Festival of the Saints – Charles Spurgeon

THE ancients were very fond of festive songs. When they assembled at their great festivals, led by their chosen minstrels, they sang right joyously, with boisterous mirth. Let those who will speak to the praise of wine, my soul shall extol the precious blood of Jesus; let who will laud corn and oil, the rich produce of the harvest, my heart shall sing of the bread which came down from Heaven, whereof if a man eats, he shall never hunger. Speak you of royal banquets, and minstrelsy fit for a monarch’s ear! ours is a nobler festival, and our song is sweeter far. Here is room at this table tonight for all earth’s poesy and music, for the place deserves songs more lustrous with delight, more sparkling with gems of holy mirth, than any of which the ancients could conceive.