Some of Spurgeon's Thoughts on Grace

Grace is the mother and nurse of holiness, and not the apologist of sin.

The more grace we have, the less we shall think of ourselves, for grace, like light, reveals our impurity.

I hope that none of you think that you have more grace than you need, because you have not. You may, possibly, have as much grace as will last you through to-day; but you will need as much as that to-morrow morning, if not more.

Grace does not make us unearthly, though it makes us unworldly.

A seat in heaven shall one day be thine; but a chain in hell would have been thine if grace had not changed thee.

I know not a word which can express the surprise and wonder our souls ought to feel at God’s goodness to us. Our hearts playing the harlot; our lives far from perfect; our faith almost blown out; our unbelief often prevailing; our pride lifting up its accursed head; our patience a poor sickly plant, almost nipped by one night’s frost; our courage little better than cowardice; our love lukewarmness; our ardour but as ice—oh, my dear brethren, if we will but think any one of us what a mass of sin we are, if we will but reflect that we are after all, as one of the fathers writes, “walking dunghills,” we should indeed be surprised that the sun of divine grace should continue so perpetually to shine upon us, and that the abundance of heaven’s mercy should be revealed in us.

Too many professors are quarrelling with God that they are not other than they are. This is evil, and shows that pride is still in their hearts, for were they conscious of their own deserts they would know that anything short of hell is more than we deserve, and as long as we are not in the pit of torment gratitude becomes us.

We are accustomed not only to say “grace,” but “free grace.” It has been remarked that this is a tautology. So it is, but it is a blessed one, for it makes the meaning doubly clear and leaves no room for mistake. Since it is evidently objectionable to those who dislike the doctrine intended, it is manifestly forcible, and therefore we will keep to it. We feel no compunction in ringing such a silver bell twice over—grace, free grace.

Our God will supply us with those choice graces and consolations which shall strengthen us to glorify his name even in the fires. He will either make the burden lighter, or the back stronger; he will diminish the need, or increase the supply.

That thou shouldest die for me remains the greatest of all miracles in my esteem. That thou shouldest choose me, and call me, and pardon me, and save me, is a world of wonders, at which my soul stands gratefully amazed.

This is how grace works; it enters the soul, penetrates the heart, saturates the conscience, abides in the memory, affects the affections, gives understanding to the understanding, and imparts real life to the heart, which is the seat of life.

Talk of millions and of billions,—we must get into the inconceivable before we can estimate the infinite, the unutterable value of those gifts which Jesus Christ continually gives to us, which grace pours into our lap from the cornucopia of love.

If God had begun saving us because we were good, he would of course leave off saving us when we were not good.

Grace is the free favour of God, the undeserved bounty of the ever-gracious Creator against whom we have offended, the generous pardon, the infinite, spontaneous loving-kindness of the God who has been provoked and angered by our sin, but who, delighting in mercy, and grieving to smite the creatures whom he has made, is ever ready to pass by transgression, iniquity, and sin, and to save his people from all the evil consequences of their guilt.

I do not doubt, brethren, that there is a grace which precedes quickening, a grace for which theology has no name, which prepares the soul for the reception of the divine Word, which makes the soul ready before the living seed comes.

If grace does not make you to differ from your own surroundings, is it really grace at all?