Mercy, Invitation to the House of—Refused – Charles Spurgeon

WHEN the dove was weary, she recollected the ark, and flew into Noah’s hand at once. Oh, you weary ones, who know the ark, why will you not fly to it? When an Israelite had slain, inadvertently, his fellow, he knew the city of refuge, he feared the avenger of blood, and he fled along the road to the place of safety; but you know the refuge, and every Sabbath we set up the sign-posts along the road, but yet you come not to find salvation. The destitute waifs and strays of the streets of London find out the night refuge, and ask for shelter; they cluster round our workhouse doors, like sparrows under the eaves of a building on a rainy day; they piteously crave for lodging and a crust of bread; yet crowds of poor benighted spirits, when the house of mercy is lighted up, and the invitation is plainly written in bold letters, “Whoever will, let him turn in hither,” will not come, but prove the truth of Watts’ verse—

“Thousands make a wretched choice,

And rather starve than come.”

Tis strange, ’tis passing strange, ’tis wonderful!