Spurgeon On Conversion

I've been reading Spurgeon's Autobiography, as I have mentioned before. Let me encourage you all to get these two volumes. They are full of quotes like this one. Enjoy!

Let our lips crowd sonnets within the compass of a word; Let our voice distil hours of melody into a single syllable; let our tongue utter in one letter the essence of the harmony of ages; fro we write of an hour which as far excelleth all other days of our life as gold exceedeth dross.
As the night of Israel's passover was a night to be remembered, a theme for bards, and an incessant fountain of grateful song, even so is the time of which we now tell, the never-to-be-forgotten hour of our emancipation from guilt, and our justification in Jesus.
Other days have mingled with their fellows till, like coins worn in circulation, their image and superscription are entirely obliterated, but this day remaineth new, fresh, bright, as distinct in all its parts as if it were but yesterday struck from the mint of time.
Memory shall drop from the palsied hand full many a memento which now she cherishes, but she shall never, even when she tottereth to the grave, unbind from her heart the token of the thrice-happy hour of the redemption of our spirit.
The emancipated galley-slave may forget the day which heard his broken fetters rattle on the ground; the pardoned traitor may fail to remember the moment when the axe of the headsman was averted by a pardon; and the long-despairing mariner may not recollect the moment when a friendly hand snatched him from the hungry deep; but O hour of forgiven sin, moment of perfect pardon, our soul shall never forget thee while within her life and being find an immortality!
Each day of life hath had its attendant angel, but on this day, like Jacob at Mahanaim, hosts of angels met us. The sun hath risen every morning, but on that eventful morn he had the light of seven days.
As the days of Heaven upon earth, as the years of immortality, as the ages of glory, as the bliss of Heaven, so were the hours of that thrice-happy day. Rapture divine, and ecstasy inexpressible, filled our soul. Fear, distress, and grief, with all their train of woes, fled hastily away; and in their place joys came without number.
C. H. Spurgeon, Autobiography, The Early Years, Vol. 1 (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2005), 79.