toward eternal glory, while the worldling's present joys are fleeting and working toward eternal misery, and he urges anyone without Christ to seek him before venturing into eternity in their current condition.

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on November 7th, 1858.

Spurgeon opens by unpacking the tenderness in God's twice-repeated command "Comfort my people," showing that God cares not only about his people's survival and salvation but also about their happiness — and he argues this command is addressed to angels, to ministers who must preach the gospel's great doctrines of grace to have anything truly comforting to say, and above all to every ordinary believer who is expected to actively seek out and encourage struggling brothers and sisters rather than hiding behind class pride or leaving it to professionals. He gives several compelling reasons why comfort matters: God wants his children to look joyful because miserable Christians dishonor the gospel, broken-hearted believers cannot work effectively for God, and genuine love for fellow believers demands practical action rather than polite sympathy from a distance. He closes with a practical toolkit for comforting others — the doctrines of election, covenant, redemption, present acceptance in Christ, the hope of heaven, the second coming, and above all the cross — and ends with a brief plain-spoken appeal to any unconverted listeners: their only escape from judgment is faith in Christ who died as their substitute.

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on September 21, 1856.

Spurgeon uses God's remarkable question — "Will you not tremble at my presence, who placed the sand as a boundary for the sea?" — to highlight a stunning contrast: the mighty ocean stays within its limits held back by nothing more than a strip of sand, yet human beings, despite every conceivable barrier God has erected, go on revolting against him in stubborn, relentless sin. He first turns this sobering truth on believers, walking through the many barriers God has placed around his own children — gratitude for election and redemption, biblical warnings, painful experiences of sin's consequences, providential interventions, the ordinances of worship, and a tender conscience — yet showing how even saints repeatedly break through all of these, making their sin all the more grievous because it is committed against such overwhelming love. He then addresses sinners with great urgency, pressing home that their guilt is compounded by every mercy, warning, answered prayer, and near-death deliverance they have received — before turning on a dime to proclaim the gospel: since Christ came specifically to save sinners, any person who today knows their guilt and their helplessness to change themselves has every reason to cry out to God for a new heart and trust the promise that whoever comes to Christ will never be cast out.

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on November 16th, 1856.

Spurgeon takes the Pharisees' contemptuous accusation — "This man receives sinners" — and turns it into a glorious declaration, arguing that Christ receives sinners specifically and exclusively: not the self-righteous who don't think they need him, but those who genuinely know themselves to be lost, guilty, and helpless, since only such people can truly repent, trust Christ, and bring glory to his saving power. He piles up encouragements for the burdened sinner to come: Christ has promised never to cast out anyone who comes, no one in history has ever sincerely sought mercy and been turned away, Christ proved his desire to save sinners by coming from heaven and shedding his own blood, and even the feeling of being a sinner is itself a gift from God that signals he is already drawing that person to himself. He closes with a bold exhortation — stop trying to make yourself better before coming, stop waiting until you understand every theological question, stop letting the devil use your own sinfulness as a reason to stay away — and instead come to Christ exactly as you are, with nothing but your sin, trusting his promise that he receives sinners.

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on September 14th, 1856.

Spurgeon takes the apostle Paul's challenge to the fault-finding Corinthians — "Examine yourselves" — and applies it to every person present, explaining that the command involves more than a casual glance at oneself but a thorough, honest, cross-examining investigation of whether Christ truly lives within, since many mistake outward religion and correct doctrine for saving faith. He presses several urgent reasons to do this now: the stakes are eternal and irreversible, many people have been fatally deceived about their own condition, God himself will one day conduct the final examination, and ironically, self-examination is the fastest cure for the doubts and fears that trouble so many believers. He closes with practical tests to apply immediately — checking whether your public life, private prayer habits, genuine grief over sin, and actual trust in Christ point to a living faith — and warns plainly that the presence of Christ in the heart is the only real mark of salvation, with everything else being, in the apostle's own word, "reprobate."

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on October 10, 1858.

Spurgeon opens by acknowledging that the church at Ephesus received remarkable praise from Christ for its works, labor, patience, and discernment — but then turns the spotlight on the one damning charge: they had left their first love — and he confesses with unusual honesty that he is preaching this sermon against himself as much as anyone. He paints a vivid picture of what that first love looked like: the eagerness to pray at any hour, the willingness to give everything, the joy in every sermon and every gathering, the fearless obedience to every command — and then traces how it gets lost through growing wealth, worldly friendships, forgetting how much we owe Christ, and substituting busy activity for actual personal communion with him. He closes with a serious threefold warning: that lost love brings God's chastening rod, that it brings shame upon the gospel before a watching world, and most solemnly — that those who have drifted far enough should honestly ask whether they were ever truly converted at all — before urging everyone to return to the cross, reclaim their first love, and attend the next morning's prayer meeting with that single purpose.

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on September 26, 1858.

Spurgeon uses the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector to argue that genuine, acceptable prayer before God looks exactly like the tax collector's prayer — not polished, boastful, or priest-mediated, but spontaneous, solitary, heartfelt, and directed to God alone, with the confession "God be merciful to me, a sinner" implicitly leaning on the atonement of Christ as the only ground for hope. He makes clear that this is not just a prayer for notorious sinners but for everyone, including church members and even the preacher himself, since all have sinned against light and love in ways that make the word "sinner" perfectly fitting on every set of lips. He then describes the absolution the tax collector received — immediate, complete justification before God, with every past sin blotted out and the righteousness of Christ placed upon him in an instant — and urgently invites every person present to use this very prayer right now, promising that God has never turned away any soul who sincerely cried it from the heart.

Sermon delivered by Charles Spurgeon on October 3, 1858.