and the souls which had been given me in my humble charge; and although at that time I anticipated obscurity and poverty as the result of the resolve, yet I did there and then renounce the offer of collegiate instruction, determining to abide for a season at least with my people, and to remain preaching the word so long as I had strength to do it. Had it not been for those words I had not been where I am now. Although the ephod is no longer worn by a ministering priest, the Lord guides his people by his wisdom, and orders all their paths in love; and in times of perplexity, by ways. mysterious and remarkable, he says to them, 'This is the way; walk ye in it.'”

Writing home a few months after the circumstance referred to above, he says: "I am more and more glad that I never went to college. God sends such sunshine on my path, such smiles of grace, that I cannot regret if I have forfeited all my prospects for it. I am conscious I held back from love to God and his cause; and I had rather be poor in his service than rich in my own. I have all that heart can wish for; yea, God giveth more than my desire. My congregation is as great and loving as ever. During all the time I have been at Waterbeach I have had a different house for my home every day. Fifty-two families have thus taken me in; and I have still six other invitations not yet accepted. Talk about the people not caring for me, because they give me so little! I dare tell anybody under heaven 'tis false! They do all they can. Our anniversary passed off grandly: six were baptised; crowds on crowds stood by the river; the chapel was afterwards crammed, both to the tea and the sermon." Although he was thus useful and happy in his work at Waterbeach, God had other and greater work for him; and we shall see in the next chapter how he prepared the way for his servant's advancement.

E who is the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last-He who liveth and was dead, and who is alive for evermore-still walks among the golden candlesticks and holds the stars in His right hand. His churches are His peculiar care, and He appoints their pastors according to His perfect wisdom and love. Owing to various causes, the Baptist church meeting in New Park Street Chapel, Southwark-a church of some antiquity and traditional renown-had gradually fallen into decay; and in 1853 those on whom its responsibilities rested were concerned about its revival. It was without a pastor; and the deacons were looking hither and thither for some one who would be likely to heal the breaches and restore the waste places of their Zion.

A gentleman who was on terms of intimacy with one of their number had been on a visit to Cambridge, and had heard Mr. Spurgeon speak at the anniversary meeting of the Cambridge Union of Sunday Schools. He was greatly struck with the speaker's fluency of speech and raciness of style, as well as with the matter of his address; and had

carried away his impressions for future use. Shortly afterwards, he met his friend of the Park Street diaconate in London; and, as they spoke together of the depressed condition of the church, ventured to suggest that this young minister of Waterbeach might, under God, prove an efficient agent to raise it from its fallen state. The two friends parted, and no further steps were then taken. Some time after, they met again; and the Waterbeach pastor was again recommended as a suitable person for the New Park Street pulpit. This second conversation led to some consultations among the deacons, and ultimately it was resolved that a letter should be forwarded to Mr. Spurgeon, requesting him to come and preach to the pastorless church.

Mr. Spurgeon gives his own account of the reception of that letter, in The Sword and the Trowel for 1879:"Twenty-five years ago we walked on a Sabbath morning, according to our wont, from Cambridge to the village of Waterbeach, in order to occupy the pulpit of the little Baptist chapel. It was a country road, and there were four or five honest miles of it, which we usually measured each Sunday foot by foot, unless we happened to be met by a certain little pony and cart, which came half-way, but could not by any possibility venture further, because of the enormous expense which would have been incurred by driving through the toll-gate at Milton. That winter's morning we were all aglow with our walk, and ready for our pulpit exercises. Sitting down in the table-pew, a letter was passed to us bearing the post-mark of London. It was an unusual missive, and was opened with curiosity. It contained an invitation to preach at New Park Street Chapel, Southwark, the pulpit of which had been formerly occupied by Dr. Rippon-the very Dr. Rippon whose hymn-book was then before us upon the table-the great Dr. Rippon out of whose selection we were about to choose hymns for our worship. The late Dr. Rippon seemed to hover over us as an

immeasurably great man, the glory of whose name covered New Park Street Chapel and its pulpit with awe unspeakable. We quietly passed the letter across the table to the deacon who gave out the hymns, observing that there was some mistake, and that the letter must have been intended for a Mr. Spurgeon who preached somewhere down in Norfolk. He shook his head, and observed that he was afraid there was no mistake, as he always knew that his minister would be run away with by some large church or other, but that he was a little surprised that the Londoners should have heard of him quite so soon. 'Had it been Cottenham, or St. Ives, or Huntingdon,' said he, 'I should not have wondered at all, but going to London is rather a great step from this little place.' He shook his head very gravely; but the time was come for us to look out the hymns, and therefore the letter was put away, and, as far as we can remember, was, for the day, quite forgotten, even as a dead man out of mind.

"On the following Monday an answer was sent to London, informing the deacon of the church at Park Street that he had fallen into an error in directing his letter to Waterbeach, for the Baptist minister of that village was very little more than nineteen years of age, and quite unqualified to occupy a London pulpit. In due time came another epistle, setting forth that the former letter had been written in perfect knowledge of the young preacher's age, and had been intended for him, and him alone. The request of the former letter was repeated and pressed, a date mentioned for the journey to London, and the place appointed at which the preacher would find lodging. That invitation was accepted, and, as the result thereof, the boy preacher of the Fens took his post in London."

On one of the last Sabbaths of the month of December 1853, Mr. Spurgeon preached his first sermons in New Park Street Chapel. The congregation in the morning was

small compared with the size of the chapel. In the evening the gathering was somewhat larger. The impression made on the church by the first day's services were, on the whole, favourable; and he was invited to occupy the pulpit on another Sunday as early as possible. After consulting with his friends at Waterbeach, he arranged to supply again in London on three Sundays in January 1854. This visit excited such interest, that it was followed by an invitation to occupy the pulpit for six months on probation, with a view to the future pastorate.

The practical wisdom of the young man of nineteen is seen in his reply to the letter conveying the request of the church. We give one paragraph-the entire letter may be seen in Pike's Sketches of Nonconformity in Southwark :— "With regard to a six months' invitation from you, I have no objection to the length of time, but rather approve of the prudence of the church in wishing to have one so young as myself on an extended period of approbation. But I write after well weighing the matter, when I say positively that I cannot, I dare not, accept an unqualified invitation for so long a time. My objection is not to the length of time of probation, but it ill becomes a youth to promise to preach to a London congregation so long, until he knows them, and they know him. I would engage to supply for three months of that time, and then, should the congregation fail, or the church disagree, I would reserve to myself liberty, without breach of engagement, to retire; and you would, on your part, have the right to dismiss me without seeming to treat me ill. Should I see no reason for so doing, and the church still retain their wish for me, I can remain the other three months, either with or without the formality of a further invitation; but even during the second three months I should not like to regard myself as a fixture, in case of ill success, but would only be a supply, liable to a fortnight's dismissal or resignation."