likely in the
wrong; and if wrong belief, however sincere, entails damnation, it is
quite possible that at 11.5 p.m. on Sunday, January 31, Spurgeon entered
Hell instead of Heaven. *

* The next article will explain this matter.

Far be it from us to wish a fellow creature in Hell, but there is always
a certain pleasure in seeing the engineer hoist with his own petard. All
tragedy has a touch of comedy. Fancy Spurgeon in Hades groaning "I sent
other people here by the million, and here I am myself."

How would this be worse than the groan of any other lost soul? Few
men are devils or angels. Most are neither black nor white, but grey.
Between the best and vilest how much difference is there in the eye of
infinite wisdom? And if God, the all-knowing and all-powerful, created
men as they are, strong and weak, wise and foolish, good, bad, and
indifferent; there is no more injustice in Spurgeon's burning in Hell
than in the damnation of the worst wretch that ever cursed the world.

Spurgeon used to preach hell with a certain gusto. Here is a hot and
strong passage from his sermon on the Resurrection of the Dead:

"When thou diest', thy soul will be tormented alone; that will be a hell
for it; but at the day of judgment thy body will join thy soul, and then
thou wilt have twin-hells, thy soul sweating drops of blood, and thy
body suffused with agony. In fire exactly like that which we have on
earth thy body will lie, asbestos-like, for ever unconsumed, all thy
veins roads for the feet of pain to travel on, every nerve a string
on which the Devil shall for ever play his diabolical tune of Hell's
Unutterable Lament."

After preaching this awful doctrine a man should be ill for a fortnight.
Would it not afflict a kind-hearted man unspeakably to think that
millions of his fellow beings, or hundreds, or even one, would suffer
such a terrible fate? Would it not impair his sleep, and fill his
dreams with terror? But it did not have this effect on Spurgeon. After
preaching hell in that way, and rolling damnation over his tongue as a
dainty morsel, he went home, dined with a good appetite, drank his wine,
and smoked his cigar.

There was not the slightest doubt in Spurgeon's mind as to the endless
doom of the damned. Here is an extract from another sermon--

"Thou wilt look up there on the throne of God and it shall be written,
'For ever!' When the damned jingle the burning irons of their torment
they shall say, 'For ev