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Title: Till He Come
Creator(s): Spurgeon, Charles Hadden (1834-1892)
Rights: Public Domain
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"TILL HE COME."
COMMUNION MEDITATIONS
AND
ADDRESSES
BY
C. H. SPURGEON.
(Not published in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit.)
1896.
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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.
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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:" Song of Solomon 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."– Song of Solomon 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."– Song of
Solomon ii. 16, 17.
Fragrant Spices from the Mountains of Myrrh. "Thou art all fair, My love;
there is no spot in thee."–Song of Solomon iv. 7.
The Well-beloved. "Yea, He is altogether lovely."–Song of Solomon v. 16.
The Spiced Wine of my Pomegranate. "I would cause Thee to drink of spiced wine
of the juice of my pomegranate."–Song of Solomon 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
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MYSTERIOUS VISITS.
AN ADDRESS TO A LITTLE COMPANY AT THE COMMUNION TABLE AT MENTONE."Thou hast
visited me in the night."–Psalm xvii. 3.
MYSTERIOUS VISITS.
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 tile 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.
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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.
UNDER HIS SHADOW.
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."–Song of Solomon ii. 3.
UNDER THE APPLE TREE.
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.
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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."– Song of Solomon
ii. 16, 17.
OVER THE MOUNTAINS.
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!"
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FRAGRANT SPICES FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF MYRRH."Thou art all fair, My love; there
is no spot in thee."–Song of Solomon iv. 7.
FRAGRANT SPICES FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF MYRRH.
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." [1]
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."
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THE WELL-BELOVED.
A COMMUNION ADDRESS AT MENTONE."Yea, He is altogether lovely."–Song of
Solomon v. 16.
THE WELL-BELOVED.
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 Belov’d,
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."
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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."–Song of Solomon viii. 2.And of His fulness
have all we received, and grace for grace."–John i. 16.
THE SPICED WINE OF MY POMEGRANATE.
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 , 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
? is 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 badgers’ 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." [2] 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.
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[2]
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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.
THE WELL-BELOVED’S VINEYARD.
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."
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REDEEMED SOULS FREED FROM FEAR.
A TALK WITH A FEW FRIENDS AT MENTONE. "Fear not: for I have redeemed
thee."–Isaiah xliii. 1.
REDEEMED SOULS FREED FROM FEAR.
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."
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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.
JESUS, THE GREAT OBJECT ASTONISHMENT.
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." 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!"
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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.
BANDS OF LOVE; OR, UNION TO CHRIST.
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.
"I WILL GIVE YOU REST."
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 MEMORABLE HYMN.
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 tomorrow’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!"
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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.
JESUS ASLEEP ON A PILLOW
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.
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REAL CONTACT WITH JESUS. "And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched Me: for I
perceive that virtue is gone out of Me."–Luke viii. 46.
REAL CONTACT WITH JESUS.
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 blessing: "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 unclean. 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 unworthily," 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 experience. 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.
CHRIST AND HIS TABLE-COMPANIONS.
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, "Whatsoever 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 intercourse 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 imposed 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 herself 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 unworthiness, 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.
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A WORD FROM THE BELOVED’S OWN MOUTH. "And ye are clean."–John xiii. 10.
A WORD FROM THE BELOVED’S OWN MOUTH.
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 cleans’d 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?"
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THE BELIEVER NOT AN ORPHAN. "I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to
you."–John xiv. 18.
THE BELIEVER NOT AN ORPHAN.
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 tomorrow, 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.
COMMUNION WITH CHRIST AND HIS PEOPLE.
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 communion. 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.
THE SIN-BEARER.
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.
"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 accepted, 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.
SWOONING AND REVIVING AT CHRIST’S FEET.
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 Fr res, 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 Belov’d stands,
And bids us view His pierc’d 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!
__________________________________________________________________
Indexes
__________________________________________________________________
Index of Scripture References
Genesis
[1]1:27 [2]15:1 [3]18 [4]32:24-30
Exodus
[5]20:16
Leviticus
[6]19:13-18 [7]19:17
Numbers
[8]23:21
Joshua
[9]5:13
1 Kings
[10]4:22
Nehemiah
[11]9:17
Job
[12]22:6
Psalms
[13]17:3 [14]39:16 [15]40:7 [16]40:8 [17]63:7 [18]91:1
Proverb
[19]8:31
Song of Solomon
[20]1:6 [21]1:8 [22]1:10 [23]2:3 [24]2:3 [25]2:3 [26]2:14
[27]2:16 [28]2:17 [29]4:1 [30]4:6 [31]4:7 [32]5:16
[33]6:4-7 [34]6:9 [35]7:6 [36]8:2 [37]8:2 [38]8:3
Isaiah
[39]5:1 [40]27:3 [41]32:2 [42]32:2 [43]43:1 [44]43:1
[45]49:2 [46]49:2 [47]52:13-15
Jeremiah
[48]1:20
Ezekiel
[49]16:8-16
Daniel
[50]3:19-25 [51]9:24 [52]10:19
Hosea
[53]11:4
Matthew
[54]5:23 [55]5:24 [56]5:43 [57]11:28 [58]25:34 [59]26:30
[60]26:30
Mark
[61]4:38 [62]4:39
Luke
[63]8:46 [64]12:50 [65]15:4-7 [66]17:3 [67]22:14 [68]22:42
John
[69]1:16 [70]1:16 [71]1:29 [72]13:1 [73]13:10 [74]14:18
[75]14:18 [76]15:9
Romans
[77]13:9 [78]14:10 [79]15:26
1 Corinthians
[80]10:16 [81]10:17
2 Corinthians
[82]5:21 [83]9:13
Galatians
[84]2:20 [85]3:13
Ephesians
[86]1:6 [87]2:6 [88]5:2 [89]5:27
Colossians
[90]1:22 [91]2:10-13
Hebrews
[92]2:11 [93]2:14 [94]2:15 [95]4:15 [96]9:26 [97]9:28
[98]13:16
James
[99]2:8
1 Peter
[100]2:24 [101]2:25
2 Peter
[102]1:4
Revelation
[103]1:17 [104]1:18 [105]3:19
On this day…
- I was made for another world – 2025
- Daring Confidence in God’s Grace – 2025
- Psalm 24 – 2024
- Psalm 23 – 2024
- March 21, 2014 – 2014
- March 21-2010 – 2010
- ALL of GRACE – Part3 – Charles H Spurgeon – 2010
- ALL of GRACE – Part2 – Charles H Spurgeon – 2010
- ALL of GRACE – Charles H Spurgeon – 2010
- TRANSFORMED BY INSIGHT – 2009
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