"TILL HE COME"
COMMUNION MEDITATIONS
AND
ADDRESSES
BY
C. H. SPURGEON
1896
PREFATORY NOTE
For many years, whether at home or abroad, it was Mr.
Spurgeon's constant custom to observe the ordinance of the Lord's
supper every Sabbath-day, unless illness prevented. This he
believed to be in accordance with apostolic precedent; and it was
his oft-repeated testimony that the more frequently he obeyed his
Lord's command, "This do in remembrance of Me," the more precious
did his Saviour become to him, while the memorial celebration
itself proved increasingly helpful and instructive as the years
rolled by.
Several of the discourses here published were delivered to
thousands of communicants in the Metropolitan Tabernacle, while
others were addressed to the little companies of Christians,--of
different denominations, and of various nationalities,--who
gathered around the communion table in Mr. Spurgeon's sitting-room
at Mentone. The addresses cover a wide range of subjects; but all
of them speak more or less fully of the great atoning sacrifice of
which the broken bread and the filled cup are the simple yet
significant symbols.
Mr. Spurgeon's had intended to publish a selection of his
Communion Addresses; so this volume may be regarded as another of
the precious literary legacies bequeathed by him to his brethren
and sisters in Christ who have yet to tarry a while here below. It
is hoped that these sermonettes will be the means of deepening the
spiritual life of many believers, and that they will suggest
suitable themes for meditation and discourse to those who have the
privilege and responsibility of presiding at the ordinance.
CONTENTS.
Mysterious Visits.
"Thou hast visited me in the night."--Psalm xvii. 3.
"Under His Shadow."
"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall
abide under the shadow of the Almighty "--Psalm xci. 1.
"The shadow of a great rock in a weary land."--Isa. xxxii. 2.
"As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my
Beloved among the sons. I sat down under His shadow with
great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste:"
Solomon's Song ii. 3.
"Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of
Thy wings will I rejoice."--Psalm lxiii. 7.
"And He hath made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow
of His hand hath He hid me, and made me a polished
shaft; in His quiver hath He hid me."--Isa. xlix. 2.
Under the Apple Tree.
"I sat down under His shadow with great delight, and His
fruit was sweet to my taste."--Solomon's Song ii. 3.
Over the Mountains.
"My Beloved is mine, and I am His: He feedeth among the
lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away,
turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart
upon the mountains of Bether."--Solomon's Song ii. 16,
17.
Fragrant Spices from the Mountains of Myrrh.
"Thou art all fair, My love; there is no spot in thee."--
Solomon's Song iv. 7.
The Well-beloved.
"Yea, He is altogether lovely."--Solomon's Song v. 16.
The Spiced Wine of my Pomegranate.
"I would cause Thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of
my pomegranate."--Solomon's Song viii. 2.
"And of His fulness have all we received, and grace for
grace,"--John i. 16.
The Well-beloved's Vineyard.
"My Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill."--
Isaiah v. 1.
Redeemed Souls Freed from Fear.
"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee."--Isaiah xliii. 1.
Jesus, the Great Object of Astonishment.
"Behold, My Servant shall deal prudently, He shall be exalted
and extolled, and be very high. As many were astonied at
Thee; His visage was so marred more than any man, and
His form more than the sons of men: so shall He sprinkle
many nations, the kings shall shut their mouths at Him:
for that which had not been told them shall they see;
and that which they had not heard shall they consider."
--Isaiah lii. 13-15.
Bands of Love; or, Union to Christ.
"I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love: and I
was to them as they that take off the yoke on their
jaws, and I laid meat unto them."--Hosea xi. 4.
"I will Give you Rest."
"I will give you rest."--Matthew xi. 28.
The Memorable Hymn.
"And when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount
of Olives."--Matthew xxvi. 30.
Jesus Asleep on a Pillow.
"And He was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a
pillow: and they awake Him, and say unto Him, Master,
carest Thou not that we perish? And He arose, and
rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be
still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great
calm."--Mark iv. 38, 39.
Real Contact with Jesus.
"And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched Me: for I perceive
that virtue is gone out of Me."--Luke viii. 46.
Christ and His Table-companions.
"And when the hour was come, He sat down, and the twelve
apostles with Him."--Luke xxii. 14.
A Word from the Beloved's Own Mouth.
"And ye are clean."--John xiii. 10.
The Believer not an Orphan.
"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you."--John
xiv. 18.
Communion with Christ and His People.
"The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion
of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it
not the communion of the body of Christ? For we being
many are one bread, and one body: for we are all
partakers of that one bread."--1 Cor. x. 16, 17.
The Sin-Bearer.
"Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree,
that we, being dead to sins, should live unto
righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye
were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto
the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls."--1 Peter ii. 24,
25.
Swooning and Reviving at Christ's Feet.
"And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as dead. And He laid
His right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am
the first and the last: I am He that liveth, and was
dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen: and
have the keys of hell and of death."--Revelation i. 17,
18.
C.H. Spurgeon's Communion Hymn
MYSTERIOUS VISITS.
AN ADDRESS TO A LITTLE COMPANY AT THE
COMMUNION TABLE AT MENTONE.
"Thou hast visited me in the night."--Psalm xvii. 3.
IT is a theme for wonder that the glorious God should visit sinful
man. "What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of
man, that Thou visitest him?" A divine visit is a joy to be
treasured whenever we are favoured with it. David speaks of it
with great solemnity. The Psalmist was not content barely to
_speak_ of it; but he wrote it down in plain terms, that it might
be known throughout all generations: "_Thou hast visited me in the
night_." Beloved, if God has ever visited you, you also will
marvel at it, will carry it in your memory, will speak of it to
your friends, and will record it in your diary as one of the
notable events of your life. Above all, you will speak of it to
God Himself, and say with adoring gratitude, "Thou hast visited me
in the night." It should be a solemn part of worship to remember
and make known the condescension of the Lord, and say, both in
lowly prayer and in joyful psalm, "Thou hast visited me."
To you, beloved friends, who gather with me about this
communion table, I will speak of my own experience, nothing
doubting that it is also yours. If our God has ever visited any of
us, personally, by His Spirit, two results have attended the
visit: _it has been sharply searching, and it has been sweetly
solacing_.
When first of all the Lord draws nigh to the heart, the
trembling soul perceives clearly the searching character of His
visit. Remember how Job answered the Lord: "I have heard of Thee
by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth Thee, wherefore
I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." We can read of God,
and hear of God, and be little moved; but when we feel His
presence, it is another matter. I thought my house was good enough
for kings; but when the King of kings came to it, I saw that it
was a hovel quite unfit for His abode. I had never known sin to be
so "exceeding sinful" if I had not known God to be so perfectly
holy. I had never understood the depravity of my own nature if I
had not known the holiness of God's nature. When we see Jesus, we
fall at His feet as dead; till then, we are alive with
vainglorious life. If letters of light traced by a mysterious hand
upon the wall caused the joints of Belshazzar's loins to be
loosed, what awe overcomes our spirits when we see the Lord
Himself! In the presence of so much light our spots and wrinkles
are revealed, and we are utterly ashamed. We are like Daniel, who
said, "I was left alone, and saw this great vision, and there
remained no strength in me: for my comeliness was turned in me
into corruption." It is when the Lord visits us that we see our
nothingness, and ask, "Lord, what is man?"
I do remember well when God first visited me; and assuredly
it was the night of nature, of ignorance, of sin. His visit had
the same effect upon me that it had upon Saul of Tarsus when the
Lord spake to him out of heaven. He brought me down from the high
horse, and caused me to fall to the ground; by the brightness of
the light of His Spirit He made me grope in conscious blindness;
and in the brokenness of my heart I cried, "Lord, what wilt Thou
have me to do?" I felt that I had been rebelling against the Lord,
kicking against the pricks, and doing evil even as I could; and my
soul was filled with anguish at the discovery. Very searching was
the glance of the eye of Jesus, for it revealed my sin, and caused
me to go out and weep bitterly. As when the Lord visited Adam, and
called him to stand naked before Him, so was I stripped of all my
righteousness before the face of the Most High. Yet the visit
ended not there; for as the Lord God clothed our first parents in
coats of skins, so did He cover me with the righteousness of the
great sacrifice, and He gave me songs in the night It was night,
but the visit was no dream: in fact, I there and then ceased to
dream, and began to deal with the reality of things.
I think you will remember that, when the Lord first visited
you in the night, it was with you as with Peter when Jesus came to
him. He had been toiling with his net all the night, and nothing
had come of it; but when the Lord Jesus came into his boat, and
bade him launch out into the deep, and let down his net for a
draught, he caught such a great multitude of fishes that the boat
began to sink. See! the boat goes down, down, till the water
threatens to engulf it, and Peter, and the fish, and all. Then
Peter fell down at Jesus knees, and cried, "Depart from me; for I
am a sinful man, O Lord!" The presence of Jesus was too much for
him: his sense of unworthiness made him sink like his boat, and
shrink away from the Divine Lord. I remember that sensation well;
for I was half inclined to cry with the demoniac of Gadara, "What
have I to do with Thee, Jesus, Thou Son of God most high?" That
first discovery of His injured love was overpowering; its very
hopefulness increased my anguish; for then I saw that I had slain
the Lord who had come to save me. I saw that mine was the hand
which made the hammer fall, and drove the nails that fastened the
Redeemer's hands and feet to the cruel tree.
"My conscience felt and own'd the guilt,
And plunged me in despair;
I saw my sins His blood had spilt,
And help'd to nail Him there."
This is the sight which breeds repentance: "They shall look
upon Him whom they have pierced, and mourn for Him." When the Lord
visits us, He humbles us, removes all hardness from our hearts,
and leads us to the Saviour's feet.
When the Lord first visited us in the night it was very much
with us as with John, when the Lord visited him in the isle that
is called Patmos. He tells us, "And when I saw Him, I fell at His
feet as dead." Yes, even when we begin to see that He has put away
our sin, and removed our guilt by His death, we feel as if we
could never look up again, because we have been so cruel to our
best Friend. It is no wonder if we then say, "It is true that He
has forgiven me; but I never can forgive myself. He makes me live,
and I live in Him; but at the thought of His goodness I fall at
His feet as dead. Boasting is dead, self is dead, and all desire
for anything beyond my Lord is dead also." Well does Cowper sing
of--
"That dear hour, that brought me to His foot,
And cut up all my follies by the root."
The process of destroying follies is more hopefully performed
at Jesus' feet than anywhere else. Oh, that the Lord would come
again to us as at the first, and like a consuming fire discover
and destroy the dross which now alloys our gold! The word visit
brings to us who travel the remembrance of the government officer
who searches our baggage; thus doth the Lord seek out our secret
things. But it also reminds us of the visits of the physician, who
not only finds out our maladies, but also removes them. Thus did
the Lord Jesus visit us at the first.
Since those early days, I hope that you and I have had many
visits from our Lord. Those first visits were, as I said, sharply
searching; but the later ones have been sweetly solacing. Some of
us have had them, especially in the night, when we have been
compelled to count the sleepless hours. "Heaven's gate opens when
this world's is shut." The night is still; everybody is away; work
is done; care is forgotten, and then the Lord Himself draws near.
Possibly there may be pain to be endured, the head may be aching,
and the heart may be throbbing; but if Jesus comes to visit us,
our bed of languishing becomes a throne of glory. Though it is
true "He giveth His beloved sleep," yet at such times He gives
them something better than sleep, namely; His own presence, and
the fulness of joy which comes with it. By night upon our bed we
have seen the unseen. I have tried sometimes not to sleep under an
excess of joy, when the company of Christ has been sweetly mine.
"Thou hast visited me in the night." Believe me, there are
such things as personal visits from Jesus to His people. He has
not left us utterly. Though He be not seen with the bodily eye by
bush or brook, nor on the mount, nor by the sea, yet doth He come
and go, observed only by the spirit, felt only by the heart. Still
he standeth behind our wall, He showeth Himself through the
lattices.
"Jesus, these eyes have never seen
That radiant form of Thine!
The veil of sense hangs dark between
Thy blessed face and mine!
"I see Thee not, I hear Thee not,
Yet art Thou oft with me,
And earth hath ne'er so dear a spot
As where I meet with Thee.
"Like some bright dream that comes unsought,
When slumbers o'er me roll,
Thine image ever fills my thought,
And charms my ravish'd soul.
"Yet though I have not seen, and still
Must rest in faith alone;
I love Thee, dearest Lord! and will,
Unseen, but not unknown."
Do you ask me to describe these manifestations of the Lord?
It were hard to tell you in words: you must know them for
yourselves. If you had never tasted sweetness, no man living could
give you an idea of honey. Yet if the honey be there, you can
"taste and see." To a man born blind, sight must be a thing past
imagination; and to one who has never known the Lord, His visits
are quite as much beyond conception.
For our Lord to visit us is something more than for us to
have the assurance of our salvation, though that is very
delightful, and none of us should rest satisfied unless we possess
it. To know that Jesus loves me, is one thing; but to be visited
by Him in love, is more.
Nor is it simply a close contemplation of Christ; for we can
picture Him as exceedingly fair and majestic, and yet not have Him
consciously near us. Delightful and instructive as it is to behold
the likeness of Christ by meditation, yet the enjoyment of His
actual presence is something more. I may wear my friend's portrait
about my person, and yet may not be able to say, "Thou hast
visited me."
It is the actual, though spiritual, coming of Christ which we
so much desire. The Romish church says much about the _real_
presence; meaning thereby, the corporeal presence of the Lord
Jesus. The priest who celebrates mass tells us that he believes in
the _real_ presence, but we reply, "Nay, you believe in knowing
Christ after the flesh, and in that sense the only real presence
is in heaven; but we firmly believe in the real presence of Christ
which is spiritual, and yet certain." By spiritual we do not mean
unreal; in fact, the spiritual takes the lead in real-ness to
spiritual men. I believe in the true and real presence of Jesus
with His people: such presence has been real to my spirit. Lord
Jesus, Thou Thyself hast visited me. As surely as the Lord Jesus
came really as to His flesh to Bethlehem and Calvary, so surely
does He come really by His Spirit to His people in the hours of
their communion with Him. We are as conscious of that presence as
of our own existence.
When the Lord visits us in the night, what is the effect upon
us? When hearts meet hearts in fellowship of love, communion
brings first peace, then rest, and then joy of soul. I am speaking
of no emotional excitement rising into fanatical rapture; but I
speak of sober fact, when I say that the Lord's great heart
touches ours, and our heart rises into sympathy with Him.
First, we experience _peace_. All war is over, and a blessed
peace is proclaimed; the peace of God keeps our heart and mind by
Christ Jesus.
"Peace! perfect peace! in this dark world of sin?
The blood of Jesus whispers peace within.
"Peace! perfect peace! with sorrows surging round?
On Jesus' bosom nought but calm is found."
At such a time there is a delightful sense of _rest_; we have
no ambitions, no desires. A divine serenity and security envelop
us. We have no thought of foes, or fears, or afflictions, or
doubts. There is a joyous laying aside of our own will. We _are_
nothing, and we _will_ nothing: Christ is everything, and His will
is the pulse of our soul. We are perfectly content either to be
ill or to be well, to be rich or to be poor, to be slandered or to
be honoured, so that we may but abide in the love of Christ. Jesus
fills the horizon of our being.
At such a time a flood of great _joy_ will fill our minds. We
shall half wish that the morning may never break again, for fear
its light should banish the superior light of Christ's presence.
We shall wish that we could glide away with our Beloved to the
place where He feedeth among the lilies. We long to hear the
voices of the white-robed armies, that we may follow their
glorious Leader whithersoever He goeth. I am persuaded that there
is no great actual distance between earth and heaven: the distance
lies in our dull minds. When the Beloved visits us in the night,
He makes our chambers to be the vestibule of His palace-halls.
Earth rises to heaven when heaven comes down to earth.
Now, beloved friends, you may be saying to yourselves, "_We_
have not enjoyed such visits as these." You may do so. If the
Father loves you even as He loves His Son, then you are on
visiting terms with Him. If, then, He has not called upon you, you
will be wise to call on Him. Breathe a sigh to Him, and say,--
"When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord?
Oh come, my Lord most dear!
Come near, come nearer, nearer still,
I'm blest when Thou art near.
"When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord?
I languish for the sight;
Ten thousand suns when Thou art hid,
Are shades instead of light.
"When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord?
Until Thou dost appear,
I count each moment for a day,
Each minute for a year."
"As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my
soul after Thee, O God!" If you long for Him, He much more longs
for you. Never was there a sinner that was half so eager for
Christ as Christ is eager for the sinner; nor a saint one-tenth so
anxious to behold his Lord as his Lord is to behold him. If thou
art running to Christ, He is already near thee. If thou dost sigh
for His presence, that sigh is the evidence that He is with thee.
He is with thee now: therefore be calmly glad.
Go forth, beloved, and talk with Jesus on the beach, for He
oft resorted to the sea-shore. Commune with Him amid the olive-
groves so dear to Him in many a night of wrestling prayer. If ever
there was a country in which men should see traces of Jesus, next
to the Holy Land, this Riviera is the favoured spot. It is a land
of vines, and figs, and olives, and palms; I have called it "Thy
land, O Immanuel." While in this Mentone, I often fancy that I am
looking out upon the Lake of Gennesaret, or walking at the foot of
the Mount of Olives, or peering into the mysterious gloom of the
Garden of Gethsemane. The narrow streets of the old town are such
as Jesus traversed, these villages are such as He inhabited. Have
your hearts right with Him, and He will visit you often, until
every day you shall walk with God, as Enoch did, and so turn week-
days into Sabbaths, meals into sacraments, homes into temples, and
earth into heaven. So be it with us! Amen.
UNDER HIS SHADOW.
A BRIEF SACRAMENTAL DISCOURSE DELIVERED AT MENTONE
TO ABOUT A SCORE BRETHREN.
"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall
abide under the shadow of the Almighty."--Psalm xci. 1.
I MUST confess of my short discourse, as the man did of the axe
which fell into the stream, that it is borrowed. The outline of it
is taken from one who will never complain of me, for to the great
loss of the Church she has left these lower choirs to sing above.
Miss Havergal, last and loveliest of our modern poets, when her
tones were most mellow, and her language most sublime, has been
caught up to swell the music of heaven. Her last poems are
published with the title, "Under His Shadow," and the preface
gives the reason for the name. She said, "I should like the title
to be, 'Under His Shadow.' I seem to see four pictures suggested
by that: under the shadow of a rock, in a weary plain; under the
shadow of a tree; closer still, under the shadow of His wing;
nearest and closest, in the shadow of His hand. Surely that hand
must be the pierced hand, that may oftentimes press us sorely, and
yet evermore encircling, upholding, and shadowing."
"Under His Shadow," is our afternoon subject, and we will in
a few words enlarge on the Scriptural plan which Miss Havergal has
bequeathed to us. Our text is, "He that dwelleth in the secret
place of the most High shall abide _under the shadow_ of the
Almighty." The shadow of God is not the occasional resort, but the
constant abiding-place, of the saint. Here we find not only our
consolation, but our habitation. We ought never to be out of the
shadow of God. It is to dwellers, not to visitors, that the Lord
promises His protection. "He that _dwelleth_ in the secret place
of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty:"
and that shadow shall preserve him from nightly terror and ghostly
ill, from the arrows of war and of pestilence, from death and from
destruction. Guarded by Omnipotence, the chosen of the Lord are
always safe; for as they dwell in the holy place, hard by the
mercy-seat, where the blood was sprinkled of old, the pillar of
fire by night, the pillar of cloud by day, which ever hangs over
the sanctuary, covers them also. Is it not written, "In the time
of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion, in the secret of His
tabernacle shall He hide me"? What better security can we desire?
As the people of God, we are always under the protection of the
Most High. Wherever we go, whatever we suffer, whatever may be our
difficulties, temptations, trials, or perplexities, we are always
"under the shadow of the Almighty." Over all who maintain their
fellowship with God the most tender guardian care is extended.
Their heavenly Father Himself interposes between them and their
adversaries. The experience of the saints, albeit they are all
under the shadow, yet differs as to the form in which that
protection has been enjoyed by them, hence the value of the four
figures which will now engage our attention.
I. We will begin with the first picture which Miss Havergal
mentions, namely, the rock sheltering the weary traveller:--"_The
shadow of a great rock in a weary land_" (Isaiah xxxii. 2).
Now, I take it that this is where we begin to know our Lord's
shadow. He was at the first to us _a refuge in time of trouble_.
Weary was the way, and great was the heat; our lips were parched,
and our souls were fainting; we sought for shelter, and we found
none; for we were in the wilderness of sin and condemnation, and
who could bring us deliverance, or even hope? Then we cried unto
the Lord in our trouble, and He led us to the Rock of ages, which
of old was cleft for us. We saw our interposing Mediator coming
between us and the fierce heat of justice, and we hailed the
blessed screen. The Lord Jesus was unto us a covering for sin, and
so a covert from wrath. The sense of divine displeasure, which had
beaten upon our conscience, was removed by the removal of the sin
itself, which we saw to be laid on Jesus, who in our place and
stead endured its penalty.
The shadow of a rock is remarkably cooling, and so was the
Lord Jesus eminently comforting to us. The shadow of a rock is
more dense, more complete, and more cool than any other shade; and
so the peace which Jesus gives passeth all understanding, there is
none like it. No chance beam darts through the rock-shade, nor can
the heat penetrate as it will do in a measure through the foliage
of a forest. Jesus is a complete shelter, and blessed are they who
are "under His shadow." Let them take care that they abide there,
and never venture forth to answer for themselves, or to brave the
accusations of Satan.
As with sin, so with sorrow of every sort: the Lord is the
Rock of our refuge. No sun shall smite us, nor, any heat, because
we are never out of Christ. The saints know where to fly, and they
use their privilege.
"When troubles, like a burning sun,
Beat heavy on their head,
To Christ their mighty Rock they run,
And find a pleasing shade."
There is, however, something of awe about this great shadow.
A rock is often so high as to be terrible, and we tremble in
presence of its greatness. The idea of littleness hiding behind
massive greatness is well set forth; but there is no tender
thought of fellowship, or gentleness: even so, at the first, we
view the Lord Jesus as our shelter from the consuming heat of
well-deserved punishment, and we know little more. It is most
pleasant to remember that this is only one panel of the four-fold
picture. Inexpressibly dear to my soul is the deep cool rock-shade
of my blessed Lord, as I stand in Him a sinner saved; yet is there
more.
II. Our second picture, that of the tree, is to be found in
the Song of Solomon ii. 3:--"_As the apple tree among the trees of
the wood, so is my Beloved among the sons. I sat down under His
shadow with great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste_."
Here we have not so much refuge from trouble as special _rest
in times of joy_. The spouse is happily wandering through a wood,
glancing at many trees, and rejoicing in the music of the birds.
One tree specially charms her: the citron with its golden fruit
wins her admiration, and she sits under its shadow with great
delight; such was her Beloved to her, the best among the good, the
fairest of the fair, the joy of her joy, the light of her delight.
Such is Jesus to the believing soul.
The sweet influences of Christ are intended to give us a
happy rest, and we ought to avail ourselves of them; "I sat down
under His shadow." This was Mary's better part, which Martha well-
nigh missed by being cumbered. That is the good old way wherein we
are to walk, the way in which we find rest unto our souls. Papists
and papistical persons, whose religion is all ceremonies, or all
working, or all groaning, or all feeling, have never come to an
end. We may say of their religion as of the law, that it made
nothing perfect; but under the gospel there is something finished,
and that something is the sum and substance of our salvation, and
therefore there is rest for us, and we ought to sing, "I sat
down."
Dear friends, is Christ to each one of us a place of sitting
down? I do not mean a rest of idleness and self-content,--God
deliver us from that; but there is rest in a conscious grasp of
Christ, a rest of contentment with Him as our all in all. God give
us to know more of this! This shadow is also meant to yield
perpetual solace, for the spouse did not merely come under it, but
there she sat down as one who meant to stay. Continuance of repose
and joy is purchased for us by our Lord's perfected work. Under
the shadow she found food; she had no need to leave it to find a
single needful thing, for the tree which shaded also yielded
fruit; nor did she need even to rise from her rest, but sitting
still she feasted on the delicious fruit. You who know the Lord
Jesus know also what this meaneth.
The spouse never wished to go beyond her Lord. She knew no
higher life than that of sitting under the Well-beloved's shadow.
She passed the cedar, and oak, and every other goodly tree, but
the apple-tree held her, and there she sat down. "Many there be
that say, who will show us any good? But as for us, O Lord, our
heart is fixed, our heart is fixed, resting on Thee. We will go no
further, for Thou art our dwelling-place, we feel at home with
Thee, and sit down beneath Thy shadow." Some Christians cultivate
reverence at the expense of childlike love; they kneel down, but
they dare not sit down. Our Divine Friend and Lover wills not that
it should be so; He would not have us stand on ceremony with Him,
but come boldly unto Him.
"Let us be simple with Him, then,
Not backward, stiff or cold,
As though our Bethlehem could be
What Sina was of old."
Let us use His sacred name as a common word, as a household
word, and run to Him as to a dear familiar friend. Under His
shadow we are to feel that we are at home, and then He will make
Himself at home to us by becoming food unto our souls, and giving
spiritual refreshment to us while we rest. The spouse does not
here say that she reached up to the tree to gather its fruit, but
she sat down on the ground in intense delight, and the fruit came
to her where she sat. It is wonderful how Christ will come down to
souls that sit beneath His shadow; if we can but be at home with
Christ, He will sweetly commune with us. Has He not said, "Delight
thyself also in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of
thine heart"?
In this second form of the sacred shadow, the sense of awe
gives place to that of restful delight in Christ. Have you ever
figured in such a scene as the sitter beneath the grateful shade
of the fruitful tree? Have you not only possessed security, but
experienced delight in Christ? Have you sung,--
"I sat down under His shadow,
Sat down with great delight;
His fruit was sweet unto my taste,
And pleasant to my sight"?
This is as necessary an experience as it is joyful: necessary
for many uses. The joy of the Lord is our strength, and it is when
we delight ourselves in the Lord that we have assurance of power
in prayer. Here faith develops, and hope grows bright, while love
sheds abroad all the fragrance of her sweet spices. Oh! get you to
the apple-tree, and find out who is the fairest among the fair.
Make the Light of heaven the delight of your heart, and then be
filled with heart's-ease, and revel in complete content.
III. The third view of the one subject is,--the shadow of his
wings,--a precious word. I think the best specimen of it, for it
occurs several times, is in that blessed Psalm, the sixty-third,
verse seven:--
"_Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of
Thy wings will I rejoice_."
Does not this set forth our Lord as _our trust in hours of
depression?_ In the Psalm now open before us, David was banished
from the means of grace to a dry and thirsty land, where no water
was. What is much worse, he was in a measure away from all
conscious enjoyment of God. He says, "Early will I seek Thee. My
soul thirsteth for Thee." He sings rather of memories than of
present communion with God. We also have come into this condition,
and have been unable to find any present comfort. "Thou hast been
my help," has been the highest note we could strike, and we have
been glad to reach to that. At such times, the light of God's face
has been withdrawn, but our faith has taught us to rejoice under
the shadow of His wings. Light there was none; we were altogether
in the shade, but it was a warm shade. We felt that God who had
been near must be near us still, and therefore we were quieted.
Our God cannot change, and therefore as He was our help He must
still be our help, our help even though He casts a shadow over us,
for it must be the shadow of His own eternal wings. The metaphor
is, of course, derived from the nestling of little birds under the
shadow of their mother's wings, and the picture is singularly
touching and comforting. The little bird is not yet able to take
care of itself, so it cowers down under the mother, and is there
happy and safe. Disturb a hen for a moment, and you will see all
the little chickens huddling together, and by their chirps making
a kind of song. Then they push their heads into her feathers, and
seem happy beyond measure in their warm abode. When we are very
sick and sore depressed, when we are worried with the care of
pining children, and the troubles of a needy household, and the
temptations of Satan, how comforting it is to run to our God,--
like the little chicks run to the hen,--and hide away near His
heart, beneath His Wings. Oh, tried ones, press closely to the
loving heart of your Lord, hide yourselves entirely beneath His
wings! Here awe has disappeared, and rest itself is enhanced by
the idea of loving trust. The little birds are safe in their
mother's love, and we, too, are beyond measure secure and happy in
the loving favour of the Lord.
IV. The last form of the shadow is that of the hand, and
this, it seems to me, points to power and position in service.
Turn to Isaiah xlix. 2:--
"_And He hath made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow
of His hand hath He kid me, and made me a polished shaft; in His
quiver hath He hid me_."
This undoubtedly refers to the Saviour, for the passage
proceeds:--"And said unto me, Thou art my servant, O Israel, in
whom I will be glorified. Then I said, I have laboured in vain, I
have spent my strength for nought, and in vain: yet surely my
judgment is with the Lord, and my work with my God. And now, saith
the Lord that formed me from the womb to be His servant, to bring
Jacob again to Him, though Israel be not gathered, yet shall I be
glorious in the eyes of the Lord, and my God shall be my strength.
And He said, It is a light thing that thou shouldest be My servant
to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of
Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that
thou mayest be My salvation unto the end of the earth." Our Lord
Jesus Christ was hidden away in the hand of Jehovah, to be used by
Him as a polished shaft for the overthrow of His enemies, and the
victory of His people. Yet, inasmuch as it is Christ, it is also
all Christ's servants, since as He is so are we also in this
world; and to make quite sure of it, we have the same expression
in the sixteenth verse of the fifty-first chapter, where, speaking
of His people, He says, "I have covered thee in the shadow of Mine
hand." Is not this an excellent minister's text? Every one of you
who will speak a word for Jesus shall have a share in it. This is
where those who are workers for Christ should long to be,--"in the
shadow of His hand," to achieve His eternal purpose. What are any
of God's servants without their Lord but weapons out of the
warrior's hand, having no power to do anything? We ought to be as
the arrows of the Lord which He shoots at His enemies; and so
great is His hand of power, and so little are we as His
instruments, that He hides us away in the hollow of His hand,
unseen until He darts us forth. As workers, we are to be hidden
away in the hand of God, or to quote the other figure, "in His
quiver hath He hid me:" we are to be unseen till He uses us. It is
impossible for us not to be known somewhat if the Lord uses us,
but we may not aim at being noticed, but, on the contrary, if we
be as much used as the very chief of the apostles, we must
truthfully add, "though I be nothing." Our desire should be that
Christ should be glorified, and that self should be concealed.
Alas! there is a way of always showing self in what we do, and we
are all too ready to fall into it. You can visit the poor in such
a way that they will feel that his lordship or her ladyship has
condescended to call upon poor Betsy; but there is another way of
doing the same thing so that the tried child of God shall know
that a brother beloved or a dear sister in Christ has shown a
fellow-feeling for her, and has talked to her heart. There is a
way of preaching, in which a great divine has evidently displayed
his vast learning and talent; and there is another way of
preaching, in which a faithful servant of Jesus Christ, depending
upon his Lord, has spoken in his Master's name, and left a rich
unction behind. Within the hand of God is the place of acceptance,
and safety; and for service it is the place of power, as well as
of concealment. God only works with those who are in His hand; and
the more we lie hidden there, the more surely will He use us ere
long. May the Lord do unto us according to His word, "I have put
My words in thy mouth, and I have covered thee in the shadow of My
hand." In this case we shall feel all the former emotions
combined: awe that the Lord should condescend to take us into His
hand, rest and delight that He should deign to use us, trust that
out of weakness we shall now be made strong, and to this will be
added an absolute assurance that the end of our being must be
answered, for that which is urged onward by the Almighty hand
cannot miss its mark.
These are mere surface thoughts. The subject deserves a
series of discourses. Your best course, my beloved friends, will
be to enlarge upon these hints by a long personal experience of
abiding under the shadow of the Almighty. May God the Holy Ghost
lead you into it, and keep you there, for Jesus' sake!
UNDER THE APPLE TREE.
"I sat down under His shadow with great delight, and His
fruit was sweet to my taste."--Solomon's Song ii. 3.
Christ _known should be Christ used_. The spouse knew her Beloved
to be like a fruit-bearing tree, and at once she sat under His
shadow, and fed upon His fruit. It is a pity that we know so much
about Christ, and yet enjoy Him so little. May our experience keep
pace with our knowledge, and may that experience be composed of a
practical using of our Lord! Jesus casts a shadow, let us sit
under it: Jesus yields fruit, let us taste the sweetness of it.
Depend upon it that the way to learn more is to use what you know;
and, moreover, the way to learn a truth thoroughly is to learn it
experimentally. You know a doctrine beyond all fear of
contradiction when you have proved it for yourself by personal
test and trial. The bride in the song as good as says, "I am
certain that my Beloved casts a shadow, for I have sat under it,
and I am persuaded that He bears sweet fruit, for I have tasted of
it." The best way of demonstrating the power of Christ to save is
to trust in Him and be saved yourself; and of all those who are
sure of the divinity of our holy faith, there are none so certain
as those who feel its divine power upon themselves. You may reason
yourself into a belief of the gospel, and you may by further
reasoning keep yourself orthodox; but a personal trial, and an
inward knowing of the truth, are incomparably the best evidences.
If Jesus be as an apple tree among the trees of the wood, do not
keep away from Him, but sit under His shadow, and taste His fruit.
He is a Saviour; do not believe the fact and yet remain unsaved.
As far as Christ is known to you, so far make use of Him. Is not
this sound common-sense?
We would further remark that _we are at liberty to make every
possible use of Christ_. Shadow and fruit may both be enjoyed.
Christ in His infinite condescension exists for needy souls. Oh,
let us say it over again: it is a bold word, but it is true,--as
Christ Jesus, our Lord exists for the benefit of His people. A
Saviour only exists to save. A physician lives to heal. The Good
Shepherd lives, yea, dies, for His sheep. Our Lord Jesus Christ
hath wrapped us about His heart; we are intimately interwoven with
all His offices, with all His honours, with all His traits of
character, with all that He has done, and with all that He has yet
to do. The 'sinners' Friend lives for sinners, and sinners may
have Him and use Him to the uttermost. He is as free to us as the
air we breathe. What are fountains for, but that the thirsty may
drink? What is the harbour for but that storm-tossed barques may
there find refuge? What is Christ for but that poor guilty ones
like ourselves may come to Him and look and live, and afterwards
may have all our needs supplied out of His fulness?
We have thus the door set open for us, and we pray that the
Holy Spirit may help us to enter in while we notice in the text
two things which we pray that you may enjoy to the full. First,
_the heart's rest in Christ:_ "I sat down under His shadow with
great delight." And, secondly, _the heart's refreshment in
Christ:_ "His fruit was sweet to my taste."
I. To begin with, we have here the heart's rest in Christ. To
set this forth, let us notice the character of the person who
uttered this sentence. She who said, "I sat down under His shadow
with great delight," was one who _had known before what weary
travel meant, and therefore valued rest;_ for the man who has
never laboured knows nothing of the sweetness of repose. The
loafer who has eaten bread he never earned, from whose brow there
never oozed a drop of honest sweat, does not deserve rest, and
knows not what it is. It is to the labouring man that rest is
sweet; and when at last we come, toil-worn with many miles of
weary plodding, to a shaded place where we may comfortably sit
down, then are we filled with delight.
The spouse had been seeking her Beloved, and in looking for
Him she had asked where she was likely to find Him. "Tell me,"
says she, "O Thou whom my soul loveth, where Thou feedest, where
Thou makest Thy flock to rest at noon." The answer was given to
her, "Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock." She did go
her way; but, after a while, she came to this resolution: "I will
_sit down_ under His shadow."
Many of you have been sorely wearied with going your way to
find peace. Some of you tried ceremonies, and trusted in them, and
the priest came to your help; but he mocked your heart's distress.
Others of you sought by various systems of thought to come to an
anchorage; but, tossed from billow to billow, you found no rest
upon the seething sea of speculation. More of you tried by your
good works to gain rest to your consciences. You multiplied your
prayers, you poured out floods of tears, you hoped, by almsgiving
and by the like, that some merit might accrue to you, and that
your heart might feel acceptance with God, and so have rest. You
toiled and toiled, like the men that were in the vessel with Jonah
when they rowed hard to bring their ship to land, but could not,
for the sea wrought and was tempestuous. There was no escape for
you that way, and so you were driven to another way, even to rest
in Jesus. My heart looks back to the time when I was under a sense
of sin, and sought with all my soul to find peace, but could not
discover it, high or low, in any place beneath the sky; yet when
"I saw one hanging on a tree," as the Substitute for sin, then my
heart sat down under His shadow with great delight. My heart
reasoned thus with herself,--Did Jesus suffer in my stead? Then I
shall not suffer. Did He bear my sin? Then I do not bear it. Did
God accept His Son as my Substitute? Then He will never smite
_me_. Was Jesus acceptable with God as my Sacrifice? Then what
contents the Lord may well enough content me, and so I will go no
farther, but: "sit down under His shadow," and enjoy a delightful
rest.
She who said, "I sat down under His shadow with great
delight," _could appreciate shade, for she had been sunburnt_. Did
we not read just now her exclamation,--"Look not upon me, for I am
black, because the sun hath looked upon me"? She knew what heat
meant, what the burning sun meant; and therefore shade was
pleasant to her. You know nothing about the deliciousness of shade
till you travel in a thoroughly hot country; then you are
delighted with it. Did you ever feel the heat of divine wrath? Did
the great Sun--that Sun without variableness or shadow of a
turning--ever dart upon you His hottest rays,--the rays of his
holiness and justice? Did you cower down beneath the scorching
beams of that great Light, and say, "We are consumed by Thine
anger"? If you have ever felt _that_, you have found it a very
blessed thing to come under the shadow of Christ's atoning
sacrifice. A shadow, you know, is cast by a body coming between us
and the light and heat; and our Lord's most blessed body has come
between us and the scorching sun of divine justice, so that we sit
under the shadow of His mediation with great delight.
And now, if any other sun begins to scorch us, we fly to our
Lord. If domestic trouble, or business care, or Satanic
temptation, or inward corruption, oppresses us, we hasten to
Jesus' shadow, to hide under Him, and there "sit down" in the cool
refreshment with great delight. The interposition of our blessed
Lord is the cause of our inward quiet. The sun cannot scorch _me_,
for it scorched _Him_. My troubles need not trouble me, for He has
taken my trouble, and I have left it in His hands. "I sat down
under His shadow."
Mark well these two things concerning the spouse. She knew
what it was to be weary, and she knew what it was to be sunburnt;
and just in proportion as you also know these two things, your
valuation of Christ will rise. You who have never pined under the
wrath of God have never prized the Saviour. Water is of small
value in this land of brooks and rivers, and so you commonly
sprinkle the roads with it; but I warrant you that, if you were
making a day's march over burning sand, a cup of cold water would
be worth a king's ransom; and so to thirsty souls Christ is
precious, but to none beside.
Now, when the spouse was sitting down, restful and delighted,
_she was overshadowed_. She says, "I sat down _under His shadow_."
I do not know a more delightful state of mind than to feel quite
overshadowed by our beloved Lord. Here is my black sin, but there
is His precious blood overshadowing my sin, and hiding it for
ever. Here is my condition by nature, an enemy to God; but He who
reconciled me to God by His blood has overshadowed that also, so
that I forget that I was once an enemy in the joy of being now a
friend. I am very weak; but He is strong, and His strength
overshadows my feebleness. I am very poor; but He hath all riches,
and His riches overshadow my poverty. I am most unworthy; but He
is so worthy that if I use His name I shall receive as much as if
I were worthy: His worthiness doth overshadow my unworthiness. It
is very precious to put the truth the other way, and say, If there
be anything good in me, it is not good when I compare myself with
Him, for His goodness quite eclipses and overshadows it. Can I say
I love Him? So I do, but I hardly dare call it love, for His love
overshadows it. Did I suppose that I served Him? So I would; but
my poor service is not worth mentioning in comparison with what He
has done for me. Did I think I had any degree of holiness? I must
not deny what His Spirit works in me; but when I think of His
immaculate life, and all His divine perfections, where am I? What
am I? Have you not sometimes felt this? Have you not been so
overshadowed and hidden under your Lord that you became as
nothing? I know myself what it is to feel that if I die in a
workhouse it does not matter so long as my Lord is glorified.
Mortals may cast out my name as evil, if they like; but what
matters it since His dear name shall one day be printed in stars
athwart the sky? Let Him overshadow me; I delight that it should
be so.
The spouse tells us that, when she became quite overshadowed,
then _she felt great delight_. Great "_I_" never has great
delight, for it cannot bear to own a greater than itself, but the
humble believer finds his delight in being overshadowed by his
Lord. In the shade of Jesus we have more delight than in any
fancied light of our own. The spouse had _great_ delight. I trust
that you Christian people do have great delight; and if not, you
ought to ask yourselves whether you really are the people of God.
I like to see a cheerful countenance; ay, and to hear of raptures
in the hearts of those who are God's saints! There are people who
seem to think that religion and gloom are married, and must never
be divorced. Pull down the blinds on Sunday, and darken the rooms;
if you have a garden, or a rose in flower, try to forget that
there are such beauties: are you not to serve God as dolorously as
you can? Put your book under your arm, and crawl to your place of
worship in as mournful a manner as if you were being marched to
the whipping-post. Act thus if you will; but give me that religion
which cheers my heart, fires my soul, and fills me with enthusiasm
and delight,--for that is likely to be the religion of heaven, and
it agrees with the experience of the Inspired Song.
Although I trust that we know what delight means, I question
if we have enough of it to describe ourselves as _sitting down_ in
the enjoyment of it. Do you give yourselves enough time to sit at
Jesus' feet? _There_ is the place of delight, do you abide in it?
Sit down under His shadow. "I have no leisure," cries one. Try and
make a little. Steal it from your sleep if you cannot get it
anyhow else. Grant leisure to your heart. It would be a great pity
if a man never spent five minutes with his wife, but was forced to
be always hard at work. Why, that is slavey, is it not? Shall we
not then have time to commune with our Best-beloved? Surely,
somehow or other, we can squeeze out a little season in which we
shall have nothing else to do but to sit down under His shadow
with great delight! When I take my Bible, and want to feed on it
for myself, I generally get thinking about preaching upon the
text, and what I should say to you from it. This will not do; I
must get away from that, and forget that there is a Tabernacle,
that I may sit personally at Jesus' feet. And, oh, there is an
intense delight in being overshadowed by Him! He is near you, and
you know it. His dear presence is as certainly with you as if you
could see Him, for His influence surrounds you.
Often have I felt as if Jesus leaned over me, as a friend
might look over my shoulder. Although no cool shade comes over
your brow, yet you may as much feel His shadow as if it did, for
your heart grows calm; and if you have been wearied with the
family, or troubled with the church, or vexed with yourself, you
come down from the chamber where you have seen your Lord, and you
feel braced for the battle of life, ready for its troubles and its
temptations, because you have seen the Lord. "I sat down" said
she, "under His shadow with _great delight_." How great that
delight was she could not tell, but she sat down as one
overpowered with it, needing to sit still under the load of bliss.
I do not like to talk much about the secret delights of
Christians, because there are always some around us who do not
understand our meaning; but I will venture to say this much--that
if worldlings could but even guess what are the secret joys of
believers, they would give their eyes to share with us. We have
troubles, and we admit it, we expect to have them; but we have
joys which are frequently excessive. We should not like that
others should be witnesses of the delight which now and then
tosses our soul into a very tempest of joy. You know what it
means, do you not? When you have been quite alone with the
heavenly Bridegroom, you wanted to tell the angels of the sweet
love of Christ to you, a poor unworthy one. You even wished to
teach the golden harps fresh music, for seraphs know not the
heights and depths of the grace of God as you know them.
The spouse had great delight, and we know that she had, for
this one reason, that _she did not forget it_. This verse and the
whole Song are a remembrance of what she had enjoyed. She says, "I
sat down under His shadow." It may have been a month, it may have
been years ago; but she had not forgotten it. The joys of
fellowship with God are written in marble. "Engraved as in eternal
brass" are memories of communion with Christ Jesus. "Above
fourteen years ago," says the apostle, "I knew a man." Ah, it was
worth remembering all those years! He had not told his delight,
but he had kept it stored up. He says, "I knew a man in Christ
above fourteen years ago (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or
whether out of the body, I cannot tell:)" so great had his
delights been. When we look back, we forget birthdays, holidays,
and bonfire-nights which we have spent after the manner of men,
but we readily recall our times of fellowship with the Well-
beloved. We have known our Tabors, our times of transfiguration
fellowship, and like Peter we remember when we were "with Him in
the holy mount." Our head has leaned upon the Master's bosom, and
we can never forget the intense delight; nor will we fail to put
on record for the good of others the joys with which we have been
indulged.
Now I leave this first part of the subject, only noticing how
beautifully natural it is. There was a tree, and she sat down
under the shadow: there was nothing strained, nothing formal. So
ought true piety ever to be consistent with common-sense, with
that which seems most fitting, most comely, most wise, and most
natural. There is Christ, we may enjoy Him, let us not despise the
privilege.
II. The second part of our subject is, the heart's
refreshment in Christ. His fruit was sweet to my taste. Here I
will not enlarge, but give you thoughts in brief which you can
beat out afterwards. _She did not feast upon the fruit of the tree
till first she was under the shadow of it._ There is no knowing
the excellent things of Christ till you trust Him. Not a single
sweet apple shall fall to the lot of those who are outside the
shadow. Come and trust Christ, and then all that there is in
Christ shall be enjoyed by you. O unbelievers, what you miss! If
you will but sit down under His shadow, you shall have all things;
but if you will not, neither shall any good thing of Christ's be
yours.
_But as soon as ever she was under the shadow, then the fruit
was all hers_. "I sat down under His shadow," saith she, and then,
"His fruit was sweet to my taste." Dost thou believe in Jesus,
friend? Then Jesus Christ Himself is thine; and if thou dost own
the tree, thou mayest well eat the fruit. Since He Himself becomes
thine altogether, then His redemption and the pardon that comes of
it, His living power, His mighty intercession, the glories of His
Second Advent, and all that belong to Him are made over to thee
for thy personal and present use and enjoyment. All things are
yours, since Christ is yours. Only mind you imitate the spouse:
_when she found that the fruit was hers, she ate it_. Copy her
closely in this. It is a great fault in many believers, that they
do not appropriate the promises, and feed on them. Do not err as
they do. Under the shadow you have a right to eat the fruit. Deny
not yourselves the sacred entertainment.
Now, it would appear, as we read the text, that _she obtained
this fruit without effort_. The proverb says, "He who would gain
the fruit must climb the tree." But she did not climb, for she
says, "I sat down under His shadow." I suppose the fruit dropped
down to her. I know that it is so with us. We no longer spend our
money for that which is not bread, and our labour for that which
satisfieth not; but we sit under our Lord's shadow, and we eat
that which is good, and our soul delights itself in sweetness.
Come Christian, enter into the calm rest of faith, by sitting down
beneath the cross, and thou shalt be fed even to the full.
_The spouse rested while feasting:_ she sat and ate. So, O
true believer, rest whilst thou art feeding upon Christ! The
spouse says, "I sat, and I ate." Had she not told us in the former
chapter that the King _sat_ at His table? See how like the Church
is to her Lord, and the believer to his Saviour! We sit down also,
and we eat, even as the King doth. Right royally are we
entertained. His joy is in us, and His peace keeps our hearts and
minds.
Further, notice that, _as the spouse fed upon this fruit, she
had a relish for it._ It is not every palate that likes every
fruit. Never dispute with other people about tastes of any sort,
for agreement is not possible. That dainty which to one person is
the most delicious is to another nauseous; and if there were a
competition as to which fruit is preferable to all the rest, there
would probably be almost as many opinions as there are fruits. But
blessed is he who hath a relish for Christ Jesus! Dear hearer, is
He sweet to you? Then He is yours. There never was a heart that
did relish Christ but what Christ belonged to that heart. If thou
hast been feeding on Him, and He is sweet to thee, go on feasting,
for He who gave thee a relish gives thee Himself to satisfy thine
appetite.
What are the fruits which come from Christ? Are they not
peace with God, renewal of heart, joy in the Holy Ghost, love to
the brethren? Are they not regeneration, justification,
sanctification, adoption, and all the blessings of the covenant of
grace? And are they not each and all sweet to our taste? As we
have fed upon them, have we not said, "Yes, these things are
pleasant indeed. There is none like them. Let us live upon them
evermore"? Now, sit down, sit down and feed. It seems a strange
thing that we should have to persuade people to do that, but in
the spiritual world things are very different from what they are
in the natural. In the case of most men, if you put a joint of
meat before them, and a knife and fork, they do not need many
arguments to persuade them to fall to. But I will tell you when
they will not do it, and that is when they are full: and I will
also tell you when they will do it, and that is when they are
hungry. Even so, if thy soul is weary after Christ the Saviour,
thou wilt feed on Him; but if not, it is useless for me to preach
to thee, or bid thee come. However, thou that art there, sitting
under His shadow, thou mayest hear Him utter these words: "Eat, O
friend: drink, yea, drink abundantly." Thou canst not have too
much of these good things: the more of Christ, the better the
Christian.
We know that the spouse feasted herself right heartily with
this food from the tree of life, for _in after days she wanted
more_. Will you kindly read on in the fourth verse? The verse
which contains our text describes, as it were, her first love to
her Lord, her country love, her rustic love. She went to the wood,
and she found Him there like an apple tree, and she enjoyed Him as
one relishes a ripe apple in the country. But she grew in grace,
she learned more of her Lord, and she found that her Best-beloved
was a King. I should not wonder but what she learned the doctrine
of the Second Advent, for then she began to sing, "He brought me
to the banqueting house." As much as to say,--He did not merely
let me know Him out in the fields as the Christ in His
humiliation, but He brought me into the royal palace; and, since
He is a King, He brought forth a banner with His own brave
escutcheon, and He waved it over me while I was sitting at the
table, and the motto of that banneret was love.
She grew very full of this. It was such a grand thing to find
a great Saviour, a triumphant Saviour, an exalted Saviour! But it
was too much for her, and she became sick of soul with the
excessive glory of what she had learned; and do you see what her
heart craves for? She longs for her first simple joys, those
countrified delights. "Comfort me with apples," she says. Nothing
but the old joys will revive her. Did you ever feel like that? I
have been satiated with delight in the love of Christ as a
glorious exalted Saviour when I have seen Him riding on His white
horse, and going forth conquering and to conquer; I have been
overwhelmed when I have beheld Him in the midst of the throne,
with all the brilliant assembly of angels and archangels adoring
Him, and my thought has gone forward to the day when He shall
descend with all the pomp of God, and make all kings and princes
shrink into nothingness before the infinite majesty of His glory.
Then I have felt as though, at the sight of Him, I must fall at
His feet as dead; and I have wanted somebody to come and tell me
over again "the old, old story" of how He died in order that I
might be saved. His throne overpowers me, let me gather fruit from
His cross. Bring me apples from "the tree" again. I am awe-struck
while in the palace, let me get away to the woods again. Give me
an apple plucked from the tree, such as I have given out to boys
and girls in His family, such an apple as this, "Come unto Me all
ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Or
this: "This man receiveth sinners." Give me a promise from the
basket of the covenant. Give me the simplicity of Christ, let me
be a child and feast on apples again, if Jesus be the apple tree.
I would fain go back to Christ on the tree in my stead, Christ
overshadowing me, Christ feeding me. This is the happiest state to
live in. Lord, evermore give us these apples! You recollect the
old story we told, years ago, of Jack the huckster who used to
sing,--
"I'm a poor sinner, and nothing at all,
But Jesus Christ is my all in all."
Those who knew him were astonished at his constant composure.
They had a world of doubts and fears, and so they asked him why he
never doubted. "Well," said he, "I can't doubt but what I am a
poor sinner, and nothing at all, for I know that, and feel it
every day. And why should I doubt that Jesus Christ is my all in
all? for He says He is." "Oh!" said his questioner, "I have my ups
and downs." "I don't," says Jack;" I can never go up, for I am a
poor sinner, and nothing at all; and I cannot go down, for Jesus
Christ is my all in all." He wanted to join the church, and they
said he must tell his experience. He said, "All my experience is
that I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all, and Jesus Christ is
my all in all." "Well," they said, "when you come before the
church-meeting, the minister may ask you questions." "I can't help
it," said Jack, "all I know I will tell you; and that is all I
know,--
"'I'm a poor sinner, and nothing at all,
But Jesus Christ is my all in all.'"
He was admitted into the church, and continued with the
brethren, walking in holiness; but that was still all his
experience, and you could not get him beyond it. "Why," said one
brother, "I sometimes feel so full of grace, I feel so advanced in
sanctification, that I begin to be very happy." "I never do," said
Jack; "I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all." "But then," said
the other, "I go down again, and think I am not saved, because I
am not as sanctified as I used to be." "But I never doubt my
salvation," said Jack, "because Jesus Christ is my all in all, and
He never alters." That simple story is grandly instructive, for it
sets forth a plain man's faith in a plain salvation; it is the
likeness of a soul under the apple tree, resting in the shade, and
feasting on the fruit.
Now, at this time I want you to think of Jesus, not as a
Prince, but as an apple tree; and when this is done, I pray you to
_sit down under His shadow_. It is not much to do. Any child, when
it is hot, can sit down in a shadow. I want you next to feed on
Jesus: any simpleton can eat apples when they are ripe upon the
tree. Come and take Christ, then. You who never came before, come
now. Come and welcome. You who have come often, and have entered
into the palace, and are reclining at the banqueting table, you
lords and peers of Christianity, come to the common wood and to
the common apple tree where poor saints are shaded and fed. You
had better come under the apple tree, like poor sinners such as I
am, and be once more shaded with boughs and comforted with apples,
for else you may faint beneath the palace glories. The best of
saints are never better than when they eat their first fare, and
are comforted with the apples which were their first gospel feast.
The Lord Himself bring forth His own sweet fruit to you!
Amen.
OVER THE MOUNTAINS.
"My Beloved is mine, and I am His: He feedeth among the
lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my
Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains
of Bether."--Solomon's Song ii. 16, 17.
IT may be that there are saints who are always at their best, and
are happy enough never to lose the light of their Father's
countenance. I am not sure that there are such persons, for those
believers with whom I have been most intimate have had a varied
experience; and those whom I have known, who have boasted of their
constant perfectness, have not been the most reliable of
individuals. I hope there is a spiritual region attainable where
there are no clouds to hide the Sun of our soul; but I cannot
speak with positiveness, for I have not traversed that happy land.
Every year of my life has had a winter as well as a summer, and
every day its night. I have hitherto seen clear shinings and heavy
rains, and felt warm breezes and fierce winds. Speaking for the
many of my brethren, I confess that though the substance be in us,
as in the teil-tree and the oak, yet we do lose our leaves, and
the sap within us does not flow with equal vigour at all seasons.
We have our downs as well as our ups, our valleys as well as our
hills. We are not always rejoicing; we are sometimes in heaviness
through manifold trials. Alas! we are grieved to confess that our
fellowship with the Well-beloved is not always that of rapturous
delight; but we have at times to seek Him, and cry, "Oh, that I
knew where I might find Him!" This appears to me to have been in a
measure the condition of the spouse when she cried, "Until the day
break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my Beloved."
I. These words teach us, first, that communion may be broken.
The spouse had lost the company of her Bridegroom: conscious
communion with Him was gone, though she loved her Lord, and sighed
for Him. In her loneliness she was sorrowful; but _she had by no
means ceased to love Him_, for she calls Him her Beloved, and
speaks as one who felt no doubt upon that point. Love to the Lord
Jesus may be quite as true, and perhaps quite as strong, when we
sit in darkness as when we walk in the light. Nay, _she had not
last her assurance of His love to her_, and of their mutual
interest in one another; for she says, "My Beloved is mine, and I
am His;" and yet she adds, "Turn, my Beloved." The condition of
our graces does not always coincide with the state of our joys. We
may be rich in faith and love, and yet have so low an esteem of
ourselves as to be much depressed.
It is plain, from this Sacred Canticle, that the spouse may
love and be loved, may be confident in her Lord, and be fully
assured of her possession of Him, and yet there may for the
present be mountains between her and Him. Yes, we may even be far
advanced in the divine life, and yet be exiled for a while from
conscious fellowship. There are nights for men as well as babes,
and the strong know that the sun is hidden quite as well as do the
sick and the feeble. Do not, therefore, condemn yourself, my
brother, because a cloud is over you; cast not away your
confidence; but the rather let faith burn up in the gloom, and let
your love resolve to come at your Lord again whatever be the
barriers which divide you from Him.
When Jesus is absent from a true heir of heaven, sorrow will
ensue. The healthier our condition, the sooner will that absence
be perceived, and the more deeply will it be lamented. This sorrow
is described in the text as darkness; this is implied in the
expression, "_Until the day break_." Till Christ appears, no day
has dawned for us. We dwell in midnight darkness; the stars of the
promises and the moon of experience yield no light of comfort till
our Lord, like the sun, arises and ends the night. We must have
Christ with us, or we are benighted: we grope like blind men for
the wall, and wander in dismay.
The spouse also speaks of shadows. "Until the day break, _and
the shadows flee away_." Shadows are multiplied by the departure
of the sun, and these are apt to distress the timid. We are not
afraid of real enemies when Jesus is with us; but when we miss
Him, we tremble at a shade. How sweet is that song, "Yea, though I
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no
evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort
me!" But we change our note when midnight is now come, and Jesus
is not with us: then we people the night with terrors: spectres,
demons, hobgoblins, and things that never existed save in fancy,
are apt to swarm about us; and we are in fear where no fear is.
The spouse's worst trouble was that _the back of her Beloved
was turned to her_, and so she cried, "Turn, my Beloved." When His
face is towards her, she suns herself in His love; but if the
light of His countenance is withdrawn, she is sorely troubled. Our
Lord turns His face from His people though He never turns His
heart from His people. He may even close His eyes in sleep when
the vessel is tossed by the tempest, but His heart is awake all
the while. Still, it is pain enough to have grieved Him in any
degree: it cuts us to the quick to think that we have wounded His
tender heart. He is jealous, but never without cause. If He turns
His back upon us for a while, He has doubtless a more than
sufficient reason. He would not walk contrary to us if we had not
walked contrary to Him. Ah, it is sad work this! The presence of
the Lord makes this life the preface to the life celestial; but
His absence leaves us pining and fainting, neither doth any
comfort remain in the land of our banishment. The Scriptures and
the ordinances, private devotion and public worship, are all as
sun-dials,--most excellent when the sun shines, but of small avail
in the dark. O Lord Jesus, nothing can compensate us for Thy loss!
Draw near to Thy beloved yet again, for without Thee our night
will never end.
"See! I repent, and vex my soul,
That I should leave Thee so!
Where will those vile affections roll
That let my Saviour go?"
When communion with Christ is broken, in all true hearts
_there is a strong desire to win it back again_. The man who has
known the joy of communion with Christ, if he loses it, will never
be content until it is restored. Hast thou ever entertained the
Prince Emmanuel? Is He gone elsewhere? Thy chamber will be dreary
till He comes back again. "Give me Christ or else I die," is the
cry of every spirit that has lost, the dear companionship of
Jesus. We do not part with such heavenly delights without many a
pang. It is not with us a matter of "maybe He will return, and we
hope He will;" but it must be, or we faint and die. We cannot live
without Him; and this is a cheering sign; for the soul that cannot
live without Him shall not live without Him: He comes speedily
where life and death hang on His coming. If you must have Christ
you shall have Him. This is just how the matter stands: we must
drink of this well or die of thirst; we must feed upon Jesus or
our spirit will famish.
II. We will now advance a step, and say that when communion
with Christ is broken, there are great difficulties in the way of
its renewal. It is much easier to go down hill than to climb to
the same height again. It is far easier to lose joy in God than to
find the lost jewel. The spouse speaks of "mountains" dividing her
from her Beloved: she means that _the difficulties were great_.
They were not little hills, but mountains, that closed up her way.
Mountains of remembered sin, Alps of backsliding, dread ranges of
forgetfulness, ingratitude, worldliness, coldness in prayer,
frivolity, pride, unbelief. Ah me, I cannot teach you all the dark
geography of this sad experience! Giant walls rose before her like
the towering steeps of Lebanon. How could she come at her Beloved?
_The dividing difficulties were many_ as well as great. She
does not speak of "a mountain", but of "mountains": Alps rose on
Alps, wall after wall. She was distressed to think that in so
short a time so much could come between her and Him of whom she
sang just now, "His left hand is under my head, and His right hand
doth embrace me." Alas, we multiply these mountains of Bether with
a sad rapidity! Our Lord is jealous, and we give Him far too much
reason, for hiding His face. A fault, which seemed so small at the
time we committed it, is seen in the light of its own
consequences, and then it grows and swells till it towers aloft,
and hides the face of the Beloved. Then has our sun gone down, and
fear whispers, "Will His light ever return? Will it ever be
daybreak? Will the shadows ever flee away?" It is easy to grieve
away the heavenly sunlight, but ah, how hard to clear the skies,
and regain the unclouded brightness!
Perhaps the worst thought of all to the spouse was the dread
that _the dividing barrier might be permanent_. It was high, but
it might dissolve; the walls were many, but they might fall; but,
alas, they were mountains, and these stand fast for ages! She felt
like the Psalmist, when he cried, "My sin is ever before me." The
pain of our Lord's absence becomes: intolerable when we fear that
we are hopelessly shut out from Him. A night one can bear, hoping
for the morning; but what if the day should never break? And you
and I, if we have wandered away from Christ, and feel that there
are ranges of immovable mountains between Him and us, will feel
sick at heart. We try to pray, but devotion dies on our lips. We
attempt to approach the Lord at the communion table, but we feel
more like Judas than John. At such times we have felt that we
would give our eyes once more to behold the Bridegroom's face, and
to know that He delights in us as in happier days. Still there
stand the awful mountains, black, threatening, impassable; and in
the far-off land the Life of our life is away, and grieved.
So the spouse seems to have come to the conclusion that _the
difficulties in her way were insurmountable by her own power_. She
does not even think of herself going over the mountains to her
Beloved, but she cries, "Until the day break, and the shadows flee
away, turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart
upon the mountains of Bether." She will not try to climb the
mountains, she knows she cannot: if they had been less high, she
might have attempted it; but their summits reach to heaven. If
they had been less craggy or difficult, she might have tried to
scale them; but these mountains are terrible, and no foot may
stand upon their lone crags. Oh, the mercy of utter self-despair!
I love to see a soul driven into that close corner, and forced
therefore to look to God alone. The end of the creature is the
beginning of the Creator. Where the sinner ends the Saviour
begins. If the mountains can be climbed, we shall have to climb
them; but if they are quite impassable, then the soul cries out
with the prophet, "Oh, that Thou wouldest rend the heavens, that
Thou wouldest come down, that the mountains might flow down at Thy
presence. As when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the
waters to boil, to make Thy name known to Thine adversaries, that
the nations may tremble at Thy presence. When Thou didst terrible
things which we looked not for, Thou camest down, the mountains
flowed down at Thy presence." Our souls are lame, they cannot move
to Christ, and we turn our strong desires to Him, and fix our
hopes alone upon Him; will He not remember us in love, and fly to
us as He did to His servant of old when He rode upon a cherub, and
did fly, yea, He did fly upon the wings of the wind?
III. Here arises that prayer of the text which fully meets
the case. "Turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young
hart upon the mountains of division." Jesus can come to us when we
cannot go to Him. The roe and the young hart, or, as you may read
it, the gazelle and the ibex, live among the crags of the
mountains, and leap across the abyss with amazing agility. For
swiftness and sure-footedness they are unrivalled. The sacred poet
said, "He maketh my feet like hinds' feet, and setteth me upon my
high places," alluding to the feet of those creatures which are so
fitted to stand securely on the mountain's side. Our blessed Lord
is called, in the title of the twenty-second Psalm, "the Hind of
the morning "; and the spouse in this golden Canticle sings, "My
Beloved is like a roe or a young hart; behold He cometh, leaping
upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills."
Here I would remind you that this prayer is one that we may
fairly offer, because _it is the way of Christ to come to us_ when
our coming to Him is out of the question. "How?" say you. I answer
that of old He did this; for we remember "His great love wherewith
He loved us even when we were dead in trespasses and in sins." His
first coming into the world in human form, was it not because man
could never come to God until God had come to him? I hear of no
tears, or prayers, or entreaties after God on the part of our
first parents; but the offended Lord spontaneously gave the
promise that the Seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's
head. Our Lord's coming into the world was unbought, unsought,
unthought of; he came altogether of His own free will, delighting
to redeem.
"With pitying eyes, the Prince of grace
Beheld our helpless grief;
He saw, and (oh, amazing love!)
He ran to our relief."
His incarnation was a type of the way in which He comes to us
by His Spirit. He saw us cast out, polluted, shameful, perishing;
and as He passed by, His tender lips said, "Live!" In us is
fulfilled that word, "I am found of them that sought Me not." We
were too averse to holiness, too much in bondage to sin, ever to
have returned to Him if He had not turned to us. What think you?
Did He come to us when we were enemies, and will He not visit us
now that we are friends? Did He come to us when we were dead
sinners, and will He not hear us now that we are weeping saints?
If Christ's coming to the earth was after this manner, and if His
coming to each one of us was after this style, we may well hope
that now He will come to us in like fashion, like the dew which
refreshes the grass, and waiteth not for man, neither tarrieth for
the sons of men. Besides, He is coming again in person, in the
latter-day, and mountains of sin, and error, and idolatry, and
superstition, and oppression stand in the way of His kingdom; but
He will surely come and overturn, and overturn, till He shall
reign over all. He will come in the latter-days, I say, though He
shall leap the hills to do it, and because of that I am sure we
may comfortably conclude that He will draw near to us who mourn
His absence so bitterly. Then let us bow our heads a moment, and
silently present to His most excellent Majesty the petition of our
text: "Turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart
upon the mountains of division."
Our text gives us sweet assurance that _our Lord is at home
with those difficulties_ which are quite insurmountable by us.
Just as the roe or the young hart knows the passes of the
mountains, and the stepping-places among the rugged rocks, and is
void of all fear among the ravines and the precipices, so does our
Lord know the heights and depths, the torrents and the caverns of
our sin and sorrow. He carried the whole of our transgression, and
so became aware of the tremendous load of our guilt. He is quite
at home with the infirmities of our nature; He knew temptation in
the wilderness, heart-break in the garden, desertion on the cross.
He is quite at home with pain and weakness, for "Himself took our
infirmities, and bare our sicknesses." He is at home with
despondency, for He was "a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with
grief." He is at home even with death, for He gave up the ghost,
and passed through the sepulchre to resurrection. O yawning gulfs
and frowning steeps of woe, our Beloved, like hind or hart, has
traversed your glooms! O my Lord, Thou knowest all that divides me
from Thee; and Thou knowest also that I am far too feeble to climb
these dividing mountains, so that I may come at Thee; therefore, I
pray Thee, come Thou over the mountains to meet my longing spirit!
Thou knowest each yawning gulf and slippery steep, but none of
these can stay Thee; haste Thou to me, Thy servant, Thy beloved,
and let me again live by Thy presence.
_It is easy, too, for Christ to come over the mountains for
our relief_. It is easy for the gazelle to cross the mountains, it
is made for that end; so is it easy for Jesus, for to this purpose
was He ordained from of old that He might come to man in his worst
estate, and bring with Him the Father's love. What is it that
separates us from Christ? Is it a sense of sin? You have been
pardoned once, and Jesus can renew most vividly a sense of full
forgiveness. But you say, "Alas! I have sinned again: fresh guilt
alarms me." He can remove it in an instant, for the fountain
appointed for that purpose is opened, and is still full. It is
easy for the dear lips of redeeming love to put away the child's
offences, since He has already obtained pardon for the criminal's
iniquities. If with His heart's blood He won our pardon from our
Judge, he can easily enough bring us the forgiveness of our
Father. Oh, yes, it is easy enough for Christ to say again, "Thy
sins be forgiven"! "But I feel so unfit, so unable to enjoy
communion." He that healed all manner of bodily diseases can heal
with a word your spiritual infirmities. Remember the man whose
ankle-bones received strength, so that he ran and leaped; and her
who was sick of a fever, and was healed at once, and arose, and
ministered unto her Lord. "My grace is sufficient for thee; for My
strength is made perfect in weakness." "But I have such
afflictions, such troubles, such sorrows, that I am weighted down,
and cannot rise into joyful fellowship." Yes, but Jesus can make
every burden light, and cause each yoke to be easy. Your trials
can be made to aid your heavenward course instead of hindering it.
I know all about those heavy weights, and I perceive that you
cannot lift them; but skilful engineers can adapt ropes and
pulleys in such a way that heavy weights lift other weights. The
Lord Jesus is great at gracious machinery, and He has the art of
causing a weight of tribulation to lift from us a load of
spiritual deadness, so that we ascend by that which, like a
millstone, threatened to sink us down.
What else doth hinder? I am sure that, if it were a sheer
impossibility, the Lord Jesus could remove it, for things
impossible with men are possible with God. But someone objects, "I
am so unworthy of Christ. I can understand eminent saints and
beloved disciples being greatly indulged, but I am a worm, and no
man; utterly below such condescension." Say you so? Know you not
that the worthiness of Christ covers your unworthiness, and He is
made of God unto you wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and
redemption? In Christ, the Father thinks not so meanly of you as
you think of yourself; you are not worthy to be called His child,
but He does call you so, and reckons you to be among His jewels.
Listen, and you shall hear Him say," Since thou wast precious in
My sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee. I gave
Egypt for thy ransom; Ethiopia and Seba for thee." Thus, then,
there remains nothing which Jesus cannot overleap if He resolves
to come to you, and re-establish your broken fellowship.
To conclude, _our Lord can do all this directly_. As in the
twinkling of an eye the dead shall be raised incorruptible, so in
a moment can our dead affections rise to fulness of delight. He
can say to this mountain, "Be thou removed hence, and be thou cast
into the midst of the sea," and it shall be done. In the sacred
emblems now upon this supper table, Jesus is already among us.
Faith cries, "He has come!" Like John the Baptist, she gazes
intently on Him, and cries, "Behold the Lamb of God!" At this
table Jesus feeds us with His body and His blood. His corporeal
presence we have not, but His real spiritual presence we perceive.
We are like the disciples when none of them durst ask Him, "Who
art Thou?" knowing that it was the Lord. He is come. He looketh
forth at these windows,--I mean this bread and wine; showing
Himself through the lattices of this instructive and endearing
ordinance. He speaks. He saith, "The winter is past, the rain is
over and gone." And so it is; we feel it to be so: a heavenly
springtide warms our frozen hearts. Like the spouse, we
wonderingly cry, "Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the
chariots of Amminadib." Now in happy fellowship we see the
Beloved, and hear His voice; our heart burns; our affections glow;
we are happy, restful, brimming over with delight. The King has
brought us into his banqueting-house, and His banner over us is
love. It is good to be here!
Friends, we must now go our ways. A voice saith, "Arise, let
us go hence." O Thou Lord of our hearts, go with us! Home will not
be home without Thee. Life will not be life without Thee. Heaven
itself would not be heaven if Thou wert absent. Abide with us. The
world grows dark, the gloaming of time draws on. Abide with us,
for it is toward evening. Our years increase, and we near the
night when dews fall cold and chill. A great future is all about
us, the splendours of the last age are coming down; and while we
wait in solemn, awe-struck expectation, our heart continually
cries within herself, "Until the day break, and the shadows flee
away, turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart
upon the mountains of division."
"Hasten, Lord! the promised hour;
Come in glory and in power;
Still Thy foes are unsubdued;
Nature sighs to be renew'd.
Time has nearly reach'd its sum,
All things with Thy bride say 'Come;'
Jesus, whom all worlds adore,
Come and reign for evermore!"
FRAGRANT SPICES FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF MYRRH.
"Thou art all fair, My love; there is no spot in thee."--
Solomon's Song iv. 7.
HOW marvellous are these words! "Thou art all fair, My love; there
is no spot in thee." The glorious Bridegroom is charmed with His
spouse, and sings soft canticles of admiration. When the bride
extols her Lord there is no wonder, for He deserves it well, and
in Him there is room for praise without possibility of flattery.
But does He who is wiser than Solomon condescend to praise this
sunburnt Shulamite? 'Tis even so, for these are His own words, and
were uttered by His own sweet lips. Nay, doubt not, O young
believer, for we have more wonders to reveal! There are greater
depths in heavenly things than thou hast at present dared to hope.
The Church not only is all fair in the eyes of her Beloved, but in
one sense she always was so.
"In God's decree, her form He view'd;
All beauteous in His eyes she stood,
Presented by Th' eternal name,
Betroth'd in love, and free from blame.
"Not as she stood in Adam's fall,
When guilt and ruin cover'd all;
But as she'll stand another day,
Fairer than sun's meridian ray."
He delighted in her before she had either a natural or a
spiritual being, and from the beginning could He say, "My delights
were with the sons of men." (Prov. viii. 31.) Having covenanted to
be the Surety of the elect, and having determined to fulfil every
stipulation of that covenant, He from all eternity delighted to
survey the purchase of His blood, and rejoiced to view His Church,
in the purpose and decree, as already by Him delivered from sin,
and exalted to glory and happiness.
"Oh, glorious grace, mysterious plan
Too great for angel-mind to scan,
Our thoughts are lost, our numbers fail;
All hail, redeeming love, all hail!"
Now with joy and gladness let us approach the subject of
Christ's delight in His Church, as declared by Him whom the Spirit
has sealed in our hearts as the faithful and true Witness.
Our first bundle of myrrh lies in the open hand of the text.
I. Christ has a high esteem for his church. He does not
blindly admire her faults, or even conceal them from Himself. He
is acquainted with her sin, in all its heinousness of guilt, and
desert of punishment. That sin He does not shun to reprove. His
own words are, "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." (Rev
iii. 19.) He abhors sin in her as much as in the ungodly world,
nay even more, for He sees in her an evil which is not to be found
in the transgressions of others,--sin against love and grace. She
is black in her own sight, how much more so in the eyes of her
Omniscient Lord! Yet there it stands, written by the inspiration
of the Holy Spirit, and flowing from the lips of the Bridegroom,
"Thou art all fair, My love; there is no spot in thee." How then
is this? Is it a mere exaggeration of love, an enthusiastic
canticle, which the sober hand of truth must strip of its glowing
fables? Oh, no! The King is full of love, but He is not so
overcome with it as to forget His reason. The words are true, and
He means us to understand them as the honest expression of His
unbiassed judgment, after having patiently examined her in every
part. He would not have us diminish aught, but estimate the gold
of His opinions by the bright glittering of His expressions; and,
therefore, in order that there may be no mistake, _He states it
positively:_ "Thou art all fair, My love," _and confirms it by a
negative:_ "there is no spot in thee."
When He speaks _positively_, how complete is His admiration!
She is "fair", but that is not a full description; He styles her
"all fair." He views her in Himself, washed in His sin-atoning
blood, and clothed in His meritorious righteousness, and He
considers her to be full of comeliness and beauty. No wonder that
such is the case, since it is but His own perfect excellences that
He admires, seeing that the holiness, glory, and perfection of His
Church are His own garments on the back of His own well-beloved
spouse, and she is "bone of His bone, and flesh of His flesh." She
is not simply pure, or well-proportioned; she is positively lovely
and fair! She has actual merit! Her deformities of sin are
removed; but more, she has through her Lord obtained a meritorious
righteousness by which an actual beauty is conferred upon her.
Believers have a positive righteousness given to them when they
become "accepted in the Beloved." (Eph. i. 6.)
Nor is the Church barely lovely, she is _superlatively so_.
Her Lord styles her, "Thou fairest among women." (Sol. Song i. 8.)
She has a real worth and excellence which cannot be rivalled by
all the nobility and royalty of the world. If Jesus could exchange
His elect bride for all the queens and empresses of earth, or even
for the angels in heaven, He would not, for He puts her first and
foremost,--"fairest among women." Nor is this an opinion which He
is ashamed of, for He invites all men to hear it. He puts a
"behold" before it, a special note of exclamation, inviting and
arresting attention. "_Behold_, thou art fair, My love; _behold_,
thou art fair." (Sol. Song iv. 1.) His opinion He publishes abroad
even now, and one day from the throne of His glory He will avow
the truth of it before the assembled universe. "Come, ye blessed
of My Father" (Matt. xxv. 34), will be His solemn affirmation of
the loveliness of His elect.
Let us mark well _the repeated sentences of His approbation_.
"Lo, thou art fair! lo, thou art fair!
Twice fair thou art, I say;
My righteousness and graces are
Thy double bright array.
"But since thy faith can hardly own
My beauty put on thee;
Behold! behold! twice be it known
Thou art all fair to Me!"
He turns again to the subject, a second time looks into those
doves' eyes of hers, and listens to her honey-dropping lips. It is
not enough to say, "Behold, thou art fair, My love;" He rings that
golden bell again, and sings again, and again, "Behold, thou art
fair."
After having surveyed her whole person with rapturous
delight, He cannot be satisfied until He takes a second gaze, and
afresh recounts her beauties. Making but little difference between
His first description and the last, he adds extraordinary
expressions of love to manifest His increased delight. "Thou art
beautiful, O My love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as
an army with banners. Turn away thine eyes from Me, for they have
overcome Me: thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from
Gilead. Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the
washing, whereof every one beareth twins, and there is not one
barren among them. As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples
within thy locks. . . . My dove, My undefiled is but one; she is
the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her that bare
her." (Sol. Song vi. 4-7, 9.)
The beauty which He admires is _universal_, He is as much
enchanted with her temples as with her breasts. All her offices,
all her pure devotions, all her earnest labours, all her constant
sufferings, are precious to His heart. She is "all fair." Her
ministry, her psalmody, her intercessions, her alms, her watching,
all are admirable to Him, when performed in the Spirit. Her faith,
her love, her patience, her zeal, are alike in His esteem as "rows
of jewels" and "chains of gold." (Sol. Song i. 10.) He loves and
admires her everywhere. In the house of bondage, or in the land of
Canaan, she is ever fair. On the top of Lebanon His heart is
ravished with one of her eyes, and in the fields and villages He
joyfully receives her loves. He values her above gold and silver
in the days of His gracious manifestations, but He has an equal
appreciation of her when He withdraws Himself, for it is
immediately after He had said, "Until the day break, and the
shadows flee away, I will get Me to the mountain of myrrh, and to
the hill of frankincense," (Sol. Song iv. 6,) that He exclaims, in
the words of our text, "Thou art all fair, My love." At all
seasons believers are very near the heart of the Lord Jesus, they
are always as the apple of His eye, and the jewel of His crown.
Our name is still on His breastplate, and our persons are still in
His gracious remembrance. He never thinks lightly of His people;
and certainly in all the compass of His Word there is not one
syllable which looks like contempt of them. They are the choice
treasure and peculiar portion of the Lord of hosts; and what king
will undervalue his own inheritance? What loving husband will
despise his own wife? Let others call the Church what they may,
Jesus does not waver in His love to her, and does not differ in
His judgment of her, for He still exclaims, "How fair and how
pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!" (Sol. Song vii. 6.)
Let us remember that He who pronounces the Church and each
individual believer to be "all fair" is none other than the
glorious Son of God, who is "very God of very God." Hence His
declaration is decisive, since infallibility has uttered it. There
can be no mistake where the all-seeing Jehovah is the Judge. If He
has pronounced her to be incomparably fair, she is so, beyond a
doubt; and though hard for our poor puny faith to receive, it is
nevertheless as divine a verity as any of the undoubted doctrines
of revelation.
Having thus pronounced her _positively_ full of beauty, He
now confirms His praise by _a precious negative_: "There is no
spot in thee." As if the thought occurred to the Bridegroom that
the carping world would insinuate that He had only mentioned her
comely parts, and had purposely omitted those features which were
deformed or defiled, He sums all up by declaring her universally
and entirely fair, and utterly devoid of stain. A spot may soon be
removed, and is the very least thing that can disfigure beauty,
but even from this little blemish the Church is delivered in her
Lord's sight. If He had said there is no hideous scar, no horrible
deformity, no filthy ulcer, we might even then have marvelled; but
when He testifies that she is free from the slightest spot, all
these things are included, and the depth of wonder is increased.
If He had but promised to remove all spots, we should have had
eternal reason for joy; but when He Speaks of it as already done,
who can restrain the most intense emotions of satisfaction and
delight? O my soul, here is marrow and fatness for thee; eat thy
full, and be abundantly glad therein!
Christ Jesus has no quarrel with His spouse. She often
wanders from Him, and grieves His Holy Spirit, but He does not
allow her faults to affect His love. He sometimes chides, but it
is always in the tenderest manner, with the kindest intentions;--
it is "My love" even then. There is no remembrance of our follies,
He does not cherish ill thoughts of us, but He pardons, and loves
as well after the offence as before it. It is well for us it is
so, for if Jesus were as mindful of injuries as we are, how could
He commune with us? Many a time a believer will put himself out of
humour with the Lord for some slight turn in providence, but our
precious Husband knows our silly hearts too well to take any
offence at our ill manners.
If He were as easily provoked as we are, who among us could
hope for a comfortable look or a kind salutation? but He is "ready
to pardon, . . . slow to anger." (Neh. ix. 17.) He is like Noah's
sons, He goes backward, and throws a cloak over our nakedness; or
we may compare Him to Apelles, who, when he painted Alexander, put
his finger over the scar on the cheek, that it might not be seen
in the picture. "He hath not beheld iniquity in Jacob, neither
hath He seen perverseness in Israel" (Num. xxiii. 21); and hence
He is able to commune with the erring sons of men.
But the question returns,--How is this? Can it be explained,
so as not to clash with the most evident fact that sin remaineth
even in the hearts of the regenerate? Can our own daily bewailings
of sin allow of anything like perfection as a present attainment?
The Lord Jesus saith it, and therefore it must be true; but in
what sense is it to be understood? How are we "all fair" though we
ourselves feel that we are black, because the sun hath looked upon
us? (Sol. Song i. 6.) The answer is ready, if we consider the
analogy of faith.
1. In the matter of justification, the saints are complete
and without sin. As Durham says, these words are spoken "in
respect of the imputation of Christ's righteousness wherewith they
are adorned, and which they have put on, which makes them very
glorious and lovely, so that they are beautiful beyond all others,
through His comeliness put upon them."
And Dr. Gill excellently expresses the same idea, when he
writes, "though all sin is seen by God, _in articulo providentiae,
in the matter of providence_, wherein nothing escapes His all-
seeing eye; yet _in articula iustificationis, in the matter of
justification_, He sees no sin in His people, so as to reckon it
to them, or condemn them for it; for they all stand 'holy and
unblameable and unreproveable in His sight.'" (Col. i. 22.) The
blood of Jesus removes all stain, and His righteousness confers
perfect beauty; and, therefore, in the Beloved, the true believer
is at this hour as much accepted and approved, in the sight of
God, as He will be when He stands before the throne in heaven. The
beauty of justification is at its fulness the moment a soul is by
faith received into the Lord Jesus. This is righteousness so
transcendent that no one can exaggerate its glorious merit. Since
this righteousness is that of Jesus, the Son of God, it is
therefore divine, and is, indeed, the holiness of God; and, hence,
Kent was not too daring when, in a bold flight of rapture, he
sang,--
"In thy Surety thou art free,
His dear hands were pierced for thee;
With His spotless vesture on,
Holy as the Holy One.
"Oh, the heights and depths of grace,
Shining with meridian blaze;
Here the sacred records show
Sinners black, but comely too!"
2. But perhaps it is best to understand this as relating to
the design of Christ concerning them. It is His purpose to present
them without "spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing." (Eph. v. 27.)
They shall be holy and unblameable and unreproveable in the sight
of the Omniscient God. In prospect of this, the Church is viewed
as being virtually what she is soon to be actually. Nor is this a
frivolous antedating of her excellence; for be it ever remembered
that the Representative, in whom she is accepted, is actually
complete in all perfections and glories at this very moment. As
the Head of the body is already without sin, being none other than
the Lord from heaven, it is but in keeping that the whole body
should be pronounced comely and fair through the glory of the
Head. The fact of her future perfection is so certain that it is
spoken of as if it were already accomplished, and indeed it is so
in the mind of Him to whom a thousand years are but as one day.
"Christ often expounds an honest believer, from His own heart,
purpose and design; in which respect they get many titles,
otherwise unsuitable to their present condition. (Durham.) Let us
magnify the name of our Jesus, who loves us so well that He will
overleap the dividing years of our pilgrimage, that He may give us
even now the praise which seems to be only fitted for the
perfection of Paradise. As Erskine sings,--
"My love, thou seem'st a loathsome worm:
Yet such thy beauties be,
I spoke but half thy comely form;
Thou'rt wholly fair to Me.
"Whole justified, in perfect dress;
Nor justice, nor the law
Can in thy robe of righteousness
Discern the smallest flaw.
"Yea, sanctified in ev'ry part,
Thou art perfect in design:
And I judge thee by what thou art
In thy intent and Mine.
"Fair love, by grace complete in Me,
Beyond all beauteous brides;
Each spot that ever sullied thee
My purple vesture hides."
II. Our Lord's admiration is sweetened by love. He addresses
the spouse as "My love." The virgins called her "the fairest among
women"; they saw and admired, but it was reserved for her Lord to
love her. Who can fully tell the excellence of His love? Oh, how
His heart goeth forth after His redeemed! As for the love of David
and Jonathan, it is far exceeded in Christ. No tender husband was
ever so fond as He. No figures can completely set forth His
heart's affection, for it surpasses all the love that man or woman
hath heard or thought of. Our blessed Lord, Himself, when He would
declare the greatness of it, was compelled to compare one
inconceivable thing with another, in order to express His own
thoughts. "As the Father hath loved Me, so have I loved you."
(John xv. 9.) All the eternity, fervency, immutability, and
infinity which are to be found in the love of Jehovah the Father,
towards Jehovah-Jesus the Son, are copied to the letter in the
love of the Lord Jesus towards His chosen ones. Before the
foundation of the world He loved His people, in all their
wanderings He loved them, and unto the end He will abide in His
love. (John xiii. 1.) He has given them the best proof of His
affection, in that He gave Himself to die for their sins, and hath
revealed to them complete pardon as the result of His death. The
willing manner of His death is further confirmation of His
boundless love. How Christ did delight in the work of our
redemption! "Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written
of Me, I delight to do Thy will, O my God." (Psalm xl. 7, 8.) When
He came into the world to sacrifice His life for us, it was a
freewill offering. "I have a baptism to be baptized with." (Luke
xii. 50.) Christ was to be, as it were, baptized in His own blood,
and how did He thirst for that time! "How am I straitened till it
be accomplished." There was no hesitation, no desire to be quit of
His engagement. He went to His crucifixion without once halting by
the way to deliberate whether He should complete His sacrifice.
The stupendous mass of our fearful debt He paid at once, asking
neither delay nor diminution. From the moment when He said, "Not
My will, but Thine, be done" (Luke xxii. 42), His course was swift
and unswerving; as if He had been hastening to a crown rather than
to a cross. The fulness of time was His only remembrancer; He was
not driven by bailiffs to discharge the obligations of His Church,
but joyously, even when full of sorrow, He met the law, answered
its demands, and cried, "It is finished."
How hard it is to talk of love so as to convey out meaning
with it! How often have our eyes been full of tears when we have
realized the thought that Jesus loves us! How has our spirit been
melted within us at the assurance that He thinks of us and bears
us on His heart! But we cannot kindle the like emotion in others,
nor can we give, by word of mouth, so much as a faint idea of the
bliss which coucheth in that exclamation, "Oh, how He loves!"
Come, reader, canst thou say of thyself, "He loved me"? (Gal. ii.
20.) Then look down into this sea of love, and endeavour to guess
its depth. Doth it not stagger thy faith, that He should love
_thee?_ Or, if thou hast strong confidence, say, does it not
enfold thy spirit in a flame of admiring and adoring gratitude? O
ye angels, such love as this ye never knew! Jesus doth not bear
your names upon His hands, or call you His bride. No! this highest
fellowship he reserves for worms whose only return is tearful,
hearty thanksgiving and love.
III. Let us note that Christ delights to think upon his
Church, and to look upon her beauty. As the bird returneth often
to its nest, and as the wayfarer hastens to his home, so doth the
mind continually pursue the object of its choice. We cannot look
too often upon that face which we love; we desire always to have
our precious things in our sight. It is even so with our Lord
Jesus. From all eternity, "His delights were with the sons of
men;" His thoughts rolled onward to the time when His elect should
be born into the world; He viewed them in the mirror of His fore-
knowledge. "In thy book," He says, "all my members were written,
which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of
them." (Ps. cxxxix. 16.) When the world was set upon its pillars,
He was there, and He set the bounds of the people according to the
number of the children of Israel. Many a time, before His
incarnation, He descended to this earth in the similitude of a
man; on the plains of Mamre (Gen. xviii.), by the brook of Jabbok
(Gen. xxxii. 24-30), beneath the walls of Jericho (Josh. v. 13),
and in the fiery furnace of Babylon (Dan. iii. 19-25), the Son of
man did visit His people. Because His soul delighted in them, He
could not rest away from them, for His heart longed after them.
Never were they absent from His heart, for He had written their
names upon His hands, and graven them upon His heart. As the
breast-plate containing the names of the tribes of Israel was the
most brilliant ornament worn by the high priest, so the names of
Christ's elect were His most precious Jewels, which He ever hung
nearest His heart. We may often forget to meditate upon the
perfections of our Lord, but He never ceases to remember us. He
cares not one half so much for any of His most glorious works as
He does for His children. Although His eye seeth everything that
hath beauty and excellence in it, He never fixes His gaze anywhere
with that admiration and delight which He spends upon His
purchased ones. He charges His angels concerning them, and calls
upon those holy beings to rejoice with Him over His lost sheep.
(Luke xv. 4-7.) He talked of them to Himself, and even on the tree
of doom He did not cease to soliloquize concerning them. He saw of
the travail of His soul, and He was abundantly satisfied.
"That day acute of ignominious woe,
Was, notwithstanding, in a perfect sense,
'The day of His heart's gladness,' for the joy
That His redeem'd should be brought home at last
(Made ready as in robes of bridal white),
Was set before Him vividly,--He look'd;--
And for that happiness anticipate,
Endurance of all torture, all disgrace,
Seem'd light infliction to His heart of love."
Like a fond mother, Christ Jesus, our thrice-blessed Lord,
sees every dawning of excellence, and every bud of goodness in us,
making much of our litties, and rejoicing over the beginnings of
our graces. As He is to be our endless song, so we are His
perpetual prayer. When He is absent He thinks of us, and in the
black darkness He has a window through which He looks upon us.
When the sun sets in one part of the earth, he rises in another
place beyond our visible horizon; and even so Jesus, our Sun of
Righteousness, is only pouring light upon His people in a
different way, when to our apprehension He seems to have set in
darkness. His eye is ever upon the vineyard, which is His Church:
"I the Lord do keep it; I will water it every moment: lest any
hurt it, I will keep it night and day." (Isa. xxvii. 3.) He will
not trust to His angels to do it, for it is His delight to do all
with His own hands. Zion is in the centre of His heart, and He
cannot forget her, for every day His thoughts are set upon her.
When the bride by her neglect of Him hath hidden herself from His
sight, He cannot be quiet until again He looks upon her. He calls
her forth with the most wooing words, "O My dove, that art in the
clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let Me see
thy countenance; let Me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice,
and thy countenance is comely." (Sol. Song ii. 14.) She thinks
herself unmeet to keep company with such a Prince, but He entices
her from her lurking-place, and inasmuch as she comes forth
trembling, and bashfully hides her face with her veil, He bids her
uncover her face, and let her Husband gaze upon her. She is
ashamed to do so, for she is black in her own esteem, and
therefore He urges that she is comely to Him.
Nor is He content with looking, He must feed His ears as well
as His eyes, and therefore He commends her speech, and intreats
her to let Him hear her voice. See how truly our Lord rejoiceth in
us. Is not this unparalleled love! We have heard of princes who
have been smitten by the beauty of a peasant's daughter, but what
of that? Here is the Son of God doting upon a worm, looking with
eyes of admiration upon a poor child of Adam, and listening with
joy to the lispings of poor flesh and blood. Ought we not to be
exceedingly charmed by such matchless condescension? And should
not our hearts as much delight in Him as He doth in us? O
surprising truth! Christ Jesus rejoices over His poor, tempted,
tried, and erring people.
IV. It is not to be forgotten that sometimes the Lord Jesus
tells His people His love thoughts. "He does not think it enough
behind her back to tell it, but in her very presence, He says,
'Thou art all fair, My love.' It is true, this is not His ordinary
method; He is a wise lover, that knows when to keep back the
intimation of love, and when to let it out; but there are times
when He will make no secret of it; times when He will put it
beyond all dispute in the souls of His people."
The Holy Spirit is often pleased in a most gracious manner to
witness with our spirits of the love of Jesus. He takes of the
things of Christ, and reveals them unto us. No voice is heard from
the clouds, and no vision is seen in the night, but we have a
testimony more sure than either of these. If an angel should fly
from heaven, and inform the saint personally of the Saviour's love
to him, the evidence would not be one whir more satisfactory than
that which is borne in the heart by the Holy Ghost. Ask those of
the Lord's people who have lived the nearest to the gates of
heaven, and they will tell you that they have had seasons when the
love of Christ towards them has been a fact so clear and sure,
that they could no more doubt it than they could question their
own existence.
Yes, beloved believer, you and I have had times of refreshing
from the presence of the Lord, and then our faith has mounted to
the topmost heights of assurance. We have had confidence to lean
our heads upon the bosom of our Lord, and we have had no more
question about our Master's affection than John had when in that
blessed posture, nay, nor so much; for the dark question, "Lord,
is it I that shall betray Thee?" has been put far from us. He has
kissed us with the kisses of His love, and killed our doubts by
the closeness of His embrace. His love has been sweeter than wine
to our souls. We felt that we could sing, "His left hand is under
my head, and His right hand doth embrace me." (Sol. Song viii. 3.)
Then all earthly troubles were light as the chaff of the
threshing-floor, and the pleasures of the world as tasteless as
the white of an egg. We would have welcomed death as the messenger
who would introduce us to our Lord to whom we were in haste to be
gone; for His love had stirred us to desire more of Him, even His
immediate and glorious presence. I have, sometimes, when the Lord
has assured me of His love, felt as if I could not contain more
joy and delight. My eyes ran down with tears of gratitude. I fell
upon my knees to bless Him, but rose again in haste, feeling as if
I had nothing more to ask for, but must stand up and praise Him;
then have I lifted my hands to heaven, longing to fill my arms
with Him; panting to talk with Him, as a man talketh with his
friend, and to see Him in His own person, that I might tell Him
how happy He had made His unworthy servant, and might fall on my
face, and kiss His feet in unutterable thankfulness and love. Such
a banquet have I had upon one word of my Beloved,--"_thou art
Mine_,"--that I wished, like Peter, to build tabernacles in that
mount, and dwell for ever. But, alas, we have not, all of us, yet
learned how to preserve that blessed assurance. We stir up our
Beloved and awake Him, then He leaves our unquiet chamber, and we
grope after Him, and make many a weary journey trying to find Him.
If we were wiser and more careful, we might preserve the
fragrance of Christ's words far longer; for they are not like the
ordinary manna which soon rotted, but are comparable to that omer
of it which was put in the golden pot, and preserved for many
generations. The sweet Lord Jesus has been known to write his
love-thoughts on the heart of His people in so clear and deep a
manner, that they have for months, and even for years, enjoyed an
abiding sense of His affection. A few doubts have flitted across
their minds like thin clouds before a summer's sun, but the warmth
of their assurance has remained the same for many a gladsome day.
Their path has been a smooth one, they have fed in the green
pastures beside the still waters, for His rod and staff have
comforted them, and His right hand hath led them. I am inclined to
think that there is more of this in the Church than some men would
allow. We have a goodly number who dwell upon the hills, and
behold the light of the sun. There are giants in these days,
though the times are not such as to allow them room to display
their gigantic strength; in many a humble cot, in many a crowded
workshop, in many a village manse there are to be found men of the
house of David, men after God's own heart, anointed with the holy
oil. It is, however, a mournful truth, that whole ranks in the
army of our Lord are composed of dwarfish Littlefaiths. The men of
fearful mind and desponding heart are everywhere to be seen. Why
is this? Is it the Master's fault, or ours? Surely _He_ cannot be
blamed. Is it not then a matter of enquiry in our own souls, Can I
not grow stronger? Must I be a mourner all my days? How can I get
rid of my doubts? The answer must be: yes, you can be comforted,
but only the mouth of the Lord can do it, for anything less than
this will be unsatisfactory.
I doubt not that there are means, by the use of which those
who are now weak and trembling may attain unto boldness in faith
and confidence in hope; but I see not how this can be done unless
the Lord Jesus Christ manifest His love to them, and tell them of
their union to Him. This He will do, if we seek it of Him. The
importunate pleader shall not lack his reward. Haste thee to Him,
O timid one, and tell Him that nothing will content thee but a
smile from His own face, and a word from His own lips! Speak to
Him, and say, "O my Lord Jesus, I cannot rest unless I know that
Thou lovest me! I desire to have proof of Thy love under Thine own
hand and seal.
I cannot live upon guesses and surmises; nothing but
certainty will satisfy my trembling heart. Lord, look upon me, if,
indeed, Thou lovest me, and though I be less than the least of all
saints, say unto my soul, 'I am thy salvation.'" When this prayer
is heard, the castle of despair must totter; there is not one
stone of it which can remain upon another, if Christ whispers
forth His love. Even Despondency and Much-afraid will dance, and
Ready-to-Halt leap upon his crutches.
Oh, for more of these Bethel visits, more frequent
visitations from the God of Israel! Oh, how sweet to hear Him say
to us, as He did to Abraham, "Fear not, Abram, I am thy shield,
and thy exceeding great reward." (Gen. xv. 1.) To be addressed as
Daniel was of old, "O man greatly beloved" (Dan. x. 19), is worth
a thousand ages of this world's joy. What more can a creature want
this side of heaven to make him peaceful and happy than a plain
avowal of love from his Lord's own lips? Let me ever hear Thee,
speak in mercy to my soul, and, O my Lord, I ask no more while
here I dwell in the land of my pilgrimage!
Brethren, let us labour to obtain a confident assurance of
the Lord's delight in us, for this, as it enables Him to commune
with us, will be one of the readiest ways to produce a like
feeling in our hearts towards Him. Christ is well pleased with us;
let us approach Him with holy familiarity; let us unbosom our
thoughts to Him, for His delight in us will secure us an audience.
The child may stay away from the father, when he is conscious that
he has aroused his father's displeasure, but why should we keep at
a distance when Christ Jesus is smiling upon us? No! since His
smiles attract us, let us enter into His courts, and touch His
golden sceptre. O Holy Spirit, help us to live in happy fellowship
with Him whose soul is knit unto us!
"O Jesus! let eternal blessings dwell
On Thy transporting name. * * *
Let me be wholly Thine from this blest hour.
Let Thy lov'd image be for ever present;
Of Thee be all my thoughts, and let my tongue
Be sanctified with the celestial theme.
Dwell on my lips, Thou dearest, sweetest name!
Dwell on my lips, 'till the last parting breath!
Then let me die, and bear the charming sound
In triumph to the skies. In other strains,
In language all divine, I'll praise Thee then;
While all the Godhead opens in the view
Of a Redeemer's love. Here let me gaze,
For ever gaze; the bright variety
Will endless joy and admiration yield.
Let me be wholly Thine from this blest hour.
Fly from my soul all images of sense,
Leave me in silence to possess my Lord:
My life, my pleasures, flow from Him alone,
My strength, my great salvation, and my hope.
Thy name is all my trust; O name divine!
Be Thou engraven on my inmost soul,
And let me own Thee with my latest breath,
Confess Thee in the face of ev'ry horror,
That threat'ning death or envious hell can raise;
Till all their strength subdu'd, my parting soul
Shall give a challenge to infernal rage,
And sing salvation to the Lamb for ever."
THE WELL-BELOVED.
A COMMUNION ADDRESS AT MENTONE.
"Yea, He is altogether lovely."--Solomon's Song v. 16.
THE soul that is familiar with the Lord worships Him in the outer
court of nature, wherein it admires His _works_, and is charmed by
every thought of what He must be who made them all. When that soul
enters the nearer circle of inspiration, and reads the wonderful
_words_ of God, it is still more enraptured, and its admiration is
heightened. In revelation, we see the same all-glorious Lord as in
creation, but the vision is more clear, and the consequent love is
more intense.
The Word is an inner court to the Creation; but there is yet
an innermost sanctuary, and blessed are they who enter it, and
have fellowship with the Lord Himself. We come to Christ, and in
coming to Him we come to God; for Jesus says, "He that hath seen
Me hath seen the Father." When we know the Lord Jesus, we stand
before the mercy-seat, where the glory of Jehovah shineth forth. I
like to think of the text as belonging to those who are as priests
unto God, and stand in the Holy of holies, while they say, "Yea,
He is altogether lovely." His works are marvellous, His words are
full of majesty, but He Himself is altogether lovely.
Can we come into this inner circle? All do not enter here.
Alas! many are far off from Him, and are blind to His beauties.
"He was despised and rejected of men," and He is so still. They do
not see God in His works, but dream that these wonders were
evolved, and not created by the Great Primal Cause. As for His
words, they seem to them as idle tales, or, at best, as inspired
only in the same sense as the language of Shakespeare or Spenser.
They see not the Lord in the stately aisles of Holy Scripture; and
have no vision of _Himself_. May He, who openeth the eyes of the
blind, have pity on them!
Certain others are in a somewhat happier position, for they
are enquirers after Christ. They are like the persons who, in the
ninth verse of the chapter, asked, "What is thy Beloved more than
another beloved, O thou fairest among women? What is thy Beloved
more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?" They want
to know who this Jesus is. But they have not seen Him yet, and
cannot join with the spouse in saying, "He is altogether lovely."
If we enter this sacred inner circle, we must become
witnesses, as she does who speaks of Christ, "Yea, He is
altogether lovely." She knows what He is, for she has seen Him.
The verses which precede the text are a description of every
feature of the heavenly Bridegroom; all His members are there set
forth with richness of Oriental imagery. The spouse speaks what
she knows. Have we, also, seen the Lord? Are we His familiar
acquaintances? If so, may the Lord help us to understand our text!
If we are to know the full joy of the text, we must come to
our Lord as His intimates. He permits us this high honour, since,
in this ordinance, He makes us His table-companions. He says,
"Henceforth I call you not servants; but I have called you
friends." He calls upon us to eat bread with Him; yea, to partake
of Himself, by eating His flesh and drinking His blood. Oh, that
we may pass beyond the outward signs into the closest intimacy
with _Himself!_ Perhaps, when you are at home, you will examine
the spouse's description of her Lord. It is a wonderful piece of
tapestry. She has wrought into its warp and woof all things
charming, sweet, and precious. In Him she sees all lovely
colours,--"My Beloved is white and ruddy." In comparison with Him
all others fail, for He is "chief among ten thousand" chieftains.
She cannot think of Him as comparable to anything less valuable
than "fine gold." She sees, soaring in the air, birds of divers
wing; and these must aid her, whether it be the raven or the dove.
The rivers of waters, and the beds of spices and myrrh-dropping
lilies, must come into the picture, with sweet flowers and goodly
cedars. All kinds of treasured things are in Him; for He is like
to gold rings set with the beryl, and bright ivory overlaid with
sapphires, and pillars of marble set upon sockets of fine gold.
She labours to describe His beauty and His excellency, and strains
all comparisons to their utmost use, and somewhat more; and yet
she is conscious of failure, and therefore sums up all with the
pithy sentence, "Yea, He is altogether lovely."
If the Holy Spirit will help me, I should like to lift the
veil, that we may, in sacred contemplation, look on our Beloved.
I. We would do so, first, with reverent emotions. In the
words before us, "Yea, He is altogether lovely," two emotions are
displayed, namely, admiration and affection.
It is _admiration_ which speaks of Him as "altogether lovely"
or beautiful. This admiration rises to the highest degree. The
spouse would fain show that her Beloved is more than any other
beloved; therefore she cries, "He is altogether lovely." Surely no
one else has reached that point. Many are lovely, but no one save
Jesus is "altogether lovely." We see something that is lovely in
one, and another point is lovely in another; but all loveliness
meets in Him. Our soul knows nothing which can rival Him: He is
the gathering up of all sorts of loveliness to make up one perfect
loveliness. He is the climax of beauty; the crown of glory; the
uttermost of excellence.
Our admiration of Him, also, is unrestrained. The spouse
dared to say, even in the presence of the daughters of Jerusalem,
who were somewhat envious, "Yea, He is altogether lovely." They
knew not, as yet, His perfections; they even asked, "What is thy
Beloved more than another beloved?" But she was not to be blinded
by their want of sympathy, neither did she withhold her testimony
from fear of their criticism. To her, He was "altogether lovely",
and she could say no less. Our admiration of Christ is such that
we would tell the kings of the earth that they have no majesty in
His presence; and tell the wise men that He alone is wisdom; and
tell the great and mighty that He is the blessed and only
Potentate, King of kings, and Lord of lords.
Our admiration of our Lord is inexpressible. We can never
tell all we know of our Lord; yet all our knowledge is little. All
that we know is, that His love passeth knowledge, that His
excellence baffles understanding, that His glory is unutterable.
We can embrace Him by our love, but we can scarcely touch Him with
our intellect, He is so high, so glorious. As to describing Him,
we cry, with Mr. Berridge,--
"Then my tongue would fain express
All His love and loveliness;
But I lisp, and falter forth
Broken words, not half His worth.
"Vex'd, I try and try again,
Still my efforts all are vain:
Living tongues are dumb at best,
We must die to speak of Christ."
"He is altogether lovely." Do we not feel an inexpressible
admiration for Him? There is none like unto Thee, O Son of God!
Still, our paramount emotion is not admiration, but
_affection_. "He is altogether"--not beautiful, nor admirable,--
but "lovely." All His beauties are loving beauties towards us, and
beauties which draw our hearts towards Him in humble love. He
charms us, not by a cold comeliness, but by a living loveliness,
which wins our hearts. His is an approachable beauty, which not
only overpowers us with its glory, but holds us captive by its
charms. We love Him: we cannot do otherwise, for "He is altogether
lovely." He has within Himself and unquenchable flame of love,
which sets our soul on fire. He is all love, and all the love in
the world is less than His. Put together all the loves of husband
wives, parents, children, brothers, sisters, and they only make a
drop compared with His great deeps of love, unexplored and
unexplorable. This love of His has a wonderful power to beget love
in unlovely hearts, and to nourish it into a mighty force. " It is
a torrent which sweeps all before it when its founts break forth
within the soul. It is a Gulf Stream in which all icebergs melt.
When our heart is full of love to Jesus, His loveliness becomes
the passion of the soul, and sin and self are swept away. May we
feel it now!
There He stands: we know Him by the thorn-crown, and the
wounds, and the visage more marred than that of any man! He
suffered all this for us. O Son of man! O Son of God! With the
spouse, we feel, in the inmost depths of our soul, that Thou art
"altogether lovely."
II. Now would I lift the veil a second time, with deep
solemnity, not so much to suggest emotions as to secure your
intelligent assurance of the fact that "He is altogether lovely."
We say this with absolute certainty. The spouse places a "Yea"
before her enthusiastic declaration, because she is sure of it.
She sees her Beloved, and sees Him to be altogether lovely. This
is no fiction, no dream, no freak of imagination, no outburst of
partiality. The highest love to Christ does not make us speak more
than the truth; we are as reasonable when we are filled with love
to Him as ever we were in our lives; nay, never are we more
reasonable than when we are carried clean away by a clear
perception of His superlative excellence.
Let us meditate upon the proof of our assertion. "He is
altogether lovely" _in His person_. He is God. The glory of
Godhead I must leave in lowly silence. Yet is our Jesus also man,
more emphatically man than any one here present this afternoon,
for we are English, American, French, German, Dutch, Russian; but
Christ is man, the second Adam, the Head of the race: as truly as
He is very God of very God, so is He man, of the substance of His
mother. What a marvellous union! The miracle of miracles! In his
incomparible personality He is altogether lovely; for in Him we
see how God comes down to man in condescension, and how man goes
up to God in close relationship. There is no other such as He, in
all respects, even in heaven itself: in His personality He must
ever stand alone, in the eyes of both God and man, "altogether
lovely."
As for _His character_, time would fail us to enter upon that
vast subject; but the more we know of the character of our Lord,
and the more we grow like Him, the more lovely will it appear to
us. In all aspects, it is lovely; in all its minutiae and details,
it is perfect; and as a whole, it is perfection's model. Take any
one action of His, look into its mode, its spirit, its motive, and
all else that can be revealed by a microscopic examination, and it
is "altogether lovely." Consider his life, as a whole, in
reference to God, to man, to His friends, to His foes, to those
around Him, and to the ages yet to be, and you shall find it
absolutely perfect. More than that: there is such a thing as a
cold perfection, with which one can find no fault, and yet it
commands no love; but in Christ, our Well-beloved, every part of
His character attracts. To a true heart, the life of Christ is as
much an object of love as of reverence: "He is altogether lovely."
We must _love_ that which we see in Him: admiration is not the
word. When cold critics commend Him, their praise is half an
insult: what know these frozen hearts of our Beloved? As for a
word against Him, it wounds us to the soul. Even an omission of
His praise is a torture to us. If we hear a sermon which has no
Christ in it, we weary of it. If we read a book that contains a
slighting syllable of Him, we abhor it. He, Himself, has become
everything to us now, and only in the atmosphere of fervent love
to Him can we feel at home.
Passing from His character to _His sacrifice;_ there
especially "He is altogether lovely." You may have read
"Rutherford's Letters"; I hope you have. How wondrously he writes,
when he describes his Lord in garments red from His sweat of
blood, and with hands bejewelled with His wounds! When we view His
body taken down from the cross, all pale and deathly, and wrapped
in the cerements of the grave, we see a strange beauty in Him. He
is to us never more lovely than when we read in our Beloved's
white and red that His Sacrifice is accomplished, and He has been
obedient unto death for us. In Him, as the sacrifice once offered,
we see our pardon, our life, our heaven, our all. So lovely is
Christ in His sacrifice, that He is for ever most pleasing to the
great Judge of all, ay, so lovely to His Father, that He makes us
also lovely to God the Father, and we are "accepted in the
Beloved." His sacrifice has such merit and beauty in the sight of
heaven, that in Him God is well pleased, and guilty men become in
Him pleasant unto the Lord. Is not His sacrifice most sweet to us?
Here our guilty conscience finds peace; here we see ourselves made
comely in His comeliness. We cannot stand at Calvary, and see the
Saviour die, and hear Him cry, "It is finished," without feeling
that "He is altogether lovely." Forgive me that I speak so coolly!
I dare not enter fully into a theme which would pull up the
sluices of my heart.
Remember what He was when He rose from the grave on the third
day. Oh, to have seen Him in the freshness of _His resurrection
beauty!_ And what will He be in _His glory_, when He comes again
the second time, and all His holy angels with Him, when He shall
sit upon the throne of His glory, and heaven and earth shall flee
away before His face? To His people He will then be "altogether
lovely." Angels will adore Him, saints made perfect will fall on
their faces before Him; and we ourselves shall feel that, at last,
our heaven is complete. We shall see Him, and being like Him, we
shall be satisfied.
_Every feature of our Lord is lovely._ You cannot think of
anything that has to do with Him which is unworthy of our praise.
All over glorious is our Lord. The spouse speaks of His head, His
locks, His eyes, His cheeks, His lips, His hands, His legs, His
countenance, His mouth; and when she has mentioned them all, she
sums up with reference to all by saying, "Yea, He is altogether
lovely."
There is _nothing unlovely about Him_. Certain persons would
be beautiful were it not for a wound or a bruise, but our Beloved
is all the more lovely for His wounds; the marring of His
countenance has enhanced its charms. His scars are, for glory and
for beauty, the jewels of our King. To us He is lovely even from
that side which others dread: His very frown has comfort in it to
His saints, since He only frowns on evil. Even His feet, which are
"like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace," are lovely
to us for His sake; these are His poor saints, who are sorely
tried, but are able to endure the fire. Everything of Christ,
everything that partakes of Christ, everything that hath a flavour
or savour of Christ, is lovely to us.
There is _nothing lacking about His loveliness_. Some would
be very lovely were there a brightness in their eyes, or a colour
in their countenances: but something is away. The absence of a
tooth or of an eyebrow may spoil a countenance, but in Christ
Jesus there is no omission of excellence. Everything that should
be in Him is in Him; everything that is conceivable in perfection
is present to perfection in Him.
_In Him is nothing excessive_. Many a face has one feature in
it which is overdone; but in our Lord's character everything is
balanced and proportionate. You never find His kindness lessening
His holiness, nor His holiness eclipsing His wisdom, nor His
wisdom abating His courage, nor His courage injuring His meekness.
Everything is in our Lord that should be there, and everything in
due measure. Like rare spices, mixed after the manner of the
apothecary, our Lord's whole person, and character, and sacrifice,
are as incense sweet unto the Lord.
_Neither is there anything in our Lord which is incongruous
with the rest_. In each one of us there is, at least, a little
that is out of place. We could not be fully described without the
use of a "but." If we could all look within, and see ourselves as
God sees us, we should note a thousand matters, which we now
permit, which we should never allow again. But in the Well-beloved
all is of a piece, all is lovely; and when the sum of the whole is
added up, it comes to an absolute perfection of loveliness: "Yea,
He is altogether lovely."
We are sure that the Lord Jesus must be Himself exceedingly
lovely, since _He gives loveliness to His people_. Many saints are
lovely in their lives; one reads biographies of good men and women
which make us wish to grow like them; yet all the loveliness of
all the most holy among men has come from Jesus their Lord, and is
a copy of His perfect beauty. Those who write well do so because
He sets the copy.
What is stranger and more wonderful still, _our Lord Jesus
makes sinners lovely._ In their natural state, men are deformed
and hideous to the eye of God; and as they have no love to God, so
He has no delight in them. He is weary of them, and is grieved
that He made men upon the earth. The Lord is angry with the wicked
every day. Yet, when our Lord Jesus comes in, and covers these
sinful ones with His righteousness, and, at the same time, infuses
into them His life, the Lord is well pleased with them for His
Son's sake. Even in heaven, the infinite Jehovah sees nothing
which pleases Him like His Son. The Father from eternity loved His
Only-begotten, and again and again He hath said of Him, "This is
My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." What higher encomium
can be passed upon Him?
If we had time to think over this subject, we should say of
our Lord that _He is lovely in every office._ He is the most
admirable Priest, and King, and Prophet that ever yet exercised
the office. He is a lovely Shepherd of a chosen flock, a lovely
Friend, lovely Husband, a lovely Brother: He is admirable in every
position that He occupies for our sakes.
_Our Lord's loveliness appears in every condition:_ in the
manger, or in the temple; by the well, or on the sea; in the
garden, or on the cross; in the tomb, or in the resurrection; in
His first, or in His second coming. He is not as the herb, which
flowers only at one season; or as the tree, which loses its leaves
in winter; or as the moon, which waxes and wanes; or as the sea,
which ebbs and flows. In every condition, and at every time, "He
is altogether lovely."
_He is lovely, whichever way we look at Him._ If we view Him
as in the past, entering into a covenant of peace on our behalf;
or, in the present, yielding Himself to us as Intercessor,
Representative, and Forerunner; or, in the future, coming,
reigning, and glorifying His people; "He is altogether lovely."
Behold Him from heaven, view Him from the gates of hell, regard
Him as he goes before, look up to Him as He sits above; He is as
beautiful from one point of view as from another; "Yea, He is
altogether lovely." Wherever we may be, He is the same in His
perfection. How lovely He was to my eyes when I was sinking in
despair! To see Him suffering for my sin upon the tree, was as the
opening of the gates of the morning to my darkened soul. How
lovely He is to us when we are sick, and the hours of night seem
lengthened into days! "He giveth songs in the night." How lovely
has He been to us when the world has frowned, and friends have
forsaken, and worldly goods have been scant! To see "the King in
His beauty" is a sight sufficient, even if we never saw another
ray of comfort. How blessed, when we lie dying, to hear Him say,
"I am the resurrection and the life"! Mark that word; He says not,
"I will give you resurrection and life," but, "I am the
resurrection and the life." Blessed are the eyes which can see
that in Jesus which is really in Him. When we think of seeing Him
as He is, and being like Him, how heaven approaches us! We shall
soon behold the beatific vision, of which He will be the centre
and the sun. At the thought thereof our soul takes wing, and our
imagination soars aloft, while our faith, with eagle eye, beholds
the glory. As we think of that glad period, when we shall be with
our Beloved for ever, we are ready to swoon away with delight. It
is near, far nearer than we think.
III. The little time which we can give to this meditation has
run out, and therefore I hasten to a close. I have bidden you look
at our Lord as "altogether lovely" with reverent emotions, and
with absolute certainty. Now, to conclude, think of Him with
practical results. "He is altogether lovely." What shall we do for
this chief among ten thousand?
First, _we will tell others of Him_. For that cause was our
text spoken. The daughters of Jerusalem asked the spouse, "What is
thy Beloved more than another beloved?" Her answer is here: "He is
altogether lovely." It is a great joy to praise our Lord to
enquiring minds. We, who are preachers, have a glorious time of it
when we extol our Lord. If we had nothing to do but to preach
Christ, and had no discipline to administer, no sin to battle
with, no doubts to drive away, we should have a heavenly service.
For my part, I wish I could be bound over to play only upon this
one string. Paul did well when he turned ignoramus, and determined
to know nothing among the Corinthians save Jesus Christ, and Him
crucified. As the harp of Anacreon would resound love alone, so
would I have but one sole subject for my ministry,--the love and
loveliness of my Lord. Then to speak would be its own reward; and
to study and prepare discourses would be only a phase of rest.
Fain would I make my whole ministry to speak of Christ and His
surpassing loveliness.
You who are not preachers cannot do better than speak much of
Jesus, as opportunity offers. Make _Him_ the theme of
conversation. People talk about ministers; but we beg you to talk
of our Master. Our undecided neighbours are always talking of
hypocrites and inconsistent professors; but we would say to them,
"Never mind about His followers: talk about the Master Himself."
His followers, by themselves considered, never were worth your
words; but what a theme is this,-- "He is altogether lovely"! Our
Lord's people are far worthier than the world thinks them to be;
for my part, I rejoice in the many gracious and beautiful
characters with which I meet, but even if all the ill reports we
hear were true, this would not detract from the loveliness of our
Lord, who is infinitely beyond all praise.
The next practical result of viewing the loveliness of our
blessed Lord is, that _we appropriate Him to ourselves_, grasping
Him with our two hands of faith and love, and making the rest of
the verse to be our own: "This is my Beloved, and this is my
Friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!" Since He is so amiable, He must
be "my Beloved"; my heart clings to Him. Since He is admirable, I
rejoice that He is "my Friend"; my soul trusts in Him. The heart
that most appreciates Jesus is the most eager to appropriate Him.
He who beholds Jesus as "altogether lovely" will never rest till
he is altogether sure that Jesus is altogether his own. I think I
may also add that appreciation is in great measure the seal of
appropriation, for the soul that values Christ most is the soul
that hath most surely taken possession of Christ. Sometimes a
heart prizes the Lord very highly, and tremblingly longs for Him;
but it is my conviction that the very fact of prizing Him argues a
measure of possession of Him. Jesus never wins a heart to which He
refuses His love. If thou lovest Him, He loves thee: be sure of
that. No soul ever cries, "Yea, He is altogether lovely," without
sooner or later adding, "This is my Beloved, and this is my
Friend."
Rest not, any one of you, till you know of a surety that
Jesus is yours. Do not be content with a hope, struggle after the
full assurance of faith. This is to be had, and you ought not to
be content without it. It may be your lifelong song, "My Beloved
is mine, and I am His." You need not pine in the shade: the sun is
shining, "walk in the light." Away with the idea that we cannot
know whether we are condemned or forgiven, in Christ or out of
Him! We may know, we must know; and, as we appreciate our Lord, we
shall know. Either Jesus is ours, or He is not. If He is, let us
rejoice in the priceless possession. If He is not ours, let us at
once lay hold upon Him by faith; for, the moment we trust Him, He
is ours. The enjoyment of religion lies in assurance: a mere hope
is scant diet.
Once more, it is a fair fruit of our delight in our Lord that
_our valuation of Him becomes a bond of union between us and
others_. The spouse cries, "This is my Beloved, and this is my
Friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!" and they reply, "Whither is thy
Beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Whither is thy Beloved
turned aside, that we may seek Him with thee?" Thus, you see, they
institute a companionship through the Well-beloved. Few of us, in
this room, would ever have known each other, had it not been for
our common admiration of the Lord Jesus. We should have gone on
walking past each other by the sea to this day, and we should have
missed much cheering fellowship. Our Lord has become our centre;
we meet in Him, and feel that in Him we are partakers of one life.
We seek our Well-beloved together, and around His table we find
Him together; and finding Him, we have found one another, and the
lost jewel of Christian love glitters on every bosom. We have
differing views on certain parts of divine truth; and I do not
know that it is wrong for us to differ where the Holy Spirit has
left truth without rigidly defining it. We are bound each one
devoutly to use his judgment in the interpretation of the Sacred
Word; but we all agree in this one clear judgment: "Yea, He is
altogether lovely." This is the point of union. Those who
enthusiastically love the same person are on the way to loving
each other. This is growingly our case; and it is the same with
all spiritual people. Professors quarrel, but possessors are at
one. We hear much discourse upon "the Unity of the Church" as a
thing to be desired, and we may heartily agree with it; but it
would be well also to remember that in the true Church of Christ
real union already exists. Our Lord prayed for those whom the
Father had given Him, that they might be one, and the Father
granted the prayer: the Lord's own people are one. In this room we
have an example of how closely we are united in Christ. Some of
you are more at home in this assembly, taken out of all churches,
than you are in the churches to which you nominally belong. Our
union in one body as Episcopalians, Baptists, Presbyterians, or
Independents, is not the thing which our Lord prayed for; but our
union _in Himself_. _That_ union we do at this moment enjoy; and
therefore do we eat of one bread, and drink of one cup, and are
baptized into one Spirit, at His feet who is to each one of us,
and so to all of us, altogether lovely.
"White and ruddy is my Belovd,
All His heavenly beauties shine;
Nature can't produce an object,
Nor so glorious, so divine;
He hath wholly
Won my soul to realms above.
"Farewell, all ye meaner creatures,
For in Him is every store;
Wealth, or friends, or darling beauty,
Shall not draw me any more;
In my Saviour
I have found a glorious whole."
THE SPICED WINE OF MY POMEGRANATE;
OR, THE COMMUNION OF COMMUNICATION.
I would cause Thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my
pomegranate."--Solomon's Song viii. 2.
And of His fulness have all we received, and grace for
grace."--John i. 16.
THE immovable basis of communion having been laid of old in the
eternal union which subsisted between Christ and His elect, it
only needed a fitting occasion to manifest itself in active
development. The Lord Jesus had for ever delighted Himself with
the sons of men, and he ever stood prepared to reveal and
communicate that delight to His people; but they were incapable of
returning His affection or enjoying His fellowship, having fallen
into a state so base and degraded, that they were dead to Him, and
careless concerning Him. It was therefore needful that something
should be done for them, and in them, before they could hold
converse with Jesus, or feel concord with Him. This preparation
being a work of grace and a result of previous union, Jesus
determined that, even in the preparation for communion, there
should be communion. If they must be washed before they could
fully converse with Him, He would commune with them in the
washing; and if they must be enriched by gifts before they could
have full access to Him, He would commune with them in the giving.
He has therefore established a fellowship in imparting His grace,
and in partaking of it.
This order of fellowship we have called "The Communion of
Communication," and we think that a few remarks will prove that we
are not running beyond the warranty of Scripture.
The word koinwnia, or communion, is frequently employed by
inspired writers in the sense of communication or contribution.
When, in our English version, we read, "For it hath pleased them
of Macedonia and Achaia to make _a certain contribution_ for the
poor saints which are at Jerusalem" (Romans xv. 26), it is
interesting to know that the word koinonia used, as if to show
that the generous gifts of the Church in Achaia to its sister
Church at Jerusalem was a communion. Calvin would have us notice
this, because, saith he, "The word here employed well expresses
the feeling by which it behoves us to succour the wants of our
brethren, even because there is to be a common and mutual regard
on account of the union of the body." He would not have strained
the text if he had said that there was in the contribution the
very essence of communion. Gill, in his commentary upon the above
verse, most pertinently remarks, "Contribution, or communion, as
the word signifies, it being one part of the communion of churches
and of saints to relieve their poor by communicating to them." The
same word is employed in Hebrews xiii. 16, and is there translated
by the word "_communicate_." "But to do good, and to communicate,
forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased." It
occurs again in 2 Corinthians ix. 13, "And for your liberal
_distribution_ unto them, and unto all men;" and in numerous other
passages the careful student will observe the word in various
forms, representing the ministering of the saints to one another
as an act of fellowship. Indeed, at the Lord's supper, which is
the embodiment of communion, we have ever been wont to make a
special contribution for the poor of the flock, and we believe
that in the collection there is as true and real an element of
communion as in the partaking of the bread and wine. The giver
holds fellowship with the receiver when he bestows his benefaction
for the Lord's sake, and because of the brotherhood existing
between him and his needy friends. The teacher holds communion
with the young disciple when he labours to instruct him in the
faith, being moved thereto by a spirit of Christian love. He who
intercedes for a saint because he desires his well-being as a
member of the one family, enters into fellowship with his brother
in the offering of prayer. The loving and mutual service of
church-members is fellowship of a high degree. And let us remember
that the recipient communes with the benefactor: the communion is
not confined to the giver, but the heart overflowing with
liberality is met by the heart brimming with gratitude, and the
love manifested in the bestowal is reciprocated in the acceptance.
When the hand feeds the mouth or supports the head, the divers
members feel their union, and sympathize with one another; and so
is it with the various portions of the body of Christ, for they
commune in mutual acts of love.
Now, this meaning of the word communion furnishes us with
much instruction, since it indicates the manner in which
recognized fellowship with Jesus is commenced and maintained,
namely, by giving and receiving, by _communication_ and reception.
The Lord's supper is the divinely-ordained exhibition of
communion, and therefore in it there is the breaking of bread and
the pouring forth of wine, to picture the free gift of the
Saviour's body and blood to us; and there is also the eating of
the one and the drinking of the other, to represent the reception
of these priceless gifts by us. As without bread and wine there
could be no Lord's supper, so without the gracious bequests of
Jesus to us there would have been no communion between Him and our
souls: and as participation is necessary before the elements truly
represent the meaning of the Lord's ordinance, so is it needful
that we should receive His bounties, and feed upon His person,
before we can commune with Him.
It is one branch of this mutual communication which we have
selected as the subject of this address. "Looking unto Jesus," who
hath delivered us from our state of enmity, and brought us into
fellowship with Himself, we pray for the rich assistance of the
Holy Spirit, that we may be refreshed in spirit, and encouraged to
draw more largely from the covenant storehouse of Christ Jesus the
Lord.
We shall take a text, and proceed at once to our delightful
task. "_And of His fulness have all we received, and grace for
grace_." (John i. 16.)
As the life of grace is first begotten in us by the Lord
Jesus, so is it constantly sustained by Him. We are always drawing
from this sacred fountain, always deriving sap from this divine
root; and as Jesus communes with us in the bestowing of mercies,
it is our privilege to hold fellowship with Him in the receiving
of them.
There is this difference between Christ and ourselves, He
never gives without manifesting fellowship, but we often receive
in so ill a manner that communion is not reciprocated, and we
therefore miss the heavenly opportunity of its enjoyment. We
frequently receive grace insensibly, that is to say, the sacred
oil runs through the pipe, and maintains our lamp, while we are
unmindful of the secret influence. We may also be the partakers of
many mercies which, through our dulness, we do not perceive to be
mercies at all; and at other times well-known blessings are
recognized as such, but we are backward in tracing them to their
source in the covenant made with Christ Jesus.
Following out the suggestion of our explanatory preface, we
can well believe that when the poor saints received the
contribution of their brethren, many of them did in earnest
acknowledge the fellowship which was illustrated in the generous
offering, but it is probable that some of them merely looked upon
the material of the gift, and failed to see the spirit moving in
it. Sensual thoughts in some of the receivers might possibly, at
the season when the contribution was distributed, have
mischievously injured the exercise of spirituality; for it is
possible that, after a period of poverty, they would be apt to
give greater prominence to the fact that their need was removed
than to the sentiment of fellowship with their sympathizing
brethren. They would rather rejoice over famine averted than
concerning fellowship manifested. We doubt not that, in many
instances, the mutual benefactions of the Church fail to reveal
our fellowship to our poor brethren, and produce in them no
feelings of communion with the givers.
Now this sad fact is an illustration of the yet more
lamentable statement which we have made. We again assert that, as
many of the partakers of the alms of the Church are not alive to
the communion contained therein, so the Lord's people are never
sufficiently attentive to fellowship with Jesus in receiving His
gifts, but many of them are entirely forgetful of their privilege,
and all of them are too little aware of it. Nay, worse than this,
how often doth the believer pervert the gifts of Jesus into food
for his own sin and wantonness! We are not free from the
fickleness of ancient Israel, and well might our Lord address us
in the same language: "Now when I passed by thee, and looked upon
thee, behold, thy time was the time of love; and I spread My skirt
over thee, and covered thy nakedness: yea, I sware unto thee, and
entered into a covenant with Thee, saith the Lord God, and thou
becamest Mine. Then washed I thee with water; yea, I throughly
washed away thy blood from thee, and I anointed thee with oil. I
clothed thee also with broidered work, and shod thee with badgersU
skin, and I girded thee about with fine linen, and I covered thee
with silk. I decked thee also with ornaments, and I put bracelets
upon thy hands, and a chain on thy neck. And I put a jewel on thy
forehead, and earrings in thine ears, and a beautiful crown upon
thine head. Thus wast thou decked with gold and silver; and thy
raiment was of fine linen, and silk, and broidered work; thou
didst eat fine flour, and honey, and oil: and thou wast exceeding
beautiful, and thou didst prosper into a kingdom. And thy renown
went forth among the heathen for thy beauty: for it was perfect
through My comeliness, which I had put upon thee, saith the Lord
God. But thou didst trust in thine own beauty, and playedst the
harlot because of thy renown." (Ezek. xvi. 8-16.)
Ought not the mass of professors to confess the truth of this
accusation? Have not the bulk of us most sadly departed from the
purity of our love? We rejoice, however, to observe a remnant of
choice spirits, who live near the Lord, and know the sweetness of
fellowship. These receive the promise and the blessing, and so
digest them that they become good blood in their veins, and so do
they feed on their Lord that they grow up into Him. Let us imitate
those elevated minds, and obtain their high delights. There is no
reason why the meanest of us should not be as David, and David as
the servant of the Lord. We may now be dwarfs, but growth is
possible; let us therefore aim at a higher stature. Let the
succeeding advice be followed, and, the Holy Spirit helping us, we
shall have attained thereto.
_Make every time of need a time of embracing thy Lord_. Do
not leave the mercy-seat until thou hast clasped Him in thine
arms. In every time of need He has promised to give thee grace to
help, and what withholdeth thee from obtaining sweet fellowship as
a precious addition to the promised assistance? Be not as the
beggar who is content with the alms, however grudgingly it may be
cast to him; but, since thou art a near kinsman, seek a smile and
a kiss with every benison He gives thee. Is He not better than His
mercies? What are they without Him? Cry aloud unto Him, and let
thy petition reach His ears, "O my Lord, it is not enough to be a
partaker of Thy bounties, I must have Thyself also; if Thou dost
not give me Thyself with Thy favours, they are but of little use
to me! O smile on me, when Thou blessest me, for else I am still
unblest! Thou puttest perfume into all the flowers of Thy garden,
and fragrance into Thy spices; if Thou withdrawest Thyself, they
are no more pleasant to me. Come, then, my Lord, and give me Thy
love with Thy grace." Take good heed, Christian, that thine own
heart is in right tune, that when the fingers of mercy touch the
strings, they may resound with full notes of communion. How sad is
it to partake of favour without rejoicing in it! Yet such is often
the believer's case. The Lord casts His lavish bounties at our
doors, and we, like churls, scarcely look out to thank Him. Our
ungrateful hearts and unthankful tongues mar our fellowship, by
causing us to miss a thousand opportunities for exercising it.
If thou wouldst enjoy communion with the Lord Jesus in the
reception of His grace, _endeavor to be always sensibly drawing
supplies from Him_. Make thy needs public in the streets of thine
heart, and when the supply is granted, let all the powers of thy
soul be present at the reception of it. Let no mercy come into
thine house unsung. Note in thy memory the list of thy Master's
benefits. Wherefore should the Lord's bounties be hurried away in
the dark, or buried in forgetfulness? Keep the gates of thy soul
ever open, and sit thou by the wayside to watch the treasures of
grace which God the Spirit hourly conveys into thy heart from
Jehovah--Jesus, thy Lord.
Never let an hour pass without drawing upon the bank of
heaven. If all thy wants seem satisfied, look steadfastly until
the next moment brings another need, and then delay not, but with
this warrant of necessity, hasten to thy treasury again. Thy
necessities are so numerous that thou wilt never lack a reason for
applying to the fulness of Jesus; but if ever such an occasion
should arise, enlarge thine heart, and then there will be need of
more love to fill the wider space. But do not allow any
supposititious riches of thine own to suspend thy daily receivings
from the Lord Jesus. You have constant need of Him. You need His
intercession, His upholding, His sanctification; you need that He
should work all your works in you, and that He should preserve you
unto the day of His appearing. There is not one moment of your
life in which you can do without Christ. Therefore be always at
His door, and the wants which you bemoan shall be remembrances to
turn your heart unto your Saviour. Thirst makes the heart pant for
the waterbrooks, and pain reminds man of the physician. Let your
wants conduct you to Jesus, and may the blessed Spirit reveal Him
unto you while He lovingly affords you the rich supplies of His
love! Go, poor saint, let thy poverty be the cord to draw thee to
thy rich Brother. Rejoice in the infirmity which makes room for
grace to rest upon thee, and be glad that thou hast constant needs
which compel thee perpetually to hold fellowship with thine
adorable Redeemer.
Study thyself, seek out thy necessities, as the housewife
searches for chambers where she may bestow her summer fruits.
Regard thy wants as rooms to be filled with more of the grace of
Jesus, and suffer no corner to be unoccupied. Pant after more of
Jesus. Be covetous after Him. Let all the past incite thee to seek
greater things. Sing the song of the enlarged heart,--
"All this is not enough: methinks I grow
More greedy by fruition; what I get
Serves but to set
An edge upon my appetite;
And all Thy gifts invite
My pray'rs for more."
Cry out to the Lord Jesus to fill the dry beds of thy rivers
until they overflow, and then empty thou the channels which have
hitherto been filled with thine own self-sufficiency, and beseech
Him to fill these also with His superabundant grace. If thy heavy
trials sink thee deeper in the flood of His consolations, be glad
of them; and if thy vessel shall be sunken up to its very
bulwarks, be not afraid. I would be glad to feel the mast-head of
my soul twenty fathoms beneath the surface of such an ocean; for,
as Rutherford said, "Oh, to be over the ears in this well! I would
not have Christ's love entering into me, but I would enter into
it, and be swallowed up of that love." Cultivate an insatiable
hunger and a quenchless thirst for this communion with Jesus
through His communications. Let thine heart cry for ever, "Give,
give," until it is filled in Paradise.
"O'ercome with Jesu's condescending love,
Brought into fellowship with Him and His,
And feasting with Him in His house of wine,
I'm sick of love,--and yet I pant for more
Communications from my loving Lord.
Stay me with flagons full of choicest wine,
Press'd from His heart upon Mount Calvary,
To cheer and comfort my love-conquer'd soul.
* * * Thyself I crave!
Thy presence is my life, my joy, my heav'n,
And all, without Thyself, is dead to me.
Stay me with flagons, Saviour, hear my cry,
Let promises, like apples, comfort me;
Apply atoning blood, and cov'nant love,
Until I see Thy face among the guests
Who in Thy Father's kingdom feast."
(Nymphas, by JOSEPH IRONS.)
This is the only covetousness which is allowable: but this is
not merely beyond rebuke, it is worthy of commendation. O saints,
be not straitened in your own bowels, but enlarge your desires,
and so receive more of your Saviour's measureless fulness! I
charge thee, my soul, thus to hold continual fellowship with thy
Lord, since He invites and commands thee thus to partake of His
riches.
_Rejoice thyself in benefits received_. Let the satisfaction
of thy spirit overflow in streams of joy. When the believer
reposes all his confidence in Christ, and delights himself in Him,
there is an exercise of communion. If he forgetteth his psalm-
book, and instead of singing is found lamenting, the mercies of
the day will bring no communion. Awake, O music! stir up thyself,
O my soul, be glad in the Lord, and exceedingly rejoice! Behold
His favours, rich, free, and continual; shall they be buried in
unthankfulness? Shall they be covered with a winding-sheet of
ingratitude? No! I will praise Him. I must extol Him. Sweet Lord
Jesus, let me kiss the dust of Thy feet, let me lose myself in
thankfulness, for Thy thoughts unto me are precious, how great is
the sum of them! Lo, I embrace Thee in the arms of joy and
gratitude, and herein I find my soul drawn unto Thee!
This is a blessed method of fellowship. It is kissing the
divine lip of benediction with the sanctified lip of affection.
Oh, for more rejoicing grace, more of the songs of the heart, more
of the melody of the soul!
_Seek to recognize the source of thy mercies as lying alone
in Him who is our Head_. Imitate the chicken, which, every time it
drinketh of the brook, lifts up its head to heaven, as if it would
return thanks for every drop. If we have anything that is
commendable and gracious, it must come from the Holy Spirit, and
that Spirit is first bestowed on Jesus, and then through Him on
us. The oil was first poured on the head of Aaron, and thence it
ran down upon his garments. Look on the drops of grace, and
remember that they distil from the Head, Christ Jesus. All thy
rays are begotten by this Sun of Righteousness, all thy showers
are poured from this heaven, all thy fountains spring from this
great and immeasurable depth. Oh, for grace to see the hand of
Jesus on every favour! So will communion be constantly and firmly
in exercise. May the great Teacher perpetually direct us to Jesus
by making the mercies of the covenant the handposts on the road
which leadeth to Him. Happy is the believer who knows how to find
the secret abode of his Beloved by tracking the footsteps of His
loving providence: herein is wisdom which the casual observer of
mere second causes can never reach. Labour, O Christian, to follow
up every clue which thy Master's grace affords thee!
_Labour to maintain a sense of thine entire dependence upon
His good will and pleasure for the continuance of thy richest
enjoyments_. Never try to live on the old manna, nor seek to find
help in Egypt. All must come from Jesus, or thou art undone for
ever. Old anointings will not suffice to impart unction to our
spirit; thine head must have fresh oil poured upon it from the
golden horn of the sanctuary, or it will cease from its glory. To-
day thou mayest be upon the summit of the mount of God; but He who
has put thee there must keep thee there, or thou wilt sink far
more speedily than thou dreamest. Thy mountain only stands firm
when He settles it in its place; if He hide His face, thou wilt
soon be troubled. If the Saviour should see fit, there is not a
window through which thou seest the light of heaven which he could
not darken in an instant. Joshua bade the sun stand still, but
Jesus can shroud it in total darkness. He can withdraw the joy of
thine heart, the light of thine eyes, and the strength of thy
life; in His hand thy comforts lie, and at His will they can
depart from thee. Oh! how rich the grace which supplies us so
continually, and doth not refrain itself because of our
ingratitude! O Lord Jesus, we would bow at Thy feet, conscious of
our utter inability to do aught without Thee, and in every favour
which we are privileged to receive, we would adore Thy blessed
name, and acknowledge Thine unexhausted love!
_When thou hast received much, admire the all-sufficiency
which still remaineth undiminished_, thus shall you commune with
Christ, not only in what you obtain from Him, but also in the
superabundance which remains treasured up in Him. Let us ever
remember that giving does not impoverish our Lord. When the
clouds, those wandering cisterns of the skies, have poured floods
upon the dry ground, there remains an abundance in the storehouse
of the rain: so in Christ there is ever an unbounded supply,
though the most liberal showers of grace have fallen ever since
the foundation of the earth. The sun is as bright as ever after
all his shining, and the sea is quite as full after all the clouds
have been drawn from it: so is our Lord Jesus ever the same
overflowing fountain of fulness. All this is ours, and we may make
it the subject of rejoicing fellowship. Come, believer, walk
through the length and breadth of the land, for as far as the eye
can reach, the land is thine, and far beyond the utmost range of
thine observation it is thine also, the gracious gift of thy
gracious Redeemer and Friend. Is there not ample space for
fellowship _here?_
_Regard every spiritual mercy as an assurance of the Lord's
communion with thee_. When the young man gives jewels to the
virgin to whom he is affianced, she regards them as tokens of his
delight in her. Believer, do the same with the precious presents
of thy Lord. The common bounties of providence are shared in by
all men, for the good Householder provides water for His swine as
well as for His children: such things, therefore, are no proof of
divine complacency. But thou hast richer food to eat; "the
children's bread" is in thy wallet, and the heritage of the
righteous is reserved for thee. Look, then, on every motion of
grace in thine heart as a pledge and sign of the moving of thy
Saviour's heart towards thee. There is His whole heart in the
bowels of every mercy which He sends thee. He has impressed a kiss
of love upon each gift, and He would have thee believe that every
jewel of mercy is a token of His boundless love. Look on thine
adoption, justification, and preservation, as sweet enticements to
fellowship. Let every note of the promise sound in thine ears like
the ringing of the bells of the house of thy Lord, inviting thee
to come to the banquets of His love. Joseph sent to his father
asses laden with the good things of Egypt, and good old Jacob
doubtless regarded them as pledges of the love of his son's heart:
be sure not to think less of the kindnesses of Jesus.
_Study to know the value of His favours._ They are no
ordinary things, no paste jewels, no mosaic gold: they are every
one of them so costly, that, had all heaven been drained of
treasure, apart from the precious offering of the Redeemer, it
could not have purchased so much as the least of His benefits.
When thou seest thy pardon, consider how great a boon is contained
in it! Bethink thee that hell had been thine eternal portion
unless Christ had plucked thee from the burning! When thou art
enabled to see thyself as clothed in the imputed righteousness of
Jesus, admire the profusion of precious things of which thy robe
is made. Think how many times the Man of sorrows wearied Himself
at that loom of obedience in which He wove that matchless garment;
and reckon, if thou canst, how many worlds of merit were cast into
the fabric at every throw of the shuttle! Remember that all the
angels in heaven could not have afforded Him a single thread which
would have been rich enough to weave into the texture of His
perfect righteousness. Consider the cost of thy maintenance for an
hour; remember that thy wants are so large, that all the granaries
of grace that all the saints could fill, could not feed thee for a
moment.
What an expensive dependent thou art! King Solomon made
marvellous provision for his household (1 Kings iv. 22), but all
his beeves and fine flour would be as the drop of the bucket
compared with thy daily wants. Rivers of oil, and ten thousand
rams or fed beasts, would not provide enough to supply the
necessities of thy hungering soul. Thy least spiritual want
demands infinity to satisfy it, and what must be the amazing
aggregate of thy perpetually repeated draughts upon thy Lord!
Arise, then, and bless thy loving Immanuel for the invaluable
riches with which He has endowed thee. See what a dowry thy
Bridegroom has brought to His poor, penniless spouse. He knows the
value of the blessings which He brings thee, for He has paid for
them out of His heart's richest blood; be not thou so ungenerous
as to pass them over as if they were but of little worth. Poor men
know more of the value of money than those who have always
revelled in abundance of wealth. Ought not thy former poverty to
teach thee the preciousness of the grace which Jesus gives thee?
For remember, there was a time when thou wouldst have given a
thousand worlds, if they had been thine, in order to procure the
very least of His abundant mercies.
_Remember how impossible it would have been for thee to
receive a single spiritual blessing unless thou hadst been in
Jesus_. On none of Adam's race can the love of God be fixed,
unless they are seen to be in union with His Son. No exception has
ever been made to the universal curse on those of the first Adam's
seed who have no interest in the second Adam. Christ is the only
Zoar in which God's Lots can find a shelter from the destruction
of Sodom. Out of Him, the withering blast of the fiery furnace of
God's wrath consumes every green herb, and it is only in Him that
the soul can live. As when the prairie is on fire, men see the
heavens wrapped in sheets of flame, and in hot haste they fly
before the devouring element. They have but one hope. There is in
the distance a lake of water. They reach it, they plunge into it,
and are safe. Although the skies are molten with the heat, the sun
darkened with the smoke, and the earth utterly consumed in the
fire, they know that they are secure while the cooling flood
embraces them. Christ Jesus is the only escape for a sinner
pursued by the fiery wrath of God, and we would have the believer
remember this. Our own works could never shelter us, for they have
proved but refuges of lies. Had they been a thousand times more
and better, they would have been but as the spider's web, too
flail to hang eternal interests upon. There was but one name, one
sacrifice, one blood, by which we could escape. All other attempts
at salvation were a grievous failure. For, "though a man could
scourge out of his body rivers of blood, and in neglect of himself
could outlast Moses or Elias; though he could wear out his knees
with prayer, and had his eyes nailed on heaven; though he could
build hospitals for all the poor on earth, and exhaust the mines
of India in alms; though he could walk like an angel of light, and
with the glittering of an outward holiness dazzle the eyes of all
beholders; nay (if it were possible to be conceived) though he
should live for a thousand years in a perfect and perpetual
observation of the whole law of God, if the only exception to his
perfection were the very least deviation from the law, yet such a
man as this could no more appear before the tribunal of God's
justice, than stubble before a consuming fire." How, then, with
thine innumerable sins, couldst thou escape the damnation of hell,
much less become the recipient of bounties so rich and large?
Blessed window of heaven, sweet Lord Jesus, let Thy Church for
ever adore Thee, as the only channel by which mercies can flow to
her. My soul, give Him continual praise, for without Him thou
hadst been poorer than a beggar. Be thou mindful, O heir of
heaven, that thou couldst not have had one ray of hope, or one
word of comfort, if thou hadst not been in union with Christ
Jesus! The crumbs which fall from thy table are more than grace
itself would have given thee, hadst thou not been in Jesus beloved
and approved.
All thou hast, thou hast in Him: in Him chosen, in Him
redeemed, in Him justified, in Him accepted. Thou art risen in
Him, but without Him thou hadst died the second death. Thou art in
Him raised up to the heavenly places, but out of Him thou wouldst
have been damned eternally. Bless Him, then. Ask the angels to
bless Him. Rouse all ages to a harmony of praise for His
condescending love in taking poor guilty nothings into oneness
with His all-adorable person. This is a blessed means of promoting
communion, if the sacred Comforter is pleased to take of the
things of Christ, and reveal them to us as ours, but only ours as
we are in Him. Thrice-blessed Jesus, let us never forget that we
are members of Thy mystical body, and that it is for this reason
that we are blessed and preserved.
_Meditate upon thee gracious acts which procured thy
blessings_. Consider the ponderous labours which thy Lord endured
for thee, and the stupendous sufferings by which He purchased the
mercies which He bestows. What human tongue can speak forth the
unutterable misery of His heart, or describe so much as one of the
agonies which crowded upon His soul? How much less shall any
finite comprehension arrive at an idea of the vast total of His
woe! But all His sorrows were necessary for thy benefit, and
without them not one of thine unnumbered mercies could have been
bestowed. Be not unmindful that--
"There's ne'er a gift His hand bestows,
But cost His heart a groan."
Look upon the frozen ground of Gethsemane, and behold the
bloody sweat which stained the soil! Turn to the hall of Gabbatha,
and see the victim of justice pursued by His clamorous foes! Enter
the guard-room of the Praetorians, and view the spitting, and the
plucking of the hair! and then conclude your review upon Golgotha,
the mount of doom, where death consummated His tortures; and if,
by divine assistance thou art enabled to enter, in some humble
measure, into the depths of thy Lord's sufferings, thou wilt be
the better prepared to hold fellowship with Him when next thou
receivest His priceless gifts. In proportion to thy sense of their
costliness will be thy capacity for enjoying the love which is
centred in them.
_Above all, and chief of all, never forget that Christ is
thine_. Amid the profusion of His gifts, never forget that the
chief gift is Himself, and do not forget that, after all, His
gifts are but Himself. He clothes thee, but it is with Himself,
with His own spotless righteousness and character. He washes thee,
but His innermost self, His own heart's blood, is the stream with
which the fountain overflows. He feeds thee with the bread of
heaven, but be not unmindful that the bread is Himself, His own
body which He gives to be the food of souls. Never be satisfied
with a less communication than a whole Christ. A wife will not be
put off with maintenance, jewels, and attire, all these will be
nothing to her unless she can call her husband's heart and person
her own. It was the Paschal lamb upon which the ancient Israelite
did feast on that night that was never to be forgotten. So do thou
feast on Jesus, and on nothing less than Jesus, for less than this
will be food too light for thy soul's satisfaction. Oh, be careful
to eat His flesh and drink His blood, and so receive Him into
thyself in a real and spiritual manner, for nothing short of this
will be an evidence of eternal life in thy soul!
What more shall we add to the rules which we have here
delivered? There remains but one great exhortation, which must not
be omitted. _Seek the abundant assistance of the Holy Spirit_ to
enable you to put into practice the things which we have said, for
without His aid, all that we have spoken will but be tantalizing
the lame with rules to walk, or the dying with regulations for the
preservation of health. O thou Divine Spirit, while we enjoy the
grace of Jesus, lead us into the secret abode of our Lord, that we
may sup with Him, and He with us, and grant unto us hourly grace
that we may continue in the company of our Lord from the rising to
the setting of the sun! Amen.
THE WELL-BELOVED'S VINEYARD.
AN ADDRESS TO A LITTLE COMPANY OF BELIEVERS,
IN MR. SPURGEON'S OWN ROOM AT MENTONE.
"My Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill."--
Isaiah v. 1.
WE recognize at once that Jesus is here. Who but He can be meant
by "My Well-beloved"? Here is a word of possession and a word of
affection,--He is mine, and my Well-beloved. He is loveliness
itself, the most loving and lovable of beings; and we personally
love Him with all our heart, and mind, and soul, and strength: He
is ours, our Beloved, our Well-beloved, we can say no less.
The delightful relationship of our Lord to us is accompanied
by words which remind us of our relationship to Him, "My Well-
beloved hath a vineyard," and what vineyard is that but our heart,
our nature, our life? We are His: and we are His for the same
reason that any other vineyard belongs to its owner. He made us a
vineyard. Thorns and briars were all our growth naturally, but He
bought us with a price, He hedged us about, and set us apart for
Himself, and then He planted and cultivated us. All within us that
can bring forth good fruit is of His creating, His tending, and
His preserving; so that if we be vineyards at all we must be _His_
vineyards. We gladly agree that it shall be so. I pray that I may
not have a hair on my head that does not belong to Christ, and you
all pray that your every pulse and breath may be the Lord's.
This happy afternoon I want you to note that this vineyard is
said to be upon "a very fruitful hill." I have been thinking of
the advantages of my own position towards the Lord, and lamenting
with great shamefacedness that I am not bringing forth such fruit
to Him as my position demands. Considering our privileges,
advantages, and opportunities, I fear that many of us have need to
feel great searchings of heart. Perhaps to such the text may be
helpful, and it will not be without profit to any one of us, if
the Lord will bless our meditation upon it.
I. Our first thought, in considering these words, is that our
position as the Lord's vineyard is a very favourable one: "My
Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill." No people
could be better placed for serving Christ than we are. I hardly
think that any man is better situated for glorifying God than I
am. I do not think that any women could be in better positions for
serving Christ than some of you, dear sisters, now occupy. Our
heavenly Father has placed us just where He can do the most for
us, and where we can do the most for Him. Infinite wisdom has
occupied itself with carefully selecting the soil, and site, and
aspect of every tree in the vineyard. We differ greatly, and need
differing situations in order to fruitfulness: the place which
would suit one might be too trying for another. Friend, the Lord
has planted you in the right spot: your station may not be the
best in itself, but it is the best for you. We are in the best
possible position for some present service at this moment; the
providence of God has put us on a vantage ground for our immediate
duty: "My Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill."
Let us think of _the times in which we live_ as calling upon
us to be very fruitful when we compare them with the years gone
by. Time was when we could not have met thus happily in our own
room: if we had been taken in the act of breaking bread, or
reading God's Word, we should have been haled off to prison, and
perhaps put to death. Our forefathers scarcely dared to lift up
their voices in a psalm of praise, lest the enemy should be upon
them. Truly, the lines have fallen unto us in pleasant places;
yea, we have a goodly heritage, in a very fruitful hill.
We do not even live in times when error is so rampant as to
be paramount. There is too much of it abroad; but taking a broad
view of things, I venture to say that there never was a time when
the truth had a wider sway than it has now, or when the gospel was
more fully preached, or when there was more spiritual activity.
Black clouds of error hover over us; but at the same time we
rejoice that, from John o' Groat's House to the Land's End, Christ
is preached by ten thousand voices, and even in the dark parts of
the earth the name of Jesus is shining like a candle in the house.
If we had the pick of the ages in which to live, we could not have
selected a better time for fruitbearing than that which is now
occurrent: this age is "a very fruitful hill."
That this is the case some of us know positively, _because we
have been fruitful._ Look back, brothers and sisters, upon times
when your hearts were warm, and your zeal was fervent, and you
served the Lord with gladness. I join with you in those happy
memories. Then we could run with the swiftest, we could fight with
the bravest, we could work with the strongest, we could suffer
with the most patient. The grace of God has been upon certain of
us in such an unmistakable manner that we have brought forth all
the fruits of the Spirit. Perhaps to-day we look back with deep
regret because we are not so fruitful as we once were: if it be
so, it is well that our regrets should multiply, but we must
change each one of them into a hopeful prayer. Remember, the vine
may have changed, but the soil is the same. We have still the same
motives for being fruitful, and even more than we used to have.
Why are we not more useful? Has some spiritual phylloxera taken
possession of the vines, or have we become frost-bitten, or sun-
burnt? What is it that withholds the vintage? Certainly, if we
were fruitful once, we ought to be more fruitful now. The fruitful
hill is not exhausted; what aileth us that our grapes are so few?
We are planted on a fruitful hill, _for we are called to work
which of all others is the most fruitful_. Blessed and happy is
the man who is called to the Christian ministry; for this service
has brought more glory to Christ than any other. You, beloved
friends, are not called to be rulers of nations, nor inventors of
engines, nor teachers of sciences, nor slayers of men; but we are
soul-winners, our work is to lead men to Jesus. Ours is, of all
the employments in the world, the most fruitful in benefits to men
and glory to God. If we are not serving God in the gospel of His
Son with all our might and ability, then we have a heavy
responsibility resting upon us. "Our Well-beloved hath a vineyard
in a very fruitful hill:" there is not a richer bit of soil
outside Immanuel's land than the holy ministry for souls. Certain
of us are teachers, and gather the young about us while we speak
of Jesus. This also is choice soil. Many teachers have gathered a
grand vintage from among the little ones, and have not been a whit
behind pastors and evangelists in the glory of soul-winning. Dear
teachers, your vines are planted in a very fruitful hill. But I do
not confine myself to preachers and teachers; for all of us, as we
have opportunities of speaking for the Lord Jesus Christ, and
privately talking to individuals, have also a fertile soil to grow
in. If we do not glorify God by soul-winning, we shall be greatly
blamable, since of all forms of service it is most prolific in
praise of God.
And what is more, _the very circumstances with which we are
surrounded_ all tend to make our position exceedingly favourable
for fruit-bearing. In this little company we have not one friend
who is extremely poor; but if such were among us, I should say the
same thing. Christ has gathered some of His choicest clusters from
the valley of poverty. Many eminent saints have never owned a foot
of land, but lived upon their weekly wage, and found scant fare at
that. Yes, by the grace of God, the vale of poverty has blossomed
as the rose. It so happens, however, that the most of us here have
a competence, we have all that we need, and something over to give
to the poor and to the cause of God. Surely we ought to be
fruitful in almsgiving, in caring for the sick, and in all manner
of sweet and flagrant influences. "Give me neither poverty nor
riches," is a prayer that has been answered for most of us; and if
we do not now give honour unto God, what excuse can we make for
our barrenness? I am speaking to some who are singularly healthy,
who are never hindered by aches and pains; and to others who have
been prospered in business for twenty years at a stretch: yours is
great indebtedness to your Lord: in your case, "My Well-beloved
hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill." Give God your strength
and your wealth, my brother, while they last: see that all His
care of thee is not thrown away. Others of us seldom know many
months together of health, but have often had to suffer sorely in
body; this ought to make us fruitful, for there is much increase
from the tillage of affliction. Has not the Master obtained the
richest of all fruit from bleeding vines? Do not His heaviest
bunches come from vines which have been sharply cut and pruned
down to the ground? Choice flavours, dainty juices, and delicious
aromas come mostly from the use of the keen-edged knife of trial.
Some of us are at our best for fruitbearing when in other respects
we are at our worst. Thus I might truly say that, whatever our
circumstances may be, whether we are poor or rich, in health or in
affliction, each one of our cases has its advantages, and we are
planted "in a very fruitful hill."
Furthermore, when I look at our spiritual condition_, I must
say for myself, and I think for you also, "My Well-beloved hath a
vineyard in a very fruitful hill." For what has God done for us?
To change the question,--what has God not done for us? What more
could He say than to us He hath said? What more could He do than
to us He hath done? He hath dealt with us like a God. He has loved
us up from the pit, He has loved us up to the cross, and up to the
gates of heaven; He has quickened us, forgiven us, and renewed us;
He dwells in us, comforts us, instructs us, upholds us, preserves
us, guides us, leads us, and He will surely perfect us. If we are
not fruitful, to His praise, how shall we excuse ourselves? Where
shall we hide our guilty heads? Shall yonder sea suffice to lend
us briny tears wherewith to weep over our ingratitude?
II. I go a step further, by your leave, and say that our
position, as the Lord's vineyard, is favourable to the production
of the fruit which He loves best. I believe that my own position
is the most favourable for the production of the fruit that the
Lord loves best in me, and that your position is the same. What is
this fruit?
First, it is _faith_. Our Lord is very delighted to see faith
in His people. The trust which clings to Him with childlike
confidence is pleasant to His loving heart. Our position is such
that faith ought to be the easiest thing in the world to us. Look
at the promises He has given us in His Word: can we not believe
them? Look at what the Father has done for us in the gift of His
dear Son: can we not trust Him after that? Our daily experience
all goes to strengthen our confidence in God. Every mercy asks,
"Will you not trust Him?" Every want that is supplied cries, "Can
you not trust Him?" Every sorrow sent by the great Father tests
our faith, and drives us to Him on whom we repose, and so
strengthens and confirms our confidence in God. Mercies and
miseries alike operate for the growth of faith. Some of us have
been called upon to trust God on a large scale, and that necessity
has been a great help towards fruit-bearing. The more troubles we
have, the more is our vine digged about, and the more nourishment
is laid to its roots. If faith does not ripen under trial, when
will it ripen? Our afflictions fertilize the soil wherein faith
may grow.
Another choice fruit is _love_. Jesus delights in love. His
tender heart delights to see its love returned. Am I not of all
men most bound to love the Lord? I speak for each brother and
sister here, is not that your language? Do you not all say, "Lives
there a person beneath yon blue sky who ought to love Jesus more
than I should do?" Each sister soliloquizes, "Sat there ever a
woman in her chamber who had more reason for loving God than I
have?" No, the sin which has been forgiven us should make us love
our Saviour exceeding much. The sin which has been prevented in
other cases should make us love our Preserver much. The help which
God has sent us in hours of need, the guidance which He has given
in times of difficulty, the joy which He has poured into us in
days of fellowship, and the quiet He has breathed upon us in
seasons of trial,--all ought to make us love Him. Along our life-
road, reasons for loving God are more numerous than the leaves
upon the olives. He has hedged us about with His goodness, even as
the mountains and the sea are round our present resting-place.
Look backward as far as time endures, and then look far beyond
that, into the eternity which has been, and you will see the
Lord's great love set upon us: all through time and eternity
reasons have been accumulating which constrain us to love our
Lord. Now turn sharply round, and gaze before you, and all along
the future faith can see reasons for loving God, golden milestones
on the way that is yet to be traversed, all calling for our loving
delight in God.
Christ is also very pleased with the fruit of _hope_, and we
are so circumstanced that we ought to produce much of it. The aged
ought to look forward, for they cannot expect to see much more on
earth. Time is short, and eternity is near; how precious is a good
hope through grace! We who are not yet old ought to be exceedingly
hopeful; and the younger folk, who are just beginning the
spiritual life, should abound in hope most fresh and bright. If
any man has expectations greater than I have, I should like to see
him. We have the greatest of expectations. Have you never felt
like Mercy in her dream, when she laughed and when Christiana
asked her what made her laugh, she said that she had had a vision
of things yet to be revealed?
Select any fruit of the Spirit you choose, and I maintain
that we are favourably circumstanced for producing it; we are
planted upon a very fruitful hill. What a fruitful hill we are
living in as regards _labour for Christ! _Each one of us may find
work for the Master; there are capital opportunities around us.
There never was an age in which a man, consecrated to God, might
do so much as he can at this time. There is nothing to restrain
the most ardent zeal. We live in such happy times that, if we
plunge into a sea of work, we may swim, and none can hinder us.
Then, too, our labour is made, by God's grace, to be so pleasant
to us. No true servant of Christ is weary _of_ the work, though he
may be weary _in_ the work: it is not the work that he ever
wearies of, for he wishes that he could do ten times more. Then
our Lord makes our work to be successful. We bring one soul to
Jesus, and that one brings a hundred. Sometimes, when we are
fishing for Jesus, there may be few fish, but, blessed be His
name, most of them enter the net; and we have to live praising and
blessing God for all the favour with which He regards our labour
of love. I do think I am right in saying that, for the bearing of
the fruit which Jesus loves best, our position is exceedingly
favourable.
III. And now, this afternoon, at this table, our position
here is favourable even now to our producing immediately, and upon
the spot, the richest, ripest, rarest fruit for our Well-beloved.
Here, at the communion-table, we are at the centre of the truth,
and at the well-head of consolation. Now we enter the holy of
holies, and come to the most sacred meeting-place between our
souls and God.
Viewed from this table, _the vineyard slopes to the south_,
for everything looks towards Christ, our Sun. This bread, this
wine, all set our souls aslope towards Jesus Christ, and He shines
full upon our hearts, and minds, and souls, to make us bring forth
much fruit. Are we not planted on a very fruitful hill?
As we think of His passion for our sake, we feel that_ a wall
is set about us to the north_, to keep back every sharp blast that
might destroy the tender grapes. No wrath is dreaded now, for
Jesus has borne it for us; behold the tokens of His all-sufficient
sacrifice! No anger of the Lord shall come to our restful spirits,
for the Lord saith, "I have sworn that I will not be wroth with
thee, nor rebuke thee." Here, on this table, are the pledges of
His love unspeakable, and these, like a high wall, keep out the
rough winds. Surely, we are planted on a very fruitful hill.
Moreover, _the Well-beloved Himself is among us_. He has not
let us out to husbandmen, but He Himself doth undertake to care
for us; and that He is here we are sure, for here is His flesh,
and here is His blood. You see the outward tokens, may you feel
the unseen reality; for we believe in His real presence, though
not in the gross corporeal sense with which worldly spirits blind
themselves. The King has come into His garden: let us entertain
Him with our fruits. He who for this vineyard poured out a bloody
sweat, is now surveying the vines; shall they not at this instant
give forth a goodly smell? The presence of our Lord makes this
assembly a very fruitful hill: where He sets His feet, all good
things flourish.
Around this table, _we are in a place where others have
fruited well_. Our literature contains no words more precious than
those which have been spoken at the time of communion. Perhaps you
know and appreciate the discourses of Willison, delivered on
sacramental occasions. Rutherford's communion sermons have a
sacred unction upon them. The poems of George Herbert, I should
think, were most of them inspired by the sight of Christ in this
ordinance. Think of the canticles of holy Bernard, how they flame
with devotion. Saints and martyrs have been nourished at this
table of blessing. This hollowed ordinance, I am sure, is a spot
where hopes grow bright, and hearts grow warm, resolves become
firm, and lives become fruitful, and all the clusters of our
soul's fruit ripen for the Lord.
Blessed be God, _we are where we have ourselves often grown_.
We have enjoyed our best times when celebrating this sacred
Eucharist. God grant it may be so again! Let us, in calm
meditation and inward thought, now produce from our hearts sweet
fruits of love, and zeal, and hope, and patience; let us yield
great clusters like those of Eshcol, all for Jesus, and for Jesus
only. Even now, let us give ourselves up to meditation, gratitude,
adoration, communion, rapture; and let us spend the rest of our
lives in glorifying and magnifying the ever-blessed name of our
Well-beloved whose vineyard we are.
"While such a scene of sacred joys
Our raptured eyes and souls employs,
Here we could sit, and gaze away
A long, an everlasting day.
"Well, we shall quickly pass the night,
To the fair coasts of perfect light;
Then shall our joyful senses rove
O'er the dear object of our love.
"There shall we drink full draughts of bliss,
And pluck new life from heavenly trees.
Yet now and then, dear Lord, bestow
A drop of heaven on worms below."
REDEEMED SOULS FREED FROM FEAR.
A TALK WITH A FEW FRIENDS AT MENTONE.
"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee."--Isaiah xliii. 1.
I WAS lamenting this morning my unfitness for my work, and
especially for the warfare to which I am called. A sense of
heaviness came over me, but relief came very speedily, for which I
thank the Lord. Indeed, I was greatly burdened, but the Lord
succoured me. The first verse read at the Sabbath morning service
exactly met my case. It is in Isaiah xliii. 1: "But now thus saith
the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and He that formed thee, O
Israel, Fear not." I said to myself, "I am what God created me,
and I am what He formed me, and therefore I must, after all, be
the right man for the place wherein He has put me." We may not
blame our Creator, nor suspect that He has missed His mark in
forming an instrument for His work. Thus new comfort comes to us.
Not only do the operations of grace in the spiritual world yield
us consolation, but we are even comforted by what the Lord has
done in creation. We are told to cease from our fears; and we do
so, since we perceive that it is the Lord that made us, and not we
ourselves, and He will justify His own creating skill by
accomplishing through us the purposes of His love. Pray, I beseech
you, for me, the weakest of my Lord's servants, that I may be
equal to the overwhelming task imposed upon me.
The next sentence of the chapter is usually most comforting
to my soul, although on this one occasion the first sentence was a
specially reviving cordial to me. The verse goes on to say,--
"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee."
Let us think for a few minutes of the wonderful depth of
consolation which lies in this fact. We have been redeemed by the
Lord Himself, and this is a grand reason why we should never again
be subject to fear. Oh, that the logic of this fact could be
turned into practice, so that we henceforth rejoiced, or at least
felt the peace of God!
These words may be spoken, first of all, of those frequent
occasions in which the Lord has redeemed His people out of
_trouble_. Many a time and oft might our Lord say to each one of
us, "I have redeemed thee." Out of six, yea, six thousand trials
He has brought us forth by the right hand of His power. He has
released us from our afflictions, and brought us forth into a
wealthy place. In the remembrance of all these redemptions the
Lord seems to say to us, "What I have done before, I will do
again. I have redeemed thee, and I will still redeem thee. I have
brought thee from under the hand of the oppressor; I have
delivered thee from the tongue of the slanderer; I have borne thee
up under the load of poverty, and sustained thee under the pains
of sickness; and I am able still to do the same: wherefore, then,
dost thou fear? Why shouldst thou be afraid, since already I have
again and again redeemed thee? Take heart, and be confident; for
even to old age and to death itself I will continue to be thy
strong Redeemer."
I suppose there would be a reference here to the great
redemption out of Egypt. This word is addressed to the people of
God under captivity in Babylon, and we know that the Lord referred
to the Egyptian redemption; for He says in the third verse, "I
gave Egypt for thy ransom." Egypt was a great country, and a rich
country, for we read of "all the treasures of Egypt", but God gave
them for His chosen: He would give all the nations of the earth
for His Israel. This was a wonderful stay to the people of God:
they constantly referred to Egypt and the Red Sea, and made their
national song out of it. In all Israel's times of disaster, and
calamity, and trial, they joyfully remembered that the Lord had
redeemed them when they were a company of slaves, helpless and
hopeless, under a tyrant who cast their firstborn children into
the Nile, a tyrant whose power was so tremendous that all the
armies of the world could not have wrought their deliverance from
his iron hand. The very nod of Pharaoh seemed to the inhabitants
of Egypt to be omnipotent; he was a builder of pyramids, a master
of all the sciences of peace and the arts of war. What could the
Israelites have done against him? Jehovah came to their relief in
their dire extremity. His plagues followed each other in quick
succession. The dread volleys of the Lord's artillery confounded
His foes. At last He smote all the firstborn of Egypt, the chief
of all their strength. Then was Egypt glad that Israel departed,
and the Lord brought forth His people with silver and gold. All
the chivalry of Egypt was overthrown and destroyed at the Red Sea,
and the timbrels of the daughters of Israel sounded joyously upon
its shores. This redemption out of Egypt is so remarkable that it
is remembered even in heaven. The Old Testament song is woven into
that of the New Covenant; for there they "sing the song of Moses
the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb." The first
redeemption was so wonderful a type and prophecy of the other that
it is no alloy to the golden hymn of eternal glory, but readily
melts into the same celestial chant. Other types may cease to be
remembered, but this was so much a fact as well as a type that it
shall be had in memory for ever and ever. Every Israelite ought to
have had confidence in God after what He had done for the people
in redeeming them out of Egypt. To every one of the seed of Jacob
it was a grand argument to enforce the precept, "Fear not."
But I take it that the chief reference of these words are to
that redemption which has been wrought out for us by Him who loved
us, and washed us from our sins by His own blood. Let us think of
it for a minute or two before we break the bread and drink of the
cup of communion.
The remembrance of this transcendent redemption ought to
comfort us in all times of _perplexity_. When we cannot see our
way, or cannot make out what to do, we need not be at all troubled
concerning it; for the Lord Jehovah can see a way out of every
intricacy. There never was a problem so hard to solve as that
which is answered in redemption. Herein was the tremendous
difficulty--How can God be just, and yet the Saviour of sinners?
How can He fulfil His threatenings, and yet forgive sin? If that
problem been left to angels and men, they could never worked it
out throughout eternity; but God has solved it through freely
delivering up His own Son. In the glorious sacrifice of Jesus we
see the justice of God magnified; for He laid sin on the blessed
Lord, who had become one with His chosen. Jesus identified Himself
with His people, and therefore their sin was laid upon Him, and
the sword of the Lord awoke against Him. He was not taken
arbitrarily to be a victim, but He was a voluntary Sufferer. His
relationship amounted to covenant oneness with His people, and "it
behoved Christ to suffer." Herein is a wisdom which must be more
than equal to all minor perplexities. Hear this, then, O poor soul
in suspense! The Lord says, "I have redeemed thee. I have already
brought thee out of the labyrinth in which thou wast lost by sin,
and therefore I will take thee out of the meshes of the net of
temptation, and lead thee through the maze of trial; I will bring
the blind by a way that they know not, and lead them in paths
which they have not known. I will bring again from Bashan, I will
bring up My people from the depths of the sea." Let us commit our
way unto the Lord. Mine is a peculiarly difficult one, but I know
that my Redeemer liveth, and He will lead me by a right way. He
will be our Guide even unto death; and after death He will guide
us through those tracks unknown of the mysterious region, and
cause us to rest with Him for ever.
So also, if at any time we are in great _poverty_, or in
great straitness of means for the Lord's work, and we are,
therefore, afraid that we shall never get our needs supplied, let
us cast off such fears as we listen to the music of these words:
"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee." God Himself looked down from
heaven, and saw that there was no man who could give to Him a
ransom for his brother, and each man on his own part was
hopelessly bankrupt; and then, despite our spiritual beggary, He
found the means of our redemption. What then? Let us hear the use
which the Holy Spirit makes of this fact: "He that spared not His
own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with
Him also freely give us all things?" We cannot have a want which
the Lord will not supply. Since God has given us Jesus, He will
give us, not some things, but "all things." Indeed, all things are
ours in Christ Jesus. No necessity of his life can for a single
moment be compared to that dread necessity which the Lord has
already supplied. The infinite gift of God's own Son is a far
greater one than all that can be included in the term "all
things": wherefore, it is a grand argument to the poor and needy,
"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee." Perplexity and poverty are
thus effectually met.
We are at times troubled by a sense of our personal
_insignificance_. It seems too much to hope that God's infinite
mind should enter into our mean affairs. Though David said, "I am
poor and needy, yet the Lord thinketh upon me," we are not always
quite prepared to say the same. We make our sorrows great under
the vain idea that they are too small for the Lord to notice. I
believe that our greatest miseries spring from those little
worries which we hesitate to bring to our heavenly Father. Our
gracious God puts an end to all such thoughts as these by saying
"Fear not for I have redeemed thee." You are not of such small
account as you suppose. The Lord would never be wasteful of His
sacred expenditure.
He bought you with a price, and therefore He sets great store
by you. Listen to what the Lord says: "Since thou wast precious in
My sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee:
therefore will I give men for thee, and people for thy life." It
is amazing that the Lord should think so much of us as to give
Jesus for us. "What is man that Thou art mindful of him?" Yet
God's mind is filled with thoughts of love towards man. Know ye
not that His only-begotten Son entered this world, and became a
man? The man Christ Jesus has a name at which every knee shall
bow, and He is so dear to the Father that, for His sake, His
chosen ones are accepted, and are made to enjoy the freest access
to Him. We sing truly,--
"So near, so very near to God,
Nearer we cannot be,
For in the person of His Son
We are as near as He."
And now the very hairs of our head are all numbered, and the
least burden we may roll upon the Lord. Those cares which we ought
not to have may well cease, for "He careth for us." He that
redeemed us never forgets us: His wounds have graven us upon the
palms of His hands, and written our names deep in His side. Jesus
stoops to our level, for He stooped to bear the cross to redeem
us. Do not, therefore, be again afraid because of your
insignificance. "Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel,
My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from
my God? Hast thou not known? Hast thou not heard, that the
everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth,
fainteth not, neither is weary? There is no searching of His
understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have
no might He increaseth strength." The Lord's memory is toward the
little in Israel. He carrieth the lambs in His bosom.
We are liable to fret a little when we think of our
_changeableness_. If you are at all like me, you are very far from
being always alike; I am sometimes lifted up to the very heavens,
and then I go down to the deeps; I am at one time bright with joy
and confidence, and at another time dark as midnight with doubts
and fears. Even Elijah, who was so brave, had his fainting fits.
We are to be blamed for this, and yet the fact remains: our
experience is as an April day, when shower and sunshine take their
turns. Amid our mournful changes we rejoice to hear the Lord's own
voice, saying, "Fear not: for I have redeemed thee." Everything is
not changeful wave; there is rock somewhere. Redemption is a fact
accomplished.
"The Cross, it standeth fast. Hallelujah!"
The price is paid, the ransom accepted. This is done, and can
never be undone. Jesus says, "I have redeemed thee." Change of
feeling within does not alter the fact that the believer has been
bought with a price, and made the Lord's own by the precious blood
of Jesus. The Lord God has already done so much for us that our
salvation is sure in Christ Jesus. Will He begin to build, and
fail to finish? Will He lay the foundation in the everlasting
covenant? Will He dedicate the walls with the infinite sacrifice
of the Lamb of God? Will He give up the choicest treasure He ever
had, the chosen of God and precious, to be the corner-stone, and
then not finish the work He has begun? It is impossible. If He has
redeemed us, He has, in that act, given us the pledge of all
things.
See how the gifts of God are bound to this redemption. "I
have redeemed thee. I have called thee." "For whom He did
foreknow, He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of
His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren.
Moreover whom He did predestinate, them He also called: and whom
He called, them He also justified: and whom He justified, them He
also glorified." Here is a chain in which each link is joined to
all the rest, so that it cannot be separated. If God had only gone
so far as to make a promise, He would not have drawn back from it;
if God had gone as far as to swear an oath by Himself, He would
not have failed to keep it; but when He went beyond promise and
oath, and in very deed the sacrifice was slain, and the covenant
was ratified: why, then it would be blasphemous to imagine that He
would afterwards disannul it, and turn from His solemn pledge.
There is no going back on the part of God, and consequently His
redemption will redeem, and in redeeming it will secure us all
things. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" With the
blood-mark upon us we may well cease to fear. How can we perish?
How can we be deserted in the hour of need? We have been bought
with too great a price for our Redeemer to let us slip. Therefore,
let us march on with confidence, hearing our Redeemer say to us,
"When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and
through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou
walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall
the flame kindle upon thee." Concerning His redeemed, the Lord
will say to the enemy, "Touch not Mine anointed, and do My
prophets no harm." The stars in their courses fight for the
ransomed of the Lord. If their eyes were opened, they would see
the mountain full of horses of fire and chariots of fire round
about them. Oh, how my weary heart prizes redeeming love! If it
were not for this, I would lay me down, and die. Friends forsake
me, foes surround me, I am filled with contempt, and tortured with
the subtlety which I cannot baffle; but as the Lord of all brought
again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the
sheep, by the blood of the everlasting covenant, so by the blood
of His covenant doth He loose His prisoners, and sustain the
hearts of those who tremble at His Word. "O my soul, thou hast
trodden down strength," for the Lord hath said unto thee, "Fear
not: for I have redeemed thee."
JESUS, THE GREAT OBJECT OF ASTONISHMENT.
A COMMUNION ADDRESS AT MENTONE.
"Behold, My Servant shall deal prudently, He shall be exalted
and extolled, and be very high. As many were astonied at Thee; His
visage was so marred more than any man, and His form more than the
sons of men; so shall He sprinkle many nations; the kings shall
shut their mouths at Him: for that which had not been told them
shall they see; and that which they had not heard shall they
consider."--Isaiah lii. 13-15.
OUR Lord Jesus Christ bore from of old the name of "Wonderful",
and the word seems all too poor to set forth His marvellous person
and character. He says of Himself, in the language of the
prophet,--"Behold, I and the children whom the Lord hath given Me
are for signs and for wonders." He is a fountain of astonishment
to all who know Him, and the more they know of Him, the more are
they "astonied" at Him. It is an astonishing thing that there
should have been a Christ at all: the Incarnation is the miracle
of miracles; that He who is the Infinite should become an infant,
that He who made the worlds should be wrapt in swaddling-bands,
remains a fact out of which, as from a hive, new wonders
continually fly forth. In His complex nature He is so mysterious,
and yet so manifest, that doubtless all the angels of heaven were
and are astonished at Him. O Son of God, and Son of man, when
Thou, the Word, wast made flesh, and dwelt among us, and Thy
saints beheld Thy glory, it was but natural that many should be
astonished at Thee!
Our text seems to say that our Lord was, first,_ a great
wonder in His griefs_; and, secondly, that He was _a great wonder
in His glory_.
I. He was a great wonder in his griefs: "As many were
astonied at Thee; His visage was so marred more than any man, and
His form more than the sons of men."
His visage was marred: no doubt His countenance bore the
signs of a matchless grief. There were ploughings on His brow as
well as upon His back; suffering, and brokenness of spirit, and
agony of heart, had told upon that lovely face, till its beauty,
though never to be destroyed, was "so" marred that never was any
other so spoiled with sorrow. But it was not His face only, His
whole form was marred more than the sons of men. The contour of
His bodily manhood showed marks of singular assaults of sorrow,
such as had never bowed another form so low. I do not know whether
His gait was stooping, or whether His knees tottered, and His walk
was feeble; but there was evidently a something about Him which
gave Him the appearance of premature age, since to the Jews He
looked older than He was, for when He was little more than thirty
they said unto Him, "Thou art not yet fifty years old." I cannot
conceive that He was deformed or ungainly; but despite His natural
dignity, His worn and emaciated appearance marked Him out as "the
Man of sorrows", and to the carnal eye His whole natural and
spiritual form had in it nothing which evoked admiration; even as
the prophet said, "When we shall see Him, there is no beauty that
we should desire Him." The marring was not of that lovely face
alone, but of the whole fabric of His wondrous manhood, so that
many were astonied at Him.
Our astonishment, when in contemplation we behold our
suffering Lord, will arise from the consideration of what His
natural beauty must have been, enshrined as He was from the first
within a perfect body. Conceived without sin, and so born of a
pure virgin without taint of hereditary sin, I doubt not that He
was the flower and glow of manhood as to His form, and from His
early youth He must have been a joy to His mother's eye. Great
masters of the olden time expended all their skill upon the holy
child Jesus, but it is not for the colours of earth to depict the
Lord from heaven. That "holy thing" which was born of Mary was
"seen of angels," and it charmed their eyes. Must such loveliness
be marred? His every look was pure, His every thought was holy,
and therefore the expression of His face must have been heavenly,
and yet it must be marred. Poverty must mark it; hunger, and
thirst, and weariness, must plough it; heart-griefs must seam and
scar it; spittle must distain it; tears must scald it; smiting
must bruise it; death must make it pale and bloodless. Well does
Bernard sing--
"O sacred Head, once wounded,
With grief and pain weigh'd down,
How scornfully surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown;
How pale art Thou with anguish,
With sore abuse and scorn!
How does that visage languish,
Which once was bright as morn!"
The second astonishment to us must be that he could be so
marred who had nothing in His character to mar His countenance.
Sin is a sad disfigurement to faces which in early childhood were
surpassingly attractive. Passion, if it be indulged in, soon sets
a seal of deformity upon the countenance. Men that plunge into
vice bear upon their features the traces of their hearts' volcanic
fires. We most of us know some withered beings, whose beauty has
been burned up by the fierce fires of excess, till they are a
horror to look upon, as if the mark of Cain were set upon them.
Every sin makes its line on a fair face. But there was no sin in
the blessed Jesus, no evil thought to mar His natural perfectness.
No redness of eyes ever came to Him by tarrying long at the wine;
no unhallowed anger ever flushed His cheek; no covetousness gave
to His eye a wolfish glance; no selfish care lent to His features
a sharp and anxious cast. Such an unselfish, holy life as His
ought to have rendered Him, if it had been possible, more
beautiful every day. Indulging such benevolence, abiding in such
communion with God, surely the face of Christ must, in the natural
order of things, have more and more astonished all sympathetic
observers with its transcendent charms. But sorrow came to engrave
her name where sin had never made a stroke, and she did her work
so effectually that His visage was more marred than that of any
man, although the God of mercy knows there have been other visages
that have been worn with pain and anguish past all recognition. I
need not repeat even one of the many stories of human woe: that of
our Lord surpasses all.
Remember that the face of our Well-beloved, as well as all
His form, must have been an accurate index of His soul.
Physiognomy is a science with much truth in it when it deals with
men of truth. Men weaned from simplicity know how to control their
countenances; the crafty will appear to be honest, the hardened
will seem to sympathize with the distressed, the revengeful will
mimic good-will. There are some who continually use their
countenance as they do their speech, to conceal their feelings;
and it is almost a point of politeness with them never to show
themselves, but always to go masked among their fellows.
But the Christ had learned no such arts. He was so sincere,
so transparent, so child-like and true, that whatever stirred
within Him was apparent to those about Him, so far as they were
capable of understanding His great soul. We read of Him that He
was "moved with compassion." The Greek word means that He
experienced a wonderful emotion of His whole nature, He was
thrilled with it, and His disciples saw how deeply He felt for the
people, who were as sheep without a shepherd. Though He did not
commit Himself to men, He did not conceal Himself, but wore His
heart upon His sleeve, and all could see what He was, and knew
that He was full of grace and truth. We are, therefore, not
surprised, when we devoutly consider our Lord's character, that
His visage and form should indicate the inward agonies of His
tender spirit; it could not be that His face should be untrue to
His heart. The ploughers made deep furrows upon His soul as well
as upon His back, and His heart was rent with inward convulsions,
which could not but affect His whole appearance. Those eyes saw
what those around Him could not see; those shoulders bore a
constant burden which others could not know; and, therefore, His
countenance and form betrayed the fact. O dear, dear Saviour, when
we think of Thee, and of Thy majesty and purity, we are again
astonished that woes should come upon Thee so grievously as to mar
Thy visage and Thy form!
Now think, dear friends, what were the causes of this
marring. It was not old age that had wrinkled His brow, for He was
still in the prime of life, neither was it a personal sickness
which had caused decay; much less was it any congenital weakness
and disease, which at length betrayed itself, for in His flesh
there was no possibility of impurity, which would, in death, have
led to corruption. It was occasioned, first, by His constant
sympathy with the suffering. There was a heavy wear and tear
occasioned by the extraordinary compassion of His soul. In three
years it had told upon Him most manifestly, till His visage was
marred more than that of any other man. To Him there was a kind of
sucking up into Himself of all the suffering of those whom He
blessed. He always bore upon Him the burden of mortal woe. We read
of Christ healing all that were sick, "that it might be fulfilled
which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying, Himself took our
infirmities, and bare our sicknesses." Yes, He took those
infirmities and sicknesses in some mystical way to Himself, just
as I have heard of certain trees, which scatter health, because
they themselves imbibe the miasma, and draw up into themselves
those noxious vapours which otherwise would poison mankind. Thus,
without being themselves polluted, they disinfect the atmosphere
around them. This, our Saviour did, but the cost was great to Him.
You can imagine, living as He did in the midst of one vast
hospital, how constantly He must have seen sights that grieved and
pained Him. Moreover, with a nature so pure and loving, He must
have been daily tortured with the sin, and hypocrisy, and
oppression which so abounded in His day. In a certain sense, He
was always laying down His life for men, for He was spent in their
service, tortured by their sin, and oppressed with their sorrow.
The more we look into that marred visage, the more shall we be
astonished at the anguish which it indicated.
Do not wonder that He was more marred than any man, for He
was more sensitive than other men. No part of Him was callous, He
had no seared conscience, no blunted sensibility, no drugged and
deadened nerve. His manhood was in its glory, in the perfection in
which Adam was when God made him in His own image, and therefore
He was ill-housed in such a fallen world. We read of Christ that
He was "grieved for the hardness of their hearts," "He marvelled
because of their unbelief," "He sighed deeply in His spirit," "He
groaned in the spirit, and was troubled." This, however, was only
the beginning of the marring.
His deepest griefs and most grievous marring came of _His
substitutionary work_, while bearing the penalty of our sin. One
word recalls much of His woe: it is, "Gethsemane." Betrayed by
Judas, His trusted friend, that the Scripture might be fulfilled,
"He that eateth bread with Me hath lifted up his heel against Me;"
deserted even by John, for all the disciples forsook Him and fled;
not one of all the loved ones with Him: He was left alone. He had
washed their feet, but they could not watch with Him one hour; and
in that garden He wrestled with our deadly foe, till His sweat was
as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground, and as
Hart puts it, He--
"Bore all Incarnate God could bear,
With strength enough, but none to spare."
I do verily believe that verse to be true. Herein you see
what marred His countenance, and His form, even while in life. The
whole of His manhood felt that dreadful shock, when He and the
prince of darkness, in awful duel, fought it out amidst the gloom
of the olives on that cold midnight when our redemption began to
be fully accomplished.
The whole of His passion marred His countenance and His form
with its unknown sufferings. I restrain myself, lest this
meditation should grow too painful. They bound Him, they scourged
Him, they mocked Him, they plucked off the hair from His face,
they spat upon Him, and at last they nailed Him to the tree, and
there He hung. His physical pain alone must have been very great,
but all the while there was within His soul an inward torment
which added immeasurably to His sufferings. His God forsook Him.
"Eloi, Eloi, lama, sabachthani?" is a voice enough to rend the
rocks, and assuredly it makes us all astonished when, in the
returning light, we look upon His visage, and are sure that never
face of any man was so marred before, and never form of any son of
man so grievously disfigured. Weeping and wondering, astonied and
adoring, we leave the griefs of our own dear Lord, and with loving
interest turn to the brighter portion of His unrivalled story.
"Behold your King! Though the moonlight steals
Through the silvery sprays of the olive tree,
No star-gemmed sceptre or crown it reveals,
In the solemn shade of Gethsemane.
Only a form of prostrate grief,
Fallen, crushed, like a broken leaf!
Oh, think of His sorrow, that we may know
The depth of love in the depth of woe!
"Behold your King, with His sorrow crowned,
Alone, alone in the valley is He!
The shadows of death are gathering round,
And the cross must follow Gethsemane.
Darker and darker the gloom must fall,
Filled is the cup, He must drink it all!
Oh, think of His sorrow, that we may know
His wondrous love in His wondrous woe!"
II. There is an equal astonishment at His glories. I doubt
not, if we could see Him now, as He appeared to John in Patmos, we
should feel that we must do exactly as the beloved disciple did,
for He deliberately wrote, "When I saw Him, I fell at His feet as
dead." His astonishment was so great that he could not endure the
sight. He had doubtless longed often to behold that glorified face
and form, but the privilege was too much for him. While we are
encumbered with these frail bodies, it is not fit for us to behold
our Lord, for we should die with excess of delight if we were
suddenly to behold that vision of splendour. Oh, for those
glorious days when we shall lie for ever at His feet, and see our
exalted Lord!
"_Behold, My servant shall deal prudently, He shall be
exalted and extolled, and be very high_." Observe the three words,
"exalted and extolled, and be very high;" language pants for
expression. Our Lord is now _exalted_ in being lifted up from the
grave, lifted up above all angels, and principalities, and powers.
The Man Christ Jesus is the nearest to the eternal throne, ay, the
Lamb is before the throne. "And I beheld, and, lo, in the midst of
the throne and of the four beasts, and in the midst of the elders,
stood a Lamb as it had been slain." He is in His own state and
person exalted, and then by the praise rendered Him he is
_extolled_, for he is worshipped and adored by the whole universe.
All praise goes up before Him now, so that men extol Him, while
"God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name, which is
above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the
earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is
Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Deep were His sorrows, but
as high are His joys. It is said that, around many of the lochs in
Scotland, the mountains are as high as the water is deep; and so
our Lord's glories are as immeasurable as were His woes. What a
meditation is furnished by these two-fold and incalculable heights
and depths! Our text says that He shall "_be very high_." It
cannot tell us how high. It is inconceivable how great and
glorious in all respects the Lord Jesus Christ is at this moment.
Oh, that He may be very high in our esteem! He is not yet exalted
and extolled in any of our hearts as He deserves to be. I would we
loved Him a thousand times as much as we do, but our whole heart
goeth after Him, does it not? Would we not die for Him? Would we
not set Him on a throne as high as seven heavens, and then think
that we had not done enough for Him, who is now our all in all,
and more than all?
You notice what is said, concerning the Christ, as the most
astonishing thing of all: "_So shall He sprinkle many nations_."
Now is it the glory of our risen Lord, at this moment, that His
precious blood is to save many nations. Before the throne, men of
all nations shall sing, "Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us
unto God by Thy blood." Not the English nation alone shall be
purified by His atoning blood, but many nations shall He sprinkle
with His reconciling blood, even as Israel of old was sprinkled
with the blood of sacrifice. We read in the tenth chapter of the
Epistle to the Hebrews, at the twenty-second verse, of "having our
hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience," and this is effected by
that precious blood by which we have been once purged so
effectually that we have no more consciousness of sins, but enter
into perfect peace. The blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes
of an heifer, sprinkling the unclean, sanctified to the purifying
of the flesh, and much more doth the blood of Christ purge our
conscience from dead works, to serve the living God.
The sprinkling of the blood was meant also to confirm the
covenant: thus Moses "sprinkled both the book and all the people,
saying, This is the blood of the testament which God hath enjoined
unto you." Our Lord Himself said, "This is My blood of the new
covenant, which is shed for many for the remission of sins." But
is it not a wonderful thing that He should die as a malefactor on
the tree, amid scorn and ridicule, and yet that He is this day
bringing nations into covenant with God? Once so despised, and
now: so mighty! God has given Him "for a covenant of the people,
for a light of the Gentiles." Many nations shall by Him be joined
in covenant with the God of the whole earth. Do not fall into the
erroneous idea that this world is like a great ship-wrecked
vessel, soon to go to pieces on an iron-bound coast; but rather
let us expect the conversion of the world to the Lord Jesus. As a
reward for the travail of His soul, He shall cause many nations to
"exult with joy", for so some read the passage; the peoples of the
earth shall not only be astonished at His griefs, but they shall
admire His glories, adore His perfections, and be filled with an
amazement of joy at His coming and kingdom. I can conceive nothing
in the future too great and glorious to result from the passion
and death of our Divine Lord.
Listen to this, "_Kings shall shut their mouths at Him_.S
They shall see such a King as they themselves have never been;
they speak freely to their brother-kings, but they shall not dare
to speak to Him, and as for speaking against Him, that will be
altogether out of the question.
"Kings shall fall down before Him,
And gold and incense bring."
"_For that which had not been told them shall they see_."
Kings are often out of the reach of the gospel, they do not hear
it, it is not told to them. They would despise the lowly preacher,
and little gatherings of believers meeting together for worship;
they would only listen to stately discourses, which do not touch
the heart and conscience. The great ones of the earth are usually
the least likely to know the things of God, for while the poor
have the gospel preached unto them, princes are more likely to
hear soft flatteries and fair speeches. The time shall come,
however, when Caesar shall bow before a real Imperator, and
monarchs shall behold the Prince of the kings of the earth. "For
the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the
voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God." They shall see
His majesty, of which they had not even been told.
"_That which they had not heard shall they consider_." They
shall be obliged, even on their thrones, to think about the
kingdom of the King of kings, and they shall retire to their
closets to confess their sins, and to put on sackcloth and ashes,
and to give heed to the words of wisdom. "Be wise now, therefore,
O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth." To-day, the
humble listen to Christ, but by-and-by the mightiest of the mighty
shall turn all their thoughts towards Him. He shall gather sheaves
of sceptres beneath His arm, and crowns shall be strewn at His
feet; and "He shall reign for ever and ever," and "of the increase
of His government and peace there shall be no end." If we were
astonished at the marring of His face, we shall be much more
astonished at the magnificence of His glory. Upon His throne none
shall question His supremacy, none shall doubt His loveliness; but
His enemies shall weep and wail because of Him whom they pierced;
while He shall be admired in all them that believe. Adorable Lord,
we long for Thy glorious appearing! We beseech Thee tarry not!
"Come, and begin Thy reign
Of everlasting peace;
Come, take the kingdom to Thyself,
Great King of Righteousness!"
BANDS OF LOVE; OR, UNION TO CHRIST.
"I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love: and I
was to them as they that take off the yoke on their jaws, and I
laid meat unto them."--Hosea xi. 4.
SYSTEMATIC theologians have usually regarded union to Christ under
three aspects, natural, mystical and federal, and it may be that
these three terms are comprehensive enough to embrace the whole
subject, but as our aim is simplicity, let us be pardoned if we
appear diffuse when we follow a less concise method.
1. The saints were from the beginning joined to Christ by
bands of _everlasting love_. Before He took on Him their nature,
or brought them into a conscious enjoyment of Himself, His heart
was set upon their persons, and His soul delighted in them. Long
ere the worlds were made, His prescient eye beheld His chosen, and
viewed them with delight. Strong were the indissoluble bands of
love which then united Jesus to the souls whom He determined to
redeem. Not bars of brass, or triple steel, could have been more
real and effectual bonds. True love, of all things in the
universe, has the greatest cementing force, and will bear the
greatest strain, and endure the heaviest pressure: who shall tell
what trials the Saviour's love has borne; and how well it has
sustained them? Never union was more true than this. As the soul
of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David so that he loved David
as his own soul, so was our glorious Lord united and joined to us
by the ties of fervent, faithful love. Love has a most potent
power in effecting and sustaining union, but never does it display
its force so well as when we see it bringing the Creator into
oneness with the creature, the divine into alliance with the
human. This, then, is to be regarded as the day-spring of union--
the love of Christ embracing in its folds the whole of the elected
family.
2. There is, moreover, a _union of purpose_ as well as of
love. By the first, we have seen that the elect are made one with
Jesus by the act and will of the Son; by the second, they are
joined to Him by the ordination and decree of the Father. These
divine acts are co-eternal. The Son loved and chose His people to
be His own bride, the Father made the same choice, and decreed the
chosen ones for ever one with His all-glorious Son. The Son loved
them, and the Father decreed them His portion and inheritance; the
Father ordained them to be what the Son Himself did make them.
In God's purpose they have been eternally associated as parts
of one design. Salvation was the fore-ordained scheme whereby God
would magnify Himself, and a Saviour was in that scheme from
necessity associated with the persons chosen to be saved. The
scope of the dispensation of grace included both; the circle of
wisdom comprehended Redeemer and redeemed in its one
circumference. They could not be dissociated in the mind and will
of the all-planning Jehovah.
"'Christ be My first elect,' He said,
Then chose our souls in Christ, our Head."
The same Book which contains the names of the heirs of life
contains the name of their Redeemer. He could not be a Redeemer
unless souls had been given Him to redeem, nor could they have
been called the ransomed of the Lord, if He had not engaged to
purchase them. Redemption, when determined upon by the God of
heaven, included in it both Christ and His people; and hence, in
the decree which fixed it, they were brought into a near and
intimate alliance.
The foresight of the Fall led the divine mind to provide for
the catastrophe in which the elect would have perished, had not
their ruin been prevented by gracious interposition. Hence
followed as part of the divine arrangement other forms of union,
which, besides their immediate object in salvation, had doubtless
a further design of illustrating the condescending alliance which
Jesus had formed with His chosen. The next and following points
are of this character.
3. _Jesus is one with His elect federally_. As every heir of
flesh and blood has a personal interest in Adam, because he is the
covenant head and representative of the race as considered under
the law of works; so, under the law of grace, every redeemed soul
is one with the Lord from heaven, since He is the Second Adam, the
Sponsor and Substitute of the elect in the new covenant of love.
The apostle Paul declares that Levi was in the loins of Abraham
when Melchizedek met him: it is equally true that the believer was
in the loins of Jesus Christ, the Mediator, when in old eternity
the covenant settlements of grace were decreed, ratified, and made
sure for ever. Thus, whatever Christ hath done, He hath wrought
for the whole body of His Church. We were crucified in Him, and
buried with Him (read Col. ii. 10-13), and to make it still more
wonderful, we are risen with Him, and have even ascended with Him
to the seats on high (Eph. ii. 6). It is thus that the Church has
fulfilled the law, and is "accepted _in the Beloved_." It is thus
that she is regarded with complacency by the just Jehovah, for He
views her in Jesus, and does not look upon her as separate from
her covenant Head. As the anointed Redeemer of Israel, Christ
Jesus has nothing distinct from His Church, but all that He has He
holds for her. Adam's righteousness was ours as long as he
maintained it, and his sin was ours the moment that he committed
it; and, in the same manner, all that the Second Adam is, or does,
is ours as well as His, seeing that He is our Representative. Here
is the foundation of the covenant of grace. This gracious system
of representation and substitution, which moved Justin Martyr to
cry out, "O blessed change! O sweet permutation!" this, I say, is
the very groundwork of the gospel of our salvation, and is to be
received with strong faith and rapturous joy. In every place the
saints are perfectly one with Jesus.
"One in the tomb, one when He rose,
One when He triumph'd o'er His foes,
One when in heaven He took His seat,
While seraphs sang all hell's defeat.
"This sacred tie forbids their fears,
For all He is or has is theirs;
With Him, their Head, they stand or fall,
Their life, their Surety, and their all."
4. For the accomplishment of the great works of atonement and
perfect obedience, it was needful that the Lord Jesus should take
upon Him "the likeness of sinful flesh." Thus, _He became one with
us in our nature_, for in Holy Scripture all partakers of flesh
and blood are regarded as of one family. By the fact of common
descent from Adam, all men are of one race, seeing that "God hath
made of one blood all nations that dwell upon the face of the
earth." Hence, in the Bible, man is spoken of universally as "thy
brother" (Lev. xix. 17; Job xxii. 6; Matt. v. 23, 24; Luke xvii.
3; Rom. xiv. 10, &c., &c.); and "thy neighbour" (Exod. xx. 16;
Lev. xix. 13-18; Matt. v. 43; Rom. xiii. 9; James ii. 8); to whom,
on account of nature and descent, we are required to render
kindness and goodwill. Now, although our great Melchizedek in His
divinity is without father, without mother, without descent,
having neither beginning of days nor end of life, and is both in
essence and rank at an infinite remove from fallen manhood; yet as
to His manhood He is to be reckoned as one of ourselves. He was
born of a woman, He hung upon her breasts, and was dandled upon
her knee; He grew from infancy to youth and thence to manhood, and
in every stage He was a true and real partaker of our humanity. He
is as certainly of the race of Adam as He is divine. He is God
without fiction or metaphor, and He is man beyond doubt or
dispute. The Godhead was not humanized, and so diluted; and the
manhood was not transformed into divinity, and so rendered more
than human. Never was any man more a portion of His kind than was
the Son of man, the Man of sorrows and the Acquaintance of grief.
He is man's Brother, for He bore the whole nature of man. "The
Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." He who was very God of
very God made Himself a little lower than the angels, and took
upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of
men.
This was done with the most excellent design with regard to
our redemption, inasmuch as it was necessary that, as _man_ had
sinned, _man_ should suffer; but doubtless it had a further
motive, the honouring of the Church, and the enabling of her Lord
to sympathize with her. The apostle most sweetly remarks,
"Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood,
He also Himself likewise took part of the same; that through death
He might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the
devil; and deliver them who through fear of death were all their
lifetime subject to bondage" (Heb. ii. 14, 15); and again, "For we
have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling
of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are,
yet without sin" (Heb. iv. 15). Thus, in ties of blood, Jesus, the
Son of man, is one with all the heirs of heaven: "For which cause
He is not ashamed to call them brethren" (Heb. ii. 11). What
reason we have here for the strongest consolation and delight,
seeing that, "Both He that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified
are all of one." We can say of our Lord as poor Naomi said of
bounteous Boaz, "The man is near of kin unto us, one of our next
kinsmen." Overwhelmed by the liberality of our blessed Lord, we
are often led to cry with Ruth, "Why have I found grace in thine
eyes, that thou shouldest take knowledge of me, seeing I am a
stranger?" and are we not ready to die with wonder when, in answer
to such a question, He tells us that He is our Brother, bone of
our bone, and flesh of our flesh?
If, in all our straits and distresses, we would always
treasure in our minds the remembrance of our Redeemer's manhood,
we should never bemoan the absence of a sympathizing heart, since
we should always have His abundant compassion for our consolation.
He is no stranger, He is able to enter into the heart's
bitterness, for He has Himself tasted the wormwood and the gall.
Let us never doubt His power to sympathize with us in our
infirmities and sorrows.
There is one aspect of this subject of our natural union to
Christ which it were improper to pass over in silence, for it is
very precious to the believer. While the Lord Jesus takes upon
Himself our nature (2 Peter i. 4), He restores in us that image of
God (Gen. i. 27) which was blotted and defaced by the fall of
Adam. He raises us from the degradation of sin to the dignity of
perfection. So that, in a two-fold sense, the Head and members are
of one nature, and not like that monstrous image which
Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dream. The head was of fine gold, but
the belly and the thighs were of brass, the legs of iron, and the
feet, part of iron and part of clay. Christ's mystical body is no
absurd combination of opposites; the Head is immortal, and the
body is immortal, too, for thus the record stands, "Because I
live, ye shall live also." "As is the heavenly, such are they also
that are heavenly." "As we have borne the image of the earthy, we
shall also bear the image of the heavenly:" and this shall in a
few more years be more fully manifest to us, for "this corruptible
must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on
immortality." Such as is the Head, such is the body, and every
member in particular;--a chosen Head, and chosen members; an
accepted Head, and accepted members; a living Head, and living
members. If the Head be of pure gold, all the parts of the body
are of pure gold also. Thus is there a double union of nature as a
basis for the closest communion.
Pause here, and see if thou canst, without ecstatic
amazement, contemplate the infinite condescension of the Son of
God in exalting thy wretchedness into blessed union with His
glory. Thou art so mean that, in remembrance of thy mortality,
thou mayest say to corruption, "Thou art my father," and to the
worm, "Thou art my sister;" and yet, in Christ, thou art so
honoured that thou canst say to the Almighty, "Abba, Father," and
to the Incarnate God, "Thou art my Brother and my Husband."
Surely, if relationships to ancient and noble families make men
think highly of themselves, we have whereof to glory over the
heads of them all. Lay hold upon this privilege; let not a
senseless indolence make thee negligent to trace this pedigree,
and suffer no foolish attachment to present vanities to occupy thy
thoughts to the exclusion of this glorious privilege, this
heavenly honour of union with Christ.
We must now retrace our steps to the ancient mountains, and
contemplate this union in one of its earliest forms.
5. _Christ Jesus is also joined unto His people in a mystical
union_. Borrowing once more from the story of Ruth, we remark that
Boaz, although one with Ruth by kinship, did not rest until he had
entered into a nearer union still, namely, that of marriage; and
in the same manner there is, superadded to the natural union of
Christ with His people, a mystical union by which He assumes the
position of Husband, while the Church is owned as His bride. In
love He espoused her to Himself, as a chaste virgin, long before
she fell under the yoke of bondage. Full of burning affection, He
toiled like Jacob for Rachel, until the whole of her purchase-
money had been paid, and now, having sought her by His Spirit, and
brought her to know and love Him, He awaits the glorious hour when
their mutual bliss shall be consummated at the marriage-supper of
the Lamb. Not yet hath the glorious Bridegroom presented His
betrothed, perfected and complete, before the Majesty of heaven;
not yet hath she actually entered upon the enjoyment of her
dignities as His wife and queen; she is as yet a wanderer in a
world of woe, a dweller in the tents of Kedar; but she is even now
the bride, the spouse of Jesus, dear to His heart, precious in His
sight, and united with His person. In love and tenderness, He says
to her,--
"Forget thee I will not, I cannot, thy name
Engraved on My heart doth for ever remain:
The palms of My hands whilst I look on I see
The wounds I received when suffering for thee."
He exercises towards her all the affectionate offices of
Husband. He makes rich provision for her wants, pays all her
debts, allows her to assume His name, and to share in all His
wealth. Nor will He ever act otherwise to her. The word divorce He
will never mention, for "He hateth putting away." Death must sever
the conjugal tie between the most loving mortals, but it cannot
divide the links of this immortal marriage. In heaven they marry
not, but are as the angels of God; yet is there this one
marvellous exception to the rule, for in heaven Christ and His
Church shall celebrate their joyous nuptials. And this affinity,
as it is more lasting, so is it more near than earthly wedlock.
Let the love of husband be never so pure and fervent, it is but a
faint picture of the flame that burns in the heart of Jesus.
Passing all human union is that mystical cleaving unto the Church,
for which Christ did leave His Father, and become one flesh with
her.
If this be the union which subsists between our souls and the
person of our Lord, how deep and broad is the channel of our
communion! This is no narrow pipe through which a thread-like
stream may wind its way, it is a channel of amazing depth and
breadth, along whose breadth and length a ponderous volume of
living water may roll its strength. Behold, He hath set before us
an open door; let us not be slow to enter. This city of communion
hath many pearly gates, every several gate is of one pearl, and
each gate is thrown open to the uttermost that we may enter,
assured of welcome. If there were but one small loophole through
which to talk with Jesus, it would be a high privilege to thrust a
word of fellowship through the narrow door; how much we are
blessed in having so large an entrance! Had the Lord Jesus been
far away from us, with many a stormy sea between, we should have
longed to send a messenger to Him to carry Him our love, and bring
us tidings from His Father's house; but see His kindness, He has
built His house next door to ours, nay, more, He takes lodgings
with us, and tabernacles in poor humble hearts, that so He may
have perpetual intercourse with us. Oh, how foolish must we be, if
we do not live in habitual communion with Him! When the road is
long, and dangerous, and difficult, we need not wonder that
friends seldom meet each other; but when they live together, shall
Jonathan forget his David? A wife may, when her husband is upon a
journey, abide many days without holding converse with him; but
she could never endure to be separated from him if she knew him to
be in one of the chambers of their own house. Seek thy Lord, for
He is near; embrace Him, for He is thy Brother; hold Him fast, for
He is thine Husband; press Him to thine heart, for He is of thine
own flesh.
6. As yet we have only considered the acts of Christ for us,
whereby He effects and proves His union to us; we must now come to
_more personal and sensible forms of this great truth_.
Those who are set apart for the Lord are in due time severed
from the impure mass of fallen humanity, and are by sovereign
grace engrafted into the person of the Lord Jesus. This, which we
call _vital union_, is rather a matter of experience than of
doctrine; it must be learned in the heart, and not by the head.
Like every other work of the Spirit, the actual implantation of
the soul into Christ Jesus is a mysterious and secret operation,
and is no more to be understood by carnal reason than is the new
birth of which it is an attendant. Nevertheless, the spiritual man
discerns it as a most essential thing in the salvation of the
soul, and he clearly sees how a living union to Christ is the sure
consequence of the quickening influence of the Holy Spirit, and is
indeed, in some respects, identical with it.
When the Lord in mercy passed by and saw us in our blood, He
first of all said, "Live"; and this He did _first_, because,
without life, there can be no spiritual knowledge, feeling, or
motion. Life is one of the absolutely essential things in
spiritual matters; and until it be bestowed, we are incapable of
partaking in the things of the kingdom. Now, the life which grace
confers upon the saints at the moment of their quickening is none
other than the life of Christ, which, like the sap from the stem,
runs into us, the branches, and establishes a living connection
between our souls and Jesus. Faith is the grace which perceives
this union, and proceeds from it as its firstfruit. It is, to use
a metaphor from the Canticles, the neck which joins the body of
the Church to its all-glorious Head.
"O Faith! thou bond of union with the Lord,
Is not this office thine? and thy fit name,
In the economy of gospel types,
And symbols apposite--the Church's neck;
Identifying her in will and work
With Him ascended?"
Faith lays hold upon the Lord Jesus with a firm and
determined grasp. She knows His excellence and worth, and no
temptation can induce her to repose her trust elsewhere; and
Christ Jesus is so delighted with this heavenly grace, that He
never ceases to strengthen and sustain her by the loving embrace
and all-sufficient support of His eternal arms. Here, then, is
established a living, sensible, and delightful union, which casts
forth streams of love, confidence, sympathy, complacency, and joy,
whereof both the bride and Bridegroom love to drink. When the eye
is clear, and the soul can evidently perceive this oneness between
itself and Christ, the pulse may be felt as beating for both, and
the one blood may be known as flowing through the veins of each.
Then is the heart made exceedingly glad, it is as near heaven as
it ever can be on earth, and is prepared for the enjoyment of the
most sublime and spiritual kind of fellowship. This union may be
quite as true when we are troubled with doubts concerning it, but
it cannot afford consolation to the soul unless it be indisputably
proven and assuredly felt; then is it indeed a honeycomb dropping
with sweetness, a precious jewel sparkling with light. Look well
to this matter, ye saints of the Most High!
"I WILL GIVE YOU REST."
A COMMUNION ADDRESS AT MENTONE.
"I will give you rest."--Matthew xi. 28.
WE have a thousand times considered these words as an
encouragement to the labouring and the laden; and we may,
therefore, have failed to read them as a promise to ourselves.
But, beloved friends, we have come to Jesus, and therefore He
stands engaged to fufil this priceless pledge to us. We may now
enjoy the promise; for we have obeyed the precept. The faithful
and true Witness, whose word is truth, promised us rest if we
would come to Him; and, therefore, since we have come to Him, and
are always coming to Him, we may boldly say, "O Thou, who art our
Peace, make good Thy word to us wherein Thou hast said, 'I will
give you rest.'"
By faith, I see our Lord standing in our midst, and I hear
Him say, with voice of sweetest music, first to all of us
together, and then to each one individually, "I will give you
rest." May the Holy Spirit bring to each of us the fulness of the
rest and peace of God! For a few minutes only shall I need your
attention; and we will begin by asking the question,--
I. What must these words mean?
A dear friend prayed this morning that, while studying the
Scriptures, we might be enabled to read between the lines, and
beneath the letter of the Word. May we have holy insight thus to
read our Lord's most gracious language!
_This promise must mean rest to all parts of our spiritual
nature_. Our bodies cannot rest if the head is aching, or the feet
are full of pain; if one member is disturbed, the whole frame is
unable to rest; and so the higher nature is one, and such intimate
sympathies bind together all its faculties and powers, that every
one of them must rest, or none can be at ease, Jesus gives real,
and, consequently, universal rest to every part of our spiritual
being.
_The heart_ is by nature restless as old ocean's waves; it
seeks an object for its affection; and when it finds one beneath
the stars, it is doomed to sorrow. Either the beloved changes, and
there is disappointment; or death comes in, and there is
bereavement. The more tender the heart, the greater its unrest.
Those in whom the heart is simply one of the largest valves are
undisturbed, because they are callous; but the sensitive, the
generous, the unselfish, are often found seeking rest and finding
none. To such, the Lord Jesus says, "Come unto Me, and I will give
you rest." Look hither, ye loving ones, for here is a refuge for
your wounded love! You may delight yourselves in the Well-beloved,
and never fear that He will fail or forget you. Love will not be
wasted, however much it may be lavished upon Jesus. He deserves it
all, and he requites it all. In loving Him, the heart finds a
delicious content. When the head lies in His bosom, it enjoys an
ease which no pillow of down could bestow. How Madame Guyon rested
amid severe persecutions, because her great love to Jesus filled
her soul to the brim! O aching heart, O breaking heart, come
hither, for Jesus saith, "I will give you rest."
_The conscience_, when it is at all alive and awake, is much
disturbed because the holy law of God has been broken by sin. Now,
conscience once aroused is not easily quieted. Neither unbelief
nor superstition can avail to lull it to sleep; it defies these
opiates of falsehood, and frets the soul with perpetual annoyance.
Like the troubled sea, it cannot rest; but constantly casts up
upon the shore of memory the mire and dirt of past transgressions
and iniquities. Is this your case? Then Jesus says, "I will give
you rest." If, at any time, fears and apprehensions arise from an
awakened conscience, they can only be safely and surely quieted by
our flying to the Crucified. In the blessed truth of a
substitution, accepted of God, and fully made by the Lord Jesus,
our mind finds peace. Justice is honoured, and law is vindicated,
in the sacrifice of Christ. Since God is satisfied, I may well be
so. Since the Father has raised Jesus from the dead, and set Him
at His own right hand, there can be no question as to His
acceptance; and, consequently, all who are in Him are accepted
also. We are under no apprehension now as to our being condemned;
Jesus gives us rest, by enabling us to utter the challenge, "Who
is he that condemneth?" and to give the reassuring answer, "Christ
hath died."
_The intellect_ is another source of unrest; and in these
times it operates with special energy towards labour and travail
of mind. Doubts, stinging like mosquitoes, are suggested by almost
every page of the literature of the day. Most men are drifting,
like vessels which have no anchors, and these come into collision
with us. How can we rest? This scheme of philosophy eats up the
other; this new fashion of heresy devours the last. Is there any
foundation? Is anything true? Or is it all romance, and are we
doomed to be the victims of an ever-changing lie? O soul, seek not
a settlement by learning of men; but come and learn of Jesus, and
thou shalt find rest! Believe Jesus, and let all the Rabbis
contradict. The Son of God was made flesh, He lived, He died, He
rose again, He lives, He loves; this is true, and all that He
teaches in His Word is assured verity; the rest may blow away,
like chaff before the wind. A mind in pursuit of truth is a dove
without a proper resting-place for the sole of its foot, till it
finds its rest in Jesus, the true Noah.
Next, _these words mean rest about all things_. He who is
uneasy about anything has not found rest. A thousand thorns and
briars grow on the soil of this earth, and no man can happily
tread life's ways unless his feet are shod with that preparation
of the gospel of peace which Jesus gives. In Christ, we are at
rest as to our duties; for He instructs and helps us in them. In
Him, we are at rest about our trials; for He sympathizes with us
in them. With His love, we are restful as to the movements of
Providence; for His Father loves us, and will not suffer anything
to harm us. Concerning the past, we rest in His forgiving love; as
to the present, it is bright with His loving fellowship; as to the
future, it is brilliant with His expected Advent. This is true of
the little as well as of the great. He who saves us from the
battle-axe of Satanic temptation, also extracts the thorn of a
domestic trial. We may rest in Jesus as to our sick child, as to
our business trouble, or as to grief of any kind. He is our
Comforter in all things, our Sympathizer in every form of
temptation. Have you such all-covering rest? If not, why not?
Jesus gives it; why do you not partake of it? Have you something
which you could not bring to Him? Then, fly from it; for it is no
fit thing for a believer to possess. A disciple should know
neither grief nor joy which he could not reveal to his Lord.
_This rest_, we may conclude, _must be a very wonderful one_,
since Jesus gives it. His hands give not by pennyworths and
ounces; he gives golden gifts, in quantity immeasurable. It is
Jesus who gives the peace of God which passeth all understanding.
It is written, "Great peace have they which love Thy law;" what
peace must they have who love God's Son! There are periods when
Jesus gives us a heavenly Elysium of rest; we cannot describe the
divine repose of our hearts at such times. We read, in the
Gospels, that when Jesus hushed the storm, "there was a great
calm," not simply "a calm", but a great calm, unusual, absolute,
perfect, memorable. It reminds us of the stillness which John
describes in the Revelation: "I saw four angels standing on the
four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth,
that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on
any tree;" not a ripple stirred the waters, not a leaf moved on
the trees.
Assuredly, our Lord has given a blessed rest to those who
trust Him, and follow Him. They are often unable to inform others
as to their deep peace, and the reasons upon which it is founded;
but they know it, and it brings them an inward wealth compared
with which the fortune of an ungodly millionaire is poverty
itself. May we all know to the full, by happy, personal
experience, the meaning of our Saviour's promise, "I will give you
rest"!
II. But now, in the second: place, let us ask,--Why should we
have this rest?
The first answer is in our text. We should enjoy this rest
_because Jesus gives it_. As He gives it, we ought to take it.
Because He gives it, we _may_ take it. I have known some
Christians who have thought that it would be presumption on their
part to take this rest; so they have kept fluttering about, like
frightened birds, weary with their long flights, but not daring to
fold their tired wings, and rest. If there is any presumption in
the case, let us not be so presumptuous as to think that we know
better than our Lord. He gives us rest: for that reason, if for no
other, let us take it, promptly and gratefully. "Rest in the Lord,
and wait patiently for Him." Say with David, "My heart is fixed, O
God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise."
"Now rest, my long-divided heart,
Fix'd on this blissful centre, rest."
Next, we should take the rest that Jesus gives, _because it
will refresh us_. We are often weary; sometimes we are weary in
God's work, though I trust we are never weary of it. There are
many things to cause us weariness: sin, sorrow, the worldliness of
professors, the prevalence of error in the Church, and so on.
Often, we are like a tired child, who can hold up his little head
no longer. What does he do? Why, he just goes to sleep in his
mother's arms! Let us be as wise as the little one; and let us
rest in our loving Saviour's embrace. The poet speaks of--
"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep;"
and so it is. Sometimes, the very best thing a Christian man
can do is, literally, to go to sleep. When he wakes, he will be so
refreshed, that he will seem to be in a new world. But
spiritually, there is no refreshing like that which comes from the
rest which Christ gives. As Isaiah said, "This is the rest
wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest: and this is the
refreshing." Dr. Bonar's sweet hymn, which is so suitable for a
sinner coming to Christ for the first time, is just as appropriate
for a weary saint returning to his Saviour's arms; for he, too,
can sing,--
"I heard the voice of Jesus say,
'Come unto Me, and rest;
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
Thy head upon My breast.'
I came to Jesus as I was,
Weary, and worn, and sad:
I found in Him a resting-place,
And He has made me glad."
Another reason why we should have this rest is, that _it will
enable us to concentrate all our faculties_. Many, who might be
strong servants of the Lord, are very weak, because their energies
are not concentrated upon one object. They do not say with Paul,
"This one thing I do." We are such poor creatures that we cannot
occupy our minds with more than one subject, at a time. Why, even
the buzzing of a fly, or the trumpeting of a mosquito, would be
quite sufficient to take our thoughts away from our present holy
service! As long as we have any burden resting on our shoulders,
we cannot enjoy perfect rest; and as long as there is any burden
on our conscience or heart, we cannot have rest of soul. How are
we to be freed from these burdens? Only by yielding ourselves
wholly to the Great Burden-Bearer, who says, "Come unto Me, and, I
will give you rest." Possessing this rest, all our faculties will
be centred and focussed upon one object, and with undivided hearts
we shall seek God's glory.
Having obtained this rest, _we shall be able to testify for
our Lord_. I remember, when I first began to teach in a Sunday-
school, that I was speaking one day to my class upon the words,
"He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life." I was rather
taken by surprise when one of the boys said to me, "Teacher, have
_you_ got everlasting life?" I replied, "I hope so." The scholar
was not satisfied with my answer, so he asked another question,
"But, teacher, don't you _know?_" The boy was right; there can be
no true testimony except that which springs from assured
conviction of our own safety and joy in the Lord. We speak that we
do know; we believe, and therefore speak. Rest of heart, through
coming to Christ, enables us to invite others to Him with great
confidence, for we can tell them what heavenly peace He has given
to us. This will enable us to put the gospel very attractively,
for the evidence of our own experience will help others to trust
the Lord for themselves. With the beloved apostle John, we shall
be able to say to our hearers, "That which was from the beginning,
which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we
have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word of life;
(for the life was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear
witness, and shew unto you that eternal life, which was with the
Father, and was manifested unto us;) that which we have seen and
heard declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with
us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with His Son
Jesus Christ."
Once more, _this rest is necessary to our growth_. The lily
in the garden is not taken up and transplanted two or three times
a day; that would be the way to prevent all growth. But it is kept
in one place, and tenderly nurtured. It is by keeping it quite
still that the gardener helps it to attain to perfection. A child
of God would grow much more rapidly if he would but rest in one
place instead of being always on the move. "In returning and rest
shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your
strength." Martha was cumbered about much serving; but Mary sat at
Jesus' feet. It is not difficult to tell which of them would be
the more likely to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord
Jesus Christ.
This is a tempting theme, but I must not linger over it, as
we must come to the communion. I will give only one more answer to
the question, "Why should we have this rest?" _It will prepare us
for heaven_. I was reading a book, the other day, in which I met
with this expression,--"The streets of heaven begin on earth."
That is true; heaven is not so far away as some people think.
Heaven is the place of perfect holiness, the place of sinless
service, the place of eternal glory; and there is nothing that
will prepare us for heaven like this rest that Jesus gives. Heaven
must be in us before we are in heaven; and he who has this rest
has heaven begun below. Enoch was virtually in heaven while he
walked with God on the earth, and he had only to continue that
holy walk to find himself actually in heaven. This world is part
of our Lord's great house, of which heaven is the upper story.
Some of us may hear the Master's call, "Come up higher," sooner
than we think; and then, with we rest _in_ Christ, there we shall
rest _with_ Christ, The more we have of this blessed rest now, the
better shall we be prepared for the rest that remaineth to the
people of God, that eternal "keeping of a Sabbath" in the Paradise
above.
III. I have left myself only a minute for the answers to my
third question,--How can we obtain this rest?
First, by _coming to Christ_. He says, "Come unto Me, . . .
and I will give you rest." I trust that all in this little company
have come to Christ by faith; now let us come to Him in blessed
fellowship and communion at His table. Let us keep on coming to
Him, as the apostle says, "to whom coming," continually coming,
and never going away. When we wake in the morning, let us come to
Christ in the act of renewed communion with Him; all the day long,
let us keep on coming to Him even while we are occupied with the
affairs of this life; and at night, let our last waking moments be
spent in coming to Jesus. Let us come to Christ by searching the
Scriptures, for we shall find Him there on almost every page. Let
us come to Christ in our thoughts, desires, aspirations wishes; so
shall the promise of the text be fulfilled to us, "I will give you
rest."
Next, we obtain rest by _yielding to Christ_. "Take My yoke
upon you, . . . and ye shall find rest unto your souls." Christ
bids us wear _His_ yoke; not make one for ourselves. He wants us
to share the yoke with Him, to be His true yoke-fellow. It is
wonderful that He should be willing to be yoked with us; the only
greater wonder is that we should be so unwilling to be yoked with
Him. In taking His yoke upon us what joy we shall enter upon our
eternal rest! Here we find rest unto our souls; a further rest
beyond that which He gives us when we come to Him. We first rest
in Jesus by faith, and then we rest in Him by obedience. The first
rest He gives through His death; the further rest we find through
copying His life.
Lastly, we secure this rest by _learning of Christ_. "Learn
of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest
unto your souls." We are to be workers with Christ, taking His
yoke upon us; and, at the same time, we are to be scholars in
Christ's school, learning of Him. We are to learn _of_ Christ, and
to learn _Christ_; He is both Teacher and lesson. His gentleness
of heart fits Him to teach, and makes Him the best illustration of
His own teaching. If we can become as He is, we shall rest as He
does. The lowly in heart will be restful of heart. Now, as we come
to the table of communion, may we find to the full that rest of
which we have been speaking, for the Great Rest-Giver's sake!
Amen.
THE MEMORABLE HYMN.
"And when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount
of Olives."--Matthew xxvi. 30.
THE occasion on which these words were spoken was the last meal of
which Jesus partook in company with His disciples before He went
from them to His shameful trial and His ignominious death. It was
His farewell supper before a bitter parting, and yet they needs
must sing. He was on the brink of that great depth of misery into
which He was about to plunge, and yet He would have them sing "an
hymn." It is wonderful that He sang, and in a second degree it is
remarkable that they sang. We will consider both singular facts.
I. Let us dwell a while on the fact that Jesus sang at such a
time as this. What does He teach us by it? Does He not say to each
of us, His followers "_My religion is one of happiness and joy;_
I, your Master, by My example would instruct you to sing even when
the last solemn hour is come, and all the glooms of death are
gathering around you? Here, at the table, I am your Singing-
master, and set you lessons in music, in which My dying voice
shall lead you: notwithstanding all the griefs which overwhelm My
heart, I will be to you the Chief Musician, and the Sweet Singer
of Israel"? If ever there was a time when it would have been
natural and consistent with the solemnities of the occasion for
the Saviour to have bowed His head upon the table, bursting into a
flood of tears; or, if ever there was a season when He might have
fittingly retired from all company, and have bewailed His coming
conflict in sighs and groans, it was just then. But no; that brave
heart will sing "an hymn." Our glorious Jesus plays the man beyond
all other men. Boldest of the sons of men, He quails not in the
hour of battle, but tunes His voice to loftiest psalmody. The
genius of that Christianity of which Jesus is the Head and
Founder, its object, spirit, and design, are happiness and joy,
and they who receive it are able to sing in the very jaws of
death.
This remark, however, is quite a secondary one to the next:
_our Lord's complete fulfilment of the law is even more worthy of
our attention_. It was customary, when the Passover was held, to
sing, and this is the main reason why the Saviour did so. During
the Passover, it was usual to sing the hundred and thirteenth, and
five following Psalms, which were called the "_Hallel_." The first
commences, you will observe, in our version, with "Praise ye the
Lord!" or, "Hallelujah!" The hundred and fifteenth, and the three
following, were usually sung as the closing song of the Passover.
Now, our Saviour would not diminish the splendour of the great
Jewish rite, although it was the last time that He would celebrate
it. No; there shall be the holy beauty and delight of psalmody;
none of it shall be stinted; the "Hallel" shall be full and
complete. We may safely believe that the Saviour sang through, or
probably chanted, the whole of these six Psalms; and my heart
tells me that there was no one at the table who sang more devoutly
or more cheerfully than did our blessed Lord. There are some parts
of the hundred and eighteenth Psalm, especially, which strike us
as having sounded singularly grand, as they flowed from His
blessed lips. Note verses 22, 23, 24. Particularly observe those
words, near the end of the Psalm, and think you hear the Lord
Himself singing them, "God is the Lord, which hath shewed us
light: bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto the horns of the
altar. Thou art my God, and I will praise Thee: Thou art my God, I
will exalt Thee. O give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good: for
His mercy endureth for ever."
Because, then, it was the settled custom of Israel to recite
or sing these Psalms, our Lord Jesus Christ did the same; for He
would leave nothing unfinished. Just as, when He went down into
the waters of baptism, He said, "Thus it becometh us to fulfil all
righteousness," so He seemed to say, when sitting at the table,
"Thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness; therefore let us
sing unto the Lord, as God's, people in past ages have done."
Beloved, let us view with holy wonder the strictness of the
Saviour's obedience to His Father's will, and let us endeavour to
follow in His steps, in all things, seeking to be obedient to the
Lord's Word in the little matters as well as in the great ones.
May we not venture to suggest another and deeper reason? Did
not the singing of "an hymn" at the supper show _the holy
absorption of the Saviour's soul in His Father's will?_ If,
beloved, you knew that at--say ten o'clock to-night--you would be
led away to be mocked, and despised, and scourged, and that to-
morrow's sun would see you falsely accused, hanging, a convicted
criminal, to die upon a cross, do you think that you could sing
tonight, after your last meal? I am sure you could not, unless
with more than earth born courage and resignation your soul could
say, "Bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto the horns of the
altar." You would sing if your spirit were like the Saviour's
spirit; if, like Him, you could exclaim, "Not as I will, but as
Thou wilt;" but if there should remain in you any selfishness, any
desire to be spared the bitterness of death, you would not be able
to chant the "Hallel" with the Master. Blessed Jesus, how wholly
wert Thou given up! how perfectly consecrated! so that, whereas
other men sing when they are marching to their joys, Thou didst
sing on the way to death; whereas other men lift up their cheerful
voices when honour awaits them, Thou hadst a brave and holy sonnet
on Thy lips when shame, and spitting, and death were to be Thy
portion.
This singing of the Saviour also teaches us _the whole-
heartedness of the Master in the work which He was about to do_.
The patriot-warrior sings as he hastens to battle; to the strains
of martial music he advances to meet the foeman; and even thus the
heart of our all-glorious Champion supplies Him with song even in
the dreadful hour of His solitary agony. He views the battle, but
He dreads it not; though in the contest His soul will be
"exceeding sorrowful even unto death," yet before it, He is like
Job's war-horse, "he saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he
smelleth the battle afar off." He has a baptism to be baptized
with, and He is straitened until it be accomplished. The Master
does not go forth to the agony in the garden with a cowed and
trembling spirit, all bowed and crushed in the dust; but He
advances to the conflict like a man who has his full strength
about him--taken out to be a victim (if I may use such a figure),
not as a worn-out ox that has long borne the yoke, but as the
firstling of the bullock, in the fulness of His strength. He goes
forth to the slaughter, with His glorious undaunted spirit fast
and firm within Him, glad to suffer for His people's sake and for
His Father's glory.
"For as at first Thine all-pervading look
Saw from Thy Father's bosom to th' abyss,
Measuring in calm presage
The infinite descent;
So to the end, though now of mortal pangs
Made heir, and emptied of Thy glory a while,
With unaverted eye
Thou meetest all the storm."
Let us, O fellow-heirs of salvation, learn to sing when our
suffering time comes, when our season for stern labour approaches;
ay, let us pour forth a canticle of deep, mysterious, melody of
bliss, when our dying hour is near at hand! Courage, brother! The
waters are chilly; but fear will not by any means diminish the
terrors of the river. Courage, brother! Death is solemn work; but
playing the coward will not make it less so. Bring out the silver
trumpet; let thy lips remember the long-loved music, and let the
notes be clear and shrill as thou dippest thy feet in the Jordan:
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff
they comfort me." Dear friends, let the remembrance of the
melodies of that upper room go with you tomorrow into business;
and if you expect a great trial, and are afraid you will not be
able to sing after it, then sing before it comes. Get your holy
praise-work done before affliction mars the tune. Fill the air
with music while you can. While yet there is bread upon the table,
sing, though famine may threaten; while yet the child runs
laughing about the house, while yet the flush of health is in your
own cheek, while yet your goods are spared, while yet your heart
is whole and sound, lift up your song of praise to the Most High
God; and let your Master, the singing Saviour, be in this your
goodly and comfortable example.
There is much more that might be said concerning our Lord's
sweet swan-song, but there is no need to crowd one thought out
with another; your leisure will be well spent in meditation upon
so fruitful a theme.
II. We will now consider the singing of the disciples. _They_
united in the "Hallel"--like true Jews, they joined in the
national song. Israel had good cause to sing at the Passover, for
God had wrought for His people what He had done for no other
nation on the face of the earth. Every Hebrew must have felt his
soul elevated and rejoiced on the Paschal night. He was "a citizen
of no mean city", and the pedigree which he could look back upon
was one, compared with which kings and princes were but of
yesterday.
Remembering the fact commemorated by the Paschal supper,
Israel might well rejoice. They sang of their nation in bondage,
trodden beneath the tyrannical foot of Pharaoh; they began the
Psalm right sorrowfully, as they thought of the bricks made
without straw, and of the iron furnace; but the strain soon
mounted from the deep bass, and began to climb the scale, as they
sang of Moses the servant of God, and of the Lord appearing to him
in the burning bush. They remembered the mystic rod, which became
a serpent, and which swallowed up the rods of the magicians; their
music told of the plagues and wonders which God had wrought upon
Zoan; and of that dread night when the first-born of Egypt fell
before the avenging sword of the angel of death, while they
themselves, feeding on the lamb which had been slain for them, and
whose blood was sprinkled upon the lintel and upon the side-posts
of the door, had been graciously preserved. Then the song went up
concerning the hour in which all Egypt was humbled at the feet of
Jehovah, whilst as for His people, He led them forth like sheep,
by the hand of Moses and Aaron, and they went by the way of the
sea, even of the Red Sea. The strain rose higher still as they
tuned the song of Moses, the servant of God, and of the Lamb.
Jubilantly they sang of the Red Sea, and of the chariots of
Pharaoh which went down into the midst thereof, and the depths
covered them till there was not one of them left. It was a
glorious chant indeed when they sang of Rahab cut in pieces, and
of the dragon wounded at the sea, by the right hand of the Most
High, for the deliverance of the chosen people.
But, beloved, if I have said that Israel could so properly
sing, _what shall I say of those of us who are the Lord's
spiritually redeemed?_ We have been emancipated from a slavery
worse than that of Egypt: "with a high hand and with an
outstretched arm," hath God delivered us. The blood of Jesus
Christ, the Lamb of God's Passover, has been sprinkled on our
hearts and consciences. By faith we keep the Passover, for we have
been spared; we have been brought out of Egypt; and though our
sins did once oppose us, they have all been drowned in the Red Sea
of the atoning blood of Jesus: "the depths have covered them,
there is not one of them left." If the Jew could sing a "great
Hallel", our "Hallel" ought to be more glowing still; and if every
house in "Judea's happy land" was full of music when the people
ate the Paschal feast, much more reason have we for filling every
heart with sacred harmony tonight, while we feast upon Jesus
Christ, who was slain, and has redeemed us to God by His blood.
III. The time has now come for me to say how earnestly I
desire you to "sing an hymn."
I do not mean to ask you to use your voices, but let your
hearts be brimming with the essence of praise. Whenever we repair
to the Lord's table, which represents to us the Passover, we ought
not to come to it as to a funeral. Let us select solemn hymns, but
not dirges. Let us sing softly, but none the less joyfully. These
are no burial feasts; those are not funeral cakes which lie upon
this table, and yonder fair white linen cloth is no winding-sheet.
"This is My body," said Jesus, but the body so represented was no
corpse, we feed upon a living Christ. The blood set forth by
yonder wine is the fresh life-blood of our immortal King. We view
not our Lord's body as clay-cold flesh, pierced with wounds, but
as glorified at the right hand of the Father. We hold a happy
festival when we break bread on the first day of the week. We come
not hither trembling like bondsmen, cringing on our knees as
wretched serfs condemned to eat on their knees; we approach as
freemen to our Lord's banquet, like His apostles, to recline at
length or sit at ease; not merely to eat bread which may belong to
the most sorrowful, but to drink wine which belongs to men whose
souls are glad. Let us recognize the rightness, yea, the duty of
cheerfulness at this commemorative supper; and, therefore, let us
"sing an hymn."
Being satisfied on this point, perhaps you ask, "_What hymn
shall we sing?_" Many sorts of hymns were sung in the olden time:
look down the list, and you will scarcely find one which may not
suit us now.
One of the earliest of earthly songs was _the war-song_. They
sang of old a song to the conqueror, when he returned from the
battle. "Saul has slain his thousands, and David his ten
thousands." Women took their timbrels, and rejoiced in the dance
when the hero returned from the war. Even thus of old did the
people of God extol Him for His mighty acts, singing aloud with
the high-sounding cymbals: "Sing unto the Lord, for He hath
triumphed gloriously . . . The Lord is a man of war: the Lord is
His name." My brethren, let us lift up a war-song to-night! Why
not? "Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from
Bozrah? this that is glorious in His apparel, travelling in the
greatness of His strength? I that speak in righteousness, mighty
to save." Come, let us praise our Emmanuel, as we see the head of
our foe in His right hand; as we behold Him leading captivity
captive, ascending up on high, with trumpets' joyful sound, let us
chant the paean; let us shout the war-song, "_Io Triumphe!_"
Behold, He comes, all glorious from the war: as we gather at this
festive table, which reminds us both of His conflict and of His
victory, let us salute Him with a psalm of gladsome triumph, which
shall be but the prelude of the song we expect to sing when we get
up--
"Where all the singers meet."
Another early, form of song was _the pastoral_. When he
shepherds sat down amongst the sheep, they tuned their pipes, and
warbled forth soft and sweet airs in harmony with rustic quietude.
All around was calm and still; the sun was brightly shining, and
the birds were making melody among the leafy branches. Shall I
seem fanciful if I say, let us unite in a pastoral to-night?
Sitting round the table, why should we not sing, "The Lord is my
Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green
pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters"? If there be a
place beneath the stars where one might feel perfectly at rest and
ease, surely it is at the table of the Lord. Here, then, let us
sing to our great Shepherd a pastoral of delight. Let the bleating
of sheep be in our ears as we remember the Good Shepherd who laid
down His life for His flock.
You need not to be reminded that the ancients were very fond
of _festive songs_. When they assembled at their great festivals,
led by their chosen minstrels, they sang right joyously, with
boisterous mirth. Let those who will speak to the praise of wine,
my soul shall extol the precious blood of Jesus; let who will laud
corn and oil, the rich produce of the harvest, my heart shall sing
of the Bread which came down from heaven, whereof, if a man
eateth, he shall never hunger. Speak ye of royal banquets, and
minstrelsy fit for a monarch's ear? Ours is a nobler festival, and
our song is sweeter far. Here is room at this table tonight for
all earth's poesy and music, for the place deserves songs more
lustrous with delight, more sparkling with gems of holy mirth,
than any of which the ancients could conceive.
"Now for a tune of lofty praise
To great Jehovah's equal Son!
Awake, my voice, in heavenly lays
Tell the loud wonders He hath done!"
The _love-song_ we must not forget, for that is peculiarly
the song of this evening. "Now will I sing unto my Well-beloved a
song." His love to us is an immortal theme; and as our love,
fanned by the breath of heaven, bursts into a vehement flame, we
may sing, yea, and we will sing among the lilies, a song of loves.
In the Old Testament, we find many Psalms called by the
title, "_A Song of Degrees_." This "Song of Degrees" is supposed
by some to have been sung as the people ascended the temple steps,
or made pilgrimages to the holy place. The strain often changes,
sometimes it is dolorous, and anon it is gladsome; at one season,
the notes are long drawn out and heavy, at another, they are
cheerful and jubilant. We will sing a "Song of Degrees" to-night.
We will mourn that we pierced the Lord, and we wilt rejoice in
pardon bought with blood. Our strain must vary as we talk of sin,
feeling its bitterness, and lamenting it, and then of pardon,
rejoicing in its glorious fulness.
David wrote a considerable number of Psalms which he
entitled, "_Maschil_," which may be called in English,
"instructive Psalms." Where, beloved, can we find richer
instruction than at the table of our Lord? He who understands the
mystery of incarnation and of substitution, is a master in
Scriptural theology. There is more teaching in the Saviour's body
and in the Saviour's blood than in all the world besides. O ye who
wish to learn the way to comfort, and how to tread the royal road
to heavenly wisdom, come ye to the cross, and see the Saviour
suffer, and pour out His heart's blood for human sin!
Some of David's Psalms are called, "_Michtam_", which means
"golden Psalm." Surely we must sing one of these. Our psalms must
be golden when we sing of the Head of the Church, who is as much
fine gold. More precious than silver or gold is the inestimable
price which He has paid for our ransom. Yes, ye sons of harmony,
bring your most melodious anthems here, and let your Saviour have
your golden psalms!
Certain Psalms in the Old Testament are entitled, "_Upon
Shoshannim_," that is, "Upon the lilies." O ye virgin souls, whose
hearts have been washed in blood, and have been made white and
pure, bring forth your instruments of song:--
"Hither, then, your music bring,
Strike aloud each cheerful string!"
Let your hearts, when they are in their best state, when they
are purest, and most cleansed from earthly dross, give to Jesus
their glory and their excellence.
Then there are other Psalms which are dedicated "To the sons
of Korah." If the guess be right, the reason why we get the title,
"_To the sons of Korah_"--"a song of loves"--must be this: that
when Korah, Dathan, and Abiram were swallowed up, the sons of
Dathan and Abiram were swallowed up, too; but the sons of Korah
perished not. Why they were not destroyed, we cannot tell. Perhaps
it was that sovereign grace spared those whom justice might have
doomed; and "the sons of Korah" were ever after made the sweet
singers of the sanctuary; and whenever there was a special "song
of loves", it was always dedicated to them. Ah! we will have one
of those songs of love to-night, around the table, for we, too,
are saved by distinguishing grace. We will sing of the heavenly
Lover, and the many waters which could not quench His love.
"Love, so vast that nought can bound;
Love, too deep for thought to sound
Love, which made the Lord of all
Drink the wormwood and the gall.
"Love, which led Him to the cross,
Bearing there unutter'd loss;
Love, which brought Him to the gloom
Of the cold and darksome tomb.
"Love, which made Him hence arise
Far above the starry skies,
There with tender, loving care,
All His people's griefs to share.
"Love, which will not let Him rest
Till His chosen all are blest;
Till they all for whom He died
Live rejoicing by His side."
We have not half exhausted the list, but it is clear that,
sitting at the Lord's table, we shall have no lack of suitable
psalmody. Perhaps no one hymn will quite meet the sentiments of
all; and while we would not write a hymn for you, we would pray
the Holy Spirit to write now the spirit of praise upon your
hearts, that, sitting here, you may "after supper" sing "an hymn."
IV. For one or two minutes let us ask--"what shall the tune
be?" It must be a strange one, for if we are to sing "an hymn" to-
night, around the table, the tune must have all the parts of
music. Yonder believer is heavy of heart through manifold sorrows,
bereavements, and watchings by the sick. He loves his Lord, and
would fain praise Him, but his soul refuses to use her wings.
Brother, we will have a tune in which you can join, and you shall
lead the bass. You shall sing of your fellowship with your Beloved
in His sufferings; how He, too, lost a friend; how He spent whole
nights in sleeplessness; how His soul was exceeding sorrowful. But
the tune must not be all bass, or it would not suit some of us to-
night, for we can reach the highest note. We have seen the Lord,
and our spirit has rejoiced in God our Saviour. We want to lift
the chorus high; yea, there are some true hearts here who are at
times so full of joy that they will want special music written for
them. "Whether in the body, I cannot tell; or whether out of the
body, I cannot tell:" said Paul, and so have said others since,
when Christ has been with them. Ah! then they have been obliged to
mount to the highest notes, to the very loftiest range of song.
Remember, beloved, that the same Saviour who will accept the
joyful shoutings of the strong, will also receive the plaintive
notes of the weak and weeping. You little ones, you babes in
grace, may cry, "Hosanna," and the King will not silence you; and
you strong men, with all your power of faith, may shout,
"Hallelujah!" and your notes shall be accepted, too.
Come, then, let us have a tune in which we can all unite; but
ah! we cannot make one which will suit the dead--the dead, I mean,
"in trespasses and sins"--and there are some such here. Oh, may
God open their mouths, and unloose their tongues; but as for those
of us who are alive unto God, let us, as we come to the table, all
contribute our own share of the music, and so make up a song of
blended harmony, with many parts, one great united song of praise
to Jesus our Lord!
We should not choose a tune for the communion table which is
not very _soft_. These are no boisterous themes with which we have
to deal when we tarry here. A bleeding Saviour, robed in a vesture
dyed with blood--this is a theme which you must treat with loving
gentleness, for everything that is coarse is out of place. While
the tune is soft, it must also be _sweet_. Silence, ye doubts; be
dumb, ye fears; be hushed, ye cares! Why come ye here? My music
must be sweet and soft when I sing of Him. But oh! it must also be
_strong_; there must be a full swell in my praise. Draw out the
stops, and let the organ swell the diapason! In fulness let its
roll of thundering harmony go up to heaven; let every note be
sounded at its loudest. "Praise ye Him upon the cymbals, upon the
high-sounding cymbals; upon the harp with a solemn sound." Soft,
sweet, and strong, let the music be.
Alas! you complain that your soul is out of tune. Then ask
the Master to tune the heart-strings. Those "Selahs" which we find
so often in the Psalms, are supposed by many scholars to mean,
"Put the harpstrings in tune:" truly we require many "Selahs", for
our hearts are constantly unstrung. Oh, that to-night the Master
would enable each one of us to offer that tuneful prayer which we
so often sing,--
"Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above:
Praise the mount--oh, fix me on it,
Mount of God's unchanging love!"
V. We close by enquiring,--who shall sing this hymn?
Sitting around the Father's board, we will raise a joyful
song, but who shall do it? "I will," saith one; "and we will," say
others. What is the reason why so many are willing to join? The
reason is to be found in the verse we were singing just now,--
"When He's the subject of the song,
Who can refuse to sing?"
What! a Christian silent when others are praising his Master?
No; he must join in the song. Satan tries to make God's people
dumb, but he cannot, for the Lord has not a tongue-tied child in
all His family. They can all speak, and they can all cry, even if
they cannot all sing, and I think there are times when they can
all sing; yea, they must, for you know the promise, "Then shall
the tongue of the dumb sing." Surely, when Jesus leads the tune,
if there should be any silent ones in the Lord's family, they must
begin to praise the name of the Lord. After Giant Despair's head
had been cut off, Christiana and Mr. Greatheart, and all the rest
of them, brought out the best of their provisions, and made a
feast, and Mr. Bunyan says that, after they had feasted, they
danced. In the dance there was one remarkable dancer, namely, Mr.
Ready-to-Halt. Now, Mr. Ready-to-Halt usually went upon crutches,
but for once he laid them aside. "And," says Bunyan, "I warrant
you he footed it well!" This is quaintly showing us that,
sometimes, the very sorrowful ones, the Ready-to-Halts, when they
see Giant Despair's head cut off, when they see death, hell, and
sin led in triumphant captivity at the wheels of Christ's
victorious chariot, feel that even they must for once indulge in a
song of gladness. So, when I put the question to-night, "Who will
sing?" I trust that Ready-to-Halt will promise, "I will."
You have not much comfort at home, perhaps; by very hard work
you earn that little. Sunday is to you a day of true rest, for you
are worked very cruelly all the week. Those cheeks of yours, poor
girl, are getting very pale, and who knows but what Hood's
pathetic lines may be true of you?--
"Stitch, stitch, stitch,
In poverty, hunger, and dirt,
Sewing at once, with a double thread,
A shroud as well as a shirt."
But, my sister, you may surely rejoice to-night in spite of
all this. There may be little on earth, but there is much in
heaven. There may be but small comfort for you here apart from
Christ; but oh! when, by faith, you mount into His glory, your
soul is glad. You shall be as rich as the richest to-night if the
Holy Spirit shall but bring you to the table, and enable you to
feed upon your Lord and Master. Perhaps you have come here to-
night when you ought not to have done so. The physician would have
told you to keep to your bed, but you persisted in coming up to
the house where the Lord has so often met with you. I trust that
we shall hear your voice in the song. There appear to have been in
David's day many things to silence the praise of God, but David
was one who would sing. I like that expression of his, where the
devil seems to come up, and put his hand on his mouth, and say,
"Be quiet." "No," says David, "I will sing." Again the devil tries
to quiet him, but David is not to be silenced, for three times he
puts it, "I will sing, yea, I will sing praises unto the Lord."
May the Lord make you resolve this night that you will praise the
Lord Jesus with all your heart!
Alas! there are many of you here to-night whom I could not
invite to this feast of song, and who could not truly come if you
were invited. Your sins are not forgiven; your souls are not
saved; you have not trusted Christ; you are still in nature's
darkness, still in the gall of bitterness, and in the bonds of
iniquity. Must it always be so? Will you destroy yourselves? Have
you made a league with death, and a covenant with hell? Mercy
lingers! Longsuffering continues! Jesus waits! Remember that He
hung upon the cross for sinners such as you are, and that if you
believe in Him now, you shall be saved. One act of faith, and all
the sin you have committed is blotted out. A single glance of
faith's eye to the wounds of the Messiah, and your load of
iniquity is rolled into the depths of the sea, and you are
forgiven in a moment!
"Oh!" says one, "would God I could believe!" Poor soul, may
God help thee to believe now! God took upon Himself our flesh;
Christ was born among men, and suffered on account of human guilt,
being made to suffer "the Just for the unjust, that He might bring
us to God." Christ was punished in the room, place, and stead of
every man and woman who will believe on Him. If you believe on
Him, He was punished for you; and you will never be punished. Your
debts are paid, your sins are forgiven. God cannot punish you, for
He has punished Christ instead of you, and He will never punish
twice for one offence. To believe is to trust. If you will now
trust your soul entirely with Him, you are saved, for He loved
you, and gave Himself for you. When you know this, and feel it to
be true, then come to the Lord's table, and join with us, when,
after supper we sing our hymn,--
"'It is finished!'--Oh, what pleasure
Do these charming words afford!
Heavenly blessings without measure
Flow to us from Christ the Lord:
'It is finished!'
Saints, the dying words record.
"Tune your harps anew, ye seraphs,
Join to sing the pleasing theme;
All on earth, and all in heaven,
Join to praise Immanuel's name!
Hallelujah!
Glory to the bleeding Lamb!"
JESUS ASLEEP ON A PILLOW
"And He was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a
pillow: and they awake Him, and say unto Him, Master, carest Thou
not that we perish? And He arose, and rebuked the wind, and said
unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was
a great calm."--Mark iv. 38, 39.
OUR Lord took His disciples with Him into the ship to teach them a
practical lesson. It is one thing to talk to people about our
oneness with them, and about how they should exercise faith in
time of danger, and about their real safety in apparent peril; but
it is another, and a far better thing, to go into the ship with
them, to let them feel all the terror of the storm, and then to
arise, and rebuke the wind, and say unto the sea, "Peace, be
still." Our Lord gave His disciples a kind of Kindergarten lesson,
an acted sermon, in which the truth was set forth visibly before
them. Such teaching produced a wonderful effect upon their lives.
May we also be instructed by it!
In our text there are two great calms; the first is, _the
calm in the Saviour's heart_, and the second is, _the calm which
He created_ with a word upon the storm-tossed sea.
I. Within the Lord where was a great calm, and that is why
there was soon a great calm around Him; for what is in God comes
out of God. Since there was a calm in Christ for Himself, there
was afterwards a calm outside for others. What a wonderful inner
calm it was! "He was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a
pillow."
He had _perfect confidence in God_ that all was well. The
waves might roar, the winds might rage, but He was not at all
disquieted by their fury. He knew that the waters were in the
hollow of His Father's hand, and that every wind was but the
breath of His Father's mouth; and so He was not troubled; nay, He
had not even a careful thought, He was as much at ease as on a
sunny day. His mind and heart were free from every kind of care,
for amid the gathering tempest He deliberately laid Himself down,
and slept like a weary child. He went to the hinder part of the
ship, most out of the gash of the spray; He took a pillow, and put
it under His head, and with fixed intent disposed Himself to
slumber. It was His own act and deed to go to sleep in the storm;
He had nothing for which to keep awake, so pure and perfect was
His confidence in the great Father. What an example this is to us!
We have not half the confidence in God that we ought to have, not
even the best of us. The Lord deserves our unbounded belief, our
unquestioning confidence, our undisturbed reliance. Oh, that we
rendered it to Him as the Saviour did!
There was also mixed with His faith in the Father _a sweet
confidence in His own Sonship_. He did not doubt that He was the
Son of the Highest. I may not question God's power to deliver, but
I may sometimes question my right to expect deliverance; and if
so, my comfort vanishes. Our Lord had no doubts of this kind. He
had long before heard that word, "This is My beloved Son, in whom
I am well pleased;" He had so lived and walked with God that the
witness within Him was continuous, so He had no question about the
Father's love to Him as His own Son. "Rocked in the cradle of the
deep," His Father keeping watch over Him,--what could a child do
better than go to sleep in such a happy position? And so He does.
You and I, too, want a fuller assurance of our sonship if we would
have greater peace with God. The devil knows that, and therefore
he will come to us with his insinuating suggestion, "If thou be
the son of God." If we have the Spirit of adoption in us, we shall
put the accuser to rout at once, by opposing the Witness within to
his question from without. Then shall we be filled with a great
calm, because we have confidence in our Father, and assurance of
our sonship.
Then _He had a sweet way-_--this blessed Lord of ours--_of
leaving all with God_. He takes no watch, He makes no fret; but He
goes to sleep. Whatever comes, He has left all in the hands of the
great Caretaker; and what more is needful? If a watchman were set
to guard my house, I should be foolish if I also sat up for fear
of thieves. Why have a watchman if I cannot trust him to watch?
"Cast thy burden upon the Lord;" but when thou hast done so, leave
it with the Lord, and do not try to carry it thyself. That is to
make a mock of God, to have the name of God, but not the reality,
of God. Lay down every care, even as Jesus did when He went calmly
to the hinder part of the ship, and quietly took a pillow, and
went to sleep.
But I think I hear someone say, "I could do that if mine were
solely care about myself." Yes, perhaps you could; and yet you
cannot cast upon God your burden of care about your children. But
your Lord trusted the Father with those dear to Him. Do you not
think that Christ's disciples were as precious to Him as our
children are to us? If that ship had been wrecked, what would have
become of Peter? What would have become of "that disciple whom
Jesus loved"? Our Lord regarded with intense affection those whom
He had chosen and called, and who had been with Him in His
temptation, yet He was quite content to leave them all in the care
of His Father, and go to sleep.
You answer, "Yes, but there is a still wider circle of people
watching to see what will happen to me, and to the cause of Christ
with which I am connected. I am obliged to care, whether I will or
no." Is your case, then, more trying than your Lord's? Do you
forget that "there were also with Him many other little ships"?
When the storm was tossing His barque, their little ships were
even more in jeopardy; and He cared for them all. He was the Lord
High Admiral of the Lake of Gennesaret that night. The other ships
were a fleet under His convoy, and His great heart went out to
them all. Yet He went to sleep, because He had left in His
Father's care even the solicitudes of His charity and sympathy.
We, my brethren, who are much weaker than He, shall find strength
in doing the same.
Having left everything with His Father, _our Lord did the
very wisest thing possible_. He did just what the hour demanded.
"Why," say you, "He went to sleep!" That was the best thing Jesus
could do; and sometimes it is the best thing we can do. Christ was
weary and worn; and when anyone is exhausted, it is his duty to go
to sleep if he can. The Saviour must be up again in the morning,
preaching and working miracles, and if He does not sleep, He will
not be fit for His holy duty; it is incumbent upon Him to keep
Himself in trim for His service. Knowing that the time to sleep
has come, the Lord sleeps, and does well in sleeping. Often, when
we have been fretting and worrying, we should have glorified God
far more had we literally gone to sleep. To glorify God by sleep
is not so difficult as some might think; at least, to our Lord it
was natural. Here you are worried, sad, wearied; the doctor
prescribes for you; his medicine does you no good; but oh! if you
enter into full peace with God, and go to sleep, you will wake up
infinitely more refreshed than by any drug. The sleep which the
Lord giveth to His beloved is balmy indeed. Seek it as Jesus
sought it. Go to bed, brother, and you will better imitate your
Lord than by putting yourself into ill humour, and worrying other
people.
There is a spiritual sleep in which we ought to imitate
Jesus. How often I have worried my poor brain about my great
church, until I have come to my senses, and then I have said to
myself, "How foolish you are! Can you not depend upon God? Is it
not far more His cause than yours?" Then I have taken my load in
prayer, and left it with the Lord. I have said, "In God's name,
this matter shall never worry me again," and I have left my urgent
care with Him, and ended it for ever. I have so deliberately given
up many a trying case into the Lord's care that, when any of my
friends have said to me, "What about so and so?" I have simply
answered, "I do not know, and I am no longer careful to know. The
Lord will interpose in some way or other, but I will trouble no
more about it." No mischief has ever come through any matter which
I have left in the divine keeping. The staying of my hand has been
wisdom. "Stand still, and see the salvation of God," is God's own
precept. Here let us follow Jesus. Having a child's confidence in
the great Father, He retires to the stern of the ship, selects a
pillow, deliberately lies down upon it, and goes to sleep; and
though the ship is filling with water, and rolls and pitches, He
sleeps on. Nothing can break the peace of His tranquil soul. Every
sailor on board reels to and fro, and staggers like a drunken man,
and is at his wits' end; but Jesus is neither at his wits' end,
nor does He stagger, for He rests in perfect innocence, and
undisturbed confidence. His heart is happy in God, and therefore
doth He remain in repose. Oh, for grace to copy Him!
II. But here notice, dear friends, The difference between the
Master and His disciples; for while He was in a great calm, they
were in a great storm. Here see their failure. They were just as
we are, and we are often just as they were.
_They gave way to fear_. They were sorely afraid that the
ship would sink, and that they would all perish. In thus yielding
to fear, _they forgot the solid reasons for courage which lay near
at hand; _for, in truth, they were safe enough. Christ is on board
that vessel, and if the ship goes down, He will sink with them.
The heathen mariner took courage during a storm from the fact that
Caesar was on board the ship that was tossed by stormy winds; and
should not the disciples feel secure with Jesus on board? Fear
not, ye carry Jesus and His cause! Jesus had come to do a work,
and His disciples might have known that He could not perish with
that work unaccomplished. Could they not trust Him? They had seen
Him multiply the loaves and fishes, and cast out devils, and heal
all manner of sicknesses; could they not trust Him to still the
storm? Unreasonable unbelief! Faith in God is true prudence, but
to doubt God is irrational. It is the height of absurdity and
folly to question omnipotent love.
And _the disciples were so unwise as to do the Master a very
ill turn_. He was sadly weary, and sorely needed sleep; but they
hastened to Him, and aroused Him in a somewhat rough and
irreverent manner. They were slow to do so, but their fear urged
them; and therefore they awoke Him, uttering ungenerous and
unloving words: "Master, carest Thou not that we perish?" Shame on
the lips that asked so harsh a question! Did they not upon
reflection greatly blame themselves? He had given them no cause
for such hard speeches; and, moreover, it was unseemly in them to
call Him "Master," and then to ask Him, "Carest Thou not that we
perish?" Is He to be accused of such hard-heartednesses to let His
faithful disciples perish when He has power to deliver them? Alas,
we, too, have been guilty of like offences! I think I have known
some of Christ's disciples who have appeared to doubt the wisdom
or the love of their Lord. They did not quite say that He was
mistaken, but they said that He moved in a mysterious way; they
did not quite complain that He was unkind to them, but they
whispered that they could not reconcile His dealings with His
infinite love. Alas, Jesus has endured much from our unbelief! May
this picture help us to see our spots, and may the love of our
dear Lord remove them!
III. I have spoken to you of the Master's calm and of the
disciples' failure; now let us think of the great calm which Jesus
created. "There was a great calm."
_His voice produced it_. They say that if oil be poured upon
the waters they will become smooth, and I suppose there is _some_
truth in the statement; but there is all truth in this, that if
God speaks, the storm subsides into a calm, so that the waves of
the sea are still. It only needs our Lord Jesus to speak in the
heart of any one of us, and immediately the peace of God, which
passeth all understanding, will possess us. No matter how drear
your despondency, nor how dread your despair, the Lord can at once
create a great calm of confidence. What a door of hope this opens
to any who are in trouble! If I could speak a poor man rich, and a
sick one well, I am sure I would do so at once; but Jesus is
infinitely better than I am, and therefore I know that He will
speak peace to the tried and troubled heart.
Note, too, _that this calm came at once_. "Jesus arose, and
rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the
wind ceased, and there was a great calm." As soon as Jesus spoke,
all was quiet. I have met with a very large number of persons in
trouble of mind, and I have seen a few who have slowly come out
into light and liberty; but more frequently deliverance has come
suddenly. The iron gate has opened of its own accord, and the
prisoner has stepped into immediate freedom. "The snare is broken,
and we are escaped." What a joy it is to know that rest is so near
even when the tempest rages most furiously!
Note, also, that _the Saviour coupled this repose with
faith_, for He said to the disciples as soon as the calm came,
"Why are ye so fearful? How is it that ye have no faith?" Faith
and the calm go together. If thou believest, thou shalt rest; if
thou wilt but cast thyself upon thy God, surrendering absolutely
to His will, thou shalt have mercy, and joy, and light. Even if we
have no faith, the Lord will sometimes give us the blessing that
we need, for He delights to do more for us than we have any right
to expect of Him; but usually the rule of His kingdom is,
"According to your faith be it unto you."
_This great calm is very delightful_, and concerning this I
desire to bear my personal testimony. I speak from my own
knowledge when I say that it passeth all understanding. I was
sitting, the other night, meditating on God's mercy and love, when
suddenly I found in my own heart a most delightful sense of
perfect peace. I had come to Beulah-land, where the sun shines
without a cloud. "There was a great calm." I felt as mariners
might do who have been tossed about in broken water, and all on a
sudden, they cannot tell why, the ocean becomes as unruffled as a
mirror, and the sea-birds come and sit in happy circles upon the
water. I felt perfectly content, yea, undividedly happy. Not a
wave of trouble broke upon the shore of my heart, and even far out
to sea in the deeps of my being all was still. I knew no
ungratified wish, no unsatisfied desire. I could not discover a
reason for uneasiness, or a motive for fear. There was nothing
approaching to fanaticism in my feelings, nothing even of
excitement: my soul was waiting upon God, and delighting herself
alone in Him. Oh, the blessedness of this rest in the Lord! What
an Elysium it is! I must be allowed to say a little upon this
purple island in the sea of my life: it was none other than a
fragment of heaven. We often talk about our great spiritual
storms, why should we not speak of our great calms? If ever we get
into trouble, what a noise we make of it! Why should we not sing
of our deliverances?
Let us survey our mercies. Every sin that we have ever
committed is forgiven. "The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son,
cleanseth us from all sin." The power of sin within us is broken;
it "shall not have dominion over you, for ye are not under the law
but under grace." Satan is a vanquished enemy; the world is
overcome by our Lord Jesus, and death is abolished by Him. All
providence works for our good. Eternity has no threat for us, it
bears within its mysteries nothing but immortality and glory.
Nothing can harm us. The Lord is our shield, and our exceeding
great reward. Wherefore, then, should we fear? The Lord of hosts
is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge. To the believer, peace
is no presumption: he is warranted in enjoying "perfect peace"--a
quiet which is deep, and founded on truth, which encompasses all
things, and is not broken by any of the ten thousand disturbing
causes which otherwise might prevent our rest. "Thou wilt keep him
in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee; because he trusteth
in Thee." Oh, to get into that calm, and remain in it till we come
to that world where there is no more sea!
A calm like that which ruled within our Saviour should we be
happy enough to attain to it, will give us in our measure the
power to make outside matters calm. He that hath peace can make
peace. We cannot work miracles, and yet the works which Jesus did
shall we do also. Sleeping His sleep, we shall awake in His rested
energy, and treat the winds and waves as things subject to the
power of faith, and therefore to be commanded into quiet. We shall
speak so as to console others: our calm shall work marvels in the
little ships whereof others are captains. We, too, shall say,
"Peace! Be still." Our confidence shall prove contagious, and the
timid shall grow brave: our tender love shall spread itself, and
the contentious shall cool down to patience. Only the matter must
begin within ourselves. We cannot create a calm till we are in a
calm. It is easier to rule the elements than to govern the
unruliness of our wayward nature. When grace has made us masters
of our fears, so that we can take a pillow and fall asleep amid
the hurricane, the fury of the tempest is over. He giveth peace
and safety when He giveth His beloved sleep.
REAL CONTACT WITH JESUS.
"And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched Me: for I perceive
that virtue is gone out of Me."--Luke viii. 46.
OUR Lord was very frequently in the midst of a crowd. His
preaching was so plain and so forcible that He always attracted a
vast company of hearers; and, moreover, the rumour of the loaves
and fishes no doubt had something to do with increasing His
audiences, while the expectation of beholding a miracle would be
sure to add to the numbers of the hangers-on. Our Lord Jesus
Christ often found it difficult to move through the streets,
because of the masses who pressed upon Him. This was encouraging
to Him as a preacher, and yet how small a residuum of real good
came of all the excitement which gathered around His personal
ministry! He might have looked upon the great mass, and have said,
"What is the chaff to the wheat?" for here it was piled up upon
the threshing-floor, heap upon heap; and yet, after His decease,
His disciples might have been counted by a few scores, for those
who had spiritually received Him were but few. Many were called,
but few were chosen. Yet, wherever one was blessed, our Saviour
took note of it; it touched a chord in His soul. He never could be
unaware when virtue had gone out of Him to heal a sick one, or
when power had gone forth with His ministry to save a sinful one.
Of all the crowd that gathered round the Saviour upon the day of
which our text speaks, I find nothing said about one of them
except this solitary "somebody" who had touched Him. The crowd
came, and the crowd went; but little is recorded of it all. Just
as the ocean, having advanced to full tide, leaves but little
behind it when it retires again to its channel, so the vast
multitude around the Saviour left only this one precious deposit--
one "somebody" who had touched Him, and had received virtue from
Him.
Ah, my Master, it may be so again this evening! These Sabbath
mornings, and these Sabbath evenings, the crowds come pouring in
like a mighty ocean, filling this house, and then they all retire
again; only here and there is a "somebody" left weeping for sin, a
"somebody" left rejoicing in Christ, a "somebody" who can say, "I
have touched the hem of His garment, and I have been made whole."
The whole of my other hearers are not worth the "somebodies." The
many of you are not worth the few, for the many are the pebbles,
and the few are the diamonds; the many are the heaps of husks, and
the few are the precious grains. May God find them out at this
hour, and His shall be all the praise!
Jesus said, "Somebody hath touched Me," from which we observe
that, _in the use of means and ordinances, we should never be
satisfied unless we get into personal contact with Christ_, so
that we touch Him, as this woman touched His garment. Secondly,
_if we can get into such personal contact, we shall have a bless-
ing:_ "I perceive that virtue is gone out of Me;" and, thirdly,
_if we do get a blessing, Christ will know it;_ however obscure
our case may be, He will know it, and He will have us let others
know it; He will speak, and ask such questions as will draw us
out, and manifest us to the world.
I. First, then, in the use of all means and ordinances, let
it be our chief aim and object to come into personal contact with
the Lord Jesus Christ.
Peter said, "The multitude throng Thee, and press Thee," and
that is true of the multitude to this very day; but of those who
come where Christ is in the assembly of His saints, a large
proportion only come because it is their custom to do so. Perhaps
they hardly know why they go to a place of worship. They go
because they always did go, and they think it wrong not to go.
They are just like the doors which swing upon their hinges; they
take no interest in what is done, at least only in the exterior
parts of the service; into the heart and soul of the business they
do not enter, and cannot enter. They are glad if the sermon is
rather short, there is so much the less tedium for them. They are
glad if they can look around and gaze at the congregation, they
find in that something to interest them; but getting near to the
Lord Jesus is not the business they come upon. They have not
looked at it in that light. They come and they go; they come and
they go; and it will be so till, by-and-by, they will come for the
last time, and they will find out in the next world that the means
of grace were not instituted to be matters of custom, and that to
have heard Jesus Christ preached, and to have rejected Him, is no
trifle, but a solemn thing for which they will have to answer in
the presence of the great Judge of all the earth.
Others there are who come to the house of prayer, and try to
enter into the service, and do so in a certain fashion; but it is
only self-righteously or professionally. They may come to the
Lord's table; perhaps they attend to baptism; they may even join
the church. They are baptized, yet not by the Holy Spirit; they
take the Lord's supper, but they take not the Lord Himself; they
eat the bread, but they never eat His flesh; they drink the wine,
but they never drink His blood; they have been buried in the pool,
but they have never been buried with Christ in baptism, nor have
they risen again with Him into newness of life. To them, to read,
to sing, to kneel, to hear, and so on, are enough. They are
content with the shell, but the blessed spiritual kernel, the true
marrow and fatness, these they know nothing of. These are the
many, go into what church or meeting-house you please. They are in
the press around Jesus, but they do not touch Him. They come, but
they come not into contact with Jesus. They are outward, external
hearers only, but there is no inward touching of the blessed
person of Christ, no mysterious contact with the ever-blessed
Saviour, no stream of life and love flowing from Him to them. It
is all mechanical religion. Of vital godliness, they know nothing.
But, "somebody," said Christ, "somebody hath touched Me," and
that is the soul of the matter. O my hearer, when you are in
prayer alone, never be satisfied with having prayed; do not give
it up till you have touched Christ in prayer; or, if you have not
got to Him, at any rate sigh and cry until you do! Do not think
you have prayed, but try again. When you come to public worship, I
beseech you, rest not satisfied with listening to the sermon, and
so on, as you all do with sufficient attention; to that I bear you
witness;--but do not be content unless you get at Christ the
Master, and touch Him. At all times when you come to the communion
table, count it to have been no ordinance of grace to you unless
you have gone right through the veil into Christ's own arms, or at
least have touched His garment, feeling that the first object, the
life and soul of the means of grace, is to touch Jesus Christ
Himself; and except "somebody" hath touched Him, the whole has
been a mere dead performance, without life or power.
The woman in our text was not only amongst those who were in
the crowd, but she touched Jesus; and therefore, beloved, let me
hold her up to your example in some respects, though I would to
God that in other respects you might excel her.
Note, first, she felt that it was of no use being in the
crowd, of no use to be in the same street with Christ, or near to
the place where Christ was, but _she must get at Him; she must
touch Him_. She touched Him, you will notice, under _many
difficulties_. There was a great crowd. She was a woman. She was
also a woman enfeebled by a long disease which had drained her
constitution, and left her more fit to be upon a bed than to be
struggling in the seething tumult. Yet, notwithstanding that, so
intense was her desire, that she urged on her way, I doubt not
with many a bruise, and many an uncouth push, and at last, poor
trembler as she was, she got near to the Lord. Beloved, it is not
always easy to get at Jesus. It is very easy to kneel down to
pray, but not so easy to reach Christ in prayer. There is a child
crying, it is your own, and its noise has often hindered you when
you were striving to approach Jesus; or a knock will come at the
door when you most wish to be retired. When you are sitting in the
house of God, your neighbour in the seat before you may
unconsciously distract your attention. It is not easy to draw near
to Christ, especially coming as some of you do right away from the
counting-house, and from the workshop, with a thousand thoughts
and cares about you. You cannot always unload your burden outside,
and come in here with your hearts prepared to receive the gospel.
Ah! it is a terrible fight sometimes, a real foot-to-foot fight
with evil, with temptation, and I know not what. But, beloved, do
fight it out, do fight it out; do not let your seasons for prayer
be wasted, nor your times for hearing be thrown away; but, like
this woman, be resolved, with all your feebleness, that you will
lay hold upon Christ. And oh! if you be resolved about it, if you
cannot get to Him, He will come to you, and sometimes, when you
are struggling against unbelieving thoughts, He will turn and say,
"Make room for that poor feeble one, that she may come to Me, for
My desire is to the work of My own hands; let her come to Me, and
let her desire be granted to her."
Observe, again, that this woman touched Jesus _very
secretly_. Perhaps there is a dear sister here who is getting near
to Christ at this very moment, and yet her face does not betray
her. It is so little contact that she has gained with Christ that
the joyous flush, and the sparkle of the eye, which we often see
in the child of God, have not yet come to her. She is sitting in
yonder obscure corner, or standing in this aisle, but though her
touch is secret, it is true. Though she cannot tell another of it,
yet it is accomplished. She has touched Jesus. Beloved, that is
not always the nearest fellowship with Christ of which we talk the
most. Deep waters are still. Nay, I am not sure but what we
sometimes get nearer to Christ when we think we are at a distance
than we do when we imagine we are near Him, for we are not always
exactly the best judges of our own spiritual state, and we may be
very close to the Master, and yet for all that we may be so
anxious to get closer that we may feel dissatisfied with the
measure of grace which we have already received. To be satisfied
with self, is no sign of grace; but to long for more grace, is
often a far better evidence of the healthy state of the soul.
Friend, if thou canst not come to the table to-night publicly,
come to the Master in secret. If thou darest not tell thy wife, or
thy child, or thy father, that thou art trusting in Jesus, it need
not be told as yet. Thou mayest do it secretly, as he did to whom
Jesus said, "When thou wast under the fig tree, I saw thee."
Nathanael retired to the shade that no one might see him; but
Jesus saw him, and marked his prayer, and He will see thee in the
crowd, and in the dark, and not withhold His blessing.
This woman also came into contact with Christ _under a very
deep sense of unworthiness_. I dare say she thought, "If I touch
the Great Prophet, it will be a wonder if He does not strike me
with some sudden judgment," for she was a woman ceremonially un-
clean. She had no right to be in the throng. Had the Levitical law
been strictly carried out, I suppose she would have been confined
to her house; but there she was wandering about, and she must
needs go and touch the holy Saviour. Ah! poor heart, you feel to-
night that you are not fit to touch the skirts of the Master's
robe, for you are so unworthy. You never felt so undeserving
before as you do to-night. In the recollection of last week and
its infirmities, in the remembrance of the present state of your
heart, and all its wanderings from God, you feel as if there never
was so worthless a sinner in the house of God before. "Is grace
for me?" say you. "Is Christ for me?" Oh! yes, unworthy one. Do
not be put off without it. Jesus Christ does not save the worthy,
but the unworthy. Your plea must not be righteousness, but guilt.
And you, too, child of God, though you are ashamed of yourself,
Jesus is not ashamed of you; and though you feel unfit to come,
let your unfitness only impel you with the greater earnestness of
desire. Let your sense of need make you the more fervent to
approach the Lord, who can supply your need.
Thus, you see, the woman came under difficulties, she came
secretly, she came as an unworthy one, but still she obtained the
blessing.
I have known many staggered with that saying of Paul's, "He
that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation
to himself." Now, understand that this passage does not refer to
the unworthiness of those persons who come to the Lord's table;
for it does not say, "He that eateth and drinketh _being
unworthy_." It is not an adjective; it is an adverb: "He that
eateth and drinketh unworth_ily_," that is to say, he who shall
come to the outward and visible sign of Christ's presence, and
shall eat of the bread in order to obtain money being a member of
the church, knowing himself to be a hypocrite, or who shall do it
jestingly, trifling with the ordinance: such a person would be
eating and drinking unworthily, and he will be condemned. The
sense of the passage is, not "damnation", as our version reads it,
but "condemnation." There can be no doubt that members of the
church, coming to the Lord's table in an unworthy manner, do
receive condemnation. They are condemned for so doing, and the
Lord is grieved. If they have any conscience at all, they ought to
feel their sin; and if not, they may expect the chastisements of
God to visit them. But, O sinner, as to coming to Christ,--which
is a very different thing from coming to the Lord's table,--as to
coming to Christ, the more unworthy you feel yourself to be, the
better. Come, thou filthy one, for Christ can wash thee. Come,
thou loathsome one, for Christ can beautify thee. Come utterly
ruined and undone, for in Jesus Christ there is the strength and
salvation which thy case requires.
Notice, once again, that _this woman touched the Master very
tremblingly, and it was only a hurried touch, but still it was the
touch of faith_. Oh, beloved, to lay hold on Christ! Be thankful
if you do but get near Him for a few minutes. "Abide with me,"
should be your prayer; but oh, if He only give you a glimpse, be
thankful! Remember that a touch healed the woman. She did not
embrace Christ by the hour together. She had but a touch, and she
was healed; and oh, may you have a sight of Jesus now, my beloved!
Though it be but a glimpse, yet it will gladden and cheer your
souls. Perhaps you are waiting on Christ, desiring His company,
and while you are turning it over in your mind you are asking,
"Will He ever shine upon me? Will He ever speak loving words to
me? Will He ever let me sit at His feet? Will He ever permit me to
lean my head upon His bosom?" Come and try Him. Though you should
shake like an aspen leaf, yet come. They sometimes come best who
come most tremblingly, for when the creature is lowest then is the
Creator highest, and when in our own esteem we are less than
nothing and vanity, then is Christ the more fair and lovely in our
eyes. One of the best ways of climbing to heaven is on our hands
and knees. At any rate, there is no fear of falling when we are in
that position, for--
"He that is down need fear no fall."
Let your lowliness of heart, your sense of utter nothingness,
instead of disqualifying you, be a sweet medium for leading you to
receive more of Christ. The more empty I am, the more room is
there for my Master. The more I lack, the more He will give me.
The more I feel my sickness, the more shall I adore and bless Him
when He makes me whole.
You see, the woman did really touch Christ, and so I come
back to that. Whatever infirmity there was in the touch, it was a
real touch of faith. She did reach Christ Himself. She did not
touch Peter; that would have been of no use to her, any more than
it is for the parish priest to tell you that you are regenerate
when your life soon proves that you are not. She did not touch
John or James; that would have been of no more good to her than it
is for you to be touched by a bishop's hands, and to be told that
you are confirmed in the faith, when you are not even a believer,
and therefore have no faith to be confirmed in. She touched the
Master Himself; and, I pray you, do not be content unless you can
do the same. Put out the hand of faith, and touch Christ. Rest on
Him. Rely on His bloody sacrifice, His dying love, His rising
power, His ascended plea; and as you rest in Him, your vital
touch, however feeble, will certainly give you the blessing your
soul needs.
This brings us to the second part of our discourse, upon
which I will say only a little.
II. The woman in the crowd did touch Jesus, and, having done
so, she received virtue from Him.
The healing energy streamed at once through the finger of
faith into the woman. In Christ, there is healing for all
spiritual diseases. There is a speedy healing, a healing which
will not take months nor years, but which is complete in one
second. There is in Christ a sufficient healing, though your
diseases should be multiplied beyond all bounds. There is in
Christ an all-conquering power to drive out every ill. Though,
like this woman, you baffle physicians, and your case is reckoned
desperate beyond all parallel, yet a touch of Christ will heal
you. What a precious, glorious gospel I have to preach to sinners!
If they touch Jesus, no matter though the devil himself were in
them, that touch of faith would drive the devil out of them.
Though you were like the man into whom there had entered a legion
of devils, the word of Jesus would cast them all into the deep,
and you should sit at His feet, clothed, and in your right mind.
There is no excess or extravagance of sin which the power of Jesus
Christ cannot overcome. If thou canst believe, whatever thou
mayest have been, thou shalt be saved. If thou canst believe,
though thou hast been lying in the scarlet dye till the warp and
woof of thy being are ingrained therewith, yet shall the precious
blood of Jesus make thee white as snow. Though thou art become
black as hell itself, and only fit to be cast into the pit, yet if
thou trustest Jesus, that simple faith shall give to thy soul the
healing which shall make thee fit to tread the streets of heaven,
and to stand before Jehovah-Rophi's face, magnifying the Lord that
healeth thee.
And now, child of God, I want you to learn the same lesson.
Very likely, when you came in here, you said,--"Alas! I feel very
dull; my spirituality is at a very low ebb; the place is hot, and
I do not feel prepared to hear; the spirit is willing, but the
flesh is weak; I shall have no holy enjoyment to-day!" Why not?
Why, the touch of Jesus could make you live if you were dead, and
surely it will stir the life that is in you, though it may seem to
you to be expiring! Now, struggle hard, my beloved, to get at
Jesus! May the Eternal Spirit come and help you, and may you yet
find that your dull, dead times can soon become your best times.
Oh! what a blessing it is that God takes the beggar up from the
dunghill! He does not raise us when He sees us already up, but
when He finds us lying on the dunghill, then He delights to lift
us up, and set us among princes. Or ever you are aware, your soul
may become like the chariots of Ammi-nadib. Up from the depths of
heaviness to the very heights of ecstatic worship you may mount as
in a single moment if you can but touch Christ crucified. View Him
yonder, with streaming wounds, with thorn-crowned head, as in all
the majesty of His misery, He expires for you!
"Alas!" say you, "I have a thousand doubts tonight." Ah! but
your doubts will soon vanish when you draw nigh to Christ. He
never doubts who feels the touch of Christ, at least, not while
the touch lasts, for observe this woman! She felt in her body that
she was made whole, and so shall you, if you will only come into
contact with the Lord. Do not wait for evidences, but come to
Christ for evidences. If you cannot even dream of a good thing in
yourselves, come to Jesus Christ as you did at the first. Come as
if you never had come at all. Come to Jesus as a sinner, and your
doubts shall flee away.
"Ay!" saith another, "but my sins come to my remembrance, my
sins since conversion." Well, return to Jesus, when your guilt
seems to return. The fountain is still open, and that fountain,
you will remember, is not only open for sinners, but for saints;
for what saith the Scripture--"There shall be a fountain opened
_for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem_,"--
that is, for you, churchmembers, for you, believers in Jesus? The
fountain is still open. Come, beloved, come to Jesus anew, and
whatever be your sins, or doubts, or heaviness, they shall all
depart as soon as you can touch your Lord.
III. And now the last point is--and I will not detain you
long upon it--if somebody shall touch Jesus, the Lord will know
it.
I do not know your names; a great number of you are perfect
strangers to me. It matters nothing; your name is "somebody", and
Christ will know you. You are a total stranger, perhaps, to
everybody in this place; but if you get a blessing, there will be
two who will know it,--you will, and Christ will. Oh! if you
should look to Jesus this day, it may not be registered in our
church-book, and we may not hear of it; but still it will be
registered in the courts of heaven, and they will set all the
bells of the New Jerusalem a-ringing, and all the harps of angels
will take a fresh lease of music as soon as they know that you are
born again.
"With joy the Father doth approve
The fruit of His eternal love;
The Son with joy looks down and sees
The purchase of His agonies;
The Spirit takes delight to view
The holy soul He formed anew;
And saints and angels join to sing
The growing empire of their King."
"Somebody!" I do not know the woman's name; I do not know who
the man is, but--"Somebody!"--God's electing love rests on thee,
Christ's redeeming blood was shed for thee, the Spirit has wrought
a work in thee, or thou wouldst not have touched Jesus; and all
this Jesus knows.
It is a consoling thought that Christ not only knows the
great children in the family, but He also knows the little ones.
This stands fast: "The Lord knoweth them that are His," whether
they are only brought to know Him now, or whether they have known
Him for fifty years. "The Lord knoweth them that are His," and if
I am a part of Christ's body, I may be but the foot, but the Lord
knows the foot; and the head and the heart in heaven feel acutely
when the foot on earth is bruised. If you have touched Jesus, I
tell you that amidst the glories of angels, and the everlasting
hallelujahs of all the blood-bought, He has found time to hear
your sigh, to receive your faith, and to give you an answer of
peace. All the way from heaven to earth there has rushed a mighty
stream of healing virtue, which has come from Christ to you. Since
you have touched Him, the healing virtue has touched you.
Now, _as Jesus knows of your salvation, He wishes other
people to know of it_, and that is why He has put it into my heart
to say,--Somebody has touched the Lord. Where is that somebody?
Somebody, where are you? Somebody, where are you? You have touched
Christ, though with a feeble finger, and you are saved. Let us
know it. It is due to us to let us know. You cannot guess what joy
it gives us when we hear of sick ones being healed by our Master.
Some of you, perhaps, have known the Lord for months, and you have
not yet come forward to make an avowal of it; we beg you to do so.
You may come forward tremblingly, as this woman did; you may
perhaps say, "I do not know what I should tell you." Well, you
must tell us what she told the Lord; she told Him all the truth.
We do not want anything else. We do not desire any sham experi-
ence. We do not want you to manufacture feelings like somebody
else's that you have read of in a book. Come and tell us what you
have felt. We shall not ask you to tell us what you have not felt,
or what you do not know. But, if you have touched Christ, and you
have been healed, I ask it, and I think I may ask it as your duty,
as well as a favour to us, to come and tell us what the Lord hath
done for your soul.
And you, believers, when you come to the Lord's table, if you
draw near to Christ, and have a sweet season, tell it to your
brethren. Just as when Benjamin's brethren went down to Egypt to
buy corn, they left Benjamin at home, but they took a sack for
Benjamin, so you ought always to take a word home for the sick
wife at home, or the child who cannot come out. Take home food for
those of the family who cannot come for it. God grant that you may
have always something sweet to tell of what you have
experimentally known of precious truth, for while the sermon may
have been sweet in itself, it comes with a double power when you
can add, "and there was a savour about it which I enjoyed, and
which made my heart leap for joy"!
Whoever you may be, my dear friend, though you may be nothing
but a poor "somebody", yet if you have touched Christ, tell others
about it, in order that they may come and touch Him, too; and the
Lord bless you, for Christ's sake! Amen.
CHRIST AND HIS TABLE-COMPANIONS
"And when the hour was come, He sat down, and the twelve
apostles with Him."--Luke xxii. 14.
THE outward ordinances of the Christian religion are but two, and
those two are exceedingly simple, yet neither of them has escaped
human alteration; and, alas! much mischief has been wrought, and
much of precious teaching has been sacrificed, by these miserable
perversions. For instance, the ordinance of baptism as it was
administered by the apostles betokened the burial of the believer
with Christ, and his rising with his Lord into newness of life.
Men must needs exchange immersion for sprinkling, and the
intelligent believer for an unconscious child, and so the
ordinance is slain. The other sacred institution, the Lord's
supper, like believers' baptism, is simplicity itself. It consists
of bread broken, and wine poured out, these viands being eaten and
drunk at a festival--a delightful picture of the sufferings of
Christ for us, and of the fellowship which the saints have with
one another and with Him. But this ordinance, also, has been
tampered with by men. By some, the wine has been taken away
altogether, or reserved only for a priestly caste; and the simple
bread has been changed into a consecrated host. As for the table,
the very emblem of fellowship in all nations--for what expresses
fellowship better than surrounding a table, and eating and
drinking together?--this, forsooth, must be put away, and an altar
must be erected, and the bread and wine which were to help us to
remember the Lord Jesus are changed into an "unbloody sacrifice",
and so the whole thing becomes an unscriptural celebration instead
of a holy institution for fellowship. Let us be warned by these
mistakes of others never either to add to or take from the Word of
God so much as a single jot or tittle. Keep upon the foundation of
the Scriptures, and you stand safely, and have an answer for those
who question you; yea, and an answer which you may render at the
bar of God; but once allow your own whim, or fancy, or taste, or
your notion of what is proper and right, to rule you, instead of
the Word of God, and you have entered upon a dangerous course, and
unless the grace of God prevent, boundless mischief may ensue. The
Bible is our standard authority; none may turn from it. The wise
man says, in Ecclesiastes, "I counsel thee to keep the King's
commandment;" we would repeat his advice, and add to it the sage
precept of the mother of our Lord, at Cana, when she said, "What-
soever He saith unto you, do it."
We shall now ask you in contemplation to gaze upon the first
celebration of the Lord's supper. You perceive at once that there
was no altar in that large upper room. There was a table, a table
with bread and wine upon it, but no altar; and Jesus did not
kneel,--there is no sign of that,--but He sat down, I doubt not,
after the Oriental mode of sitting, that is to say, by a partial
reclining, He sat down with His apostles. Now, He who ordained
this supper knew how it ought to be observed, and as the first
celebration of it was the model for all others, we may be assured
that the right way of coming to this communion is to assemble
around a table, and to sit or recline while we eat and drink
together of bread and wine in remembrance of our Lord.
While we see the Saviour sitting down with His twelve
apostles, let us enquire, first, _what did this make them? _Then,
secondly, _what did this imply?_ And, thirdly, _what further may
we legitimately infer from it?_
I. First, then, we see the Great Master, the Lord, the King
in Zion, sitting down at the table to eat and drink with His
twelve apostles,--what did this make them?
Note what they were at first. By His first calling of them
they became His _followers_, for He said unto them, "Follow Me."
That is to say, they were convinced, by sundry marks and signs,
that He was the Messias, and they, therefore, became His
followers. Followers may be at a great distance from their leader,
and enjoy little or no intercourse with him, for the leader may be
too great to be approached by the common members of his band. In
the case of the disciples, their following was unusually close,
for their Master was very condescending, but still their inter-
course was not always of the most intimate kind at first, and
therefore it was not at the first that He called them to such a
festival as this supper. They began with following, and this is
where we must begin. If we cannot enter as yet into closer
association with our Lord, we may, at least, know His voice by His
Spirit, and follow Him as the sheep follow the shepherd. The most
important way of following Him is to trust Him, and then
diligently to imitate His example. This is a good beginning, and
it will end well, for those who walk with Him to-day shall rest
with Him hereafter; those who tread in His footsteps shall sit on
His throne.
Being His followers, they came next to be His _disciples_. A
man may have been a follower for a while, and yet may not have
reached discipleship. A follower may follow blindly, and hear a
great deal which he does not understand; but when he becomes a
disciple, his Master instructs him, and leads him into truth. To
explain, to expound, to solve difficulties, to clear away doubts,
and to make truth intelligible, is the office of a teacher amongst
his disciples. Now, it was a very blessed thing for the followers
to become disciples, but still disciples are not necessarily so
intimate with their Master as to sit and eat with him. Socrates
and Plato knew many in the Academy whom they did not invite to
their homes. My brethren, if Jesus had but called us to be His
disciples, and no more we should have had cause for great
thankfulness; if we had been allowed to sit at His feet, and had
never shared in such an entertainment as that before us, we ought
to have been profoundly grateful; but now that He has favoured us
with a yet higher place, let us never be unfaithful to our
discipleship. Let us daily learn of Jesus, let us search the Bible
to see what it was that He taught us, and then by the aid of His
Holy Spirit let us scrupulously obey. Yet is there a something
beyond.
Being the Lord's disciples, the chosen ones next rose to
become His _servants_, which is a step in advance, since the
disciple may be but a child, but the servant has some strength,
has received some measure of training, and renders somewhat in
return. Their Master gave them power to preach the gospel, and to
execute commissions of grace, and happy were they to be called to
wait upon such a Master, and aid in setting up His kingdom. My
dear brethren and sisters, are you all Christ's servants
consciously? If so, though the service may at times seem heavy
because your faith is weak, yet be very thankful that you are
servants at all, for it is better to serve God than to reign over
all the kingdoms of this world. It is better to be the lowest
servant of Christ than to be the greatest of men, and remain
slaves to your own lusts, or be mere men-pleasers. His yoke is
easy, and His burden is light. The servant of such a Master should
rejoice in his calling; yet is there something beyond.
Towards the close of His life, our Master revealed the yet
nearer relation of His disciples, and uttered words like these:
"Henceforth I call you not servants, for the servant knoweth not
what his lord doeth, but I have called you _friends_, for all
things that I have heard of My Father I have made known unto you."
This is a great step in advance. The friend, however humble,
enjoys much familiarity with his friend. The friend is told what
the servant need not know. The friend enjoys a communion to which
the mere servant, disciple, or follower has not attained. May we
know this higher association, this dearer bond of relationship!
May we not be content without the enjoyment of our Master's
friendship! "He that hath friends must show himself friendly;" and
if we would have Christ's friendship, we must befriend His cause,
His truth, and His people. He is a Friend that loveth at all
times; if you would enjoy His friendship, take care to abide in
Him.
Now note that, on the night before His Passion, our Lord led
His friends a step beyond ordinary friendship. The mere follower
does not sit at table with his leader; the disciple does not claim
to be a fellow-commoner with his master; the servant is seldom
entertained at the same table with his lord; the befriended one is
not always invited to be a guest; but here the Lord Jesus made His
chosen ones to be _His table-companions;_ He lifted them up to sit
with Him at the same table, to eat of the same bread, and drink of
the same cup with Himself. From that position He has never
degraded them; they were representative men, and where the Lord
placed them, He has placed all His saints permanently. All the
Lord's believing people are sitting, by sacred privilege and
calling, at the same table with Jesus, for truly, our fellowship
is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ. He has come into
our hearts, and He sups with us, and we with Him; we are His
table-companions, and shall eat bread with Him in the kingdom of
God.
Table-companions, then, that is the answer to the question,
"What did this festival make the apostles?" This festival shows
all the members of the Church of Christ to be, through divine
grace, table-companions with one another, and with Christ Jesus
their Lord.
II. So now we shall pass on, in the second place, to ask,
what did this table-companionship imply?
It implied, first of all, _mutual fidelity_. This solemn
eating and drinking together was a pledge of faithfulness to one
another. It must have been so understood, or otherwise there would
have been no force in the complaint: "He that eateth bread with Me
hath lifted up his heel against Me." Did not this mean that,
_because_ Judas had eaten bread with his Lord, he was bound not to
betray Him, and so to lift up his heel against Him? This was the
seal of an implied covenant; having eaten together, they were
under bond to be faithful to one another. Now, as many of you as
are really the servants and friends of Christ may know that the
Lord Jesus, in eating with you at His table, pledges Himself to be
faithful to you. The Master never plays the Judas,--the Judas is
among the disciples. There is nothing traitorous in the Lord; He
is not only able to keep that which we have committed to Him, but
He is faithful, and will do it. He will be faithful, not only as
to the great and main matter, but also to every promise He has
made. Know ye then, assuredly, that your Master would not have
asked you to His table to eat bread with Him if He intended to
desert you. He has received you as His honoured guests, and fed
you upon His choicest meat, and thereby He does as good as say to
you, "I will never leave you, come what may, and in all times of
trial, and depression, and temptation, I will be at your right
hand, and you shall not be moved, and to the very last you shall
prove My faithfulness and truth."
But, beloved, you do not understand this supper unless you
are also reminded of the faithfulness that is due from you to your
Lord, for the feast is common, and the pledge mutual. In eating
with Him, you plight your troth to the Crucified, Beloved, how
have you kept your pledge during the past year? You have eaten
bread with Him, and I trust that in your hearts you have never
gone so far aside as to lift up your heel against Him, but have
you always honoured Him as you should? Have you acted as guests
should have done? Can you remember His love to you, and put your
love to Him side by side with it, without being ashamed? From this
time forth, may the Holy Ghost work in our souls a jealous
fidelity to the Well-beloved which shall not permit our hearts to
wander from Him, or suffer our zeal for His glory to decline!
Again, remember that there is in this solemn eating and
drinking together a pledge of fidelity between the disciples
themselves, as well as between the disciples and their Lord. Judas
would have been a traitor if he had betrayed Peter, or John, or
James: so, when ye come to the one table, my brethren, ye must
henceforth be true to one another. All bickerings and jealousies
must cease, and a generous and affectionate spirit must rule in
every bosom. If you hear any speak against those you have communed
with, reckon that, as you have eaten bread with them, you are
bound to defend their reputations. If any railing accusation be
raised against any brother in Christ, reckon that his character is
as dear to you as your own. Let a sacred Freemasonry be maintained
among us, if I may liken a far higher and more spiritual union to
anything which belongs to common life. Ye are members one of
another, see that ye love each other with a pure heart fervently.
Drinking of the same cup, eating of the same bread, you set forth
before the world a token which I trust is not meant to be a lie.
As it truly shows Christ's faithfulness to you, so let it as
really typify your faithfulness to Christ, and to one another.
In the next place, eating and drinking together was a token
of _mutual confidence_. They, in sitting there together,
voluntarily avowed their confidence in each other. Those disciples
trusted their Master, they knew He would not mislead or deceive
them. They trusted each other also, for when they were told that
one of them would betray their Lord, they did not suspect each
other, but each one said, "Lord, is it I?" They had much
confidence in one another, and the Lord Jesus, as we have seen,
had placed great confidence in them by treating them as His
friends. He had even trusted them with the great secret of His
coming sufferings, and death. They were a trustful company who sat
at that supper-table. Now, beloved, when you gather around this
table, come in the spirit of implicit trustfulness in the Lord
Jesus. If you are suffering, do not doubt His love, but believe
that He works all things for your good. If you are vexed with
cares, prove your confidence by leaving them entirely in your
Redeemer's hands. It will not be a festival of communion to you if
you come here with suspicions about your Master. No, show your
confidence as you eat of the bread with Him. Let there also be a
brotherly confidence in each other. Grievous would it be to see a
spirit of suspicion and distrust among you. Suspicion is the death
of fellowship. The moment one Christian imagines that another
thinks hardly of him, though there may not be the slightest truth
in that thought, yet straightway the root of bitterness is
planted. Let us believe in one another's sincerity, for we may
rest assured that each of our brethren deserves to be trusted more
than we do. Turn your suspicions within, and if you must suspect,
suspect your own heart; but when you meet with those who have
communed with you at this table, say within yourself, "If such can
deceive me, and alas I they may, then will I be content to be im-
posed upon rather than entertain perpetual mistrust of my fellow-
Christians."
A third meaning of the assembling around the table is this,
_hearty fraternity_. Our Lord, in sitting down at the table with
His disciples, showed Himself to be one with them, a Brother
indeed. We do not read that there was any order of priority by
which their seats were arranged. Of course, if the Grand
Chamberlain at Rome had arranged the table, he would have placed
Peter at the right hand of Christ, and the other apostles in
graduated positions according to the dignity of their future
bishoprics, but all that we know about their order is this, that
John sat next to the Saviour, and leaned upon His bosom, and that
Peter sat a good way off,--we feel sure he did, because it is said
that he "beckoned" unto John; if he had sat next to him, he would
have whispered to him, but he beckoned to him, and so he must have
been some way down the table, if, indeed, there was any "_down_"
or "_up_" in the arrangement of the guests. We believe the fact
was, that they sat there on a sacred equality, the Lord Jesus, the
EIder Brother, among them, and all else arranged according to
those words, "One is your Master, even Christ, and all ye are
brethren." Let us feel, then, in coming to the table again at this
time, that we are linked in ties sacred relationship with Jesus
Christ, who is exalted in heaven, and that through Him our
relationship with our fellow-Christians is very near and intimate.
Oh, that Christian brotherhood were more real! The very word
"brother" has come to be ridiculed as a piece of hypocrisy, and
well it may, for it is mostly used as a cant phrase, and in many
cases means very little. But it ought to mean something. You have
no right to come to that table unless you really feel that those
who are washed in Jesus' blood have a claim upon the love of your
heart, and the activity of your benevolence. What! are ye to live
together for ever in heaven, and will ye show no affection for one
another here below? It is your Master's new command that ye love
one another; will ye disregard it? He has given this as the badge
of Christians: "By this shall all men know that ye are My
disciples,"--not if ye wear a gold cross, but--"if ye have love
one to another." That is the Christian's badge of his being, in
very truth, a disciple of Jesus Christ. Here, at this table, we
find fraternity. Whosoever eateth of this sacred supper declares
himself to be one of a brotherhood in Christ, a brotherhood
striving for the same cause, having sincere sympathy, being
members of each other, and all of them members of the body of
Christ. God make this to be a fact throughout Christendom even
now, and how will the world marvel as it cries, "See how these
Christians love one another!"
But this table means more yet: it signifies _common
enjoyment_. Jesus eats, and they eat, the same bread. He drinks,
and they drink, of the same cup. There is no distinction in the
viands. What meaneth this? Doth it not say to us that the joy of
Christ is the joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be
full"? The very joy that delights Christ is that which He prepares
for His people. You, if you are a true believer, have sympathy in
Christ's joy, you delight to see His kingdom come, the truth
advanced, sinners saved, grace glorified, holiness promoted, God
exalted; this also is His delight. But my dear brethren and
fellow-professors, are you sure that your chief joy is the same as
Christ's? Are you certain that the mainstay of your life is the
same as that which was His meat and His drink, namely, to do the
will of the heavenly Father? If not, I am afraid you have no
business at this table; but if it be so, and you come to the
table, then I pray that you may share the joy of Christ. May you
joy in Him as He joys in you, and so may your fellowship be sweet!
Lastly, on this point, the feast at the one table indicated
_familiar affection_. It is the child's place to sit at the table
with its parents, for there affection rules. It is the place of
honour to sit at the table: "Martha served, but Lazarus was one of
them that sat at the table." But the honour is such as love and
not fear suggests. Men at the table often reveal their minds more
fully than elsewhere. If you want to understand a man, you do not
go to see him at the Stock Exchange, or follow him into the
market; for there he keeps himself to himself; but you go to his
table, and there he unbosoms himself. Now, the Lord Jesus Christ
sat at the table with His disciples. 'Twas a meal; 'twas a meal of
a homely kind; intimate intercourse ruled the hour. Oh, brethren
and sisters, I am afraid we have come to this table sometimes, and
Christ, and then it has been an empty formality and nothing more.
I thank God that, coming to this table every Sabbath-day, as some
of us do, and have done for many years, we have yet for the most
part enjoyed the nearest communion with Christ here that we have
ever known, and have a thousand times blessed His name for this
ordinance. Still, there is such a thing as only eating the bread
and drinking the wine, and losing all the sacred meaning thereof.
Do pray the Lord to reveal Himself to you. Ask that it may not be
a dead form to you, but that now in very deed you may give to
Christ your heart, while He shall show to you His hands and His
side, and make known to you His agonies and death, wherewith He
redeemed you from the wrath to come. All this, and vastly more, is
the teaching of the table at which Jesus sat with the twelve. I
have often wondered why the Church of Rome does not buy up all
those pictures by one of its most renowned painters, Leonardo da
Vinci, in which our Lord is represented as sitting at the table
with His disciples, for these are a contradiction of the Popish
doctrine on this subject. As long as that picture remains on the
wall, and as long as copies of it are spread everywhere, the
Church of Rome stands convicted of going against the teaching of
the earlier Church by setting up an altar when she confesses her-
self that aforetime it was not considered to be an altar of
sacrifice but a table of fellowship, at which the Lord did not
kneel, nor stand as an officiating priest, but at which He and His
disciples sat. We, at least, have no rebukes to fear from
antiquity, for we follow, and mean to follow, the primitive
method. Our Lord has given us commandment to do this until He
comes,--not to alter it, but just to "do this," and nothing else,
in the same manner until He shall come.
III. We will draw to a close by asking--What further may be
inferred from this sitting of Christ with his disciples at the
table?
I answer: first, _there may be inferred from it the equality
of all the saints_. There were here twelve apostles. Their
apostleship, however, is not concerned in the matter. When the
Lord's supper was celebrated after all the apostles had gone to
heaven, was there to be any alteration because the apostles had
gone? Not at all. Believers are to do this in remembrance of their
Lord _until He shall come_. There was no command for a change when
the first apostles were all gone from the Church: No, it was to be
the same still,--bread and wine and the surrounding of the table,
until the Lord came. I gather, then, the equality of all saints.
There is a difference in office, there was a difference in
miraculous gift, and there are great differences in growth of
grace; but still, in the household of God, all saints, whether
apostles, pastors, teachers, deacons, elders, or private members,
being all equal, eat at one table. There is but one bread, there
is but one juice of the vine here.
It is only in the Church of God that those words, so wild
politically, can ever be any more than a dream, "Liberty,
Equality, and Fraternity." There you have them, where Jesus is;
not in a republic, but in the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ, where all rule and dominion are vested in Him, and
all of us willingly acknowledge Him as our glorious Head, and all
we are brethren. Never fall into the idea that older believers
were of a superior nature to ourselves. Do not talk of _Saint_
Paul, and _Saint_ Matthew, and _Saint_ Mark, unless you are
prepared to speak of _Saint_ William and _Saint_ Jane sitting over
yonder, for if they be in Christ they are as truly saints as those
first saints were, and I ween there may be some who have attained
even to higher saintship than many whom tradition has canonized.
The heights of saintship are by grace open to us all, and the Lord
invites us to ascend. Do not think that what the Lord wrought in
the early saints cannot be wrought in you. It is because you think
so that you do not pray for it, and because you do not pray for it
you do not attain it. The grace of God sustained the apostles;
that grace is not less to-day than it was then. The Lord's arm is
not shortened; His power is not straitened. If we can but believe,
and be as earnest as those first saints were, we shall subdue
kingdoms yet, and the day shall come when the gods of Hindooism,
and the falsehoods of Mohammed, and the lies of Rome, shall as
certainly be overthrown as were the ancient philosophies and the
classic idolatries of Greece and Rome by the teaching of the first
ministers of Christ. There is the same table for you, and the same
food is there in emblem, and grace can make you like those holy
men, for you are bought with the same blood, and quickened by the
same Spirit. Believe only, for all things are possible to him that
believeth.
Another inference, only to be hinted at, is this, _that the
wants of the Church in all ages will be the same, and the supplies
for the Church's wants will never vary_. There will be the table
still, and the table with the same viands upon it,--bread still,
nothing more than bread for food; wine still, nothing less than
wine for drink. The Church will always want the same food, the
same Christ, the same gospel. Out on ye, traitors, who tell us
that we are to shape our gospel to suit this enlightened
nineteenth century! Out on ye, false-hearts, who would have us
tone down the everlasting truth that shall outlive the sun, and
moon, and stars, to suit your boasted culture, which is but
varnished ignorance! No, that truth which of old was mighty
through God to the pulling down of strongholds, is mighty still,
and we will maintain it to the death; the Church wants the
doctrines of grace to-day as much as when Paul, or Augustine, or
Calvin preached them; the Church wants justification by faith, the
substitutionary atonement, and regeneration, and divine
sovereignty to be preached from her pulpits as much as in days of
yore, and by God's grace she shall have them, too.
Lastly, there is in this truth, that Christ has brought all
His disciples into the position of table-companions, _a prophecy
that this shall be the portion of all His people for ever_. In
heaven there cannot be less of privilege than on earth. It cannot
be that in the celestial state believers will be degraded from
what they have been below. What were they, then, below? Table-
companions. What shall they be in heaven above? Table-companions
still, and blessed is he that shall eat bread in the kingdom of
God. "Many shall come from the east and from the west, and shall
sit down with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of
God," and the Lord Jesus shall be at the head of the table. Now,
what will His table of joy be? Set your imagination to work, and
think what will be His festival of soul when His reward shall be
all before Him, and His triumph all achieved. Have ye imagined it?
Can ye conceive it? Whatever it is, you shall share in it. I
repeat those words, whatever it is, the least believer shall share
in it. You, poor working-woman, oh, what a change for you, to sit
among princes, near to your Lord Jesus, all your toil and want for
ever ended! And you, sad child of suffering, scarcely able to come
up to the assembly of God's people, and going back, perhaps, to
that bed of languishing again, you shall have no pains there, but
you shall be for ever with the Lord, and the joy of Christ shall
be your joy for ever and ever! Oh, can you not realize those words
of Dr. Watts,--
"Yes, and before we rise
To that immortal state,
The thoughts of such amazing bliss
Should constant joys create"?
In the anticipation of the joy that shall be yours, forget
your present troubles, rise superior to the difficulties of the
hour, and if you cannot rejoice in the present, yet rejoice in the
future, which shall so soon be your own.
We finish with this word of deep regret,--regret that many
here cannot understand what we have been talking about, and have
no part in it. There are some of you who must not come to the
table of communion because you do not love Christ. You have not
trusted Him; you have no part in Him. There is no salvation in
sacraments. Believe me, they are but delusions to those who do not
come to Christ with their heart. You must not come to the outward
sign if you have not the thing signified. Here is the way of
Salvation: believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be
saved. To believe in Him is to trust Him; to use an old word, it
is recumbency; it is leaning on Him, resting on Him. Here I lean,
I rest my whole weight on this support before me; do so with
Christ in a spiritual sense: lean on Him. You have a load of sin,
lean on Him, sin and all. You are all unworthy, and weak, and
perhaps miserable; then cast on Him the weakness, the un-
worthiness, the misery and all. Take Him to be all in all to you,
and when you have thus trusted Him, you will have become His
follower; go on by humility to be His disciple, by obedience to be
His servant, by love to be His friend, and by communion to be His
table-companion.
The Lord so lead you, for Jesus' sake! Amen.
A WORD FROM THE BELOVED'S OWN MOUTH.
"And ye are clean."--John xiii. 10.
AS Gideon's fleece was full of dew so that he could wring out the
moisture, so will a text sometimes be when the Holy Spirit deigns
to visit His servants through its words. This utterance of our
Saviour to His disciples has been as a wafer made with honey to
our taste, and we doubt not it may prove equally as sweet to
others.
Observe carefully, dear friends, what _the eulogium_ is which
is here passed upon the Lord's beloved disciples: "Ye are clean."
This is the primeval blessing, so soon lost by our first parents.
This is the virtue, the loss of which shut man out of Paradise,
and continues to shut men out of heaven. The want of cleanness in
heart and hands condemns sinners to banishment from God, and
defiles all their offerings. To be clean before God is the desire
of every penitent, and the highest aspiration of the most advanced
believer. It is what all the ceremonies and ablutions of the law
can never bestow and what Pharisees with all their pretensions
cannot attain. To be clean is to be as the angels are, as
glorified saints are, yea, as the Father Himself is.
Acceptance with the Lord, safety, happiness, and every
blessing, always go with cleanness of heart, and he that hath it
cannot miss of heaven. It seems too high a condition to be
ascribed to mortals, yet, by the lips of Him who could not err,
the disciples were said, without a qualifying word, or adverb of
degree, to be "clean"; that is to say, they were perfectly
justified in the sight of eternal equity, and were regarded as
free from every impurity. Dear friends, is this blessing yours?
Have you ever believed unto righteousness? Have you taken the Lord
Jesus to be your complete cleansing, your sanctification, your
redemption? Has the Holy Spirit ever sealed in your peaceful
spirit the gracious testimony, "ye are clean"? The assurance is
not confined to the apostles, for ye also are "complete in Him,"
"perfect in Christ Jesus," if ye have indeed by faith received the
righteousness of God. The psalmist said, "Wash me, and I shall be
whiter than snow;" if you have been washed, you are even to that
highest and purest degree clean before the Lord, and clean now.
Oh, that all believers would live up to their condition and
privilege; but alas! too many are pining as if they were still
miserable sinners, and forgetting that they are in Christ Jesus
forgiven sinners, and therefore ought to be happy in the Lord.
Remember, beloved believer, that, as one with Christ, you are not
with sinners in the gall of bitterness, but with the saints in the
land which floweth with milk and honey.
Your cleanness is not a thing of degrees, it is not a
variable or vanishing quantity, it is present, abiding, perfect,
you are clean through the Word, through the application of the
blood of sprinkling to the conscience, and through the imputation
of the righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ. Then lift up your
head, and sing for joy of heart, seeing that your transgression is
pardoned, your sin is covered, and in you Jehovah seeth not
iniquity. Dear friends, let not another moment pass till by faith
in Jesus you have grasped this privilege. Be not content to
believe that the priceless boon may be had, but lay hold upon it
for yourself. You will find the song of substitution a choice song
if you are able to sing it.
"In my Surety I am free,
His dear hands were pierced for me;
With his spotless vesture on
Holy as the Holy One."
Much of the force of the sentence before us lies in _the
Person praising_. To be certified as clean by the blind priests of
Rome, would be small comfort to a true Christian. To receive the
approving verdict of our fellow-men is consoling, but it is after
all of small consequence. The human standard of purity is itself
grossly incorrect, and therefore to be judged by it is but a poor
trial, and to be acquitted a slender comfort; but the Lord Jesus
judges no man after the flesh, He came forth from God, and is
Himself God, infinitely just and good, hence His tests are
accurate, and His verdict is absolute. I wot whom He pronounces
clean is clean indeed. Our Lord was omniscient, He would have at
once detected the least evil in His disciples; if there had
remained upon the man unpardoned sin, He must have seen it; if any
relic of condemnation had lingered upon them, He must have
detected it at once, no speck could have escaped His all-
discerning eye; yet did He say without hesitation of all but
Judas, "Ye are clean."
Perhaps they did not catch the full glory of this utterance;
possibly they missed much of that deep joyous meaning, which is
now revealed to us by the Spirit; otherwise, what bliss to have
heard with their own ears from those sacred lips, so plain, so
positive, so sure a testimony to their character before God! Yet
our hearts need not be filled with regret because we cannot hear
that ever-blessed voice with these our earthly ears, for the
testimony of Jesus in the Word is quite as sure as the witness of
His lips when He spoke among the sons of men, and that testimony
is, "Whosoever believeth is justified from all things." Yes, it is
as certain as if you, dear friends, heard the Redeemer Himself
speak, that you are free from all condemning sin if you are
looking with your whole heart to Jesus only as your all in all.
What a joy is yours and mine! He who is to judge the world in
righteousness has Himself affirmed us to be clean. By how much the
condemnation of guilt is black and terrible, by so much the
forgiveness of sin is bright and comforting. Let us rejoice in the
Lord, whose indisputable judgment has given forth a sentence so
joyous, so full of glory.
"Jesus declares me clean,
Then clean indeed I am,
However guilty I have been,
I'm cleansd through the Lamb.
"His lips can never lie,
His eye is never blind,
If he acquit, I can defy
All hell a fault to find."
It may cheer us to call to mind _the persons praised_. They
were not cherubim and seraphim, but men, and notably they were men
compassed with infirmity. There was Peter, who a few minutes after
was forward and presumptuous; and, indeed, it is not needful to
name them one by one, for they all forsook their Master, and fled
in His hour of peril. Not one among them was more than a mere
child in grace; they had little about them that was apostolic
except their commission, they were very evidently men of like
passions with us; yet their Lord declared them to be clean, and
clean they were. Here is good cheer for those souls who are
hungering after righteousness, and pining because they feel so
much of the burden of indwelling sin; for cleanliness before the
Lord is not destroyed by our infirmities, nor prevented by our
inward temptations. We stand in the righteousness of Another. No
measure of personal weakness, spiritual anxiety, soul conflict, or
mental agony can mar our acceptance in the Beloved. We may be weak
infants, or wandering sheep in ourselves, and for both reasons we
may be very far from what we wish to be; but, as God sees us, we
are viewed as washed in the blood of Jesus, and we, even we, are
clean every whit.
What a forcible expression, "clean every whit;" every inch,
from every point of view, in all respects, and to the uttermost
degree! Dear friend, if a believer, this fact is true to _you_,
even to you. Hesitate not to drink, for it is water out of your
own cistern, given to you in the covenant of grace. Think not that
it is presumption to believe the Word, marvellous though it be.
You are dealing with a wonderful Saviour, who only doeth wonderful
things, therefore stand not back on account of the greatness of
the blessing, but rather believe the more readily because the Word
is so like to everything the Lord doeth or speaketh. Yet when thou
hast believed for thyself, and cast every doubt to the wind, thou
wilt not wonder less, but more, and it will be thy never-ceasing
cry, "Whence is this to me?" How is it that I, who wallowed with
swine, should be made pure as the angels? Delivered from the
foulest guilt, is it indeed possible that I am made the possessor
of a perfect righteousness? Sing, O heavens, for the Lord hath
done it, and He shall have everlasting praise!
"Yes, thou, my soul, e'en thou art clean,
The Lord has wash'd thee white as snow,
In spotless beauty thou art seen,
And Jesus hath pronounced thee so.
"Despite thy conflicts, doubts, and fears,
Yet art thou still in Christ all fair,
Haste then to wipe away thy tears,
And make His glory all thy care."
_The time when the praise was given_ is not without
instruction. The word of loving judgment is in the present tense,
"Ye _are_ clean." It is not, "ye were clean," that might be a
rebuke for purity shamelessly sullied, a condemnation for wilful
neglect, a prophecy of wrath to come; neither is it, "ye might
have been clean," that would have been a stern rebuke for
privileges rejected, and opportunities wasted; nor is it even, "ye
shall be clean," though that would have been a delightful prophecy
of good things to come at some distant period; but ye are clean,
at this moment, in this room, and around this table. Though but
just then Peter had spoken so rudely, yet he was even then clean.
What comfort is here amid our present sense of imperfection!
Our cleanness is a matter of this present hour, we are, just here
in our present condition and our position, "clean every whit." Why
then postpone joy? The cause of it is in possession, let the mirth
be even now overflowing. Much of our heritage is certainly future,
but if there were no other boon tangible to faith in this
immediate present, this one blessing alone should awaken all our
powers to the highest praise. Are we even now clothed with the
fair white linen which is the righteousness of saints? Yes, 'tis
even so, for--
"We are wash'd in Jesu's blood,
We're pardon'd through His name;
And the good Spirit of our God
Has sanctified our frame."
Then let us sing a new song unto Jehovah-Tsidkenu, the Lord
our Righteousness.
May the Holy Ghost now bear witness with every believer, "and
ye are clean."
"Then may your souls rejoice and sing,
Then may your voices sweetly ring,
For if your souls through Christ are clear,
What cause have you to faint or fear?"
THE BELIEVER NOT AN ORPHAN.
"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you."--John
xiv. 18.
YOU will notice that the margin reads, "I will not leave you
orphans: I will come to you." In the absence of our Lord Jesus
Christ, the disciples were like children deprived of their
parents. During the three years in which He had been with them, He
had solved all their difficulties, borne all their burdens, and
supplied all their needs. Whenever a case was too hard or too
heavy for them, they took it to Him. When their enemies well nigh
overcame them, Jesus came to the rescue, and turned the tide of
battle. They were all happy and safe enough whilst the Master was
with them; He walked in their midst like a father amid a large
family of children, making all the household glad. But now He was
about to be taken from them by an ignominious death, and they
might well feel that they would be like little children deprived
of their natural and beloved protector. Our Saviour knew the fear
that was in their hearts, and before they could express it, He
removed it by saying, "You shall not be left alone in this wild
and desert world; though I be absent in the flesh, yet I will be
present with you in a more efficacious manner; I will come to you
spiritually, and you shall derive from My spiritual presence even
more good than you could have had from My bodily presence, had I
still continued in your midst."
Observe, first, here is an _evil averted:_ "I will not leave
you orphans;" and, in the second place, here is_ a consolation
provided: _"I will come to you."
I. First, here is, an evil averted.
Without their Lord, believers would, apart from the Holy
Spirit, be like other orphans, unhappy and desolate. Give them
what you might, their loss could not have been recompensed. No
number of lamps can make up for the sun's absence; blaze as they
may, it is still night. No circle of friends can supply to a
bereaved woman the loss of her husband; without him, she is still
a widow. Even thus, without Jesus, it is inevitable that the
saints should be as orphans; but Jesus has promised in the text
that we shall not be so; the one only thing that can remove the
trial He declares shall be ours, "I will come to you."
Now remember, that_ an orphan is one whose parent is dead_.
This in itself is a great sorrow, if there were no other. The dear
father, so well beloved, was suddenly smitten down with sickness;
they watched him with anxiety; they nursed him with sedulous care;
but he expired. The loving eye is closed in darkness for them.
That active hand will no longer toil for the family. That heart
and brain will no longer feel and think for them. Beneath the
green grass the father sleeps, and every time the child surveys
that hollowed hillock his heart swells with grief. Beloved, we are
not orphans in that sense, for our Lord Jesus is not dead. It is
true He died, for one of the soldiers with a spear pierced His
side, and forthwith came thereout blood and water, a sure evidence
that the pericardium had been pierced, and that the fountain of
life had been broken up. He died, 'tis certain, but He is not dead
now. Go not to the grave to seek Him. Angel voices say, "He is not
here, for He is risen." He could not be holden by the bands of
death. We do not worship a dead Christ, nor do we even think of
Him now as a corpse. That picture on the wall, which the Romanists
paint and worship, represents Christ as dead; but oh! it is so
good to think of Christ as living, remaining in an existence real
and true, none the less living because He died, but all the more
truly full of life because He has passed through the portals of
the grave, and is now reigning for ever. See then, dear friends,
the bitter root of the orphan's sorrow is gone from us, for our
Jesus is not dead now. No mausoleum enshrines His ashes, no
pyramid entombs His body, no monument records the place of His
permanent sepulchre.
"He lives, the great Redeemer lives,
What joy the blest assurance gives!"
We are not orphans, for "the Lord is risen indeed."
The orphan has a sharp sorrow springing out of the death of
his parent, namely, that _he is left alone_. He cannot now make
appeals to the wisdom of the parent who could direct him. He
cannot run, as once he did, when he was weary, to climb the
paternal knee. He cannot lean his aching head upon the parental
bosom. "Father," he may say, but no voice gives an answer.
"Mother," he may cry, but that fond title, which would awaken the
mother if she slept, cannot arouse her from the bed of death. The
child is alone, alone as to those two hearts which were its best
companions. The parent and lover are gone. The little ones know
what it is to be deserted and forsaken. But we are not so; we are
not orphans. It is true Jesus is not here in body, but His
spiritual presence is quite as blessed as His bodily presence
would have been. Nay, it is better, for supposing Jesus Christ to
be here in person, you could not all come and touch the hem of His
garment,--not all at once, at any rate. There might be thousands
waiting all the world over to speak with Him; but how could they
all reach Him, if He were merely here in body? You might all be
wanting to tell Him something, but in the body He could only
receive some one or two of you at a time.
But in spirit there is no need for you to stir from the pew,
no need to say a word; Jesus hears your thoughts talk, and attends
to all your needs at the same moment. No need to press to get at
Him because the throng is great, for He is as near to me as He is
to you, and as near to you as to saints in America, or the islands
of the Southern Sea. He is everywhere present, and all His beloved
may talk with Him. You can tell Him at this moment the sorrows
which you dare not open up to anyone else. You will feel that, in
declaring them to Him, you have not breathed them to the air, but
that a real Person has heard you, One as real as though you could
grip His hand, and could see the loving flash of His eye and mark
the sympathetic change of His countenance.
Is it not so with you, ye children of a living Saviour? You
know it is; you have a Friend that sticketh closer than a brother.
You have a near and dear One, who, in the dead of the night is in
the chamber, and in the heat and burden of the day is in the field
of labour. You are not orphans, the "Wonderful, Counsellor, the
mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace," is with
you; your Lord is here; and, as one whom his mother comforteth, so
Jesus comforts you.
The orphan, too, has _lost the kind hand which took care
always that food and raiment should be provided, that the table
should be well stored, and that the house should be kept in
comfort_. Poor feeble one, who will provide for his wants? His
father is dead, his mother is gone: who will take care of the
little wanderer now? But it is not so with us. Jesus has not left
us orphans; His care for His people is no less now than it was
when He sat at the table with Mary, and Martha, and Lazarus, whom
"Jesus loved." Instead of the provisions being less, they are even
greater, for since the Holy Spirit has been given to us, we have
richer fare and are more indulged with spiritual comforts than
believers were before the bodily presence of the Master had
departed. Do your souls hunger to-night? Jesus gives you the bread
of heaven. Do you thirst to-night? The waters from the rock cease
not to flow.
"Come, make your wants, your burdens known."
You have but to make known your needs to have them all
supplied, Christ waits to be gracious in the midst of this
assembly. He is here with His golden hand, opening that hand to
supply the wants of every living soul. "Oh!" saith one, "I am poor
and needy." Go on with the quotation. "Yet the Lord thinketh upon
me." "Ah" saith another, "I have besought the Lord thrice to take
away a thorn in the flesh from me." Remember what he said to Paul,
"My grace is sufficient for thee." You are not left without the
strength you want. The Lord is your Shepherd still. He will
provide for you till He leads you through death's dark valley, and
brings you to the shining pastures upon the hill-tops of glory.
You are not destitute, you need not beg an asylum from an ungodly
world by bowing to its demands, or trusting its vain promises, for
Jesus will never leave you nor forsake you.
The orphan, too, is _left without the instruction which is
most suitable for a child_. We may say what we will, but there is
none so fit to form a child's character as the parent. It is a
very sad loss for a child to have lost either father or mother in
its early days; for the most skilful preceptor, though he may do
much, by the blessing of God very much, is but a stop-gap, and but
half makes up for the original ordinance of Providence, that the
parent's love should fashion the child's mind. But, dear friends,
we are not orphans; we who believe in Jesus are not left without
an education. Jesus is not here Himself, it is true. I dare say
some of you wish you could come on Lord's-days, and listen to Him!
Would it not be sweet to look up to this pulpit, and see the
Crucified One, and to hear Him preach? Ah! so you think, but the
apostle says, "Though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet
now henceforth know we Him no more."
It is most for your profit that you should receive the Spirit
of truth, not through the golden vessel of Christ in His actual
presence here, but through the poor earthen vessels of humble
servants of God like ourselves. At any rate, whether _we_ speak,
or an angel from heaven, the speaker matters not; it is the Spirit
of God alone that is the power of the Word, and makes that Word to
become vital and quickening to you. Now, you have the Spirit of
God. The Holy Spirit is so given, that there is not a truth which
you may not understand. You may be led into the deepest mysteries
by His teaching. You may be made to know and to comprehend those
knotty points in the Word of God which have hitherto puzzled you.
You have but humbly to look up to Jesus, and His Spirit will still
teach you. I tell you, though you are poor and ignorant, and
perhaps can scarcely read a word in the Bible; for all that, you
may be better instructed in the things of God than doctors of
divinity, if you go to the Holy Spirit, and are taught of Him.
Those who go only to books and to the letter, and are taught of
men, may be fools in the sight of God; but those who go to Jesus,
and sit at His feet, and ask to be taught of His Spirit, shall be
wise unto salvation. Blessed be God, there are not a few amongst
us of this sort. We are not left orphans; we have an Instructor
with us still.
There is one point in which the orphan is often sorrowfully
reminded of his orphanhood, namely,_ in lacking a defender_. It is
so natural in little children, when some big boy molests them, to
say, "I'll tell my father!" How often did we use to say so, and
how often have we heard from the little ones since, "I'll tell
mother!" Sometimes, the not being able to do this is a much
severer loss than we can guess. Unkind and cruel men have snatched
away from orphans the little which a father's love had left
behind; and in the court of law there has been no defender to
protect the orphan's goods. Had the father been there, the child
would have had its rights, scarcely would any have dared to
infringe them; but, in the absence of the father, the orphan is
eaten up like bread, and the wicked of the earth devour his
estate. In this sense, the saints are not orphans. The devil would
rob us of our heritage if he could, but there is an Advocate with
the Father who pleads for us. Satan would snatch from us every
promise, and tear from us all the comforts of the covenant; but we
are not orphans, and when he brings a suit-at-law against us, and
thinks that we are the only defendants in the case, he is
mistaken, for we have an Advocate on high. Christ comes in and
pleads, as the sinners' Friend, for us; and when _He_ pleads at
the bar of justice, there is no fear but that His plea will be of
effect, and our inheritance shall be safe. He has not left us
orphans.
Now I want, without saying many words, to get you who love
the Master to feel what a very precious thought this is, that you
are not alone in this world; that, if you have no earthly friends,
if you have none to whom you can take your cares, if you are quite
lonely so far as outward friends are concerned, yet Jesus is with
you, is really with you, practically with you, able to help you,
and ready to do so, and that you have a good and kind Protector
close at hand at this present moment, for Christ has said it: "I
will not leave you orphans."
II. Secondly, there is, a consolation provided: The remedy by
which the evil is averted is this, our Lord Jesus said, "_I will
come to you_."
What does this mean? Does it not mean, from the connection,
this--"_I will come to you by My Spirit"? _Beloved, we must not
confuse the Persons of the Godhead. The Holy Spirit is not the Son
of God; Jesus, the Son of God, is not the Holy Spirit.
They are two distinct Persons of the one Godhead. But yet
there is such a wonderful unity, and the blessed Spirit acts so
marvellously as the Vicar of Christ, that it is quite correct to
say that, when the Spirit comes, Jesus comes, too, and "I will
come to you," means "I, by My Spirit, who shall take My place, and
represent Me, I will come to be with you." See then, Christian,
you have the Holy Spirit in you and with you to be the
Representative of Christ. Christ is with you now, not in person,
but by His Representative,--an efficient, almighty, divine,
everlasting Representative, who stands for Christ, and is as
Christ to you in His presence in your souls. Because you thus have
Christ by His Spirit, you cannot be orphans, for the Spirit of God
is always with you. It is a delightful truth that the Spirit of
God always dwells in believers;--not sometimes, but always. He is
not always active in believers, and He may be grieved until His
sensible presence is altogether withdrawn, but His secret presence
is always there. At no single moment is the Spirit of God wholly
gone from a believer. The believer would die spiritually if this
could happen, but that cannot be, for Jesus has said, "Because I
live, ye shall live also." Even when the believer sins, the Holy
Spirit does not utterly depart from him, but is still in him to
make him smart for the sin into which he has fallen. The
believer's prayers prove that the Holy Spirit is still within him.
"Take not Thy Holy Spirit from me," was the prayer of a saint who
had fallen very foully, but in whom the Spirit of God still kept
His residence, notwithstanding all the foulness of his guilt and
sin.
But, beloved, in addition to this, Jesus Christ by His
Spirit _makes visits to His people of a peculiar kind_. The Holy
Ghost becomes wonderfully active and potent at certain times of
refreshing. We are then especially and joyfully sensible of His
divine power. His influence streams through every chamber of our
nature, and floods our dark soul with His glorious rays, as the
sun shining in its strength. Oh, how delightful this is! Sometimes
we have felt this at the Lord's table. My soul pants to sit with
you at that table, because I do remember many a happy time when
the emblems of bread and wine have assisted my faith, and kindled
the passions of my soul into a heavenly flame. I am equally sure
that, at the prayer-meeting, under the preaching of the Word, in
private meditation, and in searching the Scriptures, we can say
that Jesus Christ has come to us. What! have you no hill Mizar to
remember?--
"No Tabor-visits to recount,
When with Him in the Holy Mount"?
Oh, yes! some of these blessed seasons have left their
impress upon our memories, so that, amongst our dying thoughts,
will mingle the remembrance of those blessed seasons when Jesus
Christ manifested Himself unto us as He doth not unto the world.
Oh, to be wrapped in that crimson vest, closely pressed 'to His
open side!' Oh, to put our finger into the print of nails, and
thrust our hand into His side! We know what this means by past
experience.
"Dear Shepherd of Thy chosen few,
Thy former mercies here renew."
Permit us once again to feel the truth of the promise, "I
will not leave you orphans; I will come to you." And now,
gathering up the few thoughts I have uttered, let me remind you,
dear friends, that every word of the text is instructive: "I will
not leave you orphans: I will come to you." Observe the "I" there
twice over. "I will not leave you orphans; father and mother may,
but I will not; friends once beloved may turn stony-hearted, but I
will not; Judas may play the traitor, and Ahithophel may betray
his David, but I will not leave you comfortless. You have had many
disappointments, great heart-breaking sorrows, but I have never
caused you any; I--the faithful and the true Witness, the
immutable, the unchangeable Jesus, the same yesterday, to-day, and
for ever, I will not leave you comfortless; I will come unto you."
Catch at that word, "I," and let your souls say, "Lord, I am not
worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof; if Thou hadst said,
'I will send an angel to thee,' it would have been a great mercy,
but what sayest Thou, 'I will come unto thee'? If Thou hadst
bidden some of my brethren come and speak a word of comfort to me,
I had been thankful, but Thou hast put it thus in the first
person, 'I will come unto you.' O my Lord, what shall I say, what
shall I do, but feel a hungering and a thirsting after Thee, which
nothing shall satisfy till Thou shalt fulfil Thine own Word, 'I
will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you'"?
And then notice the persons to whom it is addressed, "I will
not leave _you_ comfortless, _you_, Peter, who will deny Me;
_you_, Thomas, who will doubt Me; I will not leave you
comfortless." O you who are so little in Israel that you sometimes
think it is a pity that your name is in the church-book at all,
because you feel yourselves to be so worthless, so unworthy, He
will not leave _you_ comfortless, not even _you! _"O Lord," thou
sayest, "if Thou wouldst look after the rest of Thy sheep, I would
bless Thee for Thy tenderness to them, but _I_--I deserve to be
left; if I were forsaken of Thee, I could not blame Thee, for I
have played the harlot against Thy love, but yet Thou sayest, 'I
will not leave _you_.'" Heir of heaven, do not lose your part in
this promise. I pray you say, "Lord, come unto me, and though Thou
refresh all my brethren, yet, Lord, refresh me with some of the
droppings of Thy love; O Lord, fill the cup _for me; my_ thirsty
spirit pants for it.
"'I thirst, I faint, I die to prove
The greatness of redeeming love,
The love of Christ to me.'
Now, Lord, fulfil Thy word to Thine unworthy handmaid, as I
stand like Hannah in Thy presence. Come unto me, Thy servant,
unworthy to lift so much as his eyes towards heaven, and only
daring to say, 'God be merciful to me a sinner.' Fulfil Thy
promise even to me, 'I will not leave you comfortless; I will come
to you.'"
Take whichever of the words you will, and they each one
sparkle and flash after this sort. Observe, too, _the richness and
sufficiency of the text: _"I will not leave you comfortless: I
will come to you." He does not promise, "I will send you
sanctifying grace, or sustaining mercy, or precious mercy," but He
says, what is the only thing that will prevent your being orphans,
"I will come to you." Ah! Lord, Thy grace is sweet, but Thou art
better. The vine is good, but the clusters are better. It is well
enough to have a gift from Thy hand, but oh! to touch the hand
itself. It is well enough to hear the words of Thy lips, but oh!
to kiss those lips as the spouse did in the Song, this is better
still. You know, if there be an orphan child, you cannot prevent
its continuing an orphan. You may feel great kindness towards it,
supply its wants, and do all you possibly can towards it, but it
is an orphan still. It must get its father and its mother back, or
else it will still be an orphan. So, our blessed Lord, knowing
this, does not say, "I will do this and that for you," but, "I
will come to you."
Do you not see, dear friends, here is not only all you can
want, but all you think you can want, wrapped up in a sentence, "I
will come to you"? "It pleased the Father that in Him should all
fulness dwell;" so that, when Christ comes, in Him "all fulness"
comes. "In Him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily," so
that, when Jesus comes, the very Godhead comes to the believer.
"All my capacious powers can wish
In Thee doth richly meet;"
and if Thou shalt come to me, it is better than all the gifts
of Thy covenant. If I get Thee, I get all, and more than all, at
once. Observe, then, the language and the sufficiency of the
promise.
But I want you to notice, further, _the continued freshness
and force of the promise. _Somebody here owes another person fifty
pounds, and he gives him a note of hand, "I promise to pay you
fifty pounds." Very well! the man calls with that note of hand to-
morrow, and gets fifty pounds. And what is the good of the note of
hand now? Why, it is of no further value, it is discharged. How
would you like to have a note of hand which would always stand
good? That would be a right royal present. "I promise to pay
evermore, and this bond, though paid a thousand times, shall still
hold good." Who would not like to have a cheque of that sort? Yet
this is the promise which Christ gives you, "I will not leave you
orphans: I will come to you." The first time a sinner looks to
Christ, Christ comes to him. And what then? Why, the next minute
it is still, "I will come to you." But here is one who has known
Christ for fifty years, and he has had this promise fulfilled a
thousand times a year: is it not done with? Oh, no! there it
stands, just as fresh as when Jesus first spoke it, "I will come
to you." Then we will treat our Lord in His own fashion, and take
Him at His word. We will go to Him as often as ever we can, for we
shall never weary Him; and when He has kept His promise most, then
is it that we will go to Him, and ask Him to keep it more still;
and after ten thousand proofs of the truth of it, we will only
have a greater hungering and thirsting to get it fulfilled again.
This is fit provision for life, and for death, "I will come to
you." In the last moment, when your pulse beats faintly, and you
are just about to pass the curtain, and enter into the invisible
world, you may have this upon your lips, and say to your Lord, "My
Master, still fulfil the word on which Thou hast caused me to
hope, 'I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.'"
Let me remind you that _the text is at this moment valid_,
and for this I delight in it. "I will not leave you comfortless."
That means _now_, "I will not leave you comfortless now." Are you
comfortless at this hour? It is your own fault. Jesus Christ does
not leave you so, nor make you so. There are rich and precious
things in this word, "I will not leave you comfortless: I will
come to you, I will come to you now." It may be a very dull time
with you, and you are pining to come nearer to Christ. Very well,
then plead the promise before the Lord. Plead the promise as you
sit where you are: "Lord, Thou hast said Thou wilt come unto me;
come unto me to-night." There are many reasons, believer, why you
should plead thus. You want Him; you need Him; you require Him;
therefore plead the promise, and expect its fulfilment. And oh!
when He cometh, what a joy it is; He is as a bridegroom coming out
of his chamber with his garments fragrant with aloes and cassia!
How well the oil of joy will perfume your heart! How soon will
your sackcloth be put away, and the garments of gladness adorn
you! With what joy of heart will your heavy soul begin to sing
when Jesus Christ shall whisper that you are His, and that He is
yours! Come, my Beloved, make no tarrying; be Thou like a roe or a
young hart upon the mountains of separation, and prove to me Thy
promise true, "I will not leave you orphans: I will come to you."
And now, dear friends, in conclusion, let me remind you that
_there are many who have no share in the text_. What can I say to
such? From my soul I pity you who do not know what the love of
Christ means. Oh! if you could but tell the joy of God's people,
you would not rest an hour without it.
"His worth, if all the nations knew,
Sure the whole world would love Him too."
Remember, if you would find Christ, He is to be found in the
way of faith. Trust Him, and He is yours. Depend upon the merit of
His sacrifice; cast yourselves entirely upon that, and you are
saved, and Christ is yours.
God grant that we may all break bread in the kingdom above,
and feast with Jesus, and share His glory! We are expecting His
second coming. He is coming personally and gloriously. This is the
brightest hope of His people. This will be the fulness of their
redemption, the time of their resurrection. Anticipate it,
beloved, and may God make your souls to sing for joy!
"'Mid the splendours of the glory
Which we hope ere long to share;
Christ our Head, and we His members,
Shall appear, divinely fair.
Oh, how glorious!
When we meet Him in the air!
"Bright the prospect soon that greets us
Of that long'd-for nuptial day,
When our heavenly Bridegroom meets us
On His kingly, conquering way;
In the glory,
Bride and Bridegroom reign for aye!"
COMMUNION WITH CHRIST AND HIS PEOPLE.
AN ADDRESS AT A COMMUNION SERVICE AT MENTONE.
"The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion
of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the
communion of the body of Christ? For we being many are one bread,
and one body: for we are all partakers of that one bread."--1 Cor.
x. 16, 17.
I WILL read you the text as it is given in the Revised Version:
"The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a communion of the
blood of Christ?" That is to say,--Is it not one form of
expressing the communion of the blood of Christ? "The bread," or
as it is in the margin, "the loaf which we break, is it not a
communion of the body of Christ? seeing that we, who are many, are
one loaf, one body: for we all partake of the one loaf." The word
"loaf" helps to bring out more clearly the idea of unity intended
to be set forth by the apostle.
It is a lamentable fact that some have fancied that this
simple ordinance of the Lord's supper has a certain magical, or at
least physical power about it, so that, by the mere act of eating
and drinking this bread and wine, men can be made partakers of the
body and blood of Christ. It is marvellous that so plain a symbol
should have been so complicated by genuflexions, adornments, and
technical phrases. Can anyone see the slightest resemblance
between the Master's sitting down with the twelve, and the mass of
the Roman community? The original rite is lost in the super-
imposed ritual. Superstition has produced a sacrament where Jesus
intended a fellowship. Too many, who would not go the length of
Rome, yet speak of this simple feast as if it were a mystery dark
and obscure. They employ all manner of hard words to turn the
children's bread into a stone. It is not the Lord's supper, but
the Eucharist; we see before us no plate, but a "paten"; the cup
is a "chalice" and the table is an "altar." These are
incrustations of superstition, whereby the blessed ordinance of
Christ is likely to be again overgrown and perverted.
What does this supper mean? It means communion: _communion
with Christ, and communion with one another_.
What is communion? The word breaks up easily into union, and
its prefix _com_, which means _with_, union with. We must,
therefore, first enjoy union with Christ, and with His Church, or
else we cannot enjoy communion. Union lies at the basis of com-
munion. We must be one with Christ in heart, and soul, and life;
baptized into His death; quickened by His life, and so brought to
be members of His body, one with the whole Church of which He is
the Head. We cannot have communion with Christ till we are in
union with _Him_; and we cannot have communion with the Church
till we are in vital union with _it_.
I. The teaching of the Lord's supper is just this--that while
we have many ways of communion with Christ, yet the receiving of
Christ into our souls as our Saviour is the best way of communion
with Him.
I said, dear friends, that we have many ways of communion
with Christ; let me show you that it is so.
Communion is ours by _personal intercourse_ with the Lord
Jesus. We speak with Him in prayer, and He speaks with us through
the Word. Some of us speak oftener with Christ than we do with
wife or child, and our communion with Jesus is deeper and more
thorough than our fellowship with our nearest friend. In
meditation and its attendant thanksgiving we speak with our risen
Lord, and by His Holy Spirit He answers us by creating fresh
thought and emotion in our minds. I like sometimes in prayer, when
I do not feel that I can say anything, just to sit still, and look
up; then faith spiritually descries the Well-beloved, and hears
His voice in the solemn silence of the mind. Thus we have
intercourse with Jesus of a closer sort than any words could
possibly express. Our soul melts beneath the warmth of Jesus'
love, and darts upward her own love in return. Think not that I am
dreaming, or am carried off by the memory of some unusual
rhapsody: no, I assert that the devout soul can converse with the
Lord Jesus all the day, and can have as true fellowship with Him
as if He still dwelt bodily among men. This thing comes to me, not
by the hearing of the ear, but by my own personal experience: I
know of a surety that Jesus manifests Himself unto His people as
He doth not unto the world.
Ah, what sweet communion often exists between the saint and
the Well-beloved, when there is no bread and wine upon the table,
for the Spirit Himself draws the heart of the renewed one, and it
runs after Jesus, while the Lord Himself appears unto the longing
spirit! Truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with His Son
Jesus Christ. Do _you_ enjoy this charming converse?
Next, we have communion with Christ _in His thoughts, views,
and purposes;_ for His thoughts are our thoughts according to our
capacity and sanctity. Believers take the same view of matters as
Jesus does; that which pleases Him pleases them, and that which
grieves Him grieves them also. Consider, for instance, the
greatest theme of our thought, and see whether our thoughts are
not like those of Christ. He delights in the Father, He loves to
glorify the Father: do not we? Is not the Father the centre of our
soul's delight? Do we not rejoice at the very sound of His name?
Does not our spirit cry, "Abba, Father"? Thus it is clear we feel
as Jesus feels towards the Father, and so we have the truest
communion with Him. This is but one instance; your contemplations
will bring before you a wide variety of topics wherein we think
with Jesus. Now, identity of judgment, opinion, and purpose forms
the highway of communion; yea, it is communion.
We have also communion with Christ _in our emotions_. Have
you never felt a holy horror when you have heard a word of
blasphemy in the street? Thus Jesus felt when He saw sin, and bore
it in His own person: only He felt it infinitely more than you do.
Have you never felt as you looked upon sinners that you must weep
over them? Those are holy tears, and contain the same ingredients
as those which Jesus shed when He lamented over Jerusalem. Yes, in
our zeal for God, our hatred of sin, our detestation of falsehood,
our pity for men, we have true communion with Jesus.
Further, we have had fellowship with Christ _in many of our
actions_. Have you ever tried to teach the ignorant? This Jesus
did. Have you found it difficult? So Jesus found it. Have you
striven to reclaim the backslider? Then you were in communion with
the Good Shepherd who hastens into the wilderness to find the one
lost sheep, finds it, lays it upon His shoulders, and brings it
home rejoicing. Have you ever watched over a soul night and day
with tears? Then you have had communion with Him who has borne all
our names upon His broken heart, and carries the memorial of them
upon His pierced hands. Yes, in acts of self-denial, liberality,
benevolence, and piety, we enter into communion with Him who went
about doing good. Whenever we try to disentangle the snarls of
strife, and to make peace between men who are at enmity, then are
we doing what the great Peace-maker did, and we have communion
with the Lord and Giver of peace. Wherever, indeed, we co-operate
with the Lord Jesus in His designs of love to men, we are in true
and active communion with Him.
So it is _with our sorrows_. Certain of us have had large
fellowship with the Lord Jesus in affliction. "Jesus wept": He
lost a friend, and so have we. Jesus grieved over the hardness of
men's hearts: we know that grief. Jesus was exceedingly sorry that
the hopeful young man turned away, and went back to the world: we
know that sorrow. Those who have sympathetic hearts, and live for
others, readily enter into the experience of "the Man of sorrows."
The wounds of calumny, the reproaches of the proud, the venom of
the bigoted, the treachery of the false, and the weakness of the
true, we have known in our measure; and therein have had communion
with our Lord Jesus.
Nor this alone: we have been with our Divine Master_ in His
joys_. I suppose there never lived a happier man than the Lord
Jesus. He was rightly called "the Man of sorrows"; but He might,
with unimpeachable truth, have been called, "the Man of joys." He
must have rejoiced as He called His disciples, and they came unto
Him; as He bestowed healing and relief; as He gave pardon to
penitents, and breathed peace on believers. His was the joy of
finding the sheep, and taking the piece of money out of the dust.
His work was His joy: such joy that, for its sake, He endured the
cross, despising the shame. The exercise of benevolence is joy to
loving hearts: the more pain it costs, the more joy it is. Kind
actions make us happy, and in such joy we find communion with the
great heart of Jesus.
Thus have I given you a list of windows of agate and gates of
carbuncle through which you may come at the Lord; but the
ordinance of the Lord's supper sets forth a way which surpasses
them all. It is the most accessible and the most effectual method
of fellowship. Here it is that we have fellowship with the Lord
Jesus by receiving Him as our Saviour. We, being guilty, accept of
His atonement as our sacrificial cleansing, and in token thereof
we eat this bread and drink this cup. "Oh!" says one, "I do not
feel that I can get near to Christ. He is so high and holy, and I
am only a poor sinner." Just so. For that very reason you can have
fellowship with Christ in that which lies nearest to His heart: He
is a Saviour, and to be a Saviour there must be a sinner to be
saved. Be you that one, and Christ and you shall at once be in
union and communion: He shall save, and you shall be saved; He
shall sanctify, and you shall be sanctified; and twain shall thus
be one. This table sets before you His great sacrifice. Jesus has
offered it; will you accept it? He does not ask you to bring
anything,--no drop of blood, no pang of flesh; all is here, and
your part is to come and partake of it, even as of old the offerer
partook of the peace-offering which he had brought, and so feasted
with God and with the priest. If you work for Christ, that will
certainly be some kind of fellowship with Him; but I tell you that
the communion of receiving him into your inmost soul is the
nearest and closest fellowship possible to mortal man. The
fellowship of service is exceedingly honourable, when we and
Christ work together for the same objects; the fellowship of
suffering is exceedingly instructive, when our heart has graven
upon it the same characters as were graven upon the heart of
Christ: but the fellowship of the soul which receives Christ, and
is received by Christ, is closer, more vital, more essential than
any other.
Such fellowship is eternal. No power upon earth can
henceforth take from me the piece of bread which I have just now
eaten, it has gone where it will be made up into blood, and nerve,
and muscle, and bone. It is within me, and of me. That drop of
wine has coursed through my veins, and is part and parcel of my
being. So he that takes Jesus by faith to be his Saviour has
chosen the good part which shall not be taken away from him. He
has received the Christ into his inward parts, and all the men on
earth, and all the devils in hell, cannot extract Christ from him.
Jesus saith, "He that eateth Me, even he shall live by Me." By our
sincere reception of Jesus into our hearts, an indissoluble union
is established between us and the Lord, and this manifests itself
in mutual communion. To as many as received Him, to them has He
given this communion, even to them that believe on His name.
II. I have now to look at another side of communion,--namely,
the fellowship of true believers with each other. We have many
ways of communing the one with the other, but there is no way of
mutual communing like the common reception of the same Christ in
the same way. I have said that there are many ways in which
Christians commune with one another, and these doors of fellowship
I would mention at some length.
Let me go over much the same ground as before. We commune by
_holy converse_. I wish we had more of this. Time was when they
that feared the Lord spake often one to another; I am afraid that
now they more often speak one against another. It is a grievous
thing that full often love lies bleeding by a brother's hand.
Where we are not quite so bad as that, yet we are often backward
and silent, and so miss profitable converse. Our insular reserve
has often made one Christian sit by another in utter isolation,
when each would have been charmed with the other's company.
Children of one family need not wait to be introduced to each
other: having eaten of this one bread, we have given and received
the token of brotherhood; let us therefore act consistently with
our relationship, and fall into holy conversation next time we
meet. I am afraid that Christian brotherhood in many cases begins
and ends inside the place of worship. Let it not be so among us.
Let it be our delight to find our society in the circle of which
Jesus is the centre, and let us make those our friends who are the
friends of Jesus. By frequent united prayer and praise, and by
ministering the one to the other the things which we have learned
by the Spirit, we shall have fellowship with each other in our
Lord Jesus Christ.
I am sure that all Christians have fellowship together in
their _thoughts_. In the essentials of the gospel we think alike:
in our thoughts of God, of Christ, of sin, of holiness, we keep
step; in our intense desire to promote the kingdom of our Lord, we
are as one. All spiritual life is one. The thoughts raised by the
Spirit of God in the souls of men are never contrary to each
other. I say not that the thoughts of all professors agree, but I
do assert that the minds of the truly regenerate in all sects, and
in all ages, are in harmony with each other,--a harmony which
often excites delighted surprise in those who perceive it. The
marks that divide one set of nominal Christians from another set
are very deep and wide to those who have nothing of religion but
the name; yet living believers scarcely notice them. Boundaries
which separate the cattle of the field are no division to the
birds of the air. Our minds, thoughts, desires, and hopes are one
in Christ Jesus, and herein we have communion.
Beloved friends, our _emotions_ are another royal road of
fellowship. You sit down and tell your experience, and I smile to
think that you are telling mine. Sometimes a young believer
enlarges upon the sad story of his trials and temptations,
imagining that nobody ever had to endure so great a fight, when
all the while he is only describing the common adventures of those
who go on pilgrimage, and we are all communing with him. When we
talk together about our Lord, are we not agreed? When we speak of
our Father, and all His dealings with us, are we not one? And when
we weep, and when we sigh, and when we sing, and when we rejoice,
are we not all akin? Heavenly fingers touching like strings within
our hearts bring forth the self-same notes, for we are the
products of the same Maker, and tuned to the same praise. Real
harmony exists among all the true people of God: Christians are
one in Christ.
We have communion with one another, too, in our _actions_. We
unite in trying to save men: I hope we do. We join in instructing,
warning, inviting, and persuading sinners to come to Jesus. Our
life-ministry is the same: we are workers together with God. We
live out the one desire,--"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in
earth, as it is in heaven."
Certainly we have much communion one with the other in our
_sufferings_. There is not a poor sick or despondent saint upon
the earth with whom we do not sympathize at this moment, for we
are fellow-members, and partakers of the sufferings of Christ. I
hope we can say,
"Is there a lamb in all Thy flock,
I would disdain to feed?
Is there a foe, before whose face,
I fear Thy cause to plead?"
No, we suffer with each other, and bear each other's burden,
and so fulfil the law of Christ. If we do not, we have reason for
questioning our own faith; but if we do so, we have communion with
each other.
I hope we have fellowship in our _joys_. Is one happy? We
would not envy him, but rejoice with him. Perhaps this is not so
universal as it should be among professors. Are we at once glad
because another prospers? If another star outshines ours, do we
delight in its radiance? When we meet a brother with ten talents,
do we congratulate ourselves on having such a man given to help
us, or do we depreciate him as much as we can? Such is the
depravity of our nature, that we do not readily rejoice in the
progress of others if they leave us behind; but we must school
ourselves to this. A man will speedily sit down and sympathize
with a friend's griefs; but if he sees him honoured and esteemed,
he is apt to regard him as a rival, and does not so readily
rejoice with him. This ought not to be; without effort we ought to
be happy in our brother's happiness. If we are ill, be this our
comfort, that many are in robust health; if we are faint, let us
be glad that others are strong in the Lord. Thus shall we enjoy a
happy fellowship like that of the perfected above.
When I have put all these modes of Christian communion
together, no one of them is so sure, so strong, so deep, as
communion in receiving the same Christ as our Saviour, and
trusting in the same blood for cleansing unto eternal life. Here
on the table you have the tokens of the broadest and fullest
communion. This is a kind of communion which you and I cannot
choose or reject: if we are in Christ, it is and must be ours.
Certain brethren restrict their communion in the outward
ordinance, and they think they have good reasons for doing so; but
I am unable to see the force of their reasoning, because I
joyfully observe that these brethren commune with other believers
in prayer, and praise, and hearing of the Word, and other ways:
the fact being that the matter of real communion is very largely
beyond human control, and is to the spiritual body what the
circulation of the blood is to the natural body, a necessary
process not dependent upon volition. In perusing a deeply
spiritual book of devotion, you have been charmed and benefitted,
and yet upon looking at the title-page it may be you have found
that the author belonged to the Church of Rome. What then? Why,
then it has happened that the inner life has broken all barriers,
and your spirits have communed. For my own part, in reading
certain precious works, I have loathed their Romanism, and yet I
have had close fellowship with their writers in weeping over sin,
in adoring at the foot of the cross, and in rejoicing in the
glorious enthronement of our Lord. Blood is thicker than water,
and no fellowship is more inevitable and sincere than fellowship
in the precious blood, and in the risen life of our Lord Jesus
Christ. Here, in the common reception of the one loaf, we bear
witness that we are one; and in the actual participation of all
the chosen in the one redemption, that unity is in very deed
displayed and matured in the most substantial manner. Washed in
the one blood, fed on the same loaf, cheered by the same cup, all
differences pass away, and "we, being many, are one body in
Christ, and every one members one of another."
Now, then, dear friends, if this kind of fellowship be the
best, let us take care to enjoy it. Let us at this hour avail
ourselves of it.
Let us take care to _see Christ_ in the mirror of this
ordinance. Have any of you eaten the bread, and yet have you not
seen Christ? Then you have gained no benefit. Have you drunk the
wine, but have you not remembered the Lord? Alas! I fear you have
eaten and drunk condemnation to yourselves, not discerning the
Lord's body. But if you did see through the emblems, as aged
persons see through their spectacles, then you have been thankful
for such aids to vision. But what is the use of glasses if there
is nothing to look at? and what is the use of the communion if
Christ be not in our thoughts and hearts?
If you did discern the Lord, then be sure, again, to _accept
Him_. Say to yourself, "All that Christ is to any, He shall be to
me. Does He save sinners? He shall save me. Does He change men's
hearts? He shall change mine. Is He all in all to those that trust
Him? He shall be all in all to me." I have heard persons say that
they do not know how to take Christ. What says the apostle? "The
Word is nigh thee, even in thy mouth, and in thy heart." If you
have something in your mouth that you desire to eat, what is the
best thing to do? Will you not swallow it? That is exactly what
faith does. Christ's word of grace is very near you, it is on your
tongue; let it go down into your inmost soul. Say to your Saviour,
"I know I am not fit to receive Thee, O Jesus, but since Thou dost
graciously come to me as bread comes to the hungry, I thankfully
receive Thee, rejoicing to feed upon Thee! Since Thou dost come to
me as the fruit of the vine to a thirsty man, Lord, I take Thee,
willingly, and I thank Thee that this reception is all that Thou
dost require of me. Has not Thy Spirit so put it--'As many as
received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God,
even to them that believe on His name'?"
Beloved friends, when you have thus received Jesus, fail not
to _rejoice in Him_ as having received Him. How many there are who
have received Christ, who talk and act as if they never had
received Him! It is a poor dinner of which a man says, after he
has eaten it, that he feels as if he had not dined; and it is a
poor Christ of whom anyone can say, "I have received Him, but I am
none the happier, none the more at peace." If you have received
Jesus into your heart, you _are_ saved, you _are_ justified. Do
you whisper, "I hope so"? Is that all? Do you not know? The
hopings and hoppings of so many are a poor way of going; put both
feet down, and say, "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded
that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him
against that day." You are either saved or lost; there is no state
between the two. You are either pardoned or condemned; and you
have good reason for the highest happiness, or else you have grave
causes for the direst anxiety. If you have received the atonement,
be as glad as you can be; and if you are still an unbeliever, rest
not till Christ is yours.
Oh, the joy of continually entering into fellowship with
Christ, in such a way that you never lose His company! Be this
yours, beloved, every day, and all the day! May His shadow fall
upon you as you rest in the sun, or stray in the gardens! May His
voice cheer you as you lie down upon the sea-shore, and listen to
the murmuring of the waves; may His presence glorify the mountain
solitude as you climb the hills! May Jesus be to you an all-
surrounding presence, lighting up the night, perfuming the day,
gladdening all places, and sanctifying all pursuits! Our Beloved
is not a Friend for Lord's-days only, but for week-days, too; He
is the inseparable Companion of His loving disciples. Those who
have had fellowship with His body and His blood at this table may
have the Lord as an habitual Guest at their own tables; those who
have met their Master in this upper room may expect Him to make
their own chamber bright with His royal presence. Let fellowship
with Jesus and with the elect brotherhood be henceforth the
atmosphere of our life, the joy of our existence. This will give
us a heaven below, and prepare us for a heaven above.
THE SIN-BEARER.
A COMMUNION MEDITATION AT MENTONE.
"Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree,
that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by
whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were as sheep going astray;
but are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls."
--1 Peter ii. 24, 25.
THIS wonderful passage is a part of Peter's address to servants;
and in his day nearly all servants were slaves. Peter begins at
the eighteenth verse: "Servants, be subject to your masters with
all fear; not only to the good and gentle, but also to the
froward. For this is thankworthy, if a man for conscience toward
God endure grief, suffering wrongfully. For what glory is it, if,
when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently?
but if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye take it patiently,
this is acceptable with God. For even hereunto were ye called:
because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that
ye should follow His steps: who did no sin, neither was guile
found in His mouth: who, when He was reviled, reviled not again;
when He suffered, He threatened not; but committed Himself to Him
that judgeth righteously: who His own self bare our sins in His
own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live
unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed." If we are in
a lowly condition of life, we shall find our best comfort in
thinking of the lowly Saviour bearing our sins in all patience and
submission. If we are called to suffer, as servants often were in
the Roman times, we shall be solaced by a vision of our Lord
buffeted, scourged, and crucified, yet silent in the majesty of
His endurance. If these sufferings are entirely undeserved, and we
are grossly slandered, we shall be comforted by remembering Him
who did no sin, and in whose lips was found no guile. Our Lord
Jesus is Head of the Guild of Sufferers: He did well, and suffered
for it, but took it patiently. Our support under the cross, which
we are appointed to bear, is only to be found in Him "who His own
self bare our sins in His own body on the tree."
We ourselves now know by experience that there is no place
for comfort like the cross. It is a tree stripped of all foliage,
and apparently dead; yet we sit under its shadow with great
delight, and its fruit is sweet unto our taste. Truly, in this
case, "like cures like." By the suffering of our Lord Jesus, our
suffering is made light. The servant is comforted since Jesus took
upon Himself the form of a servant; the sufferer is cheered
"because Christ also suffered for us;" and the slandered one is
strengthened because Jesus also was reviled.
"Is it not strange, the darkest hour
That ever dawned on sinful earth
Should touch the heart with softer power
For comfort than an angel's mirth?
That to the cross the mourner's eye should turn
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?"
Let us, as we hope to pass through the tribulations of this
world, stand fast by the cross; for if _that_ be gone, the lone-
star is quenched whose light cheers the down-trodden, shines on
the injured, and brings light to the oppressed. If we lose the
cross,--if we miss the substitutionary sacrifice of our Lord Jesus
Christ, we have lost all.
The verse on which we would now devoutly meditate speaks of
three things: _the bearing of our sins, the changing of our
condition, and the healing of our spiritual diseases_. Each of
these deserves our most careful notice.
I. The first is, the bearing of our sins by our Lord; "Who
His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree." These
words in plainest terms assert that our Lord Jesus did really bear
the sins of His people. How _literal_ is the language! Words mean
nothing if substitution is not stated here. I do not know the
meaning of the fifty-third of Isaiah if this is not its meaning.
Hear the prophet's words: "The Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity
of us all;" "for the transgression of my people was He stricken;"
"He shall bear their iniquities:" "He was numbered with the
transgressors, and He bare the sin of many."
I cannot imagine that the Holy Spirit would have used
language so expressive if He had not intended to teach us that our
Saviour did really bear our sins, and suffer in our stead. What
else can be intended by texts like these--"Christ was once offered
to bear the sins of many" (Heb. ix. 28); "He hath made Him to be
sin for us, who knew no sin; that we might be made the
righteousness of God in Him" (2 Cor. v. 21); "Christ hath redeemed
us from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us: for it is
written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree" (Gal. iii.
13); "Christ also hath loved us, and hath given Himself for us an
offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savour" (Eph.
v. 2); "Once in the end of the world hath He appeared to put away
sin by the sacrifice of Himself" (Heb. ix. 26)? I say modestly,
but firmly, that these Scriptures either teach the bearing of our
sins by our Lord Jesus, or they teach nothing. In these days,
among many errors and denials of truth, there has sprung up a
teaching of "modern thought" which explains away the doctrine of
substitution and vicarious sacrifice. One wise man has gone so far
as to say that the transference of sin or righteousness is
impossible, and another creature of the same school has
stigmatized the idea as immoral.
It does not much matter what these modern haters of the cross
may dare to say; but, assuredly, that which they deny, denounce,
and deride, is the cardinal doctrine of our most holy faith, and
is as clearly in Scripture as the sun is in the heavens. Beloved,
as we suffer through the sin of Adam, so are we saved through the
righteousness of Christ. Our fall was by another, and so is our
rising again: we are under a system of representation and
imputation, gainsay it who may. To us, the transference of our sin
to Christ is a blessed fact clearly revealed in the Word of God,
and graciously confirmed in the realizations of our faith. In that
same chapter of Isaiah we read, "Surely He hath borne our griefs,
and carried our sorrows," and we perceive that this was a matter
of fact, for He was really, truly, and emphatically sorrowful;
and, therefore, when we read that "He bare our sins in His own
body on the tree," we dare not flitter it away, but assuredly
believe that in very deed He was our Sin-Bearer. Possible or
impossible, we sing with full assurance--
"He bore on the tree the sentence for me."
Had the sorrow been figurative, the sin-bearing might have
been mythical; but the one fact is paralleled by the other. There
is no figure in our text; it is a bare, literal fact: "Who His own
self bare our sins in His own body on the tree." Oh, that men
would give up cavilling! To question and debate at the cross, is
an act near akin to the crime of the soldiers when they parted His
garments among them, and cast lots for His vesture.
Note how _personal_ are the terms here employed! How
expressly the Holy Ghost speaketh! "Who His own self bare our sins
in His own body." It was not by delegation, but "His own self";
and it was not in imagination, but "in His own body." Observe,
also, the personality from our side of the question, He "bare our
sins," that is to say, my sins and your sins. There is a sort of
cadence of music here,--"His own self," "our sins." As surely as
it was Christ's own self that suffered on the cross, so truly was
it our own sins that Jesus bore in His own body on the tree. Our
Lord has appeared in court for us, accepting our place at the bar:
"He was numbered with the transgressors." Nay, more, He has
appeared at the place of execution for us, and has borne the
death-penalty upon the gibbet of doom in our stead. _In propria
persona_, our Redeemer has been arraigned, though innocent; has
come under the curse, though for ever blessed; and has suffered to
the death, though He had done nothing worthy of blame. "He was
wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities:
the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes
we are healed."
This sin-bearing on our Lord's part was _continual_. The
passage before us has been forced beyond its teaching, by being
made to assert that our Lord Jesus bore our sins nowhere but on
the cross: this the words do not say. "The tree" was the place
where beyond all other places we see our Lord bearing the
chastisement due to our sins; but before this, He had felt the
weight of the enormous load. It is wrong to base a great doctrine
upon the incidental form of one passage of Scripture, especially
when that passage of Scripture bears another meaning.
The marginal reading, which is perfectly correct, is "Who His
own self bare our sins in His own body to the tree." Our Lord
carried the burden of our sins up to the tree, and there and then
He made an end of it. He had carried that load long before, for
John the Baptist said of Him, "Behold the Lamb of God, which
taketh away" (the verb is in the present tense, "which taketh
away") "the sin of the world" (John i. 29). Our Lord was then
bearing the sin of the world as the Lamb of God. From the day when
He began His divine ministry, I might say even before that, He
bore our sins. He was the Lamb "slain from the foundation of the
world;" so, when He went up to Calvary, bearing His cross, He was
bearing our sins up to the tree. Yet, specially and peculiarly in
His death-agony He stood in our stead, and upon His soul and body
burst the tempest of justice which had gathered through our
transgressions.
This sin-bearing is _final._ He bore our sins in His own body
on the tree, but He bears them now no more. The sinner and the
sinner's Surety are both free, for the law is vindicated, the
honour of government is cleared, the substitutionary sacrifice is
complete. He dieth no more, death hath no more dominion over Him;
for He has ended His work, and has cried, "It is finished." As for
the sins which He bore in His own body on the tree, they cannot be
found, for they have ceased to be, according to that ancient
promise, "In those days, and in that time, saith the Lord, the
iniquity of Israel shall be sought for, and there shall be none;
and the sins of Judah, and they shall not be found" (Jeremiah i.
20). The work of the Messiah was "to finish the transgression, and
to make an end of sins, and to make reconciliation for iniquity,
and to bring in everlasting righteousness" (Daniel ix. 24). Now,
if sin is made an end of, there is an end of it; and if
transgression is "finished", there is no more to be said about it.
Let us look back with holy faith, and see Jesus bearing the
stupendous load of our sins up to the tree, and on the tree; and
see how _effectual_ was His sacrifice for discharging the whole
mass of our moral liability both in reference to guiltiness in the
sight of God, and the punishment which follows thereon. It is a
law of nature that nothing can be in two places at the same time;
and if sin was borne away by our Lord, it cannot rest upon us. If
by faith we have accepted the Substitute whom God Himself has ac-
cepted, then it cannot be that the penalty should be twice
demanded, first of the Surety, and then of those for whom He
stood. The Lord Jesus bore the sins of His people away, even as
the scape-goat, in the type, carried the sin of Israel to a land
uninhabited. Our sins are gone for ever. "As far as the east is
from the west, so far hath He removed our transgressions from us."
He hath cast all our iniquities into the depths of the sea; he
hath hurled them behind his back, where they shall no more be
seen.
Beloved friends, we very calmly and coolly talk about this
thing, but it is the greatest marvel in the universe; it is the
miracle of earth, the mystery of heaven, the terror of hell. Could
we fully realize the guilt of sin, the punishment due to it, and
the literal substitution of Christ, it would work in us an intense
enthusiasm of gratitude, love, and praise. I do not wonder that
our Methodist friends shout, "Hallelujah!" This is enough to make
us all shout and sing, as long as we live, "Glory, glory to the
Son of God!" What a wonder that the Prince of glory, in whom is no
sin, who was indeed incapable of evil, should condescend to come
into such contact with our sin as is implied in His being "made
sin for us"! Our Lord Jesus did not handle sin with the golden
tongs, but He bore it on His own shoulders. He did not lift it
with golden staves, as the priests carried the ark; but He Himself
bore the hideous load of our sin in His own body on the tree. This
is the mystery of grace which angels desire to look into. I would
for ever preach it in the plainest and most unmistakable language.
II. In the second place, briefly notice the change in our
condition, which the text describes as coming out of the Lord's
bearing of our sins: "That we, being dead to sins, should live
unto righteousness." The change is a dying and a reviving, a
burial and a resurrection: we are brought from life to death, and
from death to life.
_We are henceforth legally dead to the punishment of sin_. If
I were condemned to die for an offence, and some other died in my
stead, then I died in him who died for me. The law could not a
second time lay its charge against me, and bring me again before
the judge, and condemn me, and lead me out to die. Where would be
the justice of such a procedure? I am dead already: how can I die
again? I have borne the wrath of God in the person of my glorious
and ever-blessed Substitute; how then can I bear it again? Where
was the use of a Substitute if I am to bear it also? Should Satan
come before God to lay an accusation against me, the answer is,
"This man is dead. He has borne the penalty, and is 'dead to
sins,' for the sentence against him has been executed upon
Another." What a wonderful deliverance for us! Bless the Lord, O
my soul!
But Peter also means to remind us that, by and through the
influence of Christ's death upon our hearts, _the Holy Ghost has
made us now to be actually "dead to sins":_ that is to say, we no
longer love them, and they have ceased to hold dominion over us.
Sin is no longer at home in our hearts; if it enters there, it is
as an intruder. We are no more its willing servants. Sin calls to
us by temptation, but we give it no answer, for we are dead to its
voice. Sin promises us a high reward, but we do not consent, for
we are dead to its allurements. We sin, but our will is not to
sin. It would be heaven to us to be perfectly holy. Our heart and
life go after perfection, but sin is abhorred of our soul. "Now,
if I do that which I would not, it is no more I that do it, but
sin that dwelleth in me." Our truest and most real self loathes
sin; and though we fall into it, it is a fall,--we are out of our
element, and escape from the evil with all speed. The new-born
life within us has no dealings with sin; it is dead to sin.
The Greek word here used cannot be fully rendered into
English; it signifies "being unborn to sins." We were born in sin,
but by the death of Christ, and the work of the Holy Spirit upon
us, that birth is undone, "we are unborn to sins." That which was
wrought in us by sin, even at our birth, is through the death of
Jesus counteracted by the new life which His Spirit imparts. "We
are unborn to sins." I like the phrase, unusual as it sounds. Does
it seem possible that birth should be reversed: the born unborn?
Yet so it is. The true _ego_, the reallest "I," is now unborn to
sins, for we are "born, not of blood, nor of the will of the
flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." We are unborn to sins,
and born unto God.
But our Lord's sin-bearing has also _brought us into life_.
Dead to evil according to law, we also live in newness of life in
the kingdom of grace. Our Lord's object is "that we should live
unto righteousness." Not only are our lives to be righteous, which
I trust they are, but we are quickened and made sensitive and
vigorous unto righteousness: through our Lord's death we are made
quick of eye, and quick of thought, and quick of lip, and quick of
heart unto righteousness. Certainly, if the doctrine of His
atoning sacrifice does not vivify us, nothing will. When we sin,
it is the sorrowful result of our former death; but when we work
righteousness, we throw our whole soul into it, "We live unto
righteousness." Because our Divine Lord has died, we feel that we
must lay ourselves out for His praise. The tree which brought
death to our Saviour is a tree of life to us. Sit under this true
_arbor vitae_, and you will shake off the weakness and disease
which came in by that tree of knowledge of good and evil.
Livingstone in Africa used certain medicines which are known as
_Livingstone's Rousers;_ but what rousers are those glorious
truths which are extracted from the bitter wood of the cross! O my
brethren, let us show in our lives what wonders our Lord Jesus has
done for us by His agony and bloody sweat, by His cross and
passion!
III. The apostle then speaks of the healing of our diseases
by Christ's death: "By whose stripes ye were healed. For ye were
as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto the Shepherd and
Bishop of your souls."
We were healed, and we remain so. It is not a thing to be
done in the future; it has been wrought. Peter describes our
disease in the words which compose verse twenty-five. What was it,
then?
First, it was _brutishness_. "Ye were as sheep." Sin has made
us so that we are only fit to be compared to beasts, and to those
of the least intelligence. Sometimes the Scripture compares the
unregenerate man to an ass. Man is said to be "born like a wild
ass's colt." Amos likens Israel to the "kine of Bashan", and he
saith to them, "Ye shall go out at the breaches, every cow at that
which is before her." David compared himself to behemoth: "So
foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before Thee." We are
nothing better than beasts until Christ comes to us. But we are
not beasts after that: a living, heavenly, spiritual nature is
created within us when we come into contact with our Redeemer. We
still carry about with us the old brutish nature, but by the grace
of God it is put in subjection, and kept there; and our fellowship
now is with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ. We "were as
sheep," but we are now men redeemed unto God.
We are cured also of the _proneness to wander_ which is so
remarkable in sheep. "Ye were as sheep going astray," always going
astray, loving to go astray, delighting in it, never so happy as
when they are wandering away from the fold. We wander still, but
not as sheep wander: we now seek the right way, and desire to
follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. If we wander, it is
through ignorance or temptation. We can truly say, "My soul
followeth hard after Thee." Our Lord's cross has nailed us fast as
to hands and feet: we cannot now run greedily after iniquity;
rather do we say, "Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord
hath dealt bountifully with thee!"
"My wanderings, Lord, are at an end,
I'm now return'd to Thee:
Be Thou my Father and my Friend,
Be all in all to me."
Another disease of ours was _inability to return:_ "Ye were
as sheep going astray; but are now returned." Dogs and even swine
are more likely to return home than wandering sheep. But now,
beloved, though we wandered, we have returned, and do still return
to our Shepherd. Like Noah's dove, we have found no rest for the
sole of our foot anywhere out of the ark, and therefore we return
unto Him, and He graciously pulls us in unto Him. If we wander at
any time, we bless God that there is a sacred something within us
which will not let us rest, and there is a far more powerful
something above us which draws us back. We are like the needle in
the compass: touch that needle with your finger, and compel it to
point to the east, or to the south, and it may do so for the
moment; but take away the pressure, and in an instant it returns
to the pole. So we must go back to Jesus; we must return to the
Bishop of our souls. Our soul cries, "Whom have I in heaven but
Thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside Thee."
Thus, by the virtue of our Lord's death, an immortal love is
created in us, which leads us to seek His face, and renew our
fellowship with Him.
Our Lord's death has also cured us of our _readiness to
follow other leaders_. If one sheep goes through a gap in the
hedge, the whole flock will follow. We have been accustomed to
follow ringleaders in sin or in error: we have been too ready to
follow custom, and to do that which is judged proper, respectable,
and usual: but now we are resolved to follow none but Jesus,
according to His word, "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them,
and they follow Me. A stranger will they not follow, but will flee
from him: for they know not the voice of strangers." For my own
part, I am resolved to follow no human leader. Faith in Jesus
creates a sacred independence of mind. We have learned so entire a
dependence upon our crucified Lord that we have none to spare for
men.
Finally, beloved friends, when we were wandering we were like
sheep _exposed to wolves_, but we are delivered from this by being
near the Shepherd. We were in danger of death, in danger from the
devil, in danger from a thousand temptations, which, like ravenous
beasts, prowled around us. Having ended our wandering, we are now
in a place of safety. When the lion roars, we are driven the
closer to the Shepherd, and rejoice that His crook protects us. He
says, "My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow
Me: and I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never
perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand."
What a wonderful work of grace has been wrought in us! We owe
all this, not to the teaching of Christ, though that has helped us
greatly; not to the example of Christ, though that is charming us
into a diligent copying of it; but we owe it all to His stripes:
"By whose stripes ye were healed." Brethren, we preach Christ
crucified, because we have been saved by Christ crucified. His
death is the death of our sins. We can never give up the doctrine
of Christ's substitutionary sacrifice, for it is the power by
which we hope to be made holy. Not only are we washed from guilt
in His blood, but by that blood we overcome sin. Never, so long as
breath or pulse remains, can we conceal the blessed truth that He
"His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree, that we,
being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness." The Lord give
us to know much more of this than I can speak, for Jesus Christ's
sake! Amen.
SWOONING AND REVIVING CHRIST'S FEET.
AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE CLOSE OF ONE OF THE PASTORS'
COLLEGE CONFERENCES.
"And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as dead. And He laid
His right hand upon me saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first
and the last: I am He that liveth, and was dead; and, behold. I am
alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of
death."--Revelation i. 17, 18.
WE have nothing now to think of but our Lord. We come to Him that
He may cause us to forget all others. We are not here as
ministers, cumbered with much serving, but we now sit at His feet
with Mary, or lean on His bosom with John. The Lord Himself gives
us our watchword as we muster our band for the last assembly.
"Remember Me," is His loving command. We beseech Him to fill the
full circle of our memory as the sun fills the heavens and the
earth with light. We are to think only of Jesus, and of Him only
will I speak. Oh, for a touch of the live coal from Him who is our
Altar as well as our Sacrifice!
My text is found in the words of John, in the first chapter
of the Revelation, at the seventeenth and eighteenth verses:--
"_And when I saw_ Him_,_ I fell at His feet as dead. And He
laid His right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the
first and the last: I am He that liveth, and was dead; and,
behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell
and of death."_
John was of all men the most familiar with Jesus, and his
Lord had never needed to say to him, "Lovest thou Me?" Methinks,
if any man could have stood erect in the presence of the glorified
Saviour, it would have been that disciple whom Jesus loved. Love
permits us to take great liberties: the child will climb the knee
of his royal father, and no man accuses him of presuming. John had
such love, and yet even he could not look into the face of the
Lord of glory without being overcome with awe. While yet in the
body, even John must swoon if he be indulged with a premature
vision of the Well-beloved in His majesty. If permitted to see the
Lord before our bodies have undergone that wondrous change by
which we are made like Jesus that we may see Him as He is, we
shall find the sight to be more than we can bear. A clear view of
our Lord's heavenly splendour while we are here on earth would not
be fitting, for it would not be profitable for us always to be
lying in a swoon at our Redeemer's feet, while there is so much
work for us to do.
Permit me, dear brethren, to take my text from its
connection, and to apply it to ourselves, by bringing it down from
the throne up yonder to the table here. It may be, I trust it will
be, that as we see Jesus even here, _we shall with John fall at
His feet as dead_. We shall not swoon, but we shall be dead in
another sense, most sweetly dead, while our life is revealed in
Him. After we have thought upon that, we shall come to what my
text implies: then, _may we revive with John_, for if he had not
revived he could never have told us of his fainting fit. Thus we
shall have death with Christ, and resurrection in Him. Oh, for a
deep experience of both, by the power of the Holy Spirit!
I. If we are permitted to see Christ in the simple and
instructive memorials which are now upon the table, we shall, in a
blessed sense, fall at His feet as dead.
For, first, here we see _provision for the removal of our
sin_, and we are thus reminded of it. Here is the bread broken
because we have broken God's law, and must have been broken for
ever had there not been a bruised Saviour. In this wine we see the
token of the blood with which we must be cleansed, or else be foul
things to be cast away into the burnings of Tophet, because
abominable in the sight of God. Inasmuch as we have before us the
memorial of the atonement for sin, it reminds us of our death in
sin in which we should still have remained but for that: grace
which spoke us into life and salvation. Are you growing great? Be
little again as you see that you are nothing but slaves that have
been ransomed. "God's freed-men" is still your true rank. Are you
beginning to think that, because you are sanctified; you have the
less need of daily cleansing? Hear that word, "If we walk in the
light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship one with
another," yet even then "the blood of Jesus Christ, His Son,
cleanseth us from all sin." We sin even when in the highest and
divinest fellowship, and need still the cleansing blood. How this
humbles us before the Lord! We are to be winners of sinners, and
yet we ourselves are sinners still, needing as truly the Bread of
life as those to whom we serve it out.
Ah! and some of us have been very special sinners; and
therefore, if we love much, it is because we have had much
forgiven. We have erred since we knew the Saviour, and that is a
kind of sinnership which is exceedingly grievous; we have sinned
since we have entered into the highest state of spiritual joy, and
have been with Him on the holy mount, and have beheld His glory!
This breeds a holy shamefacedness. We may well fall at Jesus'
feet, though He only reveals Himself in bread and wine, for these
convey a sense of our sinnership while they remind us of how our
Lord met our sin, and put it away.
Herein we fall as low as the dead. Where is the "I"? Where is
the self-glorying? Have you any left in the presence of the
crucified Saviour? As you in spirit eat His flesh and drink His
blood, can you glory in your own flesh, or feel the pride of blood
and birth? Fie upon us if there mingles a tinge of pride with our
ministry, or a taint of self-laudation with our success! When we
see Jesus, our Saviour, the Saviour of sinners, surely self will
sink, and humility will fall at His feet. When we think of
Gethsemane and Calvary, and all our great Redeemer's pain and
agony, surely, by the Holy Ghost, self-glorying, self-seeking, and
self-will must fall as though slain with a deadly wound. "When I
saw Him, I fell at His feet as dead."
Here, also, we learn a second lesson. _Jesus has placed upon
this table food_. The bread sets forth all that is necessary, and
the cup all that is luxurious: provision for all our wants and for
all our right desires, all that we need for sustenance and joy.
Then, what a poverty-stricken soul am I that I cannot find myself
in bread! As to comforts, I may not think of them; they must be
given me or I shall never taste them. Brothers, we are Gentlemen
Commoners upon the bounty of our great Kinsman: we come to His
table for our maintenance, we have no establishments of our own.
He who feeds the sparrows feeds our souls; in spiritual things, we
no more gather into barns than do the blessed birds; our heavenly
Father feeds us from that "all fulness" which it hath pleased Him
to lay up for us in Jesus. We could not live an hour spiritually
without Him who is not only bread, but life; not only the wine
which cheereth, but consolation itself. Our life hangs upon Jesus;
He is our Head as well as our food. We shall never outgrow our
need of natural bread, and spiritually we shall never rise out of
our need of a present Christ, but the rather we shall feel a
stronger craving and a more urgent passion for Him. Look at yonder
vain person. He feels that he is a great man, and you own that he
is your superior in gifts; but what a cheat he is, what a foolish
creature to dream of being somebody! Now will he be found wanting;
for, like ourselves, he is not sufficient even to think anything
of himself. A beggar who has to live on alms, to eat the bread of
dependence, to take the cup of charity,--what has he to boast of?
He is the great One who feeds us, who gives us all that we enjoy,
who is our all in all; and as for us, we are suppliants,--I had
almost said mendicants,--a community of Begging Frres, to all
personal spiritual wealth as dead as the slain on Marathon. The
negro slave at least could claim his own breath, but we cannot
claim even that. The Spirit of God must give us spiritual breath,
or our life will expire. When we think of this, surely the sight
of Christ in this bread and Wine, though it be a dim vision
compared with that which ravished the heart of John, will make us
fall at the Redeemer's feet as dead.
The "I" cannot live, for our Lord has provided no food for
the vain _Ego_, and its lordliness. He has provided all for
necessity, but nothing for boasting. Oh, blessed sense of self-
annihilation! We have experienced it several times this week when
certain of those papers were read to us by our brethren; and,
moreover, we shrivelled right up in the blaze of the joy with
which our Master favoured us. I hope this happy assembly and its
heavenly exercises have melted the _Ego_ within us, and made it,
for the while, flow away in tears. Dying to self is a blessed
feeling. May we all realize it! When we are weak to the utmost in
conscious death of self, then are we strong to the fulness of
might. Swooning away unto self-death, and losing all consciousness
of personal power, we are introduced into the infinite, and live
in God.
II. Now let us consider how we get alive again, and so know
the Lord as the resurrection and the life. John did revive, and he
tells us how it came about. He says of the Ever-blessed One,--"He
laid His right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the
first and the last: I am He that liveth, and was dead; and,
behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell
and of death."
All the life-floods of our being will flow with renewed force
if, first of all, we are _brought into contact with Jesus: _"He
laid His right hand upon me." Marvellous patience that He does not
set His foot upon us, and tread us down as the mire of the
streets! I have lain at His feet as dead, and had He spurned me as
tainted with corruption, I could not have impugned His justice.
But there is nothing here about His foot! That foot has been
pierced for us, and it cannot be that the foot which has been
nailed to the cross for His people should ever trample them in His
wrath. Hear these words, "He laid His right hand upon me." The
right hand of His strength and of His glory He laid upon His
fainting servant. It was _the hand of a man_. It is the right hand
of Him who, in all our afflictions, was afflicted, who is a
Brother born for adversity. Hence, everything about His hand has a
reviving influence. The _speech_ of sympathy, my brothers, is
often too unpractical, and hence it is too feeble to revive the
fainting; the _touch_ of sympathy is far more effectual. You
remember that happy story of the wild negro child who could never
be won till the little lady sat down by her, and laid her hand
upon her. Eva won poor Topsy by that tender touch. The tongue
failed, but the hand achieved the victory. So was it with our
adorable Lord. He showed us that He was bone of our bone and flesh
of our flesh; He brought Himself into contact with us, and made us
perceive the reality of His love to us, and then He became more
than a conqueror over us.
Thus, _we felt that He was no fiction_, but a real Christ,
for there was His hand, and we felt the gentle pressure. The
laying on of the right hand of the Lord had brought healing to the
sick, sight to the blind, and even life to the dead, and it is no
strange thing that it should restore a fainting disciple. May you
all feel it at this very moment in its full reviving power! May
there stream down from the Lord's right hand, not merely His
sympathy, because He is a man like ourselves, but as much of the
power of _His deity_ as can be gotten into man, so that we may be
filled with the fulness _of God! _That is possible at this
instant. The Lord's supper represents the giving of the whole body
of Christ to us, to enter into us for food; surely, if we enter
into its true meaning, we may expect to be revived and vitalized;
for we have here more than a mere touch of the hand, it is the
whole Christ that enters into us spiritually, and so comes into
contact with our innermost being. I believe in "the real
presence": do not you? The _carnal_ presence is another thing:
_that_ we do not even desire. Lord Jesus, come into a many-handed
contact with us now by dwelling in us, and we in Thee!
Still, there was something else wanted, for our Lord Jesus,
after the touch, _gave the word: _"Fear not; I am the first and
the last." What does He say? Does He say, "Thou art"? Open your
Testaments, and see. Does He exclaim, "Fear not; thou art the
beloved disciple, John the apostle and divine"? I find nothing of
the kind. He did not direct His servant to look at himself, but to
remember the great I Am, his Saviour, and Lord. The living comfort
of every swooning child of God, of everyone who is conscious of a
death-wound to the natural "I," lies in that majestic "I," who
alone can say "I am." You live because there is an "I am" who has
life in Himself, and has that life for you.
"I am the first." "I have gone before you, and prepared your
way; I loved you before you loved Me; I ordained your whole course
in life before you were in existence. In every work of grace for
you and within you, I am the first. Like the dew which comes from
the Lord, I waited not for man, neither tarried for the sons of
men. And I also am the last, perfecting that which concerneth you,
and keeping you unto the end. I am the Alpha and the Omega to you,
and all the letters in between; I began with you, and I shall end
with you, if an end can be thought of. I march in the van, and I
bring up the rear. Your final preservation is as much from Me as
your hopeful commencement." Brother, does a fear arise concerning
that dark hour which threatens soon to arrive? What hour is that?
Jesus knows, and He will be with you through the night, and till
the day breaketh. If Jesus is the beginning and the end to us,
what is there else? What have we to fear unless it be those
unhallowed inventions of our mistrust, those superfluities of
naughtiness which fashion themselves into unbeliefs, and doubts,
and unkind imaginings? Christ shuts out everything that could hurt
us, for He covers all the time, and all the space; He is above the
heights, and beneath the depths; and everywhere He is Love.
Read on,--"I am He that liveth." "Because I live, ye shall
live also; no real death shall befal you, for death hath no more
dominion over Me,--your Head, your Life." While there is a living
Christ in heaven, no believer shall ever see death: he shall sleep
in Jesus, and that is all, for even then he shall be "for ever
with the Lord."
Read on,--"and was dead." "Therefore, though die, you shall
go no lower than I went; and you shall be brought up again even as
I have returned from the tomb." Think of Jesus as having traversed
the realm of death-shade, and you will not fear to follow in His
track. Where should the dying members rest but on the same couch
with their once dying Head?
"And behold, I am alive for evermore." Yes, behold it, and
never cease to behold it: we serve an ever-living Lord. Brothers,
go home from this conference in the power of this grand utterance!
The dear child may sicken, or the precious wife may be taken home;
but Christ says, "I am alive for evermore." The believing heart
can never be a widow, for its Husband is the living God. Our Lord
Jesus will not leave us orphans, He will come unto us. Here is our
joy, then: not in ourselves, but in the fact that He ever lives to
carry out the Father's good pleasure in us and for us. Onward,
soldiers of the cross, for our immortal Captain leads the way.
Read once more,--"and have the keys of hell and of death." As
I thought over these words, I marvelled for the poverty and
meanness of the cause of evil; for the prince of it, the devil,
has not the keys of his own house; he cannot be trusted with them;
they are swinging at the girdle of Christ. Surely I shall never go
to hell, for my Lord Jesus turned the key against my entrance long
ago. The doors of hell were locked for me When He died on my
behalf. I saw Him lock the door, and, what is more, I saw Him hang
the key at His girdle, and there it is to this day. Christ has the
keys of hell; then, whenever He chooses, He can cage the devouring
lion, and restrain his power for evil. Oh, that the day were come!
It is coming, for the dragon hath great wrath, knowing that his
time is short. Let us not go forth alone to battle with this dread
adversary; let us tell his Conqueror of him, and entreat Him to
shorten his chain. I admire the forcible words of a dying woman to
one who asked her what she did when she was tempted by the devil
on account of her sin. She replied, "The devil does not tempt me
now; he came to me a little while ago, and he does not like me
well enough to come again!" "Why not?" "Well, he went away because
I said to him, Chosen, chosen!" "What did you mean by that?" "Do
you not remember how it is said in the Scripture, 'The Lord rebuke
thee, O Satan; even the Lord that hath chosen Jerusalem rebuke
thee'?" The aged woman's text was well taken, and well does the
enemy know the rebuke which it contains. When Joshua, the high
priest, clothed in filthy garments, stood before the angel, Satan
stood at his right hand to resist him, but he was silenced by
being told of the election of God: "The Lord which hath chosen
Jerusalem rebuke thee." Ah, brethren, when Christ's right hand is
upon us, the evil one departs! He knows too well the weight of
that right hand.
Conclude the verse,--"and of death." Our Lord has the keys of
death, and this will be a joyful fact to us when our last hours
arrive. If we say to Him, "Master, whither am I going?" He
answers, "I have the key of death and the spirit world. Will we
not reply, "We feel quite confident to go wherever Thou wilt lead
us, O Lord"? We shall then pursue His track in His company. Our
bodies shall descend into what men call a charnel-house, though it
is really the unrobing-room of saints, the vestibule of heaven,
the wardrobe of our dress where it shall be cleansed and
perfected. We have a fit spiritual array for the interval, but we
expect that our bodies shall rise again in the likeness of "the
Lord from heaven." What gainers we shall be when we shall take up
the robes we laid aside, and find them so gloriously changed, and
made fit for us to wear even in the presence of our Lord! So, if
the worst fear that crosses you should be realized, and you should
literally die at your Lord's feet, there is no cause for dread,
for no enemy can do you harm, since the divine right hand is
pledged to deliver you to the end. Let us give the Well-beloved
the most devout and fervent praise as we now partake of this regal
festival. The King sitteth at His table, let our spikenard give
forth its sweetest smell.
C. H. SPURGEON'S COMMUNION HYMN.
(No. 939 in "Our Own Hymn Book.")
AMIDST us our Belovd stands,
And bids us view His piercd hands;
Points to His wounded feet and side,
Blest emblems of the Crucified.
What food luxurious loads the board,
When at His table sits the Lord!
The wine how rich, the bread how sweet,
When Jesus deigns the guests to meet!
If now with eyes defiled and dim,
We see the signs but see not Him,
Oh, may His love the scales displace,
And bid us see Him face to face!
Our former transports we recount,
When with Him in the holy mount,
These cause our souls to thirst anew,
His marr'd but lovely face to view.
Thou glorious Bridegroom of our hearts,
Thy present smile a heaven imparts:
Oh, lift the veil, if veil there be,
Let every saint Thy beauties see!
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