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"TILL HE COME."

COMMUNION MEDITATIONS

AND

ADDRESSES

BY

C. H. SPURGEON.

(Not published in _The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit_.)

1896.

PREFATORY NOTE.

For many years, whether at home or abroad, it was Mr.

Spurgeon's constant custom to observe the ordinance of the Lord's

supper every Sabbath-day, unless illness prevented. This he

believed to be in accordance with apostolic precedent; and it was

his oft-repeated testimony that the more frequently he obeyed his

Lord's command, "This do in remembrance of Me," the more precious

did his Saviour become to him, while the memorial celebration

itself proved increasingly helpful and instructive as the years

rolled by.

Several of the discourses here published were delivered to

thousands of communicants in the Metropolitan Tabernacle, while

others were addressed to the little companies of Christians,--of

different denominations, and of various nationalities,--who

gathered around the communion table in Mr. Spurgeon's sitting-room

at Mentone. The addresses cover a wide range of subjects; but all

of them speak more or less fully of the great atoning sacrifice of

which the broken bread and the filled cup are the simple yet

significant symbols.

Mr. Spurgeon's had intended to publish a selection of his

Communion Addresses; so this volume may be regarded as another of

the precious literary legacies bequeathed by him to his brethren

and sisters in Christ who have yet to tarry a while here below. It

is hoped that these sermonettes will be the means of deepening the

spiritual life of many believers, and that they will suggest

suitable themes for meditation and discourse to those who have the

privilege and responsibility of presiding at the ordinance.

CONTENTS.

Mysterious Visits.

"Thou hast visited me in the night."--Psalm xvii. 3.

"Under His Shadow."

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall

abide under the shadow of the Almighty "--Psalm xci. 1.

"The shadow of a great rock in a weary land."--Isa. xxxii. 2.

"As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my

Beloved among the sons. I sat down under His shadow with

great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste:"

Solomon's Song ii. 3.

"Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of

Thy wings will I rejoice."--Psalm lxiii. 7.

"And He hath made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow

of His hand hath He hid me, and made me a polished

shaft; in His quiver hath He hid me."--Isa. xlix. 2.

Under the Apple Tree.

"I sat down under His shadow with great delight, and His

fruit was sweet to my taste."--Solomon's Song ii. 3.

Over the Mountains.

"My Beloved is mine, and I am His: He feedeth among the

lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away,

turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart

upon the mountains of Bether."--Solomon's Song ii. 16,

17.

Fragrant Spices from the Mountains of Myrrh.

"Thou art all fair, My love; there is no spot in thee."--

Solomon's Song iv. 7.

The Well-beloved.

"Yea, He is altogether lovely."--Solomon's Song v. 16.

The Spiced Wine of my Pomegranate.

"I would cause Thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of

my pomegranate."--Solomon's Song viii. 2.

"And of His fulness have all we received, and grace for

grace,"--John i. 16.

The Well-beloved's Vineyard.

"My Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill."--

Isaiah v. 1.

Redeemed Souls Freed from Fear.

"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee."--Isaiah xliii. 1.

Jesus, the Great Object of Astonishment.

"Behold, My Servant shall deal prudently, He shall be exalted

and extolled, and be very high. As many were astonied at

Thee; His visage was so marred more than any man, and

His form more than the sons of men: so shall He sprinkle

many nations, the kings shall shut their mouths at Him:

for that which had not been told them shall they see;

and that which they had not heard shall they consider."

--Isaiah lii. 13-15.

Bands of Love; or, Union to Christ.

"I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love: and I

was to them as they that take off the yoke on their

jaws, and I laid meat unto them."--Hosea xi. 4.

"I will Give you Rest."

"I will give you rest."--Matthew xi. 28.

The Memorable Hymn.

"And when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount

of Olives."--Matthew xxvi. 30.

Jesus Asleep on a Pillow.

"And He was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a

pillow: and they awake Him, and say unto Him, Master,

carest Thou not that we perish? And He arose, and

rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be

still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great

calm."--Mark iv. 38, 39.

Real Contact with Jesus.

"And Jesus said, Somebody hath touched Me: for I perceive

that virtue is gone out of Me."--Luke viii. 46.

Christ and His Table-companions.

"And when the hour was come, He sat down, and the twelve

apostles with Him."--Luke xxii. 14.

A Word from the Beloved's Own Mouth.

"And ye are clean."--John xiii. 10.

The Believer not an Orphan.

"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you."--John

xiv. 18.

Communion with Christ and His People.

"The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion

of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it

not the communion of the body of Christ? For we being

many are one bread, and one body: for we are all

partakers of that one bread."--1 Cor. x. 16, 17.

The Sin-Bearer.

"Who His own self bare our sins in His own body on the tree,

that we, being dead to sins, should live unto

righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed. For ye

were as sheep going astray; but are now returned unto

the Shepherd and Bishop of your souls."--1 Peter ii. 24,

25.

Swooning and Reviving at Christ's Feet.

"And when I saw Him, I fell at His feet as dead. And He laid

His right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am

the first and the last: I am He that liveth, and was

dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen: and

have the keys of hell and of death."--Revelation i. 17,

18.

C.H. Spurgeon's Communion Hymn

MYSTERIOUS VISITS.

AN ADDRESS TO A LITTLE COMPANY AT THE

COMMUNION TABLE AT MENTONE.

"Thou hast visited me in the night."--Psalm xvii. 3.

IT is a theme for wonder that the glorious God should visit sinful

man. "What is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of

man, that Thou visitest him?" A divine visit is a joy to be

treasured whenever we are favoured with it. David speaks of it

with great solemnity. The Psalmist was not content barely to

_speak_ of it; but he wrote it down in plain terms, that it might

be known throughout all generations: "_Thou hast visited me in the

night_." Beloved, if God has ever visited you, you also will

marvel at it, will carry it in your memory, will speak of it to

your friends, and will record it in your diary as one of the

notable events of your life. Above all, you will speak of it to

God Himself, and say with adoring gratitude, "Thou hast visited me

in the night." It should be a solemn part of worship to remember

and make known the condescension of the Lord, and say, both in

lowly prayer and in joyful psalm, "Thou hast visited me."

To you, beloved friends, who gather with me about this

communion table, I will speak of my own experience, nothing

doubting that it is also yours. If our God has ever visited any of

us, personally, by His Spirit, two results have attended the

visit: _it has been sharply searching, and it has been sweetly

solacing_.

When first of all the Lord draws nigh to the heart, the

trembling soul perceives clearly the searching character of His

visit. Remember how Job answered the Lord: "I have heard of Thee

by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth Thee, wherefore

I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." We can read of God,

and hear of God, and be little moved; but when we feel His

presence, it is another matter. I thought my house was good enough

for kings; but when the King of kings came to it, I saw that it

was a hovel quite unfit for His abode. I had never known sin to be

so "exceeding sinful" if I had not known God to be so perfectly

holy. I had never understood the depravity of my own nature if I

had not known the holiness of God's nature. When we see Jesus, we

fall at His feet as dead; till then, we are alive with

vainglorious life. If letters of light traced by a mysterious hand

upon the wall caused the joints of Belshazzar's loins to be

loosed, what awe overcomes our spirits when we see the Lord

Himself! In the presence of so much light our spots and wrinkles

are revealed, and we are utterly ashamed. We are like Daniel, who

said, "I was left alone, and saw this great vision, and there

remained no strength in me: for my comeliness was turned in me

into corruption." It is when the Lord visits us that we see our

nothingness, and ask, "Lord, what is man?"

I do remember well when God first visited me; and assuredly

it was the night of nature, of ignorance, of sin. His visit had

the same effect upon me that it had upon Saul of Tarsus when the

Lord spake to him out of heaven. He brought me down from the high

horse, and caused me to fall to the ground; by the brightness of

the light of His Spirit He made me grope in conscious blindness;

and in the brokenness of my heart I cried, "Lord, what wilt Thou

have me to do?" I felt that I had been rebelling against the Lord,

kicking against the pricks, and doing evil even as I could; and my

soul was filled with anguish at the discovery. Very searching was

the glance of the eye of Jesus, for it revealed my sin, and caused

me to go out and weep bitterly. As when the Lord visited Adam, and

called him to stand naked before Him, so was I stripped of all my

righteousness before the face of the Most High. Yet the visit

ended not there; for as the Lord God clothed our first parents in

coats of skins, so did He cover me with the righteousness of the

great sacrifice, and He gave me songs in the night It was night,

but the visit was no dream: in fact, I there and then ceased to

dream, and began to deal with the reality of things.

I think you will remember that, when the Lord first visited

you in the night, it was with you as with Peter when Jesus came to

him. He had been toiling with his net all the night, and nothing

had come of it; but when the Lord Jesus came into his boat, and

bade him launch out into the deep, and let down his net for a

draught, he caught such a great multitude of fishes that the boat

began to sink. See! the boat goes down, down, till the water

threatens to engulf it, and Peter, and the fish, and all. Then

Peter fell down at Jesus knees, and cried, "Depart from me; for I

am a sinful man, O Lord!" The presence of Jesus was too much for

him: his sense of unworthiness made him sink like his boat, and

shrink away from the Divine Lord. I remember that sensation well;

for I was half inclined to cry with the demoniac of Gadara, "What

have I to do with Thee, Jesus, Thou Son of God most high?" That

first discovery of His injured love was overpowering; its very

hopefulness increased my anguish; for then I saw that I had slain

the Lord who had come to save me. I saw that mine was the hand

which made the hammer fall, and drove the nails that fastened the

Redeemer's hands and feet to the cruel tree.

"My conscience felt and own'd the guilt,

And plunged me in despair;

I saw my sins His blood had spilt,

And help'd to nail Him there."

This is the sight which breeds repentance: "They shall look

upon Him whom they have pierced, and mourn for Him." When the Lord

visits us, He humbles us, removes all hardness from our hearts,

and leads us to the Saviour's feet.

When the Lord first visited us in the night it was very much

with us as with John, when the Lord visited him in the isle that

is called Patmos. He tells us, "And when I saw Him, I fell at His

feet as dead." Yes, even when we begin to see that He has put away

our sin, and removed our guilt by His death, we feel as if we

could never look up again, because we have been so cruel to our

best Friend. It is no wonder if we then say, "It is true that He

has forgiven me; but I never can forgive myself. He makes me live,

and I live in Him; but at the thought of His goodness I fall at

His feet as dead. Boasting is dead, self is dead, and all desire

for anything beyond my Lord is dead also." Well does Cowper sing

of--

"That dear hour, that brought me to His foot,

And cut up all my follies by the root."

The process of destroying follies is more hopefully performed

at Jesus' feet than anywhere else. Oh, that the Lord would come

again to us as at the first, and like a consuming fire discover

and destroy the dross which now alloys our gold! The word visit

brings to us who travel the remembrance of the government officer

who searches our baggage; thus doth the Lord seek out our secret

things. But it also reminds us of the visits of the physician, who

not only finds out our maladies, but also removes them. Thus did

the Lord Jesus visit us at the first.

Since those early days, I hope that you and I have had many

visits from our Lord. Those first visits were, as I said, sharply

searching; but the later ones have been sweetly solacing. Some of

us have had them, especially in the night, when we have been

compelled to count the sleepless hours. "Heaven's gate opens when

this world's is shut." The night is still; everybody is away; work

is done; care is forgotten, and then the Lord Himself draws near.

Possibly there may be pain to be endured, the head may be aching,

and the heart may be throbbing; but if Jesus comes to visit us,

our bed of languishing becomes a throne of glory. Though it is

true "He giveth His beloved sleep," yet at such times He gives

them something better than sleep, namely; His own presence, and

the fulness of joy which comes with it. By night upon our bed we

have seen the unseen. I have tried sometimes not to sleep under an

excess of joy, when the company of Christ has been sweetly mine.

"Thou hast visited me in the night." Believe me, there are

such things as personal visits from Jesus to His people. He has

not left us utterly. Though He be not seen with the bodily eye by

bush or brook, nor on the mount, nor by the sea, yet doth He come

and go, observed only by the spirit, felt only by the heart. Still

he standeth behind our wall, He showeth Himself through the

lattices.

"Jesus, these eyes have never seen

That radiant form of Thine!

The veil of sense hangs dark between

Thy blessed face and mine!

"I see Thee not, I hear Thee not,

Yet art Thou oft with me,

And earth hath ne'er so dear a spot

As where I meet with Thee.

"Like some bright dream that comes unsought,

When slumbers o'er me roll,

Thine image ever fills my thought,

And charms my ravish'd soul.

"Yet though I have not seen, and still

Must rest in faith alone;

I love Thee, dearest Lord! and will,

Unseen, but not unknown."

Do you ask me to describe these manifestations of the Lord?

It were hard to tell you in words: you must know them for

yourselves. If you had never tasted sweetness, no man living could

give you an idea of honey. Yet if the honey be there, you can

"taste and see." To a man born blind, sight must be a thing past

imagination; and to one who has never known the Lord, His visits

are quite as much beyond conception.

For our Lord to visit us is something more than for us to

have the assurance of our salvation, though that is very

delightful, and none of us should rest satisfied unless we possess

it. To know that Jesus loves me, is one thing; but to be visited

by Him in love, is more.

Nor is it simply a close contemplation of Christ; for we can

picture Him as exceedingly fair and majestic, and yet not have Him

consciously near us. Delightful and instructive as it is to behold

the likeness of Christ by meditation, yet the enjoyment of His

actual presence is something more. I may wear my friend's portrait

about my person, and yet may not be able to say, "Thou hast

visited me."

It is the actual, though spiritual, coming of Christ which we

so much desire. The Romish church says much about the _real_

presence; meaning thereby, the corporeal presence of the Lord

Jesus. The priest who celebrates mass tells us that he believes in

the _real_ presence, but we reply, "Nay, you believe in knowing

Christ after the flesh, and in that sense the only real presence

is in heaven; but we firmly believe in the real presence of Christ

which is spiritual, and yet certain." By spiritual we do not mean

unreal; in fact, the spiritual takes the lead in real-ness to

spiritual men. I believe in the true and real presence of Jesus

with His people: such presence has been real to my spirit. Lord

Jesus, Thou Thyself hast visited me. As surely as the Lord Jesus

came really as to His flesh to Bethlehem and Calvary, so surely

does He come really by His Spirit to His people in the hours of

their communion with Him. We are as conscious of that presence as

of our own existence.

When the Lord visits us in the night, what is the effect upon

us? When hearts meet hearts in fellowship of love, communion

brings first peace, then rest, and then joy of soul. I am speaking

of no emotional excitement rising into fanatical rapture; but I

speak of sober fact, when I say that the Lord's great heart

touches ours, and our heart rises into sympathy with Him.

First, we experience _peace_. All war is over, and a blessed

peace is proclaimed; the peace of God keeps our heart and mind by

Christ Jesus.

"Peace! perfect peace! in this dark world of sin?

The blood of Jesus whispers peace within.

"Peace! perfect peace! with sorrows surging round?

On Jesus' bosom nought but calm is found."

At such a time there is a delightful sense of _rest_; we have

no ambitions, no desires. A divine serenity and security envelop

us. We have no thought of foes, or fears, or afflictions, or

doubts. There is a joyous laying aside of our own will. We _are_

nothing, and we _will_ nothing: Christ is everything, and His will

is the pulse of our soul. We are perfectly content either to be

ill or to be well, to be rich or to be poor, to be slandered or to

be honoured, so that we may but abide in the love of Christ. Jesus

fills the horizon of our being.

At such a time a flood of great _joy_ will fill our minds. We

shall half wish that the morning may never break again, for fear

its light should banish the superior light of Christ's presence.

We shall wish that we could glide away with our Beloved to the

place where He feedeth among the lilies. We long to hear the

voices of the white-robed armies, that we may follow their

glorious Leader whithersoever He goeth. I am persuaded that there

is no great actual distance between earth and heaven: the distance

lies in our dull minds. When the Beloved visits us in the night,

He makes our chambers to be the vestibule of His palace-halls.

Earth rises to heaven when heaven comes down to earth.

Now, beloved friends, you may be saying to yourselves, "_We_

have not enjoyed such visits as these." You may do so. If the

Father loves you even as He loves His Son, then you are on

visiting terms with Him. If, then, He has not called upon you, you

will be wise to call on Him. Breathe a sigh to Him, and say,--

"When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord?

Oh come, my Lord most dear!

Come near, come nearer, nearer still,

I'm blest when Thou art near.

"When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord?

I languish for the sight;

Ten thousand suns when Thou art hid,

Are shades instead of light.

"When wilt Thou come unto me, Lord?

Until Thou dost appear,

I count each moment for a day,

Each minute for a year."

"As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my

soul after Thee, O God!" If you long for Him, He much more longs

for you. Never was there a sinner that was half so eager for

Christ as Christ is eager for the sinner; nor a saint one-tenth so

anxious to behold his Lord as his Lord is to behold him. If thou

art running to Christ, He is already near thee. If thou dost sigh

for His presence, that sigh is the evidence that He is with thee.

He is with thee now: therefore be calmly glad.

Go forth, beloved, and talk with Jesus on the beach, for He

oft resorted to the sea-shore. Commune with Him amid the olive-

groves so dear to Him in many a night of wrestling prayer. If ever

there was a country in which men should see traces of Jesus, next

to the Holy Land, this Riviera is the favoured spot. It is a land

of vines, and figs, and olives, and palms; I have called it "Thy

land, O Immanuel." While in this Mentone, I often fancy that I am

looking out upon the Lake of Gennesaret, or walking at the foot of

the Mount of Olives, or peering into the mysterious gloom of the

Garden of Gethsemane. The narrow streets of the old town are such

as Jesus traversed, these villages are such as He inhabited. Have

your hearts right with Him, and He will visit you often, until

every day you shall walk with God, as Enoch did, and so turn week-

days into Sabbaths, meals into sacraments, homes into temples, and

earth into heaven. So be it with us! Amen.

UNDER HIS SHADOW.

A BRIEF SACRAMENTAL DISCOURSE DELIVERED AT MENTONE

TO ABOUT A SCORE BRETHREN.

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall

abide under the shadow of the Almighty."--Psalm xci. 1.

I MUST confess of my short discourse, as the man did of the axe

which fell into the stream, that it is borrowed. The outline of it

is taken from one who will never complain of me, for to the great

loss of the Church she has left these lower choirs to sing above.

Miss Havergal, last and loveliest of our modern poets, when her

tones were most mellow, and her language most sublime, has been

caught up to swell the music of heaven. Her last poems are

published with the title, "Under His Shadow," and the preface

gives the reason for the name. She said, "I should like the title

to be, 'Under His Shadow.' I seem to see four pictures suggested

by that: under the shadow of a rock, in a weary plain; under the

shadow of a tree; closer still, under the shadow of His wing;

nearest and closest, in the shadow of His hand. Surely that hand

must be the pierced hand, that may oftentimes press us sorely, and

yet evermore encircling, upholding, and shadowing."

"Under His Shadow," is our afternoon subject, and we will in

a few words enlarge on the Scriptural plan which Miss Havergal has

bequeathed to us. Our text is, "He that dwelleth in the secret

place of the most High shall abide _under the shadow_ of the

Almighty." The shadow of God is not the occasional resort, but the

constant abiding-place, of the saint. Here we find not only our

consolation, but our habitation. We ought never to be out of the

shadow of God. It is to dwellers, not to visitors, that the Lord

promises His protection. "He that _dwelleth_ in the secret place

of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty:"

and that shadow shall preserve him from nightly terror and ghostly

ill, from the arrows of war and of pestilence, from death and from

destruction. Guarded by Omnipotence, the chosen of the Lord are

always safe; for as they dwell in the holy place, hard by the

mercy-seat, where the blood was sprinkled of old, the pillar of

fire by night, the pillar of cloud by day, which ever hangs over

the sanctuary, covers them also. Is it not written, "In the time

of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion, in the secret of His

tabernacle shall He hide me"? What better security can we desire?

As the people of God, we are always under the protection of the

Most High. Wherever we go, whatever we suffer, whatever may be our

difficulties, temptations, trials, or perplexities, we are always

"under the shadow of the Almighty." Over all who maintain their

fellowship with God the most tender guardian care is extended.

Their heavenly Father Himself interposes between them and their

adversaries. The experience of the saints, albeit they are all

under the shadow, yet differs as to the form in which that

protection has been enjoyed by them, hence the value of the four

figures which will now engage our attention.

I. We will begin with the first picture which Miss Havergal

mentions, namely, the rock sheltering the weary traveller:--"_The

shadow of a great rock in a weary land_" (Isaiah xxxii. 2).

Now, I take it that this is where we begin to know our Lord's

shadow. He was at the first to us _a refuge in time of trouble_.

Weary was the way, and great was the heat; our lips were parched,

and our souls were fainting; we sought for shelter, and we found

none; for we were in the wilderness of sin and condemnation, and

who could bring us deliverance, or even hope? Then we cried unto

the Lord in our trouble, and He led us to the Rock of ages, which

of old was cleft for us. We saw our interposing Mediator coming

between us and the fierce heat of justice, and we hailed the

blessed screen. The Lord Jesus was unto us a covering for sin, and

so a covert from wrath. The sense of divine displeasure, which had

beaten upon our conscience, was removed by the removal of the sin

itself, which we saw to be laid on Jesus, who in our place and

stead endured its penalty.

The shadow of a rock is remarkably cooling, and so was the

Lord Jesus eminently comforting to us. The shadow of a rock is

more dense, more complete, and more cool than any other shade; and

so the peace which Jesus gives passeth all understanding, there is

none like it. No chance beam darts through the rock-shade, nor can

the heat penetrate as it will do in a measure through the foliage

of a forest. Jesus is a complete shelter, and blessed are they who

are "under His shadow." Let them take care that they abide there,

and never venture forth to answer for themselves, or to brave the

accusations of Satan.

As with sin, so with sorrow of every sort: the Lord is the

Rock of our refuge. No sun shall smite us, nor, any heat, because

we are never out of Christ. The saints know where to fly, and they

use their privilege.

"When troubles, like a burning sun,

Beat heavy on their head,

To Christ their mighty Rock they run,

And find a pleasing shade."

There is, however, something of awe about this great shadow.

A rock is often so high as to be terrible, and we tremble in

presence of its greatness. The idea of littleness hiding behind

massive greatness is well set forth; but there is no tender

thought of fellowship, or gentleness: even so, at the first, we

view the Lord Jesus as our shelter from the consuming heat of

well-deserved punishment, and we know little more. It is most

pleasant to remember that this is only one panel of the four-fold

picture. Inexpressibly dear to my soul is the deep cool rock-shade

of my blessed Lord, as I stand in Him a sinner saved; yet is there

more.

II. Our second picture, that of the tree, is to be found in

the Song of Solomon ii. 3:--"_As the apple tree among the trees of

the wood, so is my Beloved among the sons. I sat down under His

shadow with great delight, and His fruit was sweet to my taste_."

Here we have not so much refuge from trouble as special _rest

in times of joy_. The spouse is happily wandering through a wood,

glancing at many trees, and rejoicing in the music of the birds.

One tree specially charms her: the citron with its golden fruit

wins her admiration, and she sits under its shadow with great

delight; such was her Beloved to her, the best among the good, the

fairest of the fair, the joy of her joy, the light of her delight.

Such is Jesus to the believing soul.

The sweet influences of Christ are intended to give us a

happy rest, and we ought to avail ourselves of them; "I sat down

under His shadow." This was Mary's better part, which Martha well-

nigh missed by being cumbered. That is the good old way wherein we

are to walk, the way in which we find rest unto our souls. Papists

and papistical persons, whose religion is all ceremonies, or all

working, or all groaning, or all feeling, have never come to an

end. We may say of their religion as of the law, that it made

nothing perfect; but under the gospel there is something finished,

and that something is the sum and substance of our salvation, and

therefore there is rest for us, and we ought to sing, "I sat

down."

Dear friends, is Christ to each one of us a place of sitting

down? I do not mean a rest of idleness and self-content,--God

deliver us from that; but there is rest in a conscious grasp of

Christ, a rest of contentment with Him as our all in all. God give

us to know more of this! This shadow is also meant to yield

perpetual solace, for the spouse did not merely come under it, but

there she sat down as one who meant to stay. Continuance of repose

and joy is purchased for us by our Lord's perfected work. Under

the shadow she found food; she had no need to leave it to find a

single needful thing, for the tree which shaded also yielded

fruit; nor did she need even to rise from her rest, but sitting

still she feasted on the delicious fruit. You who know the Lord

Jesus know also what this meaneth.

The spouse never wished to go beyond her Lord. She knew no

higher life than that of sitting under the Well-beloved's shadow.

She passed the cedar, and oak, and every other goodly tree, but

the apple-tree held her, and there she sat down. "Many there be

that say, who will show us any good? But as for us, O Lord, our

heart is fixed, our heart is fixed, resting on Thee. We will go no

further, for Thou art our dwelling-place, we feel at home with

Thee, and sit down beneath Thy shadow." Some Christians cultivate

reverence at the expense of childlike love; they kneel down, but

they dare not sit down. Our Divine Friend and Lover wills not that

it should be so; He would not have us stand on ceremony with Him,

but come boldly unto Him.

"Let us be simple with Him, then,

Not backward, stiff or cold,

As though our Bethlehem could be

What Sina was of old."

Let us use His sacred name as a common word, as a household

word, and run to Him as to a dear familiar friend. Under His

shadow we are to feel that we are at home, and then He will make

Himself at home to us by becoming food unto our souls, and giving

spiritual refreshment to us while we rest. The spouse does not

here say that she reached up to the tree to gather its fruit, but

she sat down on the ground in intense delight, and the fruit came

to her where she sat. It is wonderful how Christ will come down to

souls that sit beneath His shadow; if we can but be at home with

Christ, He will sweetly commune with us. Has He not said, "Delight

thyself also in the Lord, and He shall give thee the desires of

thine heart"?

In this second form of the sacred shadow, the sense of awe

gives place to that of restful delight in Christ. Have you ever

figured in such a scene as the sitter beneath the grateful shade

of the fruitful tree? Have you not only possessed security, but

experienced delight in Christ? Have you sung,--

"I sat down under His shadow,

Sat down with great delight;

His fruit was sweet unto my taste,

And pleasant to my sight"?

This is as necessary an experience as it is joyful: necessary

for many uses. The joy of the Lord is our strength, and it is when

we delight ourselves in the Lord that we have assurance of power

in prayer. Here faith develops, and hope grows bright, while love

sheds abroad all the fragrance of her sweet spices. Oh! get you to

the apple-tree, and find out who is the fairest among the fair.

Make the Light of heaven the delight of your heart, and then be

filled with heart's-ease, and revel in complete content.

III. The third view of the one subject is,--the shadow of his

wings,--a precious word. I think the best specimen of it, for it

occurs several times, is in that blessed Psalm, the sixty-third,

verse seven:--

"_Because Thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of

Thy wings will I rejoice_."

Does not this set forth our Lord as _our trust in hours of

depression?_ In the Psalm now open before us, David was banished

from the means of grace to a dry and thirsty land, where no water

was. What is much worse, he was in a measure away from all

conscious enjoyment of God. He says, "Early will I seek Thee. My

soul thirsteth for Thee." He sings rather of memories than of

present communion with God. We also have come into this condition,

and have been unable to find any present comfort. "Thou hast been

my help," has been the highest note we could strike, and we have

been glad to reach to that. At such times, the light of God's face

has been withdrawn, but our faith has taught us to rejoice under

the shadow of His wings. Light there was none; we were altogether

in the shade, but it was a warm shade. We felt that God who had

been near must be near us still, and therefore we were quieted.

Our God cannot change, and therefore as He was our help He must

still be our help, our help even though He casts a shadow over us,

for it must be the shadow of His own eternal wings. The metaphor

is, of course, derived from the nestling of little birds under the

shadow of their mother's wings, and the picture is singularly

touching and comforting. The little bird is not yet able to take

care of itself, so it cowers down under the mother, and is there

happy and safe. Disturb a hen for a moment, and you will see all

the little chickens huddling together, and by their chirps making

a kind of song. Then they push their heads into her feathers, and

seem happy beyond measure in their warm abode. When we are very

sick and sore depressed, when we are worried with the care of

pining children, and the troubles of a needy household, and the

temptations of Satan, how comforting it is to run to our God,--

like the little chicks run to the hen,--and hide away near His

heart, beneath His Wings. Oh, tried ones, press closely to the

loving heart of your Lord, hide yourselves entirely beneath His

wings! Here awe has disappeared, and rest itself is enhanced by

the idea of loving trust. The little birds are safe in their

mother's love, and we, too, are beyond measure secure and happy in

the loving favour of the Lord.

IV. The last form of the shadow is that of the hand, and

this, it seems to me, points to power and position in service.

Turn to Isaiah xlix. 2:--

"_And He hath made my mouth like a sharp sword; in the shadow

of His hand hath He kid me, and made me a polished shaft; in His

quiver hath He hid me_."

This undoubtedly refers to the Saviour, for the passage

proceeds:--"And said unto me, Thou art my servant, O Israel, in

whom I will be glorified. Then I said, I have laboured in vain, I

have spent my strength for nought, and in vain: yet surely my

judgment is with the Lord, and my work with my God. And now, saith

the Lord that formed me from the womb to be His servant, to bring

Jacob again to Him, though Israel be not gathered, yet shall I be

glorious in the eyes of the Lord, and my God shall be my strength.

And He said, It is a light thing that thou shouldest be My servant

to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of

Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that

thou mayest be My salvation unto the end of the earth." Our Lord

Jesus Christ was hidden away in the hand of Jehovah, to be used by

Him as a polished shaft for the overthrow of His enemies, and the

victory of His people. Yet, inasmuch as it is Christ, it is also

all Christ's servants, since as He is so are we also in this

world; and to make quite sure of it, we have the same expression

in the sixteenth verse of the fifty-first chapter, where, speaking

of His people, He says, "I have covered thee in the shadow of Mine

hand." Is not this an excellent minister's text? Every one of you

who will speak a word for Jesus shall have a share in it. This is

where those who are workers for Christ should long to be,--"in the

shadow of His hand," to achieve His eternal purpose. What are any

of God's servants without their Lord but weapons out of the

warrior's hand, having no power to do anything? We ought to be as

the arrows of the Lord which He shoots at His enemies; and so

great is His hand of power, and so little are we as His

instruments, that He hides us away in the hollow of His hand,

unseen until He darts us forth. As workers, we are to be hidden

away in the hand of God, or to quote the other figure, "in His

quiver hath He hid me:" we are to be unseen till He uses us. It is

impossible for us not to be known somewhat if the Lord uses us,

but we may not aim at being noticed, but, on the contrary, if we

be as much used as the very chief of the apostles, we must

truthfully add, "though I be nothing." Our desire should be that

Christ should be glorified, and that self should be concealed.

Alas! there is a way of always showing self in what we do, and we

are all too ready to fall into it. You can visit the poor in such

a way that they will feel that his lordship or her ladyship has

condescended to call upon poor Betsy; but there is another way of

doing the same thing so that the tried child of God shall know

that a brother beloved or a dear sister in Christ has shown a

fellow-feeling for her, and has talked to her heart. There is a

way of preaching, in which a great divine has evidently displayed

his vast learning and talent; and there is another way of

preaching, in which a faithful servant of Jesus Christ, depending

upon his Lord, has spoken in his Master's name, and left a rich

unction behind. Within the hand of God is the place of acceptance,

and safety; and for service it is the place of power, as well as

of concealment. God only works with those who are in His hand; and

the more we lie hidden there, the more surely will He use us ere

long. May the Lord do unto us according to His word, "I have put

My words in thy mouth, and I have covered thee in the shadow of My

hand." In this case we shall feel all the former emotions

combined: awe that the Lord should condescend to take us into His

hand, rest and delight that He should deign to use us, trust that

out of weakness we shall now be made strong, and to this will be

added an absolute assurance that the end of our being must be

answered, for that which is urged onward by the Almighty hand

cannot miss its mark.

These are mere surface thoughts. The subject deserves a

series of discourses. Your best course, my beloved friends, will

be to enlarge upon these hints by a long personal experience of

abiding under the shadow of the Almighty. May God the Holy Ghost

lead you into it, and keep you there, for Jesus' sake!

UNDER THE APPLE TREE.

"I sat down under His shadow with great delight, and His

fruit was sweet to my taste."--Solomon's Song ii. 3.

Christ _known should be Christ used_. The spouse knew her Beloved

to be like a fruit-bearing tree, and at once she sat under His

shadow, and fed upon His fruit. It is a pity that we know so much

about Christ, and yet enjoy Him so little. May our experience keep

pace with our knowledge, and may that experience be composed of a

practical using of our Lord! Jesus casts a shadow, let us sit

under it: Jesus yields fruit, let us taste the sweetness of it.

Depend upon it that the way to learn more is to use what you know;

and, moreover, the way to learn a truth thoroughly is to learn it

experimentally. You know a doctrine beyond all fear of

contradiction when you have proved it for yourself by personal

test and trial. The bride in the song as good as says, "I am

certain that my Beloved casts a shadow, for I have sat under it,

and I am persuaded that He bears sweet fruit, for I have tasted of

it." The best way of demonstrating the power of Christ to save is

to trust in Him and be saved yourself; and of all those who are

sure of the divinity of our holy faith, there are none so certain

as those who feel its divine power upon themselves. You may reason

yourself into a belief of the gospel, and you may by further

reasoning keep yourself orthodox; but a personal trial, and an

inward knowing of the truth, are incomparably the best evidences.

If Jesus be as an apple tree among the trees of the wood, do not

keep away from Him, but sit under His shadow, and taste His fruit.

He is a Saviour; do not believe the fact and yet remain unsaved.

As far as Christ is known to you, so far make use of Him. Is not

this sound common-sense?

We would further remark that _we are at liberty to make every

possible use of Christ_. Shadow and fruit may both be enjoyed.

Christ in His infinite condescension exists for needy souls. Oh,

let us say it over again: it is a bold word, but it is true,--as

Christ Jesus, our Lord exists for the benefit of His people. A

Saviour only exists to save. A physician lives to heal. The Good

Shepherd lives, yea, dies, for His sheep. Our Lord Jesus Christ

hath wrapped us about His heart; we are intimately interwoven with

all His offices, with all His honours, with all His traits of

character, with all that He has done, and with all that He has yet

to do. The 'sinners' Friend lives for sinners, and sinners may

have Him and use Him to the uttermost. He is as free to us as the

air we breathe. What are fountains for, but that the thirsty may

drink? What is the harbour for but that storm-tossed barques may

there find refuge? What is Christ for but that poor guilty ones

like ourselves may come to Him and look and live, and afterwards

may have all our needs supplied out of His fulness?

We have thus the door set open for us, and we pray that the

Holy Spirit may help us to enter in while we notice in the text

two things which we pray that you may enjoy to the full. First,

_the heart's rest in Christ:_ "I sat down under His shadow with

great delight." And, secondly, _the heart's refreshment in

Christ:_ "His fruit was sweet to my taste."

I. To begin with, we have here the heart's rest in Christ. To

set this forth, let us notice the character of the person who

uttered this sentence. She who said, "I sat down under His shadow

with great delight," was one who _had known before what weary

travel meant, and therefore valued rest;_ for the man who has

never laboured knows nothing of the sweetness of repose. The

loafer who has eaten bread he never earned, from whose brow there

never oozed a drop of honest sweat, does not deserve rest, and

knows not what it is. It is to the labouring man that rest is

sweet; and when at last we come, toil-worn with many miles of

weary plodding, to a shaded place where we may comfortably sit

down, then are we filled with delight.

The spouse had been seeking her Beloved, and in looking for

Him she had asked where she was likely to find Him. "Tell me,"

says she, "O Thou whom my soul loveth, where Thou feedest, where

Thou makest Thy flock to rest at noon." The answer was given to

her, "Go thy way forth by the footsteps of the flock." She did go

her way; but, after a while, she came to this resolution: "I will

_sit down_ under His shadow."

Many of you have been sorely wearied with going your way to

find peace. Some of you tried ceremonies, and trusted in them, and

the priest came to your help; but he mocked your heart's distress.

Others of you sought by various systems of thought to come to an

anchorage; but, tossed from billow to billow, you found no rest

upon the seething sea of speculation. More of you tried by your

good works to gain rest to your consciences. You multiplied your

prayers, you poured out floods of tears, you hoped, by almsgiving

and by the like, that some merit might accrue to you, and that

your heart might feel acceptance with God, and so have rest. You

toiled and toiled, like the men that were in the vessel with Jonah

when they rowed hard to bring their ship to land, but could not,

for the sea wrought and was tempestuous. There was no escape for

you that way, and so you were driven to another way, even to rest

in Jesus. My heart looks back to the time when I was under a sense

of sin, and sought with all my soul to find peace, but could not

discover it, high or low, in any place beneath the sky; yet when

"I saw one hanging on a tree," as the Substitute for sin, then my

heart sat down under His shadow with great delight. My heart

reasoned thus with herself,--Did Jesus suffer in my stead? Then I

shall not suffer. Did He bear my sin? Then I do not bear it. Did

God accept His Son as my Substitute? Then He will never smite

_me_. Was Jesus acceptable with God as my Sacrifice? Then what

contents the Lord may well enough content me, and so I will go no

farther, but: "sit down under His shadow," and enjoy a delightful

rest.

She who said, "I sat down under His shadow with great

delight," _could appreciate shade, for she had been sunburnt_. Did

we not read just now her exclamation,--"Look not upon me, for I am

black, because the sun hath looked upon me"? She knew what heat

meant, what the burning sun meant; and therefore shade was

pleasant to her. You know nothing about the deliciousness of shade

till you travel in a thoroughly hot country; then you are

delighted with it. Did you ever feel the heat of divine wrath? Did

the great Sun--that Sun without variableness or shadow of a

turning--ever dart upon you His hottest rays,--the rays of his

holiness and justice? Did you cower down beneath the scorching

beams of that great Light, and say, "We are consumed by Thine

anger"? If you have ever felt _that_, you have found it a very

blessed thing to come under the shadow of Christ's atoning

sacrifice. A shadow, you know, is cast by a body coming between us

and the light and heat; and our Lord's most blessed body has come

between us and the scorching sun of divine justice, so that we sit

under the shadow of His mediation with great delight.

And now, if any other sun begins to scorch us, we fly to our

Lord. If domestic trouble, or business care, or Satanic

temptation, or inward corruption, oppresses us, we hasten to

Jesus' shadow, to hide under Him, and there "sit down" in the cool

refreshment with great delight. The interposition of our blessed

Lord is the cause of our inward quiet. The sun cannot scorch _me_,

for it scorched _Him_. My troubles need not trouble me, for He has

taken my trouble, and I have left it in His hands. "I sat down

under His shadow."

Mark well these two things concerning the spouse. She knew

what it was to be weary, and she knew what it was to be sunburnt;

and just in proportion as you also know these two things, your

valuation of Christ will rise. You who have never pined under the

wrath of God have never prized the Saviour. Water is of small

value in this land of brooks and rivers, and so you commonly

sprinkle the roads with it; but I warrant you that, if you were

making a day's march over burning sand, a cup of cold water would

be worth a king's ransom; and so to thirsty souls Christ is

precious, but to none beside.

Now, when the spouse was sitting down, restful and delighted,

_she was overshadowed_. She says, "I sat down _under His shadow_."

I do not know a more delightful state of mind than to feel quite

overshadowed by our beloved Lord. Here is my black sin, but there

is His precious blood overshadowing my sin, and hiding it for

ever. Here is my condition by nature, an enemy to God; but He who

reconciled me to God by His blood has overshadowed that also, so

that I forget that I was once an enemy in the joy of being now a

friend. I am very weak; but He is strong, and His strength

overshadows my feebleness. I am very poor; but He hath all riches,

and His riches overshadow my poverty. I am most unworthy; but He

is so worthy that if I use His name I shall receive as much as if

I were worthy: His worthiness doth overshadow my unworthiness. It

is very precious to put the truth the other way, and say, If there

be anything good in me, it is not good when I compare myself with

Him, for His goodness quite eclipses and overshadows it. Can I say

I love Him? So I do, but I hardly dare call it love, for His love

overshadows it. Did I suppose that I served Him? So I would; but

my poor service is not worth mentioning in comparison with what He

has done for me. Did I think I had any degree of holiness? I must

not deny what His Spirit works in me; but when I think of His

immaculate life, and all His divine perfections, where am I? What

am I? Have you not sometimes felt this? Have you not been so

overshadowed and hidden under your Lord that you became as

nothing? I know myself what it is to feel that if I die in a

workhouse it does not matter so long as my Lord is glorified.

Mortals may cast out my name as evil, if they like; but what

matters it since His dear name shall one day be printed in stars

athwart the sky? Let Him overshadow me; I delight that it should

be so.

The spouse tells us that, when she became quite overshadowed,

then _she felt great delight_. Great "_I_" never has great

delight, for it cannot bear to own a greater than itself, but the

humble believer finds his delight in being overshadowed by his

Lord. In the shade of Jesus we have more delight than in any

fancied light of our own. The spouse had _great_ delight. I trust

that you Christian people do have great delight; and if not, you

ought to ask yourselves whether you really are the people of God.

I like to see a cheerful countenance; ay, and to hear of raptures

in the hearts of those who are God's saints! There are people who

seem to think that religion and gloom are married, and must never

be divorced. Pull down the blinds on Sunday, and darken the rooms;

if you have a garden, or a rose in flower, try to forget that

there are such beauties: are you not to serve God as dolorously as

you can? Put your book under your arm, and crawl to your place of

worship in as mournful a manner as if you were being marched to

the whipping-post. Act thus if you will; but give me that religion

which cheers my heart, fires my soul, and fills me with enthusiasm

and delight,--for that is likely to be the religion of heaven, and

it agrees with the experience of the Inspired Song.

Although I trust that we know what delight means, I question

if we have enough of it to describe ourselves as _sitting down_ in

the enjoyment of it. Do you give yourselves enough time to sit at

Jesus' feet? _There_ is the place of delight, do you abide in it?

Sit down under His shadow. "I have no leisure," cries one. Try and

make a little. Steal it from your sleep if you cannot get it

anyhow else. Grant leisure to your heart. It would be a great pity

if a man never spent five minutes with his wife, but was forced to

be always hard at work. Why, that is slavey, is it not? Shall we

not then have time to commune with our Best-beloved? Surely,

somehow or other, we can squeeze out a little season in which we

shall have nothing else to do but to sit down under His shadow

with great delight! When I take my Bible, and want to feed on it

for myself, I generally get thinking about preaching upon the

text, and what I should say to you from it. This will not do; I

must get away from that, and forget that there is a Tabernacle,

that I may sit personally at Jesus' feet. And, oh, there is an

intense delight in being overshadowed by Him! He is near you, and

you know it. His dear presence is as certainly with you as if you

could see Him, for His influence surrounds you.

Often have I felt as if Jesus leaned over me, as a friend

might look over my shoulder. Although no cool shade comes over

your brow, yet you may as much feel His shadow as if it did, for

your heart grows calm; and if you have been wearied with the

family, or troubled with the church, or vexed with yourself, you

come down from the chamber where you have seen your Lord, and you

feel braced for the battle of life, ready for its troubles and its

temptations, because you have seen the Lord. "I sat down" said

she, "under His shadow with _great delight_." How great that

delight was she could not tell, but she sat down as one

overpowered with it, needing to sit still under the load of bliss.

I do not like to talk much about the secret delights of

Christians, because there are always some around us who do not

understand our meaning; but I will venture to say this much--that

if worldlings could but even guess what are the secret joys of

believers, they would give their eyes to share with us. We have

troubles, and we admit it, we expect to have them; but we have

joys which are frequently excessive. We should not like that

others should be witnesses of the delight which now and then

tosses our soul into a very tempest of joy. You know what it

means, do you not? When you have been quite alone with the

heavenly Bridegroom, you wanted to tell the angels of the sweet

love of Christ to you, a poor unworthy one. You even wished to

teach the golden harps fresh music, for seraphs know not the

heights and depths of the grace of God as you know them.

The spouse had great delight, and we know that she had, for

this one reason, that _she did not forget it_. This verse and the

whole Song are a remembrance of what she had enjoyed. She says, "I

sat down under His shadow." It may have been a month, it may have

been years ago; but she had not forgotten it. The joys of

fellowship with God are written in marble. "Engraved as in eternal

brass" are memories of communion with Christ Jesus. "Above

fourteen years ago," says the apostle, "I knew a man." Ah, it was

worth remembering all those years! He had not told his delight,

but he had kept it stored up. He says, "I knew a man in Christ

above fourteen years ago (whether in the body, I cannot tell; or

whether out of the body, I cannot tell:)" so great had his

delights been. When we look back, we forget birthdays, holidays,

and bonfire-nights which we have spent after the manner of men,

but we readily recall our times of fellowship with the Well-

beloved. We have known our Tabors, our times of transfiguration

fellowship, and like Peter we remember when we were "with Him in

the holy mount." Our head has leaned upon the Master's bosom, and

we can never forget the intense delight; nor will we fail to put

on record for the good of others the joys with which we have been

indulged.

Now I leave this first part of the subject, only noticing how

beautifully natural it is. There was a tree, and she sat down

under the shadow: there was nothing strained, nothing formal. So

ought true piety ever to be consistent with common-sense, with

that which seems most fitting, most comely, most wise, and most

natural. There is Christ, we may enjoy Him, let us not despise the

privilege.

II. The second part of our subject is, the heart's

refreshment in Christ. His fruit was sweet to my taste. Here I

will not enlarge, but give you thoughts in brief which you can

beat out afterwards. _She did not feast upon the fruit of the tree

till first she was under the shadow of it._ There is no knowing

the excellent things of Christ till you trust Him. Not a single

sweet apple shall fall to the lot of those who are outside the

shadow. Come and trust Christ, and then all that there is in

Christ shall be enjoyed by you. O unbelievers, what you miss! If

you will but sit down under His shadow, you shall have all things;

but if you will not, neither shall any good thing of Christ's be

yours.

_But as soon as ever she was under the shadow, then the fruit

was all hers_. "I sat down under His shadow," saith she, and then,

"His fruit was sweet to my taste." Dost thou believe in Jesus,

friend? Then Jesus Christ Himself is thine; and if thou dost own

the tree, thou mayest well eat the fruit. Since He Himself becomes

thine altogether, then His redemption and the pardon that comes of

it, His living power, His mighty intercession, the glories of His

Second Advent, and all that belong to Him are made over to thee

for thy personal and present use and enjoyment. All things are

yours, since Christ is yours. Only mind you imitate the spouse:

_when she found that the fruit was hers, she ate it_. Copy her

closely in this. It is a great fault in many believers, that they

do not appropriate the promises, and feed on them. Do not err as

they do. Under the shadow you have a right to eat the fruit. Deny

not yourselves the sacred entertainment.

Now, it would appear, as we read the text, that _she obtained

this fruit without effort_. The proverb says, "He who would gain

the fruit must climb the tree." But she did not climb, for she

says, "I sat down under His shadow." I suppose the fruit dropped

down to her. I know that it is so with us. We no longer spend our

money for that which is not bread, and our labour for that which

satisfieth not; but we sit under our Lord's shadow, and we eat

that which is good, and our soul delights itself in sweetness.

Come Christian, enter into the calm rest of faith, by sitting down

beneath the cross, and thou shalt be fed even to the full.

_The spouse rested while feasting:_ she sat and ate. So, O

true believer, rest whilst thou art feeding upon Christ! The

spouse says, "I sat, and I ate." Had she not told us in the former

chapter that the King _sat_ at His table? See how like the Church

is to her Lord, and the believer to his Saviour! We sit down also,

and we eat, even as the King doth. Right royally are we

entertained. His joy is in us, and His peace keeps our hearts and

minds.

Further, notice that, _as the spouse fed upon this fruit, she

had a relish for it._ It is not every palate that likes every

fruit. Never dispute with other people about tastes of any sort,

for agreement is not possible. That dainty which to one person is

the most delicious is to another nauseous; and if there were a

competition as to which fruit is preferable to all the rest, there

would probably be almost as many opinions as there are fruits. But

blessed is he who hath a relish for Christ Jesus! Dear hearer, is

He sweet to you? Then He is yours. There never was a heart that

did relish Christ but what Christ belonged to that heart. If thou

hast been feeding on Him, and He is sweet to thee, go on feasting,

for He who gave thee a relish gives thee Himself to satisfy thine

appetite.

What are the fruits which come from Christ? Are they not

peace with God, renewal of heart, joy in the Holy Ghost, love to

the brethren? Are they not regeneration, justification,

sanctification, adoption, and all the blessings of the covenant of

grace? And are they not each and all sweet to our taste? As we

have fed upon them, have we not said, "Yes, these things are

pleasant indeed. There is none like them. Let us live upon them

evermore"? Now, sit down, sit down and feed. It seems a strange

thing that we should have to persuade people to do that, but in

the spiritual world things are very different from what they are

in the natural. In the case of most men, if you put a joint of

meat before them, and a knife and fork, they do not need many

arguments to persuade them to fall to. But I will tell you when

they will not do it, and that is when they are full: and I will

also tell you when they will do it, and that is when they are

hungry. Even so, if thy soul is weary after Christ the Saviour,

thou wilt feed on Him; but if not, it is useless for me to preach

to thee, or bid thee come. However, thou that art there, sitting

under His shadow, thou mayest hear Him utter these words: "Eat, O

friend: drink, yea, drink abundantly." Thou canst not have too

much of these good things: the more of Christ, the better the

Christian.

We know that the spouse feasted herself right heartily with

this food from the tree of life, for _in after days she wanted

more_. Will you kindly read on in the fourth verse? The verse

which contains our text describes, as it were, her first love to

her Lord, her country love, her rustic love. She went to the wood,

and she found Him there like an apple tree, and she enjoyed Him as

one relishes a ripe apple in the country. But she grew in grace,

she learned more of her Lord, and she found that her Best-beloved

was a King. I should not wonder but what she learned the doctrine

of the Second Advent, for then she began to sing, "He brought me

to the banqueting house." As much as to say,--He did not merely

let me know Him out in the fields as the Christ in His

humiliation, but He brought me into the royal palace; and, since

He is a King, He brought forth a banner with His own brave

escutcheon, and He waved it over me while I was sitting at the

table, and the motto of that banneret was love.

She grew very full of this. It was such a grand thing to find

a great Saviour, a triumphant Saviour, an exalted Saviour! But it

was too much for her, and she became sick of soul with the

excessive glory of what she had learned; and do you see what her

heart craves for? She longs for her first simple joys, those

countrified delights. "Comfort me with apples," she says. Nothing

but the old joys will revive her. Did you ever feel like that? I

have been satiated with delight in the love of Christ as a

glorious exalted Saviour when I have seen Him riding on His white

horse, and going forth conquering and to conquer; I have been

overwhelmed when I have beheld Him in the midst of the throne,

with all the brilliant assembly of angels and archangels adoring

Him, and my thought has gone forward to the day when He shall

descend with all the pomp of God, and make all kings and princes

shrink into nothingness before the infinite majesty of His glory.

Then I have felt as though, at the sight of Him, I must fall at

His feet as dead; and I have wanted somebody to come and tell me

over again "the old, old story" of how He died in order that I

might be saved. His throne overpowers me, let me gather fruit from

His cross. Bring me apples from "the tree" again. I am awe-struck

while in the palace, let me get away to the woods again. Give me

an apple plucked from the tree, such as I have given out to boys

and girls in His family, such an apple as this, "Come unto Me all

ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Or

this: "This man receiveth sinners." Give me a promise from the

basket of the covenant. Give me the simplicity of Christ, let me

be a child and feast on apples again, if Jesus be the apple tree.

I would fain go back to Christ on the tree in my stead, Christ

overshadowing me, Christ feeding me. This is the happiest state to

live in. Lord, evermore give us these apples! You recollect the

old story we told, years ago, of Jack the huckster who used to

sing,--

"I'm a poor sinner, and nothing at all,

But Jesus Christ is my all in all."

Those who knew him were astonished at his constant composure.

They had a world of doubts and fears, and so they asked him why he

never doubted. "Well," said he, "I can't doubt but what I am a

poor sinner, and nothing at all, for I know that, and feel it

every day. And why should I doubt that Jesus Christ is my all in

all? for He says He is." "Oh!" said his questioner, "I have my ups

and downs." "I don't," says Jack;" I can never go up, for I am a

poor sinner, and nothing at all; and I cannot go down, for Jesus

Christ is my all in all." He wanted to join the church, and they

said he must tell his experience. He said, "All my experience is

that I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all, and Jesus Christ is

my all in all." "Well," they said, "when you come before the

church-meeting, the minister may ask you questions." "I can't help

it," said Jack, "all I know I will tell you; and that is all I

know,--

"'I'm a poor sinner, and nothing at all,

But Jesus Christ is my all in all.'"

He was admitted into the church, and continued with the

brethren, walking in holiness; but that was still all his

experience, and you could not get him beyond it. "Why," said one

brother, "I sometimes feel so full of grace, I feel so advanced in

sanctification, that I begin to be very happy." "I never do," said

Jack; "I am a poor sinner, and nothing at all." "But then," said

the other, "I go down again, and think I am not saved, because I

am not as sanctified as I used to be." "But I never doubt my

salvation," said Jack, "because Jesus Christ is my all in all, and

He never alters." That simple story is grandly instructive, for it

sets forth a plain man's faith in a plain salvation; it is the

likeness of a soul under the apple tree, resting in the shade, and

feasting on the fruit.

Now, at this time I want you to think of Jesus, not as a

Prince, but as an apple tree; and when this is done, I pray you to

_sit down under His shadow_. It is not much to do. Any child, when

it is hot, can sit down in a shadow. I want you next to feed on

Jesus: any simpleton can eat apples when they are ripe upon the

tree. Come and take Christ, then. You who never came before, come

now. Come and welcome. You who have come often, and have entered

into the palace, and are reclining at the banqueting table, you

lords and peers of Christianity, come to the common wood and to

the common apple tree where poor saints are shaded and fed. You

had better come under the apple tree, like poor sinners such as I

am, and be once more shaded with boughs and comforted with apples,

for else you may faint beneath the palace glories. The best of

saints are never better than when they eat their first fare, and

are comforted with the apples which were their first gospel feast.

The Lord Himself bring forth His own sweet fruit to you!

Amen.

OVER THE MOUNTAINS.

"My Beloved is mine, and I am His: He feedeth among the

lilies. Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my

Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart upon the mountains

of Bether."--Solomon's Song ii. 16, 17.

IT may be that there are saints who are always at their best, and

are happy enough never to lose the light of their Father's

countenance. I am not sure that there are such persons, for those

believers with whom I have been most intimate have had a varied

experience; and those whom I have known, who have boasted of their

constant perfectness, have not been the most reliable of

individuals. I hope there is a spiritual region attainable where

there are no clouds to hide the Sun of our soul; but I cannot

speak with positiveness, for I have not traversed that happy land.

Every year of my life has had a winter as well as a summer, and

every day its night. I have hitherto seen clear shinings and heavy

rains, and felt warm breezes and fierce winds. Speaking for the

many of my brethren, I confess that though the substance be in us,

as in the teil-tree and the oak, yet we do lose our leaves, and

the sap within us does not flow with equal vigour at all seasons.

We have our downs as well as our ups, our valleys as well as our

hills. We are not always rejoicing; we are sometimes in heaviness

through manifold trials. Alas! we are grieved to confess that our

fellowship with the Well-beloved is not always that of rapturous

delight; but we have at times to seek Him, and cry, "Oh, that I

knew where I might find Him!" This appears to me to have been in a

measure the condition of the spouse when she cried, "Until the day

break, and the shadows flee away, turn, my Beloved."

I. These words teach us, first, that communion may be broken.

The spouse had lost the company of her Bridegroom: conscious

communion with Him was gone, though she loved her Lord, and sighed

for Him. In her loneliness she was sorrowful; but _she had by no

means ceased to love Him_, for she calls Him her Beloved, and

speaks as one who felt no doubt upon that point. Love to the Lord

Jesus may be quite as true, and perhaps quite as strong, when we

sit in darkness as when we walk in the light. Nay, _she had not

last her assurance of His love to her_, and of their mutual

interest in one another; for she says, "My Beloved is mine, and I

am His;" and yet she adds, "Turn, my Beloved." The condition of

our graces does not always coincide with the state of our joys. We

may be rich in faith and love, and yet have so low an esteem of

ourselves as to be much depressed.

It is plain, from this Sacred Canticle, that the spouse may

love and be loved, may be confident in her Lord, and be fully

assured of her possession of Him, and yet there may for the

present be mountains between her and Him. Yes, we may even be far

advanced in the divine life, and yet be exiled for a while from

conscious fellowship. There are nights for men as well as babes,

and the strong know that the sun is hidden quite as well as do the

sick and the feeble. Do not, therefore, condemn yourself, my

brother, because a cloud is over you; cast not away your

confidence; but the rather let faith burn up in the gloom, and let

your love resolve to come at your Lord again whatever be the

barriers which divide you from Him.

When Jesus is absent from a true heir of heaven, sorrow will

ensue. The healthier our condition, the sooner will that absence

be perceived, and the more deeply will it be lamented. This sorrow

is described in the text as darkness; this is implied in the

expression, "_Until the day break_." Till Christ appears, no day

has dawned for us. We dwell in midnight darkness; the stars of the

promises and the moon of experience yield no light of comfort till

our Lord, like the sun, arises and ends the night. We must have

Christ with us, or we are benighted: we grope like blind men for

the wall, and wander in dismay.

The spouse also speaks of shadows. "Until the day break, _and

the shadows flee away_." Shadows are multiplied by the departure

of the sun, and these are apt to distress the timid. We are not

afraid of real enemies when Jesus is with us; but when we miss

Him, we tremble at a shade. How sweet is that song, "Yea, though I

walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no

evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort

me!" But we change our note when midnight is now come, and Jesus

is not with us: then we people the night with terrors: spectres,

demons, hobgoblins, and things that never existed save in fancy,

are apt to swarm about us; and we are in fear where no fear is.

The spouse's worst trouble was that _the back of her Beloved

was turned to her_, and so she cried, "Turn, my Beloved." When His

face is towards her, she suns herself in His love; but if the

light of His countenance is withdrawn, she is sorely troubled. Our

Lord turns His face from His people though He never turns His

heart from His people. He may even close His eyes in sleep when

the vessel is tossed by the tempest, but His heart is awake all

the while. Still, it is pain enough to have grieved Him in any

degree: it cuts us to the quick to think that we have wounded His

tender heart. He is jealous, but never without cause. If He turns

His back upon us for a while, He has doubtless a more than

sufficient reason. He would not walk contrary to us if we had not

walked contrary to Him. Ah, it is sad work this! The presence of

the Lord makes this life the preface to the life celestial; but

His absence leaves us pining and fainting, neither doth any

comfort remain in the land of our banishment. The Scriptures and

the ordinances, private devotion and public worship, are all as

sun-dials,--most excellent when the sun shines, but of small avail

in the dark. O Lord Jesus, nothing can compensate us for Thy loss!

Draw near to Thy beloved yet again, for without Thee our night

will never end.

"See! I repent, and vex my soul,

That I should leave Thee so!

Where will those vile affections roll

That let my Saviour go?"

When communion with Christ is broken, in all true hearts

_there is a strong desire to win it back again_. The man who has

known the joy of communion with Christ, if he loses it, will never

be content until it is restored. Hast thou ever entertained the

Prince Emmanuel? Is He gone elsewhere? Thy chamber will be dreary

till He comes back again. "Give me Christ or else I die," is the

cry of every spirit that has lost, the dear companionship of

Jesus. We do not part with such heavenly delights without many a

pang. It is not with us a matter of "maybe He will return, and we

hope He will;" but it must be, or we faint and die. We cannot live

without Him; and this is a cheering sign; for the soul that cannot

live without Him shall not live without Him: He comes speedily

where life and death hang on His coming. If you must have Christ

you shall have Him. This is just how the matter stands: we must

drink of this well or die of thirst; we must feed upon Jesus or

our spirit will famish.

II. We will now advance a step, and say that when communion

with Christ is broken, there are great difficulties in the way of

its renewal. It is much easier to go down hill than to climb to

the same height again. It is far easier to lose joy in God than to

find the lost jewel. The spouse speaks of "mountains" dividing her

from her Beloved: she means that _the difficulties were great_.

They were not little hills, but mountains, that closed up her way.

Mountains of remembered sin, Alps of backsliding, dread ranges of

forgetfulness, ingratitude, worldliness, coldness in prayer,

frivolity, pride, unbelief. Ah me, I cannot teach you all the dark

geography of this sad experience! Giant walls rose before her like

the towering steeps of Lebanon. How could she come at her Beloved?

_The dividing difficulties were many_ as well as great. She

does not speak of "a mountain", but of "mountains": Alps rose on

Alps, wall after wall. She was distressed to think that in so

short a time so much could come between her and Him of whom she

sang just now, "His left hand is under my head, and His right hand

doth embrace me." Alas, we multiply these mountains of Bether with

a sad rapidity! Our Lord is jealous, and we give Him far too much

reason, for hiding His face. A fault, which seemed so small at the

time we committed it, is seen in the light of its own

consequences, and then it grows and swells till it towers aloft,

and hides the face of the Beloved. Then has our sun gone down, and

fear whispers, "Will His light ever return? Will it ever be

daybreak? Will the shadows ever flee away?" It is easy to grieve

away the heavenly sunlight, but ah, how hard to clear the skies,

and regain the unclouded brightness!

Perhaps the worst thought of all to the spouse was the dread

that _the dividing barrier might be permanent_. It was high, but

it might dissolve; the walls were many, but they might fall; but,

alas, they were mountains, and these stand fast for ages! She felt

like the Psalmist, when he cried, "My sin is ever before me." The

pain of our Lord's absence becomes: intolerable when we fear that

we are hopelessly shut out from Him. A night one can bear, hoping

for the morning; but what if the day should never break? And you

and I, if we have wandered away from Christ, and feel that there

are ranges of immovable mountains between Him and us, will feel

sick at heart. We try to pray, but devotion dies on our lips. We

attempt to approach the Lord at the communion table, but we feel

more like Judas than John. At such times we have felt that we

would give our eyes once more to behold the Bridegroom's face, and

to know that He delights in us as in happier days. Still there

stand the awful mountains, black, threatening, impassable; and in

the far-off land the Life of our life is away, and grieved.

So the spouse seems to have come to the conclusion that _the

difficulties in her way were insurmountable by her own power_. She

does not even think of herself going over the mountains to her

Beloved, but she cries, "Until the day break, and the shadows flee

away, turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart

upon the mountains of Bether." She will not try to climb the

mountains, she knows she cannot: if they had been less high, she

might have attempted it; but their summits reach to heaven. If

they had been less craggy or difficult, she might have tried to

scale them; but these mountains are terrible, and no foot may

stand upon their lone crags. Oh, the mercy of utter self-despair!

I love to see a soul driven into that close corner, and forced

therefore to look to God alone. The end of the creature is the

beginning of the Creator. Where the sinner ends the Saviour

begins. If the mountains can be climbed, we shall have to climb

them; but if they are quite impassable, then the soul cries out

with the prophet, "Oh, that Thou wouldest rend the heavens, that

Thou wouldest come down, that the mountains might flow down at Thy

presence. As when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the

waters to boil, to make Thy name known to Thine adversaries, that

the nations may tremble at Thy presence. When Thou didst terrible

things which we looked not for, Thou camest down, the mountains

flowed down at Thy presence." Our souls are lame, they cannot move

to Christ, and we turn our strong desires to Him, and fix our

hopes alone upon Him; will He not remember us in love, and fly to

us as He did to His servant of old when He rode upon a cherub, and

did fly, yea, He did fly upon the wings of the wind?

III. Here arises that prayer of the text which fully meets

the case. "Turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young

hart upon the mountains of division." Jesus can come to us when we

cannot go to Him. The roe and the young hart, or, as you may read

it, the gazelle and the ibex, live among the crags of the

mountains, and leap across the abyss with amazing agility. For

swiftness and sure-footedness they are unrivalled. The sacred poet

said, "He maketh my feet like hinds' feet, and setteth me upon my

high places," alluding to the feet of those creatures which are so

fitted to stand securely on the mountain's side. Our blessed Lord

is called, in the title of the twenty-second Psalm, "the Hind of

the morning "; and the spouse in this golden Canticle sings, "My

Beloved is like a roe or a young hart; behold He cometh, leaping

upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills."

Here I would remind you that this prayer is one that we may

fairly offer, because _it is the way of Christ to come to us_ when

our coming to Him is out of the question. "How?" say you. I answer

that of old He did this; for we remember "His great love wherewith

He loved us even when we were dead in trespasses and in sins." His

first coming into the world in human form, was it not because man

could never come to God until God had come to him? I hear of no

tears, or prayers, or entreaties after God on the part of our

first parents; but the offended Lord spontaneously gave the

promise that the Seed of the woman should bruise the serpent's

head. Our Lord's coming into the world was unbought, unsought,

unthought of; he came altogether of His own free will, delighting

to redeem.

"With pitying eyes, the Prince of grace

Beheld our helpless grief;

He saw, and (oh, amazing love!)

He ran to our relief."

His incarnation was a type of the way in which He comes to us

by His Spirit. He saw us cast out, polluted, shameful, perishing;

and as He passed by, His tender lips said, "Live!" In us is

fulfilled that word, "I am found of them that sought Me not." We

were too averse to holiness, too much in bondage to sin, ever to

have returned to Him if He had not turned to us. What think you?

Did He come to us when we were enemies, and will He not visit us

now that we are friends? Did He come to us when we were dead

sinners, and will He not hear us now that we are weeping saints?

If Christ's coming to the earth was after this manner, and if His

coming to each one of us was after this style, we may well hope

that now He will come to us in like fashion, like the dew which

refreshes the grass, and waiteth not for man, neither tarrieth for

the sons of men. Besides, He is coming again in person, in the

latter-day, and mountains of sin, and error, and idolatry, and

superstition, and oppression stand in the way of His kingdom; but

He will surely come and overturn, and overturn, till He shall

reign over all. He will come in the latter-days, I say, though He

shall leap the hills to do it, and because of that I am sure we

may comfortably conclude that He will draw near to us who mourn

His absence so bitterly. Then let us bow our heads a moment, and

silently present to His most excellent Majesty the petition of our

text: "Turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart

upon the mountains of division."

Our text gives us sweet assurance that _our Lord is at home

with those difficulties_ which are quite insurmountable by us.

Just as the roe or the young hart knows the passes of the

mountains, and the stepping-places among the rugged rocks, and is

void of all fear among the ravines and the precipices, so does our

Lord know the heights and depths, the torrents and the caverns of

our sin and sorrow. He carried the whole of our transgression, and

so became aware of the tremendous load of our guilt. He is quite

at home with the infirmities of our nature; He knew temptation in

the wilderness, heart-break in the garden, desertion on the cross.

He is quite at home with pain and weakness, for "Himself took our

infirmities, and bare our sicknesses." He is at home with

despondency, for He was "a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with

grief." He is at home even with death, for He gave up the ghost,

and passed through the sepulchre to resurrection. O yawning gulfs

and frowning steeps of woe, our Beloved, like hind or hart, has

traversed your glooms! O my Lord, Thou knowest all that divides me

from Thee; and Thou knowest also that I am far too feeble to climb

these dividing mountains, so that I may come at Thee; therefore, I

pray Thee, come Thou over the mountains to meet my longing spirit!

Thou knowest each yawning gulf and slippery steep, but none of

these can stay Thee; haste Thou to me, Thy servant, Thy beloved,

and let me again live by Thy presence.

_It is easy, too, for Christ to come over the mountains for

our relief_. It is easy for the gazelle to cross the mountains, it

is made for that end; so is it easy for Jesus, for to this purpose

was He ordained from of old that He might come to man in his worst

estate, and bring with Him the Father's love. What is it that

separates us from Christ? Is it a sense of sin? You have been

pardoned once, and Jesus can renew most vividly a sense of full

forgiveness. But you say, "Alas! I have sinned again: fresh guilt

alarms me." He can remove it in an instant, for the fountain

appointed for that purpose is opened, and is still full. It is

easy for the dear lips of redeeming love to put away the child's

offences, since He has already obtained pardon for the criminal's

iniquities. If with His heart's blood He won our pardon from our

Judge, he can easily enough bring us the forgiveness of our

Father. Oh, yes, it is easy enough for Christ to say again, "Thy

sins be forgiven"! "But I feel so unfit, so unable to enjoy

communion." He that healed all manner of bodily diseases can heal

with a word your spiritual infirmities. Remember the man whose

ankle-bones received strength, so that he ran and leaped; and her

who was sick of a fever, and was healed at once, and arose, and

ministered unto her Lord. "My grace is sufficient for thee; for My

strength is made perfect in weakness." "But I have such

afflictions, such troubles, such sorrows, that I am weighted down,

and cannot rise into joyful fellowship." Yes, but Jesus can make

every burden light, and cause each yoke to be easy. Your trials

can be made to aid your heavenward course instead of hindering it.

I know all about those heavy weights, and I perceive that you

cannot lift them; but skilful engineers can adapt ropes and

pulleys in such a way that heavy weights lift other weights. The

Lord Jesus is great at gracious machinery, and He has the art of

causing a weight of tribulation to lift from us a load of

spiritual deadness, so that we ascend by that which, like a

millstone, threatened to sink us down.

What else doth hinder? I am sure that, if it were a sheer

impossibility, the Lord Jesus could remove it, for things

impossible with men are possible with God. But someone objects, "I

am so unworthy of Christ. I can understand eminent saints and

beloved disciples being greatly indulged, but I am a worm, and no

man; utterly below such condescension." Say you so? Know you not

that the worthiness of Christ covers your unworthiness, and He is

made of God unto you wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and

redemption? In Christ, the Father thinks not so meanly of you as

you think of yourself; you are not worthy to be called His child,

but He does call you so, and reckons you to be among His jewels.

Listen, and you shall hear Him say," Since thou wast precious in

My sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee. I gave

Egypt for thy ransom; Ethiopia and Seba for thee." Thus, then,

there remains nothing which Jesus cannot overleap if He resolves

to come to you, and re-establish your broken fellowship.

To conclude, _our Lord can do all this directly_. As in the

twinkling of an eye the dead shall be raised incorruptible, so in

a moment can our dead affections rise to fulness of delight. He

can say to this mountain, "Be thou removed hence, and be thou cast

into the midst of the sea," and it shall be done. In the sacred

emblems now upon this supper table, Jesus is already among us.

Faith cries, "He has come!" Like John the Baptist, she gazes

intently on Him, and cries, "Behold the Lamb of God!" At this

table Jesus feeds us with His body and His blood. His corporeal

presence we have not, but His real spiritual presence we perceive.

We are like the disciples when none of them durst ask Him, "Who

art Thou?" knowing that it was the Lord. He is come. He looketh

forth at these windows,--I mean this bread and wine; showing

Himself through the lattices of this instructive and endearing

ordinance. He speaks. He saith, "The winter is past, the rain is

over and gone." And so it is; we feel it to be so: a heavenly

springtide warms our frozen hearts. Like the spouse, we

wonderingly cry, "Or ever I was aware, my soul made me like the

chariots of Amminadib." Now in happy fellowship we see the

Beloved, and hear His voice; our heart burns; our affections glow;

we are happy, restful, brimming over with delight. The King has

brought us into his banqueting-house, and His banner over us is

love. It is good to be here!

Friends, we must now go our ways. A voice saith, "Arise, let

us go hence." O Thou Lord of our hearts, go with us! Home will not

be home without Thee. Life will not be life without Thee. Heaven

itself would not be heaven if Thou wert absent. Abide with us. The

world grows dark, the gloaming of time draws on. Abide with us,

for it is toward evening. Our years increase, and we near the

night when dews fall cold and chill. A great future is all about

us, the splendours of the last age are coming down; and while we

wait in solemn, awe-struck expectation, our heart continually

cries within herself, "Until the day break, and the shadows flee

away, turn, my Beloved, and be Thou like a roe or a young hart

upon the mountains of division."

"Hasten, Lord! the promised hour;

Come in glory and in power;

Still Thy foes are unsubdued;

Nature sighs to be renew'd.

Time has nearly reach'd its sum,

All things with Thy bride say 'Come;'

Jesus, whom all worlds adore,

Come and reign for evermore!"

FRAGRANT SPICES FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF MYRRH.

"Thou art all fair, My love; there is no spot in thee."--

Solomon's Song iv. 7.

HOW marvellous are these words! "Thou art all fair, My love; there

is no spot in thee." The glorious Bridegroom is charmed with His

spouse, and sings soft canticles of admiration. When the bride

extols her Lord there is no wonder, for He deserves it well, and

in Him there is room for praise without possibility of flattery.

But does He who is wiser than Solomon condescend to praise this

sunburnt Shulamite? 'Tis even so, for these are His own words, and

were uttered by His own sweet lips. Nay, doubt not, O young

believer, for we have more wonders to reveal! There are greater

depths in heavenly things than thou hast at present dared to hope.

The Church not only is all fair in the eyes of her Beloved, but in

one sense she always was so.

"In God's decree, her form He view'd;

All beauteous in His eyes she stood,

Presented by Th' eternal name,

Betroth'd in love, and free from blame.

"Not as she stood in Adam's fall,

When guilt and ruin cover'd all;

But as she'll stand another day,

Fairer than sun's meridian ray."

He delighted in her before she had either a natural or a

spiritual being, and from the beginning could He say, "My delights

were with the sons of men." (Prov. viii. 31.) Having covenanted to

be the Surety of the elect, and having determined to fulfil every

stipulation of that covenant, He from all eternity delighted to

survey the purchase of His blood, and rejoiced to view His Church,

in the purpose and decree, as already by Him delivered from sin,

and exalted to glory and happiness.

"Oh, glorious grace, mysterious plan

Too great for angel-mind to scan,

Our thoughts are lost, our numbers fail;

All hail, redeeming love, all hail!"

Now with joy and gladness let us approach the subject of

Christ's delight in His Church, as declared by Him whom the Spirit

has sealed in our hearts as the faithful and true Witness.

Our first bundle of myrrh lies in the open hand of the text.

I. Christ has a high esteem for his church. He does not

blindly admire her faults, or even conceal them from Himself. He

is acquainted with her sin, in all its heinousness of guilt, and

desert of punishment. That sin He does not shun to reprove. His

own words are, "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." (Rev

iii. 19.) He abhors sin in her as much as in the ungodly world,

nay even more, for He sees in her an evil which is not to be found

in the transgressions of others,--sin against love and grace. She

is black in her own sight, how much more so in the eyes of her

Omniscient Lord! Yet there it stands, written by the inspiration

of the Holy Spirit, and flowing from the lips of the Bridegroom,

"Thou art all fair, My love; there is no spot in thee." How then

is this? Is it a mere exaggeration of love, an enthusiastic

canticle, which the sober hand of truth must strip of its glowing

fables? Oh, no! The King is full of love, but He is not so

overcome with it as to forget His reason. The words are true, and

He means us to understand them as the honest expression of His

unbiassed judgment, after having patiently examined her in every

part. He would not have us diminish aught, but estimate the gold

of His opinions by the bright glittering of His expressions; and,

therefore, in order that there may be no mistake, _He states it

positively:_ "Thou art all fair, My love," _and confirms it by a

negative:_ "there is no spot in thee."

When He speaks _positively_, how complete is His admiration!

She is "fair", but that is not a full description; He styles her

"all fair." He views her in Himself, washed in His sin-atoning

blood, and clothed in His meritorious righteousness, and He

considers her to be full of comeliness and beauty. No wonder that

such is the case, since it is but His own perfect excellences that

He admires, seeing that the holiness, glory, and perfection of His

Church are His own garments on the back of His own well-beloved

spouse, and she is "bone of His bone, and flesh of His flesh." She

is not simply pure, or well-proportioned; she is positively lovely

and fair! She has actual merit! Her deformities of sin are

removed; but more, she has through her Lord obtained a meritorious

righteousness by which an actual beauty is conferred upon her.

Believers have a positive righteousness given to them when they

become "accepted in the Beloved." (Eph. i. 6.)

Nor is the Church barely lovely, she is _superlatively so_.

Her Lord styles her, "Thou fairest among women." (Sol. Song i. 8.)

She has a real worth and excellence which cannot be rivalled by

all the nobility and royalty of the world. If Jesus could exchange

His elect bride for all the queens and empresses of earth, or even

for the angels in heaven, He would not, for He puts her first and

foremost,--"fairest among women." Nor is this an opinion which He

is ashamed of, for He invites all men to hear it. He puts a

"behold" before it, a special note of exclamation, inviting and

arresting attention. "_Behold_, thou art fair, My love; _behold_,

thou art fair." (Sol. Song iv. 1.) His opinion He publishes abroad

even now, and one day from the throne of His glory He will avow

the truth of it before the assembled universe. "Come, ye blessed

of My Father" (Matt. xxv. 34), will be His solemn affirmation of

the loveliness of His elect.

Let us mark well _the repeated sentences of His approbation_.

"Lo, thou art fair! lo, thou art fair!

Twice fair thou art, I say;

My righteousness and graces are

Thy double bright array.

"But since thy faith can hardly own

My beauty put on thee;

Behold! behold! twice be it known

Thou art all fair to Me!"

He turns again to the subject, a second time looks into those

doves' eyes of hers, and listens to her honey-dropping lips. It is

not enough to say, "Behold, thou art fair, My love;" He rings that

golden bell again, and sings again, and again, "Behold, thou art

fair."

After having surveyed her whole person with rapturous

delight, He cannot be satisfied until He takes a second gaze, and

afresh recounts her beauties. Making but little difference between

His first description and the last, he adds extraordinary

expressions of love to manifest His increased delight. "Thou art

beautiful, O My love, as Tirzah, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as

an army with banners. Turn away thine eyes from Me, for they have

overcome Me: thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from

Gilead. Thy teeth are as a flock of sheep which go up from the

washing, whereof every one beareth twins, and there is not one

barren among them. As a piece of a pomegranate are thy temples

within thy locks. . . . My dove, My undefiled is but one; she is

the only one of her mother, she is the choice one of her that bare

her." (Sol. Song vi. 4-7, 9.)

The beauty which He admires is _universal_, He is as much

enchanted with her temples as with her breasts. All her offices,

all her pure devotions, all her earnest labours, all her constant

sufferings, are precious to His heart. She is "all fair." Her

ministry, her psalmody, her intercessions, her alms, her watching,

all are admirable to Him, when performed in the Spirit. Her faith,

her love, her patience, her zeal, are alike in His esteem as "rows

of jewels" and "chains of gold." (Sol. Song i. 10.) He loves and

admires her everywhere. In the house of bondage, or in the land of

Canaan, she is ever fair. On the top of Lebanon His heart is

ravished with one of her eyes, and in the fields and villages He

joyfully receives her loves. He values her above gold and silver

in the days of His gracious manifestations, but He has an equal

appreciation of her when He withdraws Himself, for it is

immediately after He had said, "Until the day break, and the

shadows flee away, I will get Me to the mountain of myrrh, and to

the hill of frankincense," (Sol. Song iv. 6,) that He exclaims, in

the words of our text, "Thou art all fair, My love." At all

seasons believers are very near the heart of the Lord Jesus, they

are always as the apple of His eye, and the jewel of His crown.

Our name is still on His breastplate, and our persons are still in

His gracious remembrance. He never thinks lightly of His people;

and certainly in all the compass of His Word there is not one

syllable which looks like contempt of them. They are the choice

treasure and peculiar portion of the Lord of hosts; and what king

will undervalue his own inheritance? What loving husband will

despise his own wife? Let others call the Church what they may,

Jesus does not waver in His love to her, and does not differ in

His judgment of her, for He still exclaims, "How fair and how

pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!" (Sol. Song vii. 6.)

Let us remember that He who pronounces the Church and each

individual believer to be "all fair" is none other than the

glorious Son of God, who is "very God of very God." Hence His

declaration is decisive, since infallibility has uttered it. There

can be no mistake where the all-seeing Jehovah is the Judge. If He

has pronounced her to be incomparably fair, she is so, beyond a

doubt; and though hard for our poor puny faith to receive, it is

nevertheless as divine a verity as any of the undoubted doctrines

of revelation.

Having thus pronounced her _positively_ full of beauty, He

now confirms His praise by _a precious negative_: "There is no

spot in thee." As if the thought occurred to the Bridegroom that

the carping world would insinuate that He had only mentioned her

comely parts, and had purposely omitted those features which were

deformed or defiled, He sums all up by declaring her universally

and entirely fair, and utterly devoid of stain. A spot may soon be

removed, and is the very least thing that can disfigure beauty,

but even from this little blemish the Church is delivered in her

Lord's sight. If He had said there is no hideous scar, no horrible

deformity, no filthy ulcer, we might even then have marvelled; but

when He testifies that she is free from the slightest spot, all

these things are included, and the depth of wonder is increased.

If He had but promised to remove all spots, we should have had

eternal reason for joy; but when He Speaks of it as already done,

who can restrain the most intense emotions of satisfaction and

delight? O my soul, here is marrow and fatness for thee; eat thy

full, and be abundantly glad therein!

Christ Jesus has no quarrel with His spouse. She often

wanders from Him, and grieves His Holy Spirit, but He does not

allow her faults to affect His love. He sometimes chides, but it

is always in the tenderest manner, with the kindest intentions;--

it is "My love" even then. There is no remembrance of our follies,

He does not cherish ill thoughts of us, but He pardons, and loves

as well after the offence as before it. It is well for us it is

so, for if Jesus were as mindful of injuries as we are, how could

He commune with us? Many a time a believer will put himself out of

humour with the Lord for some slight turn in providence, but our

precious Husband knows our silly hearts too well to take any

offence at our ill manners.

If He were as easily provoked as we are, who among us could

hope for a comfortable look or a kind salutation? but He is "ready

to pardon, . . . slow to anger." (Neh. ix. 17.) He is like Noah's

sons, He goes backward, and throws a cloak over our nakedness; or

we may compare Him to Apelles, who, when he painted Alexander, put

his finger over the scar on the cheek, that it might not be seen

in the picture. "He hath not beheld iniquity in Jacob, neither

hath He seen perverseness in Israel" (Num. xxiii. 21); and hence

He is able to commune with the erring sons of men.

But the question returns,--How is this? Can it be explained,

so as not to clash with the most evident fact that sin remaineth

even in the hearts of the regenerate? Can our own daily bewailings

of sin allow of anything like perfection as a present attainment?

The Lord Jesus saith it, and therefore it must be true; but in

what sense is it to be understood? How are we "all fair" though we

ourselves feel that we are black, because the sun hath looked upon

us? (Sol. Song i. 6.) The answer is ready, if we consider the

analogy of faith.

1. In the matter of justification, the saints are complete

and without sin. As Durham says, these words are spoken "in

respect of the imputation of Christ's righteousness wherewith they

are adorned, and which they have put on, which makes them very

glorious and lovely, so that they are beautiful beyond all others,

through His comeliness put upon them."

And Dr. Gill excellently expresses the same idea, when he

writes, "though all sin is seen by God, _in articulo providentiae,

in the matter of providence_, wherein nothing escapes His all-

seeing eye; yet _in articula iustificationis, in the matter of

justification_, He sees no sin in His people, so as to reckon it

to them, or condemn them for it; for they all stand 'holy and

unblameable and unreproveable in His sight.'" (Col. i. 22.) The

blood of Jesus removes all stain, and His righteousness confers

perfect beauty; and, therefore, in the Beloved, the true believer

is at this hour as much accepted and approved, in the sight of

God, as He will be when He stands before the throne in heaven. The

beauty of justification is at its fulness the moment a soul is by

faith received into the Lord Jesus. This is righteousness so

transcendent that no one can exaggerate its glorious merit. Since

this righteousness is that of Jesus, the Son of God, it is

therefore divine, and is, indeed, the holiness of God; and, hence,

Kent was not too daring when, in a bold flight of rapture, he

sang,--

"In thy Surety thou art free,

His dear hands were pierced for thee;

With His spotless vesture on,

Holy as the Holy One.

"Oh, the heights and depths of grace,

Shining with meridian blaze;

Here the sacred records show

Sinners black, but comely too!"

2. But perhaps it is best to understand this as relating to

the design of Christ concerning them. It is His purpose to present

them without "spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing." (Eph. v. 27.)

They shall be holy and unblameable and unreproveable in the sight

of the Omniscient God. In prospect of this, the Church is viewed

as being virtually what she is soon to be actually. Nor is this a

frivolous antedating of her excellence; for be it ever remembered

that the Representative, in whom she is accepted, is actually

complete in all perfections and glories at this very moment. As

the Head of the body is already without sin, being none other than

the Lord from heaven, it is but in keeping that the whole body

should be pronounced comely and fair through the glory of the

Head. The fact of her future perfection is so certain that it is

spoken of as if it were already accomplished, and indeed it is so

in the mind of Him to whom a thousand years are but as one day.

"Christ often expounds an honest believer, from His own heart,

purpose and design; in which respect they get many titles,

otherwise unsuitable to their present condition. (Durham.) Let us

magnify the name of our Jesus, who loves us so well that He will

overleap the dividing years of our pilgrimage, that He may give us

even now the praise which seems to be only fitted for the

perfection of Paradise. As Erskine sings,--

"My love, thou seem'st a loathsome worm:

Yet such thy beauties be,

I spoke but half thy comely form;

Thou'rt wholly fair to Me.

"Whole justified, in perfect dress;

Nor justice, nor the law

Can in thy robe of righteousness

Discern the smallest flaw.

"Yea, sanctified in ev'ry part,

Thou art perfect in design:

And I judge thee by what thou art

In thy intent and Mine.

"Fair love, by grace complete in Me,

Beyond all beauteous brides;

Each spot that ever sullied thee

My purple vesture hides."

II. Our Lord's admiration is sweetened by love. He addresses

the spouse as "My love." The virgins called her "the fairest among

women"; they saw and admired, but it was reserved for her Lord to

love her. Who can fully tell the excellence of His love? Oh, how

His heart goeth forth after His redeemed! As for the love of David

and Jonathan, it is far exceeded in Christ. No tender husband was

ever so fond as He. No figures can completely set forth His

heart's affection, for it surpasses all the love that man or woman

hath heard or thought of. Our blessed Lord, Himself, when He would

declare the greatness of it, was compelled to compare one

inconceivable thing with another, in order to express His own

thoughts. "As the Father hath loved Me, so have I loved you."

(John xv. 9.) All the eternity, fervency, immutability, and

infinity which are to be found in the love of Jehovah the Father,

towards Jehovah-Jesus the Son, are copied to the letter in the

love of the Lord Jesus towards His chosen ones. Before the

foundation of the world He loved His people, in all their

wanderings He loved them, and unto the end He will abide in His

love. (John xiii. 1.) He has given them the best proof of His

affection, in that He gave Himself to die for their sins, and hath

revealed to them complete pardon as the result of His death. The

willing manner of His death is further confirmation of His

boundless love. How Christ did delight in the work of our

redemption! "Lo, I come: in the volume of the book it is written

of Me, I delight to do Thy will, O my God." (Psalm xl. 7, 8.) When

He came into the world to sacrifice His life for us, it was a

freewill offering. "I have a baptism to be baptized with." (Luke

xii. 50.) Christ was to be, as it were, baptized in His own blood,

and how did He thirst for that time! "How am I straitened till it

be accomplished." There was no hesitation, no desire to be quit of

His engagement. He went to His crucifixion without once halting by

the way to deliberate whether He should complete His sacrifice.

The stupendous mass of our fearful debt He paid at once, asking

neither delay nor diminution. From the moment when He said, "Not

My will, but Thine, be done" (Luke xxii. 42), His course was swift

and unswerving; as if He had been hastening to a crown rather than

to a cross. The fulness of time was His only remembrancer; He was

not driven by bailiffs to discharge the obligations of His Church,

but joyously, even when full of sorrow, He met the law, answered

its demands, and cried, "It is finished."

How hard it is to talk of love so as to convey out meaning

with it! How often have our eyes been full of tears when we have

realized the thought that Jesus loves us! How has our spirit been

melted within us at the assurance that He thinks of us and bears

us on His heart! But we cannot kindle the like emotion in others,

nor can we give, by word of mouth, so much as a faint idea of the

bliss which coucheth in that exclamation, "Oh, how He loves!"

Come, reader, canst thou say of thyself, "He loved me"? (Gal. ii.

20.) Then look down into this sea of love, and endeavour to guess

its depth. Doth it not stagger thy faith, that He should love

_thee?_ Or, if thou hast strong confidence, say, does it not

enfold thy spirit in a flame of admiring and adoring gratitude? O

ye angels, such love as this ye never knew! Jesus doth not bear

your names upon His hands, or call you His bride. No! this highest

fellowship he reserves for worms whose only return is tearful,

hearty thanksgiving and love.

III. Let us note that Christ delights to think upon his

Church, and to look upon her beauty. As the bird returneth often

to its nest, and as the wayfarer hastens to his home, so doth the

mind continually pursue the object of its choice. We cannot look

too often upon that face which we love; we desire always to have

our precious things in our sight. It is even so with our Lord

Jesus. From all eternity, "His delights were with the sons of

men;" His thoughts rolled onward to the time when His elect should

be born into the world; He viewed them in the mirror of His fore-

knowledge. "In thy book," He says, "all my members were written,

which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of

them." (Ps. cxxxix. 16.) When the world was set upon its pillars,

He was there, and He set the bounds of the people according to the

number of the children of Israel. Many a time, before His

incarnation, He descended to this earth in the similitude of a

man; on the plains of Mamre (Gen. xviii.), by the brook of Jabbok

(Gen. xxxii. 24-30), beneath the walls of Jericho (Josh. v. 13),

and in the fiery furnace of Babylon (Dan. iii. 19-25), the Son of

man did visit His people. Because His soul delighted in them, He

could not rest away from them, for His heart longed after them.

Never were they absent from His heart, for He had written their

names upon His hands, and graven them upon His heart. As the

breast-plate containing the names of the tribes of Israel was the

most brilliant ornament worn by the high priest, so the names of

Christ's elect were His most precious Jewels, which He ever hung

nearest His heart. We may often forget to meditate upon the

perfections of our Lord, but He never ceases to remember us. He

cares not one half so much for any of His most glorious works as

He does for His children. Although His eye seeth everything that

hath beauty and excellence in it, He never fixes His gaze anywhere

with that admiration and delight which He spends upon His

purchased ones. He charges His angels concerning them, and calls

upon those holy beings to rejoice with Him over His lost sheep.

(Luke xv. 4-7.) He talked of them to Himself, and even on the tree

of doom He did not cease to soliloquize concerning them. He saw of

the travail of His soul, and He was abundantly satisfied.

"That day acute of ignominious woe,

Was, notwithstanding, in a perfect sense,

'The day of His heart's gladness,' for the joy

That His redeem'd should be brought home at last

(Made ready as in robes of bridal white),

Was set before Him vividly,--He look'd;--

And for that happiness anticipate,

Endurance of all torture, all disgrace,

Seem'd light infliction to His heart of love."

Like a fond mother, Christ Jesus, our thrice-blessed Lord,

sees every dawning of excellence, and every bud of goodness in us,

making much of our litties, and rejoicing over the beginnings of

our graces. As He is to be our endless song, so we are His

perpetual prayer. When He is absent He thinks of us, and in the

black darkness He has a window through which He looks upon us.

When the sun sets in one part of the earth, he rises in another

place beyond our visible horizon; and even so Jesus, our Sun of

Righteousness, is only pouring light upon His people in a

different way, when to our apprehension He seems to have set in

darkness. His eye is ever upon the vineyard, which is His Church:

"I the Lord do keep it; I will water it every moment: lest any

hurt it, I will keep it night and day." (Isa. xxvii. 3.) He will

not trust to His angels to do it, for it is His delight to do all

with His own hands. Zion is in the centre of His heart, and He

cannot forget her, for every day His thoughts are set upon her.

When the bride by her neglect of Him hath hidden herself from His

sight, He cannot be quiet until again He looks upon her. He calls

her forth with the most wooing words, "O My dove, that art in the

clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let Me see

thy countenance; let Me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice,

and thy countenance is comely." (Sol. Song ii. 14.) She thinks

herself unmeet to keep company with such a Prince, but He entices

her from her lurking-place, and inasmuch as she comes forth

trembling, and bashfully hides her face with her veil, He bids her

uncover her face, and let her Husband gaze upon her. She is

ashamed to do so, for she is black in her own esteem, and

therefore He urges that she is comely to Him.

Nor is He content with looking, He must feed His ears as well

as His eyes, and therefore He commends her speech, and intreats

her to let Him hear her voice. See how truly our Lord rejoiceth in

us. Is not this unparalleled love! We have heard of princes who

have been smitten by the beauty of a peasant's daughter, but what

of that? Here is the Son of God doting upon a worm, looking with

eyes of admiration upon a poor child of Adam, and listening with

joy to the lispings of poor flesh and blood. Ought we not to be

exceedingly charmed by such matchless condescension? And should

not our hearts as much delight in Him as He doth in us? O

surprising truth! Christ Jesus rejoices over His poor, tempted,

tried, and erring people.

IV. It is not to be forgotten that sometimes the Lord Jesus

tells His people His love thoughts. "He does not think it enough

behind her back to tell it, but in her very presence, He says,

'Thou art all fair, My love.' It is true, this is not His ordinary

method; He is a wise lover, that knows when to keep back the

intimation of love, and when to let it out; but there are times

when He will make no secret of it; times when He will put it

beyond all dispute in the souls of His people."

The Holy Spirit is often pleased in a most gracious manner to

witness with our spirits of the love of Jesus. He takes of the

things of Christ, and reveals them unto us. No voice is heard from

the clouds, and no vision is seen in the night, but we have a

testimony more sure than either of these. If an angel should fly

from heaven, and inform the saint personally of the Saviour's love

to him, the evidence would not be one whir more satisfactory than

that which is borne in the heart by the Holy Ghost. Ask those of

the Lord's people who have lived the nearest to the gates of

heaven, and they will tell you that they have had seasons when the

love of Christ towards them has been a fact so clear and sure,

that they could no more doubt it than they could question their

own existence.

Yes, beloved believer, you and I have had times of refreshing

from the presence of the Lord, and then our faith has mounted to

the topmost heights of assurance. We have had confidence to lean

our heads upon the bosom of our Lord, and we have had no more

question about our Master's affection than John had when in that

blessed posture, nay, nor so much; for the dark question, "Lord,

is it I that shall betray Thee?" has been put far from us. He has

kissed us with the kisses of His love, and killed our doubts by

the closeness of His embrace. His love has been sweeter than wine

to our souls. We felt that we could sing, "His left hand is under

my head, and His right hand doth embrace me." (Sol. Song viii. 3.)

Then all earthly troubles were light as the chaff of the

threshing-floor, and the pleasures of the world as tasteless as

the white of an egg. We would have welcomed death as the messenger

who would introduce us to our Lord to whom we were in haste to be

gone; for His love had stirred us to desire more of Him, even His

immediate and glorious presence. I have, sometimes, when the Lord

has assured me of His love, felt as if I could not contain more

joy and delight. My eyes ran down with tears of gratitude. I fell

upon my knees to bless Him, but rose again in haste, feeling as if

I had nothing more to ask for, but must stand up and praise Him;

then have I lifted my hands to heaven, longing to fill my arms

with Him; panting to talk with Him, as a man talketh with his

friend, and to see Him in His own person, that I might tell Him

how happy He had made His unworthy servant, and might fall on my

face, and kiss His feet in unutterable thankfulness and love. Such

a banquet have I had upon one word of my Beloved,--"_thou art

Mine_,"--that I wished, like Peter, to build tabernacles in that

mount, and dwell for ever. But, alas, we have not, all of us, yet

learned how to preserve that blessed assurance. We stir up our

Beloved and awake Him, then He leaves our unquiet chamber, and we

grope after Him, and make many a weary journey trying to find Him.

If we were wiser and more careful, we might preserve the

fragrance of Christ's words far longer; for they are not like the

ordinary manna which soon rotted, but are comparable to that omer

of it which was put in the golden pot, and preserved for many

generations. The sweet Lord Jesus has been known to write his

love-thoughts on the heart of His people in so clear and deep a

manner, that they have for months, and even for years, enjoyed an

abiding sense of His affection. A few doubts have flitted across

their minds like thin clouds before a summer's sun, but the warmth

of their assurance has remained the same for many a gladsome day.

Their path has been a smooth one, they have fed in the green

pastures beside the still waters, for His rod and staff have

comforted them, and His right hand hath led them. I am inclined to

think that there is more of this in the Church than some men would

allow. We have a goodly number who dwell upon the hills, and

behold the light of the sun. There are giants in these days,

though the times are not such as to allow them room to display

their gigantic strength; in many a humble cot, in many a crowded

workshop, in many a village manse there are to be found men of the

house of David, men after God's own heart, anointed with the holy

oil. It is, however, a mournful truth, that whole ranks in the

army of our Lord are composed of dwarfish Littlefaiths. The men of

fearful mind and desponding heart are everywhere to be seen. Why

is this? Is it the Master's fault, or ours? Surely _He_ cannot be

blamed. Is it not then a matter of enquiry in our own souls, Can I

not grow stronger? Must I be a mourner all my days? How can I get

rid of my doubts? The answer must be: yes, you can be comforted,

but only the mouth of the Lord can do it, for anything less than

this will be unsatisfactory.

I doubt not that there are means, by the use of which those

who are now weak and trembling may attain unto boldness in faith

and confidence in hope; but I see not how this can be done unless

the Lord Jesus Christ manifest His love to them, and tell them of

their union to Him. This He will do, if we seek it of Him. The

importunate pleader shall not lack his reward. Haste thee to Him,

O timid one, and tell Him that nothing will content thee but a

smile from His own face, and a word from His own lips! Speak to

Him, and say, "O my Lord Jesus, I cannot rest unless I know that

Thou lovest me! I desire to have proof of Thy love under Thine own

hand and seal.

I cannot live upon guesses and surmises; nothing but

certainty will satisfy my trembling heart. Lord, look upon me, if,

indeed, Thou lovest me, and though I be less than the least of all

saints, say unto my soul, 'I am thy salvation.'" When this prayer

is heard, the castle of despair must totter; there is not one

stone of it which can remain upon another, if Christ whispers

forth His love. Even Despondency and Much-afraid will dance, and

Ready-to-Halt leap upon his crutches.

Oh, for more of these Bethel visits, more frequent

visitations from the God of Israel! Oh, how sweet to hear Him say

to us, as He did to Abraham, "Fear not, Abram, I am thy shield,

and thy exceeding great reward." (Gen. xv. 1.) To be addressed as

Daniel was of old, "O man greatly beloved" (Dan. x. 19), is worth

a thousand ages of this world's joy. What more can a creature want

this side of heaven to make him peaceful and happy than a plain

avowal of love from his Lord's own lips? Let me ever hear Thee,

speak in mercy to my soul, and, O my Lord, I ask no more while

here I dwell in the land of my pilgrimage!

Brethren, let us labour to obtain a confident assurance of

the Lord's delight in us, for this, as it enables Him to commune

with us, will be one of the readiest ways to produce a like

feeling in our hearts towards Him. Christ is well pleased with us;

let us approach Him with holy familiarity; let us unbosom our

thoughts to Him, for His delight in us will secure us an audience.

The child may stay away from the father, when he is conscious that

he has aroused his father's displeasure, but why should we keep at

a distance when Christ Jesus is smiling upon us? No! since His

smiles attract us, let us enter into His courts, and touch His

golden sceptre. O Holy Spirit, help us to live in happy fellowship

with Him whose soul is knit unto us!

"O Jesus! let eternal blessings dwell

On Thy transporting name. * * *

Let me be wholly Thine from this blest hour.

Let Thy lov'd image be for ever present;

Of Thee be all my thoughts, and let my tongue

Be sanctified with the celestial theme.

Dwell on my lips, Thou dearest, sweetest name!

Dwell on my lips, 'till the last parting breath!

Then let me die, and bear the charming sound

In triumph to the skies. In other strains,

In language all divine, I'll praise Thee then;

While all the Godhead opens in the view

Of a Redeemer's love. Here let me gaze,

For ever gaze; the bright variety

Will endless joy and admiration yield.

Let me be wholly Thine from this blest hour.

Fly from my soul all images of sense,

Leave me in silence to possess my Lord:

My life, my pleasures, flow from Him alone,

My strength, my great salvation, and my hope.

Thy name is all my trust; O name divine!

Be Thou engraven on my inmost soul,

And let me own Thee with my latest breath,

Confess Thee in the face of ev'ry horror,

That threat'ning death or envious hell can raise;

Till all their strength subdu'd, my parting soul

Shall give a challenge to infernal rage,

And sing salvation to the Lamb for ever."

THE WELL-BELOVED.

A COMMUNION ADDRESS AT MENTONE.

"Yea, He is altogether lovely."--Solomon's Song v. 16.

THE soul that is familiar with the Lord worships Him in the outer

court of nature, wherein it admires His _works_, and is charmed by

every thought of what He must be who made them all. When that soul

enters the nearer circle of inspiration, and reads the wonderful

_words_ of God, it is still more enraptured, and its admiration is

heightened. In revelation, we see the same all-glorious Lord as in

creation, but the vision is more clear, and the consequent love is

more intense.

The Word is an inner court to the Creation; but there is yet

an innermost sanctuary, and blessed are they who enter it, and

have fellowship with the Lord Himself. We come to Christ, and in

coming to Him we come to God; for Jesus says, "He that hath seen

Me hath seen the Father." When we know the Lord Jesus, we stand

before the mercy-seat, where the glory of Jehovah shineth forth. I

like to think of the text as belonging to those who are as priests

unto God, and stand in the Holy of holies, while they say, "Yea,

He is altogether lovely." His works are marvellous, His words are

full of majesty, but He Himself is altogether lovely.

Can we come into this inner circle? All do not enter here.

Alas! many are far off from Him, and are blind to His beauties.

"He was despised and rejected of men," and He is so still. They do

not see God in His works, but dream that these wonders were

evolved, and not created by the Great Primal Cause. As for His

words, they seem to them as idle tales, or, at best, as inspired

only in the same sense as the language of Shakespeare or Spenser.

They see not the Lord in the stately aisles of Holy Scripture; and

have no vision of _Himself_. May He, who openeth the eyes of the

blind, have pity on them!

Certain others are in a somewhat happier position, for they

are enquirers after Christ. They are like the persons who, in the

ninth verse of the chapter, asked, "What is thy Beloved more than

another beloved, O thou fairest among women? What is thy Beloved

more than another beloved, that thou dost so charge us?" They want

to know who this Jesus is. But they have not seen Him yet, and

cannot join with the spouse in saying, "He is altogether lovely."

If we enter this sacred inner circle, we must become

witnesses, as she does who speaks of Christ, "Yea, He is

altogether lovely." She knows what He is, for she has seen Him.

The verses which precede the text are a description of every

feature of the heavenly Bridegroom; all His members are there set

forth with richness of Oriental imagery. The spouse speaks what

she knows. Have we, also, seen the Lord? Are we His familiar

acquaintances? If so, may the Lord help us to understand our text!

If we are to know the full joy of the text, we must come to

our Lord as His intimates. He permits us this high honour, since,

in this ordinance, He makes us His table-companions. He says,

"Henceforth I call you not servants; but I have called you

friends." He calls upon us to eat bread with Him; yea, to partake

of Himself, by eating His flesh and drinking His blood. Oh, that

we may pass beyond the outward signs into the closest intimacy

with _Himself!_ Perhaps, when you are at home, you will examine

the spouse's description of her Lord. It is a wonderful piece of

tapestry. She has wrought into its warp and woof all things

charming, sweet, and precious. In Him she sees all lovely

colours,--"My Beloved is white and ruddy." In comparison with Him

all others fail, for He is "chief among ten thousand" chieftains.

She cannot think of Him as comparable to anything less valuable

than "fine gold." She sees, soaring in the air, birds of divers

wing; and these must aid her, whether it be the raven or the dove.

The rivers of waters, and the beds of spices and myrrh-dropping

lilies, must come into the picture, with sweet flowers and goodly

cedars. All kinds of treasured things are in Him; for He is like

to gold rings set with the beryl, and bright ivory overlaid with

sapphires, and pillars of marble set upon sockets of fine gold.

She labours to describe His beauty and His excellency, and strains

all comparisons to their utmost use, and somewhat more; and yet

she is conscious of failure, and therefore sums up all with the

pithy sentence, "Yea, He is altogether lovely."

If the Holy Spirit will help me, I should like to lift the

veil, that we may, in sacred contemplation, look on our Beloved.

I. We would do so, first, with reverent emotions. In the

words before us, "Yea, He is altogether lovely," two emotions are

displayed, namely, admiration and affection.

It is _admiration_ which speaks of Him as "altogether lovely"

or beautiful. This admiration rises to the highest degree. The

spouse would fain show that her Beloved is more than any other

beloved; therefore she cries, "He is altogether lovely." Surely no

one else has reached that point. Many are lovely, but no one save

Jesus is "altogether lovely." We see something that is lovely in

one, and another point is lovely in another; but all loveliness

meets in Him. Our soul knows nothing which can rival Him: He is

the gathering up of all sorts of loveliness to make up one perfect

loveliness. He is the climax of beauty; the crown of glory; the

uttermost of excellence.

Our admiration of Him, also, is unrestrained. The spouse

dared to say, even in the presence of the daughters of Jerusalem,

who were somewhat envious, "Yea, He is altogether lovely." They

knew not, as yet, His perfections; they even asked, "What is thy

Beloved more than another beloved?" But she was not to be blinded

by their want of sympathy, neither did she withhold her testimony

from fear of their criticism. To her, He was "altogether lovely",

and she could say no less. Our admiration of Christ is such that

we would tell the kings of the earth that they have no majesty in

His presence; and tell the wise men that He alone is wisdom; and

tell the great and mighty that He is the blessed and only

Potentate, King of kings, and Lord of lords.

Our admiration of our Lord is inexpressible. We can never

tell all we know of our Lord; yet all our knowledge is little. All

that we know is, that His love passeth knowledge, that His

excellence baffles understanding, that His glory is unutterable.

We can embrace Him by our love, but we can scarcely touch Him with

our intellect, He is so high, so glorious. As to describing Him,

we cry, with Mr. Berridge,--

"Then my tongue would fain express

All His love and loveliness;

But I lisp, and falter forth

Broken words, not half His worth.

"Vex'd, I try and try again,

Still my efforts all are vain:

Living tongues are dumb at best,

We must die to speak of Christ."

"He is altogether lovely." Do we not feel an inexpressible

admiration for Him? There is none like unto Thee, O Son of God!

Still, our paramount emotion is not admiration, but

_affection_. "He is altogether"--not beautiful, nor admirable,--

but "lovely." All His beauties are loving beauties towards us, and

beauties which draw our hearts towards Him in humble love. He

charms us, not by a cold comeliness, but by a living loveliness,

which wins our hearts. His is an approachable beauty, which not

only overpowers us with its glory, but holds us captive by its

charms. We love Him: we cannot do otherwise, for "He is altogether

lovely." He has within Himself and unquenchable flame of love,

which sets our soul on fire. He is all love, and all the love in

the world is less than His. Put together all the loves of husband

wives, parents, children, brothers, sisters, and they only make a

drop compared with His great deeps of love, unexplored and

unexplorable. This love of His has a wonderful power to beget love

in unlovely hearts, and to nourish it into a mighty force. " It is

a torrent which sweeps all before it when its founts break forth

within the soul. It is a Gulf Stream in which all icebergs melt.

When our heart is full of love to Jesus, His loveliness becomes

the passion of the soul, and sin and self are swept away. May we

feel it now!

There He stands: we know Him by the thorn-crown, and the

wounds, and the visage more marred than that of any man! He

suffered all this for us. O Son of man! O Son of God! With the

spouse, we feel, in the inmost depths of our soul, that Thou art

"altogether lovely."

II. Now would I lift the veil a second time, with deep

solemnity, not so much to suggest emotions as to secure your

intelligent assurance of the fact that "He is altogether lovely."

We say this with absolute certainty. The spouse places a "Yea"

before her enthusiastic declaration, because she is sure of it.

She sees her Beloved, and sees Him to be altogether lovely. This

is no fiction, no dream, no freak of imagination, no outburst of

partiality. The highest love to Christ does not make us speak more

than the truth; we are as reasonable when we are filled with love

to Him as ever we were in our lives; nay, never are we more

reasonable than when we are carried clean away by a clear

perception of His superlative excellence.

Let us meditate upon the proof of our assertion. "He is

altogether lovely" _in His person_. He is God. The glory of

Godhead I must leave in lowly silence. Yet is our Jesus also man,

more emphatically man than any one here present this afternoon,

for we are English, American, French, German, Dutch, Russian; but

Christ is man, the second Adam, the Head of the race: as truly as

He is very God of very God, so is He man, of the substance of His

mother. What a marvellous union! The miracle of miracles! In his

incomparible personality He is altogether lovely; for in Him we

see how God comes down to man in condescension, and how man goes

up to God in close relationship. There is no other such as He, in

all respects, even in heaven itself: in His personality He must

ever stand alone, in the eyes of both God and man, "altogether

lovely."

As for _His character_, time would fail us to enter upon that

vast subject; but the more we know of the character of our Lord,

and the more we grow like Him, the more lovely will it appear to

us. In all aspects, it is lovely; in all its minutiae and details,

it is perfect; and as a whole, it is perfection's model. Take any

one action of His, look into its mode, its spirit, its motive, and

all else that can be revealed by a microscopic examination, and it

is "altogether lovely." Consider his life, as a whole, in

reference to God, to man, to His friends, to His foes, to those

around Him, and to the ages yet to be, and you shall find it

absolutely perfect. More than that: there is such a thing as a

cold perfection, with which one can find no fault, and yet it

commands no love; but in Christ, our Well-beloved, every part of

His character attracts. To a true heart, the life of Christ is as

much an object of love as of reverence: "He is altogether lovely."

We must _love_ that which we see in Him: admiration is not the

word. When cold critics commend Him, their praise is half an

insult: what know these frozen hearts of our Beloved? As for a

word against Him, it wounds us to the soul. Even an omission of

His praise is a torture to us. If we hear a sermon which has no

Christ in it, we weary of it. If we read a book that contains a

slighting syllable of Him, we abhor it. He, Himself, has become

everything to us now, and only in the atmosphere of fervent love

to Him can we feel at home.

Passing from His character to _His sacrifice;_ there

especially "He is altogether lovely." You may have read

"Rutherford's Letters"; I hope you have. How wondrously he writes,

when he describes his Lord in garments red from His sweat of

blood, and with hands bejewelled with His wounds! When we view His

body taken down from the cross, all pale and deathly, and wrapped

in the cerements of the grave, we see a strange beauty in Him. He

is to us never more lovely than when we read in our Beloved's

white and red that His Sacrifice is accomplished, and He has been

obedient unto death for us. In Him, as the sacrifice once offered,

we see our pardon, our life, our heaven, our all. So lovely is

Christ in His sacrifice, that He is for ever most pleasing to the

great Judge of all, ay, so lovely to His Father, that He makes us

also lovely to God the Father, and we are "accepted in the

Beloved." His sacrifice has such merit and beauty in the sight of

heaven, that in Him God is well pleased, and guilty men become in

Him pleasant unto the Lord. Is not His sacrifice most sweet to us?

Here our guilty conscience finds peace; here we see ourselves made

comely in His comeliness. We cannot stand at Calvary, and see the

Saviour die, and hear Him cry, "It is finished," without feeling

that "He is altogether lovely." Forgive me that I speak so coolly!

I dare not enter fully into a theme which would pull up the

sluices of my heart.

Remember what He was when He rose from the grave on the third

day. Oh, to have seen Him in the freshness of _His resurrection

beauty!_ And what will He be in _His glory_, when He comes again

the second time, and all His holy angels with Him, when He shall

sit upon the throne of His glory, and heaven and earth shall flee

away before His face? To His people He will then be "altogether

lovely." Angels will adore Him, saints made perfect will fall on

their faces before Him; and we ourselves shall feel that, at last,

our heaven is complete. We shall see Him, and being like Him, we

shall be satisfied.

_Every feature of our Lord is lovely._ You cannot think of

anything that has to do with Him which is unworthy of our praise.

All over glorious is our Lord. The spouse speaks of His head, His

locks, His eyes, His cheeks, His lips, His hands, His legs, His

countenance, His mouth; and when she has mentioned them all, she

sums up with reference to all by saying, "Yea, He is altogether

lovely."

There is _nothing unlovely about Him_. Certain persons would

be beautiful were it not for a wound or a bruise, but our Beloved

is all the more lovely for His wounds; the marring of His

countenance has enhanced its charms. His scars are, for glory and

for beauty, the jewels of our King. To us He is lovely even from

that side which others dread: His very frown has comfort in it to

His saints, since He only frowns on evil. Even His feet, which are

"like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace," are lovely

to us for His sake; these are His poor saints, who are sorely

tried, but are able to endure the fire. Everything of Christ,

everything that partakes of Christ, everything that hath a flavour

or savour of Christ, is lovely to us.

There is _nothing lacking about His loveliness_. Some would

be very lovely were there a brightness in their eyes, or a colour

in their countenances: but something is away. The absence of a

tooth or of an eyebrow may spoil a countenance, but in Christ

Jesus there is no omission of excellence. Everything that should

be in Him is in Him; everything that is conceivable in perfection

is present to perfection in Him.

_In Him is nothing excessive_. Many a face has one feature in

it which is overdone; but in our Lord's character everything is

balanced and proportionate. You never find His kindness lessening

His holiness, nor His holiness eclipsing His wisdom, nor His

wisdom abating His courage, nor His courage injuring His meekness.

Everything is in our Lord that should be there, and everything in

due measure. Like rare spices, mixed after the manner of the

apothecary, our Lord's whole person, and character, and sacrifice,

are as incense sweet unto the Lord.

_Neither is there anything in our Lord which is incongruous

with the rest_. In each one of us there is, at least, a little

that is out of place. We could not be fully described without the

use of a "but." If we could all look within, and see ourselves as

God sees us, we should note a thousand matters, which we now

permit, which we should never allow again. But in the Well-beloved

all is of a piece, all is lovely; and when the sum of the whole is

added up, it comes to an absolute perfection of loveliness: "Yea,

He is altogether lovely."

We are sure that the Lord Jesus must be Himself exceedingly

lovely, since _He gives loveliness to His people_. Many saints are

lovely in their lives; one reads biographies of good men and women

which make us wish to grow like them; yet all the loveliness of

all the most holy among men has come from Jesus their Lord, and is

a copy of His perfect beauty. Those who write well do so because

He sets the copy.

What is stranger and more wonderful still, _our Lord Jesus

makes sinners lovely._ In their natural state, men are deformed

and hideous to the eye of God; and as they have no love to God, so

He has no delight in them. He is weary of them, and is grieved

that He made men upon the earth. The Lord is angry with the wicked

every day. Yet, when our Lord Jesus comes in, and covers these

sinful ones with His righteousness, and, at the same time, infuses

into them His life, the Lord is well pleased with them for His

Son's sake. Even in heaven, the infinite Jehovah sees nothing

which pleases Him like His Son. The Father from eternity loved His

Only-begotten, and again and again He hath said of Him, "This is

My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." What higher encomium

can be passed upon Him?

If we had time to think over this subject, we should say of

our Lord that _He is lovely in every office._ He is the most

admirable Priest, and King, and Prophet that ever yet exercised

the office. He is a lovely Shepherd of a chosen flock, a lovely

Friend, lovely Husband, a lovely Brother: He is admirable in every

position that He occupies for our sakes.

_Our Lord's loveliness appears in every condition:_ in the

manger, or in the temple; by the well, or on the sea; in the

garden, or on the cross; in the tomb, or in the resurrection; in

His first, or in His second coming. He is not as the herb, which

flowers only at one season; or as the tree, which loses its leaves

in winter; or as the moon, which waxes and wanes; or as the sea,

which ebbs and flows. In every condition, and at every time, "He

is altogether lovely."

_He is lovely, whichever way we look at Him._ If we view Him

as in the past, entering into a covenant of peace on our behalf;

or, in the present, yielding Himself to us as Intercessor,

Representative, and Forerunner; or, in the future, coming,

reigning, and glorifying His people; "He is altogether lovely."

Behold Him from heaven, view Him from the gates of hell, regard

Him as he goes before, look up to Him as He sits above; He is as

beautiful from one point of view as from another; "Yea, He is

altogether lovely." Wherever we may be, He is the same in His

perfection. How lovely He was to my eyes when I was sinking in

despair! To see Him suffering for my sin upon the tree, was as the

opening of the gates of the morning to my darkened soul. How

lovely He is to us when we are sick, and the hours of night seem

lengthened into days! "He giveth songs in the night." How lovely

has He been to us when the world has frowned, and friends have

forsaken, and worldly goods have been scant! To see "the King in

His beauty" is a sight sufficient, even if we never saw another

ray of comfort. How blessed, when we lie dying, to hear Him say,

"I am the resurrection and the life"! Mark that word; He says not,

"I will give you resurrection and life," but, "I am the

resurrection and the life." Blessed are the eyes which can see

that in Jesus which is really in Him. When we think of seeing Him

as He is, and being like Him, how heaven approaches us! We shall

soon behold the beatific vision, of which He will be the centre

and the sun. At the thought thereof our soul takes wing, and our

imagination soars aloft, while our faith, with eagle eye, beholds

the glory. As we think of that glad period, when we shall be with

our Beloved for ever, we are ready to swoon away with delight. It

is near, far nearer than we think.

III. The little time which we can give to this meditation has

run out, and therefore I hasten to a close. I have bidden you look

at our Lord as "altogether lovely" with reverent emotions, and

with absolute certainty. Now, to conclude, think of Him with

practical results. "He is altogether lovely." What shall we do for

this chief among ten thousand?

First, _we will tell others of Him_. For that cause was our

text spoken. The daughters of Jerusalem asked the spouse, "What is

thy Beloved more than another beloved?" Her answer is here: "He is

altogether lovely." It is a great joy to praise our Lord to

enquiring minds. We, who are preachers, have a glorious time of it

when we extol our Lord. If we had nothing to do but to preach

Christ, and had no discipline to administer, no sin to battle

with, no doubts to drive away, we should have a heavenly service.

For my part, I wish I could be bound over to play only upon this

one string. Paul did well when he turned ignoramus, and determined

to know nothing among the Corinthians save Jesus Christ, and Him

crucified. As the harp of Anacreon would resound love alone, so

would I have but one sole subject for my ministry,--the love and

loveliness of my Lord. Then to speak would be its own reward; and

to study and prepare discourses would be only a phase of rest.

Fain would I make my whole ministry to speak of Christ and His

surpassing loveliness.

You who are not preachers cannot do better than speak much of

Jesus, as opportunity offers. Make _Him_ the theme of

conversation. People talk about ministers; but we beg you to talk

of our Master. Our undecided neighbours are always talking of

hypocrites and inconsistent professors; but we would say to them,

"Never mind about His followers: talk about the Master Himself."

His followers, by themselves considered, never were worth your

words; but what a theme is this,-- "He is altogether lovely"! Our

Lord's people are far worthier than the world thinks them to be;

for my part, I rejoice in the many gracious and beautiful

characters with which I meet, but even if all the ill reports we

hear were true, this would not detract from the loveliness of our

Lord, who is infinitely beyond all praise.

The next practical result of viewing the loveliness of our

blessed Lord is, that _we appropriate Him to ourselves_, grasping

Him with our two hands of faith and love, and making the rest of

the verse to be our own: "This is my Beloved, and this is my

Friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!" Since He is so amiable, He must

be "my Beloved"; my heart clings to Him. Since He is admirable, I

rejoice that He is "my Friend"; my soul trusts in Him. The heart

that most appreciates Jesus is the most eager to appropriate Him.

He who beholds Jesus as "altogether lovely" will never rest till

he is altogether sure that Jesus is altogether his own. I think I

may also add that appreciation is in great measure the seal of

appropriation, for the soul that values Christ most is the soul

that hath most surely taken possession of Christ. Sometimes a

heart prizes the Lord very highly, and tremblingly longs for Him;

but it is my conviction that the very fact of prizing Him argues a

measure of possession of Him. Jesus never wins a heart to which He

refuses His love. If thou lovest Him, He loves thee: be sure of

that. No soul ever cries, "Yea, He is altogether lovely," without

sooner or later adding, "This is my Beloved, and this is my

Friend."

Rest not, any one of you, till you know of a surety that

Jesus is yours. Do not be content with a hope, struggle after the

full assurance of faith. This is to be had, and you ought not to

be content without it. It may be your lifelong song, "My Beloved

is mine, and I am His." You need not pine in the shade: the sun is

shining, "walk in the light." Away with the idea that we cannot

know whether we are condemned or forgiven, in Christ or out of

Him! We may know, we must know; and, as we appreciate our Lord, we

shall know. Either Jesus is ours, or He is not. If He is, let us

rejoice in the priceless possession. If He is not ours, let us at

once lay hold upon Him by faith; for, the moment we trust Him, He

is ours. The enjoyment of religion lies in assurance: a mere hope

is scant diet.

Once more, it is a fair fruit of our delight in our Lord that

_our valuation of Him becomes a bond of union between us and

others_. The spouse cries, "This is my Beloved, and this is my

Friend, O daughters of Jerusalem!" and they reply, "Whither is thy

Beloved gone, O thou fairest among women? Whither is thy Beloved

turned aside, that we may seek Him with thee?" Thus, you see, they

institute a companionship through the Well-beloved. Few of us, in

this room, would ever have known each other, had it not been for

our common admiration of the Lord Jesus. We should have gone on

walking past each other by the sea to this day, and we should have

missed much cheering fellowship. Our Lord has become our centre;

we meet in Him, and feel that in Him we are partakers of one life.

We seek our Well-beloved together, and around His table we find

Him together; and finding Him, we have found one another, and the

lost jewel of Christian love glitters on every bosom. We have

differing views on certain parts of divine truth; and I do not

know that it is wrong for us to differ where the Holy Spirit has

left truth without rigidly defining it. We are bound each one

devoutly to use his judgment in the interpretation of the Sacred

Word; but we all agree in this one clear judgment: "Yea, He is

altogether lovely." This is the point of union. Those who

enthusiastically love the same person are on the way to loving

each other. This is growingly our case; and it is the same with

all spiritual people. Professors quarrel, but possessors are at

one. We hear much discourse upon "the Unity of the Church" as a

thing to be desired, and we may heartily agree with it; but it

would be well also to remember that in the true Church of Christ

real union already exists. Our Lord prayed for those whom the

Father had given Him, that they might be one, and the Father

granted the prayer: the Lord's own people are one. In this room we

have an example of how closely we are united in Christ. Some of

you are more at home in this assembly, taken out of all churches,

than you are in the churches to which you nominally belong. Our

union in one body as Episcopalians, Baptists, Presbyterians, or

Independents, is not the thing which our Lord prayed for; but our

union _in Himself_. _That_ union we do at this moment enjoy; and

therefore do we eat of one bread, and drink of one cup, and are

baptized into one Spirit, at His feet who is to each one of us,

and so to all of us, altogether lovely.

"White and ruddy is my 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."

THE SPICED WINE OF MY POMEGRANATE;

OR, THE COMMUNION OF COMMUNICATION.

I would cause Thee to drink of spiced wine of the juice of my

pomegranate."--Solomon's Song viii. 2.

And of His fulness have all we received, and grace for

grace."--John i. 16.

THE immovable basis of communion having been laid of old in the

eternal union which subsisted between Christ and His elect, it

only needed a fitting occasion to manifest itself in active

development. The Lord Jesus had for ever delighted Himself with

the sons of men, and he ever stood prepared to reveal and

communicate that delight to His people; but they were incapable of

returning His affection or enjoying His fellowship, having fallen

into a state so base and degraded, that they were dead to Him, and

careless concerning Him. It was therefore needful that something

should be done for them, and in them, before they could hold

converse with Jesus, or feel concord with Him. This preparation

being a work of grace and a result of previous union, Jesus

determined that, even in the preparation for communion, there

should be communion. If they must be washed before they could

fully converse with Him, He would commune with them in the

washing; and if they must be enriched by gifts before they could

have full access to Him, He would commune with them in the giving.

He has therefore established a fellowship in imparting His grace,

and in partaking of it.

This order of fellowship we have called "The Communion of

Communication," and we think that a few remarks will prove that we

are not running beyond the warranty of Scripture.

The word koinwnia, or communion, is frequently employed by

inspired writers in the sense of communication or contribution.

When, in our English version, we read, "For it hath pleased them

of Macedonia and Achaia to make _a certain contribution_ for the

poor saints which are at Jerusalem" (Romans xv. 26), it is

interesting to know that the word koinonia used, as if to show

that the generous gifts of the Church in Achaia to its sister

Church at Jerusalem was a communion. Calvin would have us notice

this, because, saith he, "The word here employed well expresses

the feeling by which it behoves us to succour the wants of our

brethren, even because there is to be a common and mutual regard

on account of the union of the body." He would not have strained

the text if he had said that there was in the contribution the

very essence of communion. Gill, in his commentary upon the above

verse, most pertinently remarks, "Contribution, or communion, as

the word signifies, it being one part of the communion of churches

and of saints to relieve their poor by communicating to them." The

same word is employed in Hebrews xiii. 16, and is there translated

by the word "_communicate_." "But to do good, and to communicate,

forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased." It

occurs again in 2 Corinthians ix. 13, "And for your liberal

_distribution_ unto them, and unto all men;" and in numerous other

passages the careful student will observe the word in various

forms, representing the ministering of the saints to one another

as an act of fellowship. Indeed, at the Lord's supper, which is

the embodiment of communion, we have ever been wont to make a

special contribution for the poor of the flock, and we believe

that in the collection there is as true and real an element of

communion as in the partaking of the bread and wine. The giver

holds fellowship with the receiver when he bestows his benefaction

for the Lord's sake, and because of the brotherhood existing

between him and his needy friends. The teacher holds communion

with the young disciple when he labours to instruct him in the

faith, being moved thereto by a spirit of Christian love. He who

intercedes for a saint because he desires his well-being as a

member of the one family, enters into fellowship with his brother

in the offering of prayer. The loving and mutual service of

church-members is fellowship of a high degree. And let us remember

that the recipient communes with the benefactor: the communion is

not confined to the giver, but the heart overflowing with

liberality is met by the heart brimming with gratitude, and the

love manifested in the bestowal is reciprocated in the acceptance.

When the hand feeds the mouth or supports the head, the divers

members feel their union, and sympathize with one another; and so

is it with the various portions of the body of Christ, for they

commune in mutual acts of love.

Now, this meaning of the word communion furnishes us with

much instruction, since it indicates the manner in which

recognized fellowship with Jesus is commenced and maintained,

namely, by giving and receiving, by _communication_ and reception.

The Lord's supper is the divinely-ordained exhibition of

communion, and therefore in it there is the breaking of bread and

the pouring forth of wine, to picture the free gift of the

Saviour's body and blood to us; and there is also the eating of

the one and the drinking of the other, to represent the reception

of these priceless gifts by us. As without bread and wine there

could be no Lord's supper, so without the gracious bequests of

Jesus to us there would have been no communion between Him and our

souls: and as participation is necessary before the elements truly

represent the meaning of the Lord's ordinance, so is it needful

that we should receive His bounties, and feed upon His person,

before we can commune with Him.

It is one branch of this mutual communication which we have

selected as the subject of this address. "Looking unto Jesus," who

hath delivered us from our state of enmity, and brought us into

fellowship with Himself, we pray for the rich assistance of the

Holy Spirit, that we may be refreshed in spirit, and encouraged to

draw more largely from the covenant storehouse of Christ Jesus the

Lord.

We shall take a text, and proceed at once to our delightful

task. "_And of His fulness have all we received, and grace for

grace_." (John i. 16.)

As the life of grace is first begotten in us by the Lord

Jesus, so is it constantly sustained by Him. We are always drawing

from this sacred fountain, always deriving sap from this divine

root; and as Jesus communes with us in the bestowing of mercies,

it is our privilege to hold fellowship with Him in the receiving

of them.

There is this difference between Christ and ourselves, He

never gives without manifesting fellowship, but we often receive

in so ill a manner that communion is not reciprocated, and we

therefore miss the heavenly opportunity of its enjoyment. We

frequently receive grace insensibly, that is to say, the sacred

oil runs through the pipe, and maintains our lamp, while we are

unmindful of the secret influence. We may also be the partakers of

many mercies which, through our dulness, we do not perceive to be

mercies at all; and at other times well-known blessings are

recognized as such, but we are backward in tracing them to their

source in the covenant made with Christ Jesus.

Following out the suggestion of our explanatory preface, we

can well believe that when the poor saints received the

contribution of their brethren, many of them did in earnest

acknowledge the fellowship which was illustrated in the generous

offering, but it is probable that some of them merely looked upon

the material of the gift, and failed to see the spirit moving in

it. Sensual thoughts in some of the receivers might possibly, at

the season when the contribution was distributed, have

mischievously injured the exercise of spirituality; for it is

possible that, after a period of poverty, they would be apt to

give greater prominence to the fact that their need was removed

than to the sentiment of fellowship with their sympathizing

brethren. They would rather rejoice over famine averted than

concerning fellowship manifested. We doubt not that, in many

instances, the mutual benefactions of the Church fail to reveal

our fellowship to our poor brethren, and produce in them no

feelings of communion with the givers.

Now this sad fact is an illustration of the yet more

lamentable statement which we have made. We again assert that, as

many of the partakers of the alms of the Church are not alive to

the communion contained therein, so the Lord's people are never

sufficiently attentive to fellowship with Jesus in receiving His

gifts, but many of them are entirely forgetful of their privilege,

and all of them are too little aware of it. Nay, worse than this,

how often doth the believer pervert the gifts of Jesus into food

for his own sin and wantonness! We are not free from the

fickleness of ancient Israel, and well might our Lord address us

in the same language: "Now when I passed by thee, and looked upon

thee, behold, thy time was the time of love; and I spread My skirt

over thee, and covered thy nakedness: yea, I sware unto thee, and

entered into a covenant with Thee, saith the Lord God, and thou

becamest Mine. Then washed I thee with water; yea, I throughly

washed away thy blood from thee, and I anointed thee with oil. I

clothed thee also with broidered work, and shod thee with badgersÕ

skin, and I girded thee about with fine linen, and I covered thee

with silk. I decked thee also with ornaments, and I put bracelets

upon thy hands, and a chain on thy neck. And I put a jewel on thy

forehead, and earrings in thine ears, and a beautiful crown upon

thine head. Thus wast thou decked with gold and silver; and thy

raiment was of fine linen, and silk, and broidered work; thou

didst eat fine flour, and honey, and oil: and thou wast exceeding

beautiful, and thou didst prosper into a kingdom. And thy renown

went forth among the heathen for thy beauty: for it was perfect

through My comeliness, which I had put upon thee, saith the Lord

God. But thou didst trust in thine own beauty, and playedst the

harlot because of thy renown." (Ezek. xvi. 8-16.)

Ought not the mass of professors to confess the truth of this

accusation? Have not the bulk of us most sadly departed from the

purity of our love? We rejoice, however, to observe a remnant of

choice spirits, who live near the Lord, and know the sweetness of

fellowship. These receive the promise and the blessing, and so

digest them that they become good blood in their veins, and so do

they feed on their Lord that they grow up into Him. Let us imitate

those elevated minds, and obtain their high delights. There is no

reason why the meanest of us should not be as David, and David as

the servant of the Lord. We may now be dwarfs, but growth is

possible; let us therefore aim at a higher stature. Let the

succeeding advice be followed, and, the Holy Spirit helping us, we

shall have attained thereto.

_Make every time of need a time of embracing thy Lord_. Do

not leave the mercy-seat until thou hast clasped Him in thine

arms. In every time of need He has promised to give thee grace to

help, and what withholdeth thee from obtaining sweet fellowship as

a precious addition to the promised assistance? Be not as the

beggar who is content with the alms, however grudgingly it may be

cast to him; but, since thou art a near kinsman, seek a smile and

a kiss with every benison He gives thee. Is He not better than His

mercies? What are they without Him? Cry aloud unto Him, and let

thy petition reach His ears, "O my Lord, it is not enough to be a

partaker of Thy bounties, I must have Thyself also; if Thou dost

not give me Thyself with Thy favours, they are but of little use

to me! O smile on me, when Thou blessest me, for else I am still

unblest! Thou puttest perfume into all the flowers of Thy garden,

and fragrance into Thy spices; if Thou withdrawest Thyself, they

are no more pleasant to me. Come, then, my Lord, and give me Thy

love with Thy grace." Take good heed, Christian, that thine own

heart is in right tune, that when the fingers of mercy touch the

strings, they may resound with full notes of communion. How sad is

it to partake of favour without rejoicing in it! Yet such is often

the believer's case. The Lord casts His lavish bounties at our

doors, and we, like churls, scarcely look out to thank Him. Our

ungrateful hearts and unthankful tongues mar our fellowship, by

causing us to miss a thousand opportunities for exercising it.

If thou wouldst enjoy communion with the Lord Jesus in the

reception of His grace, _endeavor to be always sensibly drawing

supplies from Him_. Make thy needs public in the streets of thine

heart, and when the supply is granted, let all the powers of thy

soul be present at the reception of it. Let no mercy come into

thine house unsung. Note in thy memory the list of thy Master's

benefits. Wherefore should the Lord's bounties be hurried away in

the dark, or buried in forgetfulness? Keep the gates of thy soul

ever open, and sit thou by the wayside to watch the treasures of

grace which God the Spirit hourly conveys into thy heart from

Jehovah--Jesus, thy Lord.

Never let an hour pass without drawing upon the bank of

heaven. If all thy wants seem satisfied, look steadfastly until

the next moment brings another need, and then delay not, but with

this warrant of necessity, hasten to thy treasury again. Thy

necessities are so numerous that thou wilt never lack a reason for

applying to the fulness of Jesus; but if ever such an occasion

should arise, enlarge thine heart, and then there will be need of

more love to fill the wider space. But do not allow any

supposititious riches of thine own to suspend thy daily receivings

from the Lord Jesus. You have constant need of Him. You need His

intercession, His upholding, His sanctification; you need that He

should work all your works in you, and that He should preserve you

unto the day of His appearing. There is not one moment of your

life in which you can do without Christ. Therefore be always at

His door, and the wants which you bemoan shall be remembrances to

turn your heart unto your Saviour. Thirst makes the heart pant for

the waterbrooks, and pain reminds man of the physician. Let your

wants conduct you to Jesus, and may the blessed Spirit reveal Him

unto you while He lovingly affords you the rich supplies of His

love! Go, poor saint, let thy poverty be the cord to draw thee to

thy rich Brother. Rejoice in the infirmity which makes room for

grace to rest upon thee, and be glad that thou hast constant needs

which compel thee perpetually to hold fellowship with thine

adorable Redeemer.

Study thyself, seek out thy necessities, as the housewife

searches for chambers where she may bestow her summer fruits.

Regard thy wants as rooms to be filled with more of the grace of

Jesus, and suffer no corner to be unoccupied. Pant after more of

Jesus. Be covetous after Him. Let all the past incite thee to seek

greater things. Sing the song of the enlarged heart,--

"All this is not enough: methinks I grow

More greedy by fruition; what I get

Serves but to set

An edge upon my appetite;

And all Thy gifts invite

My pray'rs for more."

Cry out to the Lord Jesus to fill the dry beds of thy rivers

until they overflow, and then empty thou the channels which have

hitherto been filled with thine own self-sufficiency, and beseech

Him to fill these also with His superabundant grace. If thy heavy

trials sink thee deeper in the flood of His consolations, be glad

of them; and if thy vessel shall be sunken up to its very

bulwarks, be not afraid. I would be glad to feel the mast-head of

my soul twenty fathoms beneath the surface of such an ocean; for,

as Rutherford said, "Oh, to be over the ears in this well! I would

not have Christ's love entering into me, but I would enter into

it, and be swallowed up of that love." Cultivate an insatiable

hunger and a quenchless thirst for this communion with Jesus

through His communications. Let thine heart cry for ever, "Give,

give," until it is filled in Paradise.

"O'ercome with Jesu's condescending love,

Brought into fellowship with Him and His,

And feasting with Him in His house of wine,

I'm sick of love,--and yet I pant for more

Communications from my loving Lord.

Stay me with flagons full of choicest wine,

Press'd from His heart upon Mount Calvary,

To cheer and comfort my love-conquer'd soul.

* * * Thyself I crave!

Thy presence is my life, my joy, my heav'n,

And all, without Thyself, is dead to me.

Stay me with flagons, Saviour, hear my cry,

Let promises, like apples, comfort me;

Apply atoning blood, and cov'nant love,

Until I see Thy face among the guests

Who in Thy Father's kingdom feast."

(Nymphas, by JOSEPH IRONS.)

This is the only covetousness which is allowable: but this is

not merely beyond rebuke, it is worthy of commendation. O saints,

be not straitened in your own bowels, but enlarge your desires,

and so receive more of your Saviour's measureless fulness! I

charge thee, my soul, thus to hold continual fellowship with thy

Lord, since He invites and commands thee thus to partake of His

riches.

_Rejoice thyself in benefits received_. Let the satisfaction

of thy spirit overflow in streams of joy. When the believer

reposes all his confidence in Christ, and delights himself in Him,

there is an exercise of communion. If he forgetteth his psalm-

book, and instead of singing is found lamenting, the mercies of

the day will bring no communion. Awake, O music! stir up thyself,

O my soul, be glad in the Lord, and exceedingly rejoice! Behold

His favours, rich, free, and continual; shall they be buried in

unthankfulness? Shall they be covered with a winding-sheet of

ingratitude? No! I will praise Him. I must extol Him. Sweet Lord

Jesus, let me kiss the dust of Thy feet, let me lose myself in

thankfulness, for Thy thoughts unto me are precious, how great is

the sum of them! Lo, I embrace Thee in the arms of joy and

gratitude, and herein I find my soul drawn unto Thee!

This is a blessed method of fellowship. It is kissing the

divine lip of benediction with the sanctified lip of affection.

Oh, for more rejoicing grace, more of the songs of the heart, more

of the melody of the soul!

_Seek to recognize the source of thy mercies as lying alone

in Him who is our Head_. Imitate the chicken, which, every time it

drinketh of the brook, lifts up its head to heaven, as if it would

return thanks for every drop. If we have anything that is

commendable and gracious, it must come from the Holy Spirit, and

that Spirit is first bestowed on Jesus, and then through Him on

us. The oil was first poured on the head of Aaron, and thence it

ran down upon his garments. Look on the drops of grace, and

remember that they distil from the Head, Christ Jesus. All thy

rays are begotten by this Sun of Righteousness, all thy showers

are poured from this heaven, all thy fountains spring from this

great and immeasurable depth. Oh, for grace to see the hand of

Jesus on every favour! So will communion be constantly and firmly

in exercise. May the great Teacher perpetually direct us to Jesus

by making the mercies of the covenant the handposts on the road

which leadeth to Him. Happy is the believer who knows how to find

the secret abode of his Beloved by tracking the footsteps of His

loving providence: herein is wisdom which the casual observer of

mere second causes can never reach. Labour, O Christian, to follow

up every clue which thy Master's grace affords thee!

_Labour to maintain a sense of thine entire dependence upon

His good will and pleasure for the continuance of thy richest

enjoyments_. Never try to live on the old manna, nor seek to find

help in Egypt. All must come from Jesus, or thou art undone for

ever. Old anointings will not suffice to impart unction to our

spirit; thine head must have fresh oil poured upon it from the

golden horn of the sanctuary, or it will cease from its glory. To-

day thou mayest be upon the summit of the mount of God; but He who

has put thee there must keep thee there, or thou wilt sink far

more speedily than thou dreamest. Thy mountain only stands firm

when He settles it in its place; if He hide His face, thou wilt

soon be troubled. If the Saviour should see fit, there is not a

window through which thou seest the light of heaven which he could

not darken in an instant. Joshua bade the sun stand still, but

Jesus can shroud it in total darkness. He can withdraw the joy of

thine heart, the light of thine eyes, and the strength of thy

life; in His hand thy comforts lie, and at His will they can

depart from thee. Oh! how rich the grace which supplies us so

continually, and doth not refrain itself because of our

ingratitude! O Lord Jesus, we would bow at Thy feet, conscious of

our utter inability to do aught without Thee, and in every favour

which we are privileged to receive, we would adore Thy blessed

name, and acknowledge Thine unexhausted love!

_When thou hast received much, admire the all-sufficiency

which still remaineth undiminished_, thus shall you commune with

Christ, not only in what you obtain from Him, but also in the

superabundance which remains treasured up in Him. Let us ever

remember that giving does not impoverish our Lord. When the

clouds, those wandering cisterns of the skies, have poured floods

upon the dry ground, there remains an abundance in the storehouse

of the rain: so in Christ there is ever an unbounded supply,

though the most liberal showers of grace have fallen ever since

the foundation of the earth. The sun is as bright as ever after

all his shining, and the sea is quite as full after all the clouds

have been drawn from it: so is our Lord Jesus ever the same

overflowing fountain of fulness. All this is ours, and we may make

it the subject of rejoicing fellowship. Come, believer, walk

through the length and breadth of the land, for as far as the eye

can reach, the land is thine, and far beyond the utmost range of

thine observation it is thine also, the gracious gift of thy

gracious Redeemer and Friend. Is there not ample space for

fellowship _here?_

_Regard every spiritual mercy as an assurance of the Lord's

communion with thee_. When the young man gives jewels to the

virgin to whom he is affianced, she regards them as tokens of his

delight in her. Believer, do the same with the precious presents

of thy Lord. The common bounties of providence are shared in by

all men, for the good Householder provides water for His swine as

well as for His children: such things, therefore, are no proof of

divine complacency. But thou hast richer food to eat; "the

children's bread" is in thy wallet, and the heritage of the

righteous is reserved for thee. Look, then, on every motion of

grace in thine heart as a pledge and sign of the moving of thy

Saviour's heart towards thee. There is His whole heart in the

bowels of every mercy which He sends thee. He has impressed a kiss

of love upon each gift, and He would have thee believe that every

jewel of mercy is a token of His boundless love. Look on thine

adoption, justification, and preservation, as sweet enticements to

fellowship. Let every note of the promise sound in thine ears like

the ringing of the bells of the house of thy Lord, inviting thee

to come to the banquets of His love. Joseph sent to his father

asses laden with the good things of Egypt, and good old Jacob

doubtless regarded them as pledges of the love of his son's heart:

be sure not to think less of the kindnesses of Jesus.

_Study to know the value of His favours._ They are no

ordinary things, no paste jewels, no mosaic gold: they are every

one of them so costly, that, had all heaven been drained of

treasure, apart from the precious offering of the Redeemer, it

could not have purchased so much as the least of His benefits.

When thou seest thy pardon, consider how great a boon is contained

in it! Bethink thee that hell had been thine eternal portion

unless Christ had plucked thee from the burning! When thou art

enabled to see thyself as clothed in the imputed righteousness of

Jesus, admire the profusion of precious things of which thy robe

is made. Think how many times the Man of sorrows wearied Himself

at that loom of obedience in which He wove that matchless garment;

and reckon, if thou canst, how many worlds of merit were cast into

the fabric at every throw of the shuttle! Remember that all the

angels in heaven could not have afforded Him a single thread which

would have been rich enough to weave into the texture of His

perfect righteousness. Consider the cost of thy maintenance for an

hour; remember that thy wants are so large, that all the granaries

of grace that all the saints could fill, could not feed thee for a

moment.

What an expensive dependent thou art! King Solomon made

marvellous provision for his household (1 Kings iv. 22), but all

his beeves and fine flour would be as the drop of the bucket

compared with thy daily wants. Rivers of oil, and ten thousand

rams or fed beasts, would not provide enough to supply the

necessities of thy hungering soul. Thy least spiritual want

demands infinity to satisfy it, and what must be the amazing

aggregate of thy perpetually repeated draughts upon thy Lord!

Arise, then, and bless thy loving Immanuel for the invaluable

riches with which He has endowed thee. See what a dowry thy

Bridegroom has brought to His poor, penniless spouse. He knows the

value of the blessings which He brings thee, for He has paid for

them out of His heart's richest blood; be not thou so ungenerous

as to pass them over as if they were but of little worth. Poor men

know more of the value of money than those who have always

revelled in abundance of wealth. Ought not thy former poverty to

teach thee the preciousness of the grace which Jesus gives thee?

For remember, there was a time when thou wouldst have given a

thousand worlds, if they had been thine, in order to procure the

very least of His abundant mercies.

_Remember how impossible it would have been for thee to

receive a single spiritual blessing unless thou hadst been in

Jesus_. On none of Adam's race can the love of God be fixed,

unless they are seen to be in union with His Son. No exception has

ever been made to the universal curse on those of the first Adam's

seed who have no interest in the second Adam. Christ is the only

Zoar in which God's Lots can find a shelter from the destruction

of Sodom. Out of Him, the withering blast of the fiery furnace of

God's wrath consumes every green herb, and it is only in Him that

the soul can live. As when the prairie is on fire, men see the

heavens wrapped in sheets of flame, and in hot haste they fly

before the devouring element. They have but one hope. There is in

the distance a lake of water. They reach it, they plunge into it,

and are safe. Although the skies are molten with the heat, the sun

darkened with the smoke, and the earth utterly consumed in the

fire, they know that they are secure while the cooling flood

embraces them. Christ Jesus is the only escape for a sinner

pursued by the fiery wrath of God, and we would have the believer

remember this. Our own works could never shelter us, for they have

proved but refuges of lies. Had they been a thousand times more

and better, they would have been but as the spider's web, too

flail to hang eternal interests upon. There was but one name, one

sacrifice, one blood, by which we could escape. All other attempts

at salvation were a grievous failure. For, "though a man could

scourge out of his body rivers of blood, and in neglect of himself

could outlast Moses or Elias; though he could wear out his knees

with prayer, and had his eyes nailed on heaven; though he could

build hospitals for all the poor on earth, and exhaust the mines

of India in alms; though he could walk like an angel of light, and

with the glittering of an outward holiness dazzle the eyes of all

beholders; nay (if it were possible to be conceived) though he

should live for a thousand years in a perfect and perpetual

observation of the whole law of God, if the only exception to his

perfection were the very least deviation from the law, yet such a

man as this could no more appear before the tribunal of God's

justice, than stubble before a consuming fire." How, then, with

thine innumerable sins, couldst thou escape the damnation of hell,

much less become the recipient of bounties so rich and large?

Blessed window of heaven, sweet Lord Jesus, let Thy Church for

ever adore Thee, as the only channel by which mercies can flow to

her. My soul, give Him continual praise, for without Him thou

hadst been poorer than a beggar. Be thou mindful, O heir of

heaven, that thou couldst not have had one ray of hope, or one

word of comfort, if thou hadst not been in union with Christ

Jesus! The crumbs which fall from thy table are more than grace

itself would have given thee, hadst thou not been in Jesus beloved

and approved.

All thou hast, thou hast in Him: in Him chosen, in Him

redeemed, in Him justified, in Him accepted. Thou art risen in

Him, but without Him thou hadst died the second death. Thou art in

Him raised up to the heavenly places, but out of Him thou wouldst

have been damned eternally. Bless Him, then. Ask the angels to

bless Him. Rouse all ages to a harmony of praise for His

condescending love in taking poor guilty nothings into oneness

with His all-adorable person. This is a blessed means of promoting

communion, if the sacred Comforter is pleased to take of the

things of Christ, and reveal them to us as ours, but only ours as

we are in Him. Thrice-blessed Jesus, let us never forget that we

are members of Thy mystical body, and that it is for this reason

that we are blessed and preserved.

_Meditate upon thee gracious acts which procured thy

blessings_. Consider the ponderous labours which thy Lord endured

for thee, and the stupendous sufferings by which He purchased the

mercies which He bestows. What human tongue can speak forth the

unutterable misery of His heart, or describe so much as one of the

agonies which crowded upon His soul? How much less shall any

finite comprehension arrive at an idea of the vast total of His

woe! But all His sorrows were necessary for thy benefit, and

without them not one of thine unnumbered mercies could have been

bestowed. Be not unmindful that--

"There's ne'er a gift His hand bestows,

But cost His heart a groan."

Look upon the frozen ground of Gethsemane, and behold the

bloody sweat which stained the soil! Turn to the hall of Gabbatha,

and see the victim of justice pursued by His clamorous foes! Enter

the guard-room of the Praetorians, and view the spitting, and the

plucking of the hair! and then conclude your review upon Golgotha,

the mount of doom, where death consummated His tortures; and if,

by divine assistance thou art enabled to enter, in some humble

measure, into the depths of thy Lord's sufferings, thou wilt be

the better prepared to hold fellowship with Him when next thou

receivest His priceless gifts. In proportion to thy sense of their

costliness will be thy capacity for enjoying the love which is

centred in them.

_Above all, and chief of all, never forget that Christ is

thine_. Amid the profusion of His gifts, never forget that the

chief gift is Himself, and do not forget that, after all, His

gifts are but Himself. He clothes thee, but it is with Himself,

with His own spotless righteousness and character. He washes thee,

but His innermost self, His own heart's blood, is the stream with

which the fountain overflows. He feeds thee with the bread of

heaven, but be not unmindful that the bread is Himself, His own

body which He gives to be the food of souls. Never be satisfied

with a less communication than a whole Christ. A wife will not be

put off with maintenance, jewels, and attire, all these will be

nothing to her unless she can call her husband's heart and person

her own. It was the Paschal lamb upon which the ancient Israelite

did feast on that night that was never to be forgotten. So do thou

feast on Jesus, and on nothing less than Jesus, for less than this

will be food too light for thy soul's satisfaction. Oh, be careful

to eat His flesh and drink His blood, and so receive Him into

thyself in a real and spiritual manner, for nothing short of this

will be an evidence of eternal life in thy soul!

What more shall we add to the rules which we have here

delivered? There remains but one great exhortation, which must not

be omitted. _Seek the abundant assistance of the Holy Spirit_ to

enable you to put into practice the things which we have said, for

without His aid, all that we have spoken will but be tantalizing

the lame with rules to walk, or the dying with regulations for the

preservation of health. O thou Divine Spirit, while we enjoy the

grace of Jesus, lead us into the secret abode of our Lord, that we

may sup with Him, and He with us, and grant unto us hourly grace

that we may continue in the company of our Lord from the rising to

the setting of the sun! Amen.

THE WELL-BELOVED'S VINEYARD.

AN ADDRESS TO A LITTLE COMPANY OF BELIEVERS,

IN MR. SPURGEON'S OWN ROOM AT MENTONE.

"My Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill."--

Isaiah v. 1.

WE recognize at once that Jesus is here. Who but He can be meant

by "My Well-beloved"? Here is a word of possession and a word of

affection,--He is mine, and my Well-beloved. He is loveliness

itself, the most loving and lovable of beings; and we personally

love Him with all our heart, and mind, and soul, and strength: He

is ours, our Beloved, our Well-beloved, we can say no less.

The delightful relationship of our Lord to us is accompanied

by words which remind us of our relationship to Him, "My Well-

beloved hath a vineyard," and what vineyard is that but our heart,

our nature, our life? We are His: and we are His for the same

reason that any other vineyard belongs to its owner. He made us a

vineyard. Thorns and briars were all our growth naturally, but He

bought us with a price, He hedged us about, and set us apart for

Himself, and then He planted and cultivated us. All within us that

can bring forth good fruit is of His creating, His tending, and

His preserving; so that if we be vineyards at all we must be _His_

vineyards. We gladly agree that it shall be so. I pray that I may

not have a hair on my head that does not belong to Christ, and you

all pray that your every pulse and breath may be the Lord's.

This happy afternoon I want you to note that this vineyard is

said to be upon "a very fruitful hill." I have been thinking of

the advantages of my own position towards the Lord, and lamenting

with great shamefacedness that I am not bringing forth such fruit

to Him as my position demands. Considering our privileges,

advantages, and opportunities, I fear that many of us have need to

feel great searchings of heart. Perhaps to such the text may be

helpful, and it will not be without profit to any one of us, if

the Lord will bless our meditation upon it.

I. Our first thought, in considering these words, is that our

position as the Lord's vineyard is a very favourable one: "My

Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill." No people

could be better placed for serving Christ than we are. I hardly

think that any man is better situated for glorifying God than I

am. I do not think that any women could be in better positions for

serving Christ than some of you, dear sisters, now occupy. Our

heavenly Father has placed us just where He can do the most for

us, and where we can do the most for Him. Infinite wisdom has

occupied itself with carefully selecting the soil, and site, and

aspect of every tree in the vineyard. We differ greatly, and need

differing situations in order to fruitfulness: the place which

would suit one might be too trying for another. Friend, the Lord

has planted you in the right spot: your station may not be the

best in itself, but it is the best for you. We are in the best

possible position for some present service at this moment; the

providence of God has put us on a vantage ground for our immediate

duty: "My Well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill."

Let us think of _the times in which we live_ as calling upon

us to be very fruitful when we compare them with the years gone

by. Time was when we could not have met thus happily in our own

room: if we had been taken in the act of breaking bread, or

reading God's Word, we should have been haled off to prison, and

perhaps put to death. Our forefathers scarcely dared to lift up

their voices in a psalm of praise, lest the enemy should be upon

them. Truly, the lines have fallen unto us in pleasant places;

yea, we have a goodly heritage, in a very fruitful hill.

We do not even live in times when error is so rampant as to

be paramount. There is too much of it abroad; but taking a broad

view of things, I venture to say that there never was a time when

the truth had a wider sway than it has now, or when the gospel was

more fully preached, or when there was more spiritual activity.

Black clouds of error hover over us; but at the same time we

rejoice that, from John o' Groat's House to the Land's End, Christ

is preached by ten thousand voices, and even in the dark parts of

the earth the name of Jesus is shining like a candle in the house.

If we had the pick of the ages in which to live, we could not have

selected a better time for fruitbearing than that which is now

occurrent: this age is "a very fruitful hill."

That this is the case some of us know positively, _because we

have been fruitful._ Look back, brothers and sisters, upon times

when your hearts were warm, and your zeal was fervent, and you

served the Lord with gladness. I join with you in those happy

memories. Then we could run with the swiftest, we could fight with

the bravest, we could work with the strongest, we could suffer

with the most patient. The grace of God has been upon certain of

us in such an unmistakable manner that we have brought forth all

the fruits of the Spirit. Perhaps to-day we look back with deep

regret because we are not so fruitful as we once were: if it be

so, it is well that our regrets should multiply, but we must

change each one of them into a hopeful prayer. Remember, the vine

may have changed, but the soil is the same. We have still the same

motives for being fruitful, and even more than we used to have.

Why are we not more useful? Has some spiritual phylloxera taken

possession of the vines, or have we become frost-bitten, or sun-

burnt? What is it that withholds the vintage? Certainly, if we

were fruitful once, we ought to be more fruitful now. The fruitful

hill is not exhausted; what aileth us that our grapes are so few?

We are planted on a fruitful hill, _for we are called to work

which of all others is the most fruitful_. Blessed and happy is

the man who is called to the Christian ministry; for this service

has brought more glory to Christ than any other. You, beloved

friends, are not called to be rulers of nations, nor inventors of

engines, nor teachers of sciences, nor slayers of men; but we are

soul-winners, our work is to lead men to Jesus. Ours is, of all

the employments in the world, the most fruitful in benefits to men

and glory to God. If we are not serving God in the gospel of His

Son with all our might and ability, then we have a heavy

responsibility resting upon us. "Our Well-beloved hath a vineyard

in a very fruitful hill:" there is not a richer bit of soil

outside Immanuel's land than the holy ministry for souls. Certain

of us are teachers, and gather the young about us while we speak

of Jesus. This also is choice soil. Many teachers have gathered a

grand vintage from among the little ones, and have not been a whit

behind pastors and evangelists in the glory of soul-winning. Dear

teachers, your vines are planted in a very fruitful hill. But I do

not confine myself to preachers and teachers; for all of us, as we

have opportunities of speaking for the Lord Jesus Christ, and

privately talking to individuals, have also a fertile soil to grow

in. If we do not glorify God by soul-winning, we shall be greatly

blamable, since of all forms of service it is most prolific in

praise of God.

And what is more, _the very circumstances with which we are

surrounded_ all tend to make our position exceedingly favourable

for fruit-bearing. In this little company we have not one friend

who is extremely poor; but if such were among us, I should say the

same thing. Christ has gathered some of His choicest clusters from

the valley of poverty. Many eminent saints have never owned a foot

of land, but lived upon their weekly wage, and found scant fare at

that. Yes, by the grace of God, the vale of poverty has blossomed

as the rose. It so happens, however, that the most of us here have

a competence, we have all that we need, and something over to give

to the poor and to the cause of God. Surely we ought to be

fruitful in almsgiving, in caring for the sick, and in all manner

of sweet and flagrant influences. "Give me neither poverty nor

riches," is a prayer that has been answered for most of us; and if

we do not now give honour unto God, what excuse can we make for

our barrenness? I am speaking to some who are singularly healthy,

who are never hindered by aches and pains; and to others who have

been prospered in business for twenty years at a stretch: yours is

great indebtedness to your Lord: in your case, "My Well-beloved

hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill." Give God your strength

and your wealth, my brother, while they last: see that all His

care of thee is not thrown away. Others of us seldom know many

months together of health, but have often had to suffer sorely in

body; this ought to make us fruitful, for there is much increase

from the tillage of affliction. Has not the Master obtained the

richest of all fruit from bleeding vines? Do not His heaviest

bunches come from vines which have been sharply cut and pruned

down to the ground? Choice flavours, dainty juices, and delicious

aromas come mostly from the use of the keen-edged knife of trial.

Some of us are at our best for fruitbearing when in other respects

we are at our worst. Thus I might truly say that, whatever our

circumstances may be, whether we are poor or rich, in health or in

affliction, each one of our cases has its advantages, and we are

planted "in a very fruitful hill."

Furthermore, when I look at our spiritual condition_, I must

say for myself, and I think for you also, "My Well-beloved hath a

vineyard in a very fruitful hill." For what has God done for us?

To change the question,--what has God not done for us? What more

could He say than to us He hath said? What more could He do than

to us He hath done? He hath dealt with us like a God. He has loved

us up from the pit, He has loved us up to the cross, and up to the

gates of heaven; He has quickened us, forgiven us, and renewed us;

He dwells in us, comforts us, instructs us, upholds us, preserves

us, guides us, leads us, and He will surely perfect us. If we are

not fruitful, to His praise, how shall we excuse ourselves? Where

shall we hide our guilty heads? Shall yonder sea suffice to lend

us briny tears wherewith to weep over our ingratitude?

II. I go a step further, by your leave, and say that our

position, as the Lord's vineyard, is favourable to the production

of the fruit which He loves best. I believe that my own position

is the most favourable for the production of the fruit that the

Lord loves best in me, and that your position is the same. What is

this fruit?

First, it is _faith_. Our Lord is very delighted to see faith

in His people. The trust which clings to Him with childlike

confidence is pleasant to His loving heart. Our position is such

that faith ought to be the easiest thing in the world to us. Look

at the promises He has given us in His Word: can we not believe

them? Look at what the Father has done for us in the gift of His

dear Son: can we not trust Him after that? Our daily experience

all goes to strengthen our confidence in God. Every mercy asks,

"Will you not trust Him?" Every want that is supplied cries, "Can

you not trust Him?" Every sorrow sent by the great Father tests

our faith, and drives us to Him on whom we repose, and so

strengthens and confirms our confidence in God. Mercies and

miseries alike operate for the growth of faith. Some of us have

been called upon to trust God on a large scale, and that necessity

has been a great help towards fruit-bearing. The more troubles we

have, the more is our vine digged about, and the more nourishment

is laid to its roots. If faith does not ripen under trial, when

will it ripen? Our afflictions fertilize the soil wherein faith

may grow.

Another choice fruit is _love_. Jesus delights in love. His

tender heart delights to see its love returned. Am I not of all

men most bound to love the Lord? I speak for each brother and

sister here, is not that your language? Do you not all say, "Lives

there a person beneath yon blue sky who ought to love Jesus more

than I should do?" Each sister soliloquizes, "Sat there ever a

woman in her chamber who had more reason for loving God than I

have?" No, the sin which has been forgiven us should make us love

our Saviour exceeding much. The sin which has been prevented in

other cases should make us love our Preserver much. The help which

God has sent us in hours of need, the guidance which He has given

in times of difficulty, the joy which He has poured into us in

days of fellowship, and the quiet He has breathed upon us in

seasons of trial,--all ought to make us love Him. Along our life-

road, reasons for loving God are more numerous than the leaves

upon the olives. He has hedged us about with His goodness, even as

the mountains and the sea are round our present resting-place.

Look backward as far as time endures, and then look far beyond

that, into the eternity which has been, and you will see the

Lord's great love set upon us: all through time and eternity

reasons have been accumulating which constrain us to love our

Lord. Now turn sharply round, and gaze before you, and all along

the future faith can see reasons for loving God, golden milestones

on the way that is yet to be traversed, all calling for our loving

delight in God.

Christ is also very pleased with the fruit of _hope_, and we

are so circumstanced that we ought to produce much of it. The aged

ought to look forward, for they cannot expect to see much more on

earth. Time is short, and eternity is near; how precious is a good

hope through grace! We who are not yet old ought to be exceedingly

hopeful; and the younger folk, who are just beginning the

spiritual life, should abound in hope most fresh and bright. If

any man has expectations greater than I have, I should like to see

him. We have the greatest of expectations. Have you never felt

like Mercy in her dream, when she laughed and when Christiana

asked her what made her laugh, she said that she had had a vision

of things yet to be revealed?

Select any fruit of the Spirit you choose, and I maintain

that we are favourably circumstanced for producing it; we are

planted upon a very fruitful hill. What a fruitful hill we are

living in as regards _labour for Christ! _Each one of us may find

work for the Master; there are capital opportunities around us.

There never was an age in which a man, consecrated to God, might

do so much as he can at this time. There is nothing to restrain

the most ardent zeal. We live in such happy times that, if we

plunge into a sea of work, we may swim, and none can hinder us.

Then, too, our labour is made, by God's grace, to be so pleasant

to us. No true servant of Christ is weary _of_ the work, though he

may be weary _in_ the work: it is not the work that he ever

wearies of, for he wishes that he could do ten times more. Then

our Lord makes our work to be successful. We bring one soul to

Jesus, and that one brings a hundred. Sometimes, when we are

fishing for Jesus, there may be few fish, but, blessed be His

name, most of them enter the net; and we have to live praising and

blessing God for all the favour with which He regards our labour

of love. I do think I am right in saying that, for the bearing of

the fruit which Jesus loves best, our position is exceedingly

favourable.

III. And now, this afternoon, at this table, our position

here is favourable even now to our producing immediately, and upon

the spot, the richest, ripest, rarest fruit for our Well-beloved.

Here, at the communion-table, we are at the centre of the truth,

and at the well-head of consolation. Now we enter the holy of

holies, and come to the most sacred meeting-place between our

souls and God.

Viewed from this table, _the vineyard slopes to the south_,

for everything looks towards Christ, our Sun. This bread, this

wine, all set our souls aslope towards Jesus Christ, and He shines

full upon our hearts, and minds, and souls, to make us bring forth

much fruit. Are we not planted on a very fruitful hill?

As we think of His passion for our sake, we feel that_ a wall

is set about us to the north_, to keep back every sharp blast that

might destroy the tender grapes. No wrath is dreaded now, for

Jesus has borne it for us; behold the tokens of His all-sufficient

sacrifice! No anger of the Lord shall come to our restful spirits,

for the Lord saith, "I have sworn that I will not be wroth with

thee, nor rebuke thee." Here, on this table, are the pledges of

His love unspeakable, and these, like a high wall, keep out the

rough winds. Surely, we are planted on a very fruitful hill.

Moreover, _the Well-beloved Himself is among us_. He has not

let us out to husbandmen, but He Himself doth undertake to care

for us; and that He is here we are sure, for here is His flesh,

and here is His blood. You see the outward tokens, may you feel

the unseen reality; for we believe in His real presence, though

not in the gross corporeal sense with which worldly spirits blind

themselves. The King has come into His garden: let us entertain

Him with our fruits. He who for this vineyard poured out a bloody

sweat, is now surveying the vines; shall they not at this instant

give forth a goodly smell? The presence of our Lord makes this

assembly a very fruitful hill: where He sets His feet, all good

things flourish.

Around this table, _we are in a place where others have

fruited well_. Our literature contains no words more precious than

those which have been spoken at the time of communion. Perhaps you

know and appreciate the discourses of Willison, delivered on

sacramental occasions. Rutherford's communion sermons have a

sacred unction upon them. The poems of George Herbert, I should

think, were most of them inspired by the sight of Christ in this

ordinance. Think of the canticles of holy Bernard, how they flame

with devotion. Saints and martyrs have been nourished at this

table of blessing. This hollowed ordinance, I am sure, is a spot

where hopes grow bright, and hearts grow warm, resolves become

firm, and lives become fruitful, and all the clusters of our

soul's fruit ripen for the Lord.

Blessed be God, _we are where we have ourselves often grown_.

We have enjoyed our best times when celebrating this sacred

Eucharist. God grant it may be so again! Let us, in calm

meditation and inward thought, now produce from our hearts sweet

fruits of love, and zeal, and hope, and patience; let us yield

great clusters like those of Eshcol, all for Jesus, and for Jesus

only. Even now, let us give ourselves up to meditation, gratitude,

adoration, communion, rapture; and let us spend the rest of our

lives in glorifying and magnifying the ever-blessed name of our

Well-beloved whose vineyard we are.

"While such a scene of sacred joys

Our raptured eyes and souls employs,

Here we could sit, and gaze away

A long, an everlasting day.

"Well, we shall quickly pass the night,

To the fair coasts of perfect light;

Then shall our joyful senses rove

O'er the dear object of our love.

"There shall we drink full draughts of bliss,

And pluck new life from heavenly trees.

Yet now and then, dear Lord, bestow

A drop of heaven on worms below."

REDEEMED SOULS FREED FROM FEAR.

A TALK WITH A FEW FRIENDS AT MENTONE.

"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee."--Isaiah xliii. 1.

I WAS lamenting this morning my unfitness for my work, and

especially for the warfare to which I am called. A sense of

heaviness came over me, but relief came very speedily, for which I

thank the Lord. Indeed, I was greatly burdened, but the Lord

succoured me. The first verse read at the Sabbath morning service

exactly met my case. It is in Isaiah xliii. 1: "But now thus saith

the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and He that formed thee, O

Israel, Fear not." I said to myself, "I am what God created me,

and I am what He formed me, and therefore I must, after all, be

the right man for the place wherein He has put me." We may not

blame our Creator, nor suspect that He has missed His mark in

forming an instrument for His work. Thus new comfort comes to us.

Not only do the operations of grace in the spiritual world yield

us consolation, but we are even comforted by what the Lord has

done in creation. We are told to cease from our fears; and we do

so, since we perceive that it is the Lord that made us, and not we

ourselves, and He will justify His own creating skill by

accomplishing through us the purposes of His love. Pray, I beseech

you, for me, the weakest of my Lord's servants, that I may be

equal to the overwhelming task imposed upon me.

The next sentence of the chapter is usually most comforting

to my soul, although on this one occasion the first sentence was a

specially reviving cordial to me. The verse goes on to say,--

"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee."

Let us think for a few minutes of the wonderful depth of

consolation which lies in this fact. We have been redeemed by the

Lord Himself, and this is a grand reason why we should never again

be subject to fear. Oh, that the logic of this fact could be

turned into practice, so that we henceforth rejoiced, or at least

felt the peace of God!

These words may be spoken, first of all, of those frequent

occasions in which the Lord has redeemed His people out of

_trouble_. Many a time and oft might our Lord say to each one of

us, "I have redeemed thee." Out of six, yea, six thousand trials

He has brought us forth by the right hand of His power. He has

released us from our afflictions, and brought us forth into a

wealthy place. In the remembrance of all these redemptions the

Lord seems to say to us, "What I have done before, I will do

again. I have redeemed thee, and I will still redeem thee. I have

brought thee from under the hand of the oppressor; I have

delivered thee from the tongue of the slanderer; I have borne thee

up under the load of poverty, and sustained thee under the pains

of sickness; and I am able still to do the same: wherefore, then,

dost thou fear? Why shouldst thou be afraid, since already I have

again and again redeemed thee? Take heart, and be confident; for

even to old age and to death itself I will continue to be thy

strong Redeemer."

I suppose there would be a reference here to the great

redemption out of Egypt. This word is addressed to the people of

God under captivity in Babylon, and we know that the Lord referred

to the Egyptian redemption; for He says in the third verse, "I

gave Egypt for thy ransom." Egypt was a great country, and a rich

country, for we read of "all the treasures of Egypt", but God gave

them for His chosen: He would give all the nations of the earth

for His Israel. This was a wonderful stay to the people of God:

they constantly referred to Egypt and the Red Sea, and made their

national song out of it. In all Israel's times of disaster, and

calamity, and trial, they joyfully remembered that the Lord had

redeemed them when they were a company of slaves, helpless and

hopeless, under a tyrant who cast their firstborn children into

the Nile, a tyrant whose power was so tremendous that all the

armies of the world could not have wrought their deliverance from

his iron hand. The very nod of Pharaoh seemed to the inhabitants

of Egypt to be omnipotent; he was a builder of pyramids, a master

of all the sciences of peace and the arts of war. What could the

Israelites have done against him? Jehovah came to their relief in

their dire extremity. His plagues followed each other in quick

succession. The dread volleys of the Lord's artillery confounded

His foes. At last He smote all the firstborn of Egypt, the chief

of all their strength. Then was Egypt glad that Israel departed,

and the Lord brought forth His people with silver and gold. All

the chivalry of Egypt was overthrown and destroyed at the Red Sea,

and the timbrels of the daughters of Israel sounded joyously upon

its shores. This redemption out of Egypt is so remarkable that it

is remembered even in heaven. The Old Testament song is woven into

that of the New Covenant; for there they "sing the song of Moses

the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb." The first

redeemption was so wonderful a type and prophecy of the other that

it is no alloy to the golden hymn of eternal glory, but readily

melts into the same celestial chant. Other types may cease to be

remembered, but this was so much a fact as well as a type that it

shall be had in memory for ever and ever. Every Israelite ought to

have had confidence in God after what He had done for the people

in redeeming them out of Egypt. To every one of the seed of Jacob

it was a grand argument to enforce the precept, "Fear not."

But I take it that the chief reference of these words are to

that redemption which has been wrought out for us by Him who loved

us, and washed us from our sins by His own blood. Let us think of

it for a minute or two before we break the bread and drink of the

cup of communion.

The remembrance of this transcendent redemption ought to

comfort us in all times of _perplexity_. When we cannot see our

way, or cannot make out what to do, we need not be at all troubled

concerning it; for the Lord Jehovah can see a way out of every

intricacy. There never was a problem so hard to solve as that

which is answered in redemption. Herein was the tremendous

difficulty--How can God be just, and yet the Saviour of sinners?

How can He fulfil His threatenings, and yet forgive sin? If that

problem been left to angels and men, they could never worked it

out throughout eternity; but God has solved it through freely

delivering up His own Son. In the glorious sacrifice of Jesus we

see the justice of God magnified; for He laid sin on the blessed

Lord, who had become one with His chosen. Jesus identified Himself

with His people, and therefore their sin was laid upon Him, and

the sword of the Lord awoke against Him. He was not taken

arbitrarily to be a victim, but He was a voluntary Sufferer. His

relationship amounted to covenant oneness with His people, and "it

behoved Christ to suffer." Herein is a wisdom which must be more

than equal to all minor perplexities. Hear this, then, O poor soul

in suspense! The Lord says, "I have redeemed thee. I have already

brought thee out of the labyrinth in which thou wast lost by sin,

and therefore I will take thee out of the meshes of the net of

temptation, and lead thee through the maze of trial; I will bring

the blind by a way that they know not, and lead them in paths

which they have not known. I will bring again from Bashan, I will

bring up My people from the depths of the sea." Let us commit our

way unto the Lord. Mine is a peculiarly difficult one, but I know

that my Redeemer liveth, and He will lead me by a right way. He

will be our Guide even unto death; and after death He will guide

us through those tracks unknown of the mysterious region, and

cause us to rest with Him for ever.

So also, if at any time we are in great _poverty_, or in

great straitness of means for the Lord's work, and we are,

therefore, afraid that we shall never get our needs supplied, let

us cast off such fears as we listen to the music of these words:

"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee." God Himself looked down from

heaven, and saw that there was no man who could give to Him a

ransom for his brother, and each man on his own part was

hopelessly bankrupt; and then, despite our spiritual beggary, He

found the means of our redemption. What then? Let us hear the use

which the Holy Spirit makes of this fact: "He that spared not His

own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with

Him also freely give us all things?" We cannot have a want which

the Lord will not supply. Since God has given us Jesus, He will

give us, not some things, but "all things." Indeed, all things are

ours in Christ Jesus. No necessity of his life can for a single

moment be compared to that dread necessity which the Lord has

already supplied. The infinite gift of God's own Son is a far

greater one than all that can be included in the term "all

things": wherefore, it is a grand argument to the poor and needy,

"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee." Perplexity and poverty are

thus effectually met.

We are at times troubled by a sense of our personal

_insignificance_. It seems too much to hope that God's infinite

mind should enter into our mean affairs. Though David said, "I am

poor and needy, yet the Lord thinketh upon me," we are not always

quite prepared to say the same. We make our sorrows great under

the vain idea that they are too small for the Lord to notice. I

believe that our greatest miseries spring from those little

worries which we hesitate to bring to our heavenly Father. Our

gracious God puts an end to all such thoughts as these by saying

"Fear not for I have redeemed thee." You are not of such small

account as you suppose. The Lord would never be wasteful of His

sacred expenditure.

He bought you with a price, and therefore He sets great store

by you. Listen to what the Lord says: "Since thou wast precious in

My sight, thou hast been honourable, and I have loved thee:

therefore will I give men for thee, and people for thy life." It

is amazing that the Lord should think so much of us as to give

Jesus for us. "What is man that Thou art mindful of him?" Yet

God's mind is filled with thoughts of love towards man. Know ye

not that His only-begotten Son entered this world, and became a

man? The man Christ Jesus has a name at which every knee shall

bow, and He is so dear to the Father that, for His sake, His

chosen ones are accepted, and are made to enjoy the freest access

to Him. We sing truly,--

"So near, so very near to God,

Nearer we cannot be,

For in the person of His Son

We are as near as He."

And now the very hairs of our head are all numbered, and the

least burden we may roll upon the Lord. Those cares which we ought

not to have may well cease, for "He careth for us." He that

redeemed us never forgets us: His wounds have graven us upon the

palms of His hands, and written our names deep in His side. Jesus

stoops to our level, for He stooped to bear the cross to redeem

us. Do not, therefore, be again afraid because of your

insignificance. "Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and speakest, O Israel,

My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from

my God? Hast thou not known? Hast thou not heard, that the

everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth,

fainteth not, neither is weary? There is no searching of His

understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have

no might He increaseth strength." The Lord's memory is toward the

little in Israel. He carrieth the lambs in His bosom.

We are liable to fret a little when we think of our

_changeableness_. If you are at all like me, you are very far from

being always alike; I am sometimes lifted up to the very heavens,

and then I go down to the deeps; I am at one time bright with joy

and confidence, and at another time dark as midnight with doubts

and fears. Even Elijah, who was so brave, had his fainting fits.

We are to be blamed for this, and yet the fact remains: our

experience is as an April day, when shower and sunshine take their

turns. Amid our mournful changes we rejoice to hear the Lord's own

voice, saying, "Fear not: for I have redeemed thee." Everything is

not changeful wave; there is rock somewhere. Redemption is a fact

accomplished.

"The Cross, it standeth fast. Hallelujah!"

The price is paid, the ransom accepted. This is done, and can

never be undone. Jesus says, "I have redeemed thee." Change of

feeling within does not alter the fact that the believer has been

bought with a price, and made the Lord's own by the precious blood

of Jesus. The Lord God has already done so much for us that our

salvation is sure in Christ Jesus. Will He begin to build, and

fail to finish? Will He lay the foundation in the everlasting

covenant? Will He dedicate the walls with the infinite sacrifice

of the Lamb of God? Will He give up the choicest treasure He ever

had, the chosen of God and precious, to be the corner-stone, and

then not finish the work He has begun? It is impossible. If He has

redeemed us, He has, in that act, given us the pledge of all

things.

See how the gifts of God are bound to this redemption. "I

have redeemed thee. I have called thee." "For whom He did

foreknow, He also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of

His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren.

Moreover whom He did predestinate, them He also called: and whom

He called, them He also justified: and whom He justified, them He

also glorified." Here is a chain in which each link is joined to

all the rest, so that it cannot be separated. If God had only gone

so far as to make a promise, He would not have drawn back from it;

if God had gone as far as to swear an oath by Himself, He would

not have failed to keep it; but when He went beyond promise and

oath, and in very deed the sacrifice was slain, and the covenant

was ratified: why, then it would be blasphemous to imagine that He

would afterwards disannul it, and turn from His solemn pledge.

There is no going back on the part of God, and consequently His

redemption will redeem, and in redeeming it will secure us all

things. "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" With the

blood-mark upon us we may well cease to fear. How can we perish?

How can we be deserted in the hour of need? We have been bought

with too great a price for our Redeemer to let us slip. Therefore,

let us march on with confidence, hearing our Redeemer say to us,

"When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and

through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou

walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall

the flame kindle upon thee." Concerning His redeemed, the Lord

will say to the enemy, "Touch not Mine anointed, and do My

prophets no harm." The stars in their courses fight for the

ransomed of the Lord. If their eyes were opened, they would see

the mountain full of horses of fire and chariots of fire round

about them. Oh, how my weary heart prizes redeeming love! If it

were not for this, I would lay me down, and die. Friends forsake

me, foes surround me, I am filled with contempt, and tortured with

the subtlety which I cannot baffle; but as the Lord of all brought

again from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the

sheep, by the blood of the everlasting covenant, so by the blood

of His covenant doth He loose His prisoners, and sustain the

hearts of those who tremble at His Word. "O my soul, thou hast

trodden down strength," for the Lord hath said unto thee, "Fear

not: for I have redeemed thee."

JESUS, THE GREAT OBJECT OF ASTONISHMENT.

A COMMUNION ADDRESS AT MENTONE.

"Behold, My Servant shall deal prudently, He shall be exalted

and extolled, and be very high. As many were astonied at Thee; His

visage was so marred more than any man, and His form more than the

sons of men; so shall He sprinkle many nations; the kings shall

shut their mouths at Him: for that which had not been told them

shall they see; and that which they had not heard shall they

consider."--Isaiah lii. 13-15.

OUR Lord Jesus Christ bore from of old the name of "Wonderful",

and the word seems all too poor to set forth His marvellous person

and character. He says of Himself, in the language of the

prophet,--"Behold, I and the children whom the Lord hath given Me

are for signs and for wonders." He is a fountain of astonishment

to all who know Him, and the more they know of Him, the more are

they "astonied" at Him. It is an astonishing thing that there

should have been a Christ at all: the Incarnation is the miracle

of miracles; that He who is the Infinite should become an infant,

that He who made the worlds should be wrapt in swaddling-bands,

remains a fact out of which, as from a hive, new wonders

continually fly forth. In His complex nature He is so mysterious,

and yet so manifest, that doubtless all the angels of heaven were

and are astonished at Him. O Son of God, and Son of man, when

Thou, the Word, wast made flesh, and dwelt among us, and Thy

saints beheld Thy glory, it was but natural that many should be

astonished at Thee!

Our text seems to say that our Lord was, first,_ a great

wonder in His griefs_; and, secondly, that He was _a great wonder

in His glory_.

I. He was a great wonder in his griefs: "As many were

astonied at Thee; His visage was so marred more than any man, and

His form more than the sons of men."

His visage was marred: no doubt His countenance bore the

signs of a matchless grief. There were ploughings on His brow as

well as upon His back; suffering, and brokenness of spirit, and

agony of heart, had told upon that lovely face, till its beauty,

though never to be destroyed, was "so" marred that never was any

other so spoiled with sorrow. But it was not His face only, His

whole form was marred more than the sons of men. The contour of

His bodily manhood showed marks of singular assaults of sorrow,

such as had never bowed another form so low. I do not know whether

His gait was stooping, or whether His knees tottered, and His walk

was feeble; but there was evidently a something about Him which

gave Him the appearance of premature age, since to the Jews He

looked older than He was, for when He was little more than thirty

they said unto Him, "Thou art not yet fifty years old." I cannot

conceive that He was deformed or ungainly; but despite His natural

dignity, His worn and emaciated appearance marked Him out as "the

Man of sorrows", and to the carnal eye His whole natural and

spiritual form had in it nothing which evoked admiration; even as

the prophet said, "When we shall see Him, there is no beauty that

we should desire Him." The marring was not of that lovely face

alone, but of the whole fabric of His wondrous manhood, so that

many were astonied at Him.

Our astonishment, when in contemplation we behold our

suffering Lord, will arise from the consideration of what His

natural beauty must have been, enshrined as He was from the first

within a perfect body. Conceived without sin, and so born of a

pure virgin without taint of hereditary sin, I doubt not that He

was the flower and glow of manhood as to His form, and from His

early youth He must have been a joy to His mother's eye. Great

masters of the olden time expended all their skill upon the holy

child Jesus, but it is not for the colours of earth to depict the

Lord from heaven. That "holy thing" which was born of Mary was

"seen of angels," and it charmed their eyes. Must such loveliness

be marred? His every look was pure, His every thought was holy,

and therefore the expression of His face must have been heavenly,

and yet it must be marred. Poverty must mark it; hunger, and

thirst, and weariness, must plough it; heart-griefs must seam and

scar it; spittle must distain it; tears must scald it; smiting

must bruise it; death must make it pale and bloodless. Well does

Bernard sing--

"O sacred Head, once wounded,

With grief and pain weigh'd down,

How scornfully surrounded

With thorns, Thine only crown;

How pale art Thou with anguish,

With sore abuse and scorn!

How does that visage languish,

Which once was bright as morn!"

The second astonishment to us must be that he could be so

marred who had nothing in His character to mar His countenance.

Sin is a sad disfigurement to faces which in early childhood were

surpassingly attractive. Passion, if it be indulged in, soon sets

a seal of deformity upon the countenance. Men that plunge into

vice bear upon their features the traces of their hearts' volcanic

fires. We most of us know some withered beings, whose beauty has

been burned up by the fierce fires of excess, till they are a

horror to look upon, as if the mark of Cain were set upon them.

Every sin makes its line on a fair face. But there was no sin in

the blessed Jesus, no evil thought to mar His natural perfectness.

No redness of eyes ever came to Him by tarrying long at the wine;

no unhallowed anger ever flushed His cheek; no covetousness gave

to His eye a wolfish glance; no selfish care lent to His features

a sharp and anxious cast. Such an unselfish, holy life as His

ought to have rendered Him, if it had been possible, more

beautiful every day. Indulging such benevolence, abiding in such

communion with God, surely the face of Christ must, in the natural

order of things, have more and more astonished all sympathetic

observers with its transcendent charms. But sorrow came to engrave

her name where sin had never made a stroke, and she did her work

so effectually that His visage was more marred than that of any

man, although the God of mercy knows there have been other visages

that have been worn with pain and anguish past all recognition. I

need not repeat even one of the many stories of human woe: that of

our Lord surpasses all.

Remember that the face of our Well-beloved, as well as all

His form, must have been an accurate index of His soul.

Physiognomy is a science with much truth in it when it deals with

men of truth. Men weaned from simplicity know how to control their

countenances; the crafty will appear to be honest, the hardened

will seem to sympathize with the distressed, the revengeful will

mimic good-will. There are some who continually use their

countenance as they do their speech, to conceal their feelings;

and it is almost a point of politeness with them never to show

themselves, but always to go masked among their fellows.

But the Christ had learned no such arts. He was so sincere,

so transparent, so child-like and true, that whatever stirred

within Him was apparent to those about Him, so far as they were

capable of understanding His great soul. We read of Him that He

was "moved with compassion." The Greek word means that He

experienced a wonderful emotion of His whole nature, He was

thrilled with it, and His disciples saw how deeply He felt for the

people, who were as sheep without a shepherd. Though He did not

commit Himself to men, He did not conceal Himself, but wore His

heart upon His sleeve, and all could see what He was, and knew

that He was full of grace and truth. We are, therefore, not

surprised, when we devoutly consider our Lord's character, that

His visage and form should indicate the inward agonies of His

tender spirit; it could not be that His face should be untrue to

His heart. The ploughers made deep furrows upon His soul as well

as upon His back, and His heart was rent with inward convulsions,

which could not but affect His whole appearance. Those eyes saw

what those around Him could not see; those shoulders bore a

constant burden which others could not know; and, therefore, His

countenance and form betrayed the fact. O dear, dear Saviour, when

we think of Thee, and of Thy majesty and purity, we are again

astonished that woes should come upon Thee so grievously as to mar

Thy visage and Thy form!

Now think, dear friends, what were the causes of this

marring. It was not old age that had wrinkled His brow, for He was

still in the prime of life, neither was it a personal sickness

which had caused decay; much less was it any congenital weakness

and disease, which at length betrayed itself, for in His flesh

there was no possibility of impurity, which would, in death, have

led to corruption. It was occasioned, first, by His constant

sympathy with the suffering. There was a heavy wear and tear

occasioned by the extraordinary compassion of His soul. In three

years it had told upon Him most manifestly, till His visage was

marred more than that of any other man. To Him there was a kind of

sucking up into Himself of all the suffering of those whom He

blessed. He always bore upon Him the burden of mortal woe. We read

of Christ healing all that were sick, "that it might be fulfilled

which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying, Himself took our

infirmities, and bare our sicknesses." Yes, He took those

infirmities and sicknesses in some mystical way to Himself, just

as I have heard of certain trees, which scatter health, because

they themselves imbibe the miasma, and draw up into themselves

those noxious vapours which otherwise would poison mankind. Thus,

without being themselves polluted, they disinfect the atmosphere

around them. This, our Saviour did, but the cost was great to Him.

You can imagine, living as He did in the midst of one vast

hospital, how constantly He must have seen sights that grieved and

pained Him. Moreover, with a nature so pure and loving, He must

have been daily tortured with the sin, and hypocrisy, and

oppression which so abounded in His day. In a certain sense, He

was always laying down His life for men, for He was spent in their

service, tortured by their sin, and oppressed with their sorrow.

The more we look into that marred visage, the more shall we be

astonished at the anguish which it indicated.

Do not wonder that He was more marred than any man, for He

was more sensitive than other men. No part of Him was callous, He

had no seared conscience, no blunted sensibility, no drugged and

deadened nerve. His manhood was in its glory, in the perfection in

which Adam was when God made him in His own image, and therefore

He was ill-housed in such a fallen world. We read of Christ that

He was "grieved for the hardness of their hearts," "He marvelled

because of their unbelief," "He sighed deeply in His spirit," "He

groaned in the spirit, and was troubled." This, however, was only

the beginning of the marring.

His deepest griefs and most grievous marring came of _His

substitutionary work_, while bearing the penalty of our sin. One

word recalls much of His woe: it is, "Gethsemane." Betrayed by

Judas, His trusted friend, that the Scripture might be fulfilled,

"He that eateth bread with Me hath lifted up his heel against Me;"

deserted even by John, for all the disciples forsook Him and fled;

not one of all the loved ones with Him: He was left alone. He had

washed their feet, but they could not watch with Him one hour; and

in that garden He wrestled with our deadly foe, till His sweat was

as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground, and as

Hart puts it, He--

"Bore all Incarnate God could bear,

With strength enough, but none to spare."

I do verily believe that verse to be true. Herein you see

what marred His countenance, and His form, even while in life. The

whole of His manhood felt that dreadful shock, when He and the

prince of darkness, in awful duel, fought it out amidst the gloom

of the olives on that cold midnight when our redemption began to

be fully accomplished.

The whole of His passion marred His countenance and His form

with its unknown sufferings. I restrain myself, lest this

meditation should grow too painful. They bound Him, they scourged

Him, they mocked Him, they plucked off the hair from His face,

they spat upon Him, and at last they nailed Him to the tree, and

there He hung. His physical pain alone must have been very great,

but all the while there was within His soul an inward torment

which added immeasurably to His sufferings. His God forsook Him.

"Eloi, Eloi, lama, sabachthani?" is a voice enough to rend the

rocks, and assuredly it makes us all astonished when, in the

returning light, we look upon His visage, and are sure that never

face of any man was so marred before, and never form of any son of

man so grievously disfigured. Weeping and wondering, astonied and

adoring, we leave the griefs of our own dear Lord, and with loving

interest turn to the brighter portion of His unrivalled story.

"Behold your King! Though the moonlight steals

Through the silvery sprays of the olive tree,

No star-gemmed sceptre or crown it reveals,

In the solemn shade of Gethsemane.

Only a form of prostrate grief,

Fallen, crushed, like a broken leaf!

Oh, think of His sorrow, that we may know

The depth of love in the depth of woe!

"Behold your King, with His sorrow crowned,

Alone, alone in the valley is He!

The shadows of death are gathering round,

And the cross must follow Gethsemane.

Darker and darker the gloom must fall,

Filled is the cup, He must drink it all!

Oh, think of His sorrow, that we may know

His wondrous love in His wondrous woe!"

II. There is an equal astonishment at His glories. I doubt

not, if we could see Him now, as He appeared to John in Patmos, we

should feel that we must do exactly as the beloved disciple did,

for He deliberately wrote, "When I saw Him, I fell at His feet as

dead." His astonishment was so great that he could not endure the

sight. He had doubtless longed often to behold that glorified face

and form, but the privilege was too much for him. While we are

encumbered with these frail bodies, it is not fit for us to behold

our Lord, for we should die with excess of delight if we were

suddenly to behold that vision of splendour. Oh, for those

glorious days when we shall lie for ever at His feet, and see our

exalted Lord!

"_Behold, My servant shall deal prudently, He shall be

exalted and extolled, and be very high_." Observe the three words,

"exalted and extolled, and be very high;" language pants for

expression. Our Lord is now _exalted_ in being lifted up from the

grave, lifted up above all angels, and principalities, and powers.

The Man Christ Jesus is the nearest to the eternal throne, ay, the

Lamb is before the throne. "And I beheld, and, lo, in the midst of

the throne and of the four beasts, and in the midst of the elders,

stood a Lamb as it had been slain." He is in His own state and

person exalted, and then by the praise rendered Him he is

_extolled_, for he is worshipped and adored by the whole universe.

All praise goes up before Him now, so that men extol Him, while

"God also hath highly exalted Him, and given Him a name, which is

above every name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,

of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the

earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is

Lord, to the glory of God the Father." Deep were His sorrows, but

as high are His joys. It is said that, around many of the lochs in

Scotland, the mountains are as high as the water is deep; and so

our Lord's glories are as immeasurable as were His woes. What a

meditation is furnished by these two-fold and incalculable heights

and depths! Our text says that He shall "_be very high_." It

cannot tell us how high. It is inconceivable how great and

glorious in all respects the Lord Jesus Christ is at this moment.

Oh, that He may be very high in our esteem! He is not yet exalted

and extolled in any of our hearts as He deserves to be. I would we

loved Him a thousand times as much as we do, but our whole heart

goeth after Him, does it not? Would we not die for Him? Would we

not set Him on a throne as high as seven heavens, and then think

that we had not done enough for Him, who is now our all in all,

and more than all?

You notice what is said, concerning the Christ, as the most

astonishing thing of all: "_So shall He sprinkle many nations_."

Now is it the glory of our risen Lord, at this moment, that His

precious blood is to save many nations. Before the throne, men of

all nations shall sing, "Thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us

unto God by Thy blood." Not the English nation alone shall be

purified by His atoning blood, but many nations shall He sprinkle

with His reconciling blood, even as Israel of old was sprinkled

with the blood of sacrifice. We read in the tenth chapter of the

Epistle to the Hebrews, at the twenty-second verse, of "having our

hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience," and this is effected by

that precious blood by which we have been once purged so

effectually that we have no more consciousness of sins, but enter

into perfect peace. The blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes

of an heifer, sprinkling the unclean, sanctified to the purifying

of the flesh, and much more doth the blood of Christ purge our

conscience from dead works, to serve the living God.

The sprinkling of the blood was meant also to confirm the

covenant: thus Moses "sprinkled both the book and all the people,

saying, This is the blood of the testament which God hath enjoined

unto you." Our Lord Himself said, "This is My blood of the new

covenant, which is shed for many for the remission of sins." But

is it not a wonderful thing that He should die as a malefactor on

the tree, amid scorn and ridicule, and yet that He is this day

bringing nations into covenant with God? Once so despised, and

now: so mighty! God has given Him "for a covenant of the people,

for a light of the Gentiles." Many nations shall by Him be joined

in covenant with the God of the whole earth. Do not fall into the

erroneous idea that this world is like a great ship-wrecked

vessel, soon to go to pieces on an iron-bound coast; but rather

let us expect the conversion of the world to the Lord Jesus. As a

reward for the travail of His soul, He shall cause many nations to

"exult with joy", for so some read the passage; the peoples of the

earth shall not only be astonished at His griefs, but they shall

admire His glories, adore His perfections, and be filled with an

amazement of joy at His coming and kingdom. I can conceive nothing

in the future too great and glorious to result from the passion

and death of our Divine Lord.

Listen to this, "_Kings shall shut their mouths at Him_.Ó

They shall see such a King as they themselves have never been;

they speak freely to their brother-kings, but they shall not dare

to speak to Him, and as for speaking against Him, that will be

altogether out of the question.

"Kings shall fall down before Him,

And gold and incense bring."

"_For that which had not been told them shall they see_."

Kings are often out of the reach of the gospel, they do not hear

it, it is not told to them. They would despise the lowly preacher,

and little gatherings of believers meeting together for worship;

they would only listen to stately discourses, which do not touch

the heart and conscience. The great ones of the earth are usually

the least likely to know the things of God, for while the poor

have the gospel preached unto them, princes are more likely to

hear soft flatteries and fair speeches. The time shall come,

however, when Caesar shall bow before a real Imperator, and

monarchs shall behold the Prince of the kings of the earth. "For

the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the

voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God." They shall see

His majesty, of which they had not even been told.

"_That which they had not heard shall they consider_." They

shall be obliged, even on their thrones, to think about the

kingdom of the King of kings, and they shall retire to their

closets to confess their sins, and to put on sackcloth and ashes,

and to give heed to the words of wisdom. "Be wise now, therefore,

O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth." To-day, the

humble listen to Christ, but by-and-by the mightiest of the mighty

shall turn all their thoughts towards Him. He shall gather sheaves

of sceptres beneath His arm, and crowns shall be strewn at His

feet; and "He shall reign for ever and ever," and "of the increase

of His government and peace there shall be no end." If we were

astonished at the marring of His face, we shall be much more

astonished at the magnificence of His glory. Upon His throne none

shall question His supremacy, none shall doubt His loveliness; but

His enemies shall weep and wail because of Him whom they pierced;

while He shall be admired in all them that believe. Adorable Lord,

we long for Thy glorious appearing! We beseech Thee tarry not!

"Come, and begin Thy reign

Of everlasting peace;

Come, take the kingdom to Thyself,

Great King of Righteousness!"

BANDS OF LOVE; OR, UNION TO CHRIST.

"I drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love: and I

was to them as they that take off the yoke on their jaws, and I

laid meat unto them."--Hosea xi. 4.

SYSTEMATIC theologians have usually regarded union to Christ under

three aspects, natural, mystical and federal, and it may be that

these three terms are comprehensive enough to embrace the whole

subject, but as our aim is simplicity, let us be pardoned if we

appear diffuse when we follow a less concise method.

1. The saints were from the beginning joined to Christ by

bands of _everlasting love_. Before He took on Him their nature,

or brought them into a conscious enjoyment of Himself, His heart

was set upon their persons, and His soul delighted in them. Long

ere the worlds were made, His prescient eye beheld His chosen, and

viewed them with delight. Strong were the indissoluble bands of

love which then united Jesus to the souls whom He determined to

redeem. Not bars of brass, or triple steel, could have been more

real and effectual bonds. True love, of all things in the

universe, has the greatest cementing force, and will bear the

greatest strain, and endure the heaviest pressure: who shall tell

what trials the Saviour's love has borne; and how well it has

sustained them? Never union was more true than this. As the soul

of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David so that he loved David

as his own soul, so was our glorious Lord united and joined to us

by the ties of fervent, faithful love. Love has a most potent

power in effecting and sustaining union, but never does it display

its force so well as when we see it bringing the Creator into

oneness with the creature, the divine into alliance with the

human. This, then, is to be regarded as the day-spring of union--

the love of Christ embracing in its folds the whole of the elected

family.

2. There is, moreover, a _union of purpose_ as well as of

love. By the first, we have seen that the elect are made one with

Jesus by the act and will of the Son; by the second, they are

joined to Him by the ordination and decree of the Father. These

divine acts are co-eternal. The Son loved and chose His people to

be His own bride, the Father made the same choice, and decreed the

chosen ones for ever one with His all-glorious Son. The Son loved

them, and the Father decreed them His portion and inheritance; the

Father ordained them to be what the Son Himself did make them.

In God's purpose they have been eternally associated as parts

of one design. Salvation was the fore-ordained scheme whereby God

would magnify Himself, and a Saviour was in that scheme from

necessity associated with the persons chosen to be saved. The

scope of the dispensation of grace included both; the circle of

wisdom comprehended Redeemer and redeemed in its one

circumference. They could not be dissociated in the mind and will

of the all-planning Jehovah.

"'Christ be My first elect,' He said,

Then chose our souls in Christ, our Head."

The same Book which contains the names of the heirs of life

contains the name of their Redeemer. He could not be a Redeemer

unless souls had been given Him to redeem, nor could they have

been called the ransomed of the Lord, if He had not engaged to

purchase them. Redemption, when determined upon by the God of

heaven, included in it both Christ and His people; and hence, in

the decree which fixed it, they were brought into a near and

intimate alliance.

The foresight of the Fall led the divine mind to provide for

the catastrophe in which the elect would have perished, had not

their ruin been prevented by gracious interposition. Hence

followed as part of the divine arrangement other forms of union,

which, besides their immediate object in salvation, had doubtless

a further design of illustrating the condescending alliance which

Jesus had formed with His chosen. The next and following points

are of this character.

3. _Jesus is one with His elect federally_. As every heir of

flesh and blood has a personal interest in Adam, because he is the

covenant head and representative of the race as considered under

the law of works; so, under the law of grace, every redeemed soul

is one with the Lord from heaven, since He is the Second Adam, the

Sponsor and Substitute of the elect in the new covenant of love.

The apostle Paul declares that Levi was in the loins of Abraham

when Melchizedek met him: it is equally true that the believer was

in the loins of Jesus Christ, the Mediator, when in old eternity

the covenant settlements of grace were decreed, ratified, and made

sure for ever. Thus, whatever Christ hath done, He hath wrought

for the whole body of His Church. We were crucified in Him, and

buried with Him (read Col. ii. 10-13), and to make it still more

wonderful, we are risen with Him, and have even ascended with Him

to the seats on high (Eph. ii. 6). It is thus that the Church has

fulfilled the law, and is "accepted _in the Beloved_." It is thus

that she is regarded with complacency by the just Jehovah, for He

views her in Jesus, and does not look upon her as separate from

her covenant Head. As the anointed Redeemer of Israel, Christ

Jesus has nothing distinct from His Church, but all that He has He

holds for her. Adam's righteousness was ours as long as he

maintained it, and his sin was ours the moment that he committed

it; and, in the same manner, all that the Second Adam is, or does,

is ours as well as His, seeing that He is our Representative. Here

is the foundation of the covenant of grace. This gracious system

of representation and substitution, which moved Justin Martyr to

cry out, "O blessed change! O sweet permutation!" this, I say, is

the very groundwork of the gospel of our salvation, and is to be

received with strong faith and rapturous joy. In every place the

saints are perfectly one with Jesus.

"One in the tomb, one when He rose,

One when He triumph'd o'er His foes,

One when in heaven He took His seat,

While seraphs sang all hell's defeat.

"This sacred tie forbids their fears,

For all He is or has is theirs;

With Him, their Head, they stand or fall,

Their life, their Surety, and their all."

4. For the accomplishment of the great works of atonement and

perfect obedience, it was needful that the Lord Jesus should take

upon Him "the likeness of sinful flesh." Thus, _He became one with

us in our nature_, for in Holy Scripture all partakers of flesh

and blood are regarded as of one family. By the fact of common

descent from Adam, all men are of one race, seeing that "God hath

made of one blood all nations that dwell upon the face of the

earth." Hence, in the Bible, man is spoken of universally as "thy

brother" (Lev. xix. 17; Job xxii. 6; Matt. v. 23, 24; Luke xvii.

3; Rom. xiv. 10, &c., &c.); and "thy neighbour" (Exod. xx. 16;

Lev. xix. 13-18; Matt. v. 43; Rom. xiii. 9; James ii. 8); to whom,

on account of nature and descent, we are required to render

kindness and goodwill. Now, although our great Melchizedek in His

divinity is without father, without mother, without descent,

having neither beginning of days nor end of life, and is both in

essence and rank at an infinite remove from fallen manhood; yet as

to His manhood He is to be reckoned as one of ourselves. He was

born of a woman, He hung upon her breasts, and was dandled upon

her knee; He grew from infancy to youth and thence to manhood, and

in every stage He was a true and real partaker of our humanity. He

is as certainly of the race of Adam as He is divine. He is God

without fiction or metaphor, and He is man beyond doubt or

dispute. The Godhead was not humanized, and so diluted; and the

manhood was not transformed into divinity, and so rendered more

than human. Never was any man more a portion of His kind than was

the Son of man, the Man of sorrows and the Acquaintance of grief.

He is man's Brother, for He bore the whole nature of man. "The

Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." He who was very God of

very God made Himself a little lower than the angels, and took

upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of

men.

This was done with the most excellent design with regard to

our redemption, inasmuch as it was necessary that, as _man_ had

sinned, _man_ should suffer; but doubtless it had a further

motive, the honouring of the Church, and the enabling of her Lord

to sympathize with her. The apostle most sweetly remarks,

"Forasmuch then as the children are partakers of flesh and blood,

He also Himself likewise took part of the same; that through death

He might destroy him that had the power of death, that is, the

devil; and deliver them who through fear of death were all their

lifetime subject to bondage" (Heb. ii. 14, 15); and again, "For we

have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling

of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are,

yet without sin" (Heb. iv. 15). Thus, in ties of blood, Jesus, the

Son of man, is one with all the heirs of heaven: "For which cause

He is not ashamed to call them brethren" (Heb. ii. 11). What

reason we have here for the strongest consolation and delight,

seeing that, "Both He that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified

are all of one." We can say of our Lord as poor Naomi said of

bounteous Boaz, "The man is near of kin unto us, one of our next

kinsmen." Overwhelmed by the liberality of our blessed Lord, we

are often led to cry with Ruth, "Why have I found grace in thine

eyes, that thou shouldest take knowledge of me, seeing I am a

stranger?" and are we not ready to die with wonder when, in answer

to such a question, He tells us that He is our Brother, bone of

our bone, and flesh of our flesh?

If, in all our straits and distresses, we would always

treasure in our minds the remembrance of our Redeemer's manhood,

we should never bemoan the absence of a sympathizing heart, since

we should always have His abundant compassion for our consolation.

He is no stranger, He is able to enter into the heart's

bitterness, for He has Himself tasted the wormwood and the gall.

Let us never doubt His power to sympathize with us in our

infirmities and sorrows.

There is one aspect of this subject of our natural union to

Christ which it were improper to pass over in silence, for it is

very precious to the believer. While the Lord Jesus takes upon

Himself our nature (2 Peter i. 4), He restores in us that image of

God (Gen. i. 27) which was blotted and defaced by the fall of

Adam. He raises us from the degradation of sin to the dignity of

perfection. So that, in a two-fold sense, the Head and members are

of one nature, and not like that monstrous image which

Nebuchadnezzar saw in his dream. The head was of fine gold, but

the belly and the thighs were of brass, the legs of iron, and the

feet, part of iron and part of clay. Christ's mystical body is no

absurd combination of opposites; the Head is immortal, and the

body is immortal, too, for thus the record stands, "Because I

live, ye shall live also." "As is the heavenly, such are they also

that are heavenly." "As we have borne the image of the earthy, we

shall also bear the image of the heavenly:" and this shall in a

few more years be more fully manifest to us, for "this corruptible

must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on

immortality." Such as is the Head, such is the body, and every

member in particular;--a chosen Head, and chosen members; an

accepted Head, and accepted members; a living Head, and living

members. If the Head be of pure gold, all the parts of the body

are of pure gold also. Thus is there a double union of nature as a

basis for the closest communion.

Pause here, and see if thou canst, without ecstatic

amazement, contemplate the infinite condescension of the Son of

God in exalting thy wretchedness into blessed union with His

glory. Thou art so mean that, in remembrance of thy mortality,

thou mayest say to corruption, "Thou art my father," and to the

worm, "Thou art my sister;" and yet, in Christ, thou art so

honoured that thou canst say to the Almighty, "Abba, Father," and

to the Incarnate God, "Thou art my Brother and my Husband."

Surely, if relationships to ancient and noble families make men

think highly of themselves, we have whereof to glory over the

heads of them all. Lay hold upon this privilege; let not a

senseless indolence make thee negligent to trace this pedigree,

and suffer no foolish attachment to present vanities to occupy thy

thoughts to the exclusion of this glorious privilege, this

heavenly honour of union with Christ.

We must now retrace our steps to the ancient mountains, and

contemplate this union in one of its earliest forms.

5. _Christ Jesus is also joined unto His people in a mystical

union_. Borrowing once more from the story of Ruth, we remark that

Boaz, although one with Ruth by kinship, did not rest until he had

entered into a nearer union still, namely, that of marriage; and

in the same manner there is, superadded to the natural union of

Christ with His people, a mystical union by which He assumes the

position of Husband, while the Church is owned as His bride. In

love He espoused her to Himself, as a chaste virgin, long before

she fell under the yoke of bondage. Full of burning affection, He

toiled like Jacob for Rachel, until the whole of her purchase-

money had been paid, and now, having sought her by His Spirit, and

brought her to know and love Him, He awaits the glorious hour when

their mutual bliss shall be consummated at the marriage-supper of

the Lamb. Not yet hath the glorious Bridegroom presented His

betrothed, perfected and complete, before the Majesty of heaven;

not yet hath she actually entered upon the enjoyment of her

dignities as His wife and queen; she is as yet a wanderer in a

world of woe, a dweller in the tents of Kedar; but she is even now

the bride, the spouse of Jesus, dear to His heart, precious in His

sight, and united with His person. In love and tenderness, He says

to her,--

"Forget thee I will not, I cannot, thy name

Engraved on My heart doth for ever remain:

The palms of My hands whilst I look on I see

The wounds I received when suffering for thee."

He exercises towards her all the affectionate offices of

Husband. He makes rich provision for her wants, pays all her

debts, allows her to assume His name, and to share in all His

wealth. Nor will He ever act otherwise to her. The word divorce He

will never mention, for "He hateth putting away." Death must sever

the conjugal tie between the most loving mortals, but it cannot

divide the links of this immortal marriage. In heaven they marry

not, but are as the angels of God; yet is there this one

marvellous exception to the rule, for in heaven Christ and His

Church shall celebrate their joyous nuptials. And this affinity,

as it is more lasting, so is it more near than earthly wedlock.

Let the love of husband be never so pure and fervent, it is but a

faint picture of the flame that burns in the heart of Jesus.

Passing all human union is that mystical cleaving unto the Church,

for which Christ did leave His Father, and become one flesh with

her.

If this be the union which subsists between our souls and the

person of our Lord, how deep and broad is the channel of our

communion! This is no narrow pipe through which a thread-like

stream may wind its way, it is a channel of amazing depth and

breadth, along whose breadth and length a ponderous volume of

living water may roll its strength. Behold, He hath set before us

an open door; let us not be slow to enter. This city of communion

hath many pearly gates, every several gate is of one pearl, and

each gate is thrown open to the uttermost that we may enter,

assured of welcome. If there were but one small loophole through

which to talk with Jesus, it would be a high privilege to thrust a

word of fellowship through the narrow door; how much we are

blessed in having so large an entrance! Had the Lord Jesus been

far away from us, with many a stormy sea between, we should have

longed to send a messenger to Him to carry Him our love, and bring

us tidings from His Father's house; but see His kindness, He has

built His house next door to ours, nay, more, He takes lodgings

with us, and tabernacles in poor humble hearts, that so He may

have perpetual intercourse with us. Oh, how foolish must we be, if

we do not live in habitual communion with Him! When the road is

long, and dangerous, and difficult, we need not wonder that

friends seldom meet each other; but when they live together, shall

Jonathan forget his David? A wife may, when her husband is upon a

journey, abide many days without holding converse with him; but

she could never endure to be separated from him if she knew him to

be in one of the chambers of their own house. Seek thy Lord, for

He is near; embrace Him, for He is thy Brother; hold Him fast, for

He is thine Husband; press Him to thine heart, for He is of thine

own flesh.

6. As yet we have only considered the acts of Christ for us,

whereby He effects and proves His union to us; we must now come to

_more personal and sensible forms of this great truth_.

Those who are set apart for the Lord are in due time severed

from the impure mass of fallen humanity, and are by sovereign

grace engrafted into the person of the Lord Jesus. This, which we

call _vital union_, is rather a matter of experience than of

doctrine; it must be learned in the heart, and not by the head.

Like every other work of the Spirit, the actual implantation of

the soul into Christ Jesus is a mysterious and secret operation,

and is no more to be understood by carnal reason than is the new

birth of which it is an attendant. Nevertheless, the spiritual man

discerns it as a most essential thing in the salvation of the

soul, and he clearly sees how a living union to Christ is the sure

consequence of the quickening influence of the Holy Spirit, and is

indeed, in some respects, identical with it.

When the Lord in mercy passed by and saw us in our blood, He

first of all said, "Live"; and this He did _first_, because,

without life, there can be no spiritual knowledge, feeling, or

motion. Life is one of the absolutely essential things in

spiritual matters; and until it be bestowed, we are incapable of

partaking in the things of the kingdom. Now, the life which grace

confers upon the saints at the moment of their quickening is none

other than the life of Christ, which, like the sap from the stem,

runs into us, the branches, and establishes a living connection

between our souls and Jesus. Faith is the grace which perceives

this union, and proceeds from it as its firstfruit. It is, to use

a metaphor from the Canticles, the neck which joins the body of

the Church to its all-glorious Head.

"O Faith! thou bond of union with the Lord,

Is not this office thine? and thy fit name,

In the economy of gospel types,

And symbols apposite--the Church's neck;

Identifying her in will and work

With Him ascended?"

Faith lays hold upon the Lord Jesus with a firm and

determined grasp. She knows His excellence and worth, and no

temptation can induce her to repose her trust elsewhere; and

Christ Jesus is so delighted with this heavenly grace, that He

never ceases to strengthen and sustain her by the loving embrace

and all-sufficient support of His eternal arms. Here, then, is

established a living, sensible, and delightful union, which casts

forth streams of love, confidence, sympathy, complacency, and joy,

whereof both the bride and Bridegroom love to drink. When the eye

is clear, and the soul can evidently perceive this oneness between

itself and Christ, the pulse may be felt as beating for both, and

the one blood may be known as flowing through the veins of each.

Then is the heart made exceedingly glad, it is as near heaven as

it ever can be on earth, and is prepared for the enjoyment of the

most sublime and spiritual kind of fellowship. This union may be

quite as true when we are troubled with doubts concerning it, but

it cannot afford consolation to the soul unless it be indisputably

proven and assuredly felt; then is it indeed a honeycomb dropping

with sweetness, a precious jewel sparkling with light. Look well

to this matter, ye saints of the Most High!

"I WILL GIVE YOU REST."

A COMMUNION ADDRESS AT MENTONE.

"I will give you rest."--Matthew xi. 28.

WE have a thousand times considered these words as an

encouragement to the labouring and the laden; and we may,

therefore, have failed to read them as a promise to ourselves.

But, beloved friends, we have come to Jesus, and therefore He

stands engaged to fufil this priceless pledge to us. We may now

enjoy the promise; for we have obeyed the precept. The faithful

and true Witness, whose word is truth, promised us rest if we

would come to Him; and, therefore, since we have come to Him, and

are always coming to Him, we may boldly say, "O Thou, who art our

Peace, make good Thy word to us wherein Thou hast said, 'I will

give you rest.'"

By faith, I see our Lord standing in our midst, and I hear

Him say, with voice of sweetest music, first to all of us

together, and then to each one individually, "I will give you

rest." May the Holy Spirit bring to each of us the fulness of the

rest and peace of God! For a few minutes only shall I need your

attention; and we will begin by asking the question,--

I. What must these words mean?

A dear friend prayed this morning that, while studying the

Scriptures, we might be enabled to read between the lines, and

beneath the letter of the Word. May we have holy insight thus to

read our Lord's most gracious language!

_This promise must mean rest to all parts of our spiritual

nature_. Our bodies cannot rest if the head is aching, or the feet

are full of pain; if one member is disturbed, the whole frame is

unable to rest; and so the higher nature is one, and such intimate

sympathies bind together all its faculties and powers, that every

one of them must rest, or none can be at ease, Jesus gives real,

and, consequently, universal rest to every part of our spiritual

being.

_The heart_ is by nature restless as old ocean's waves; it

seeks an object for its affection; and when it finds one beneath

the stars, it is doomed to sorrow. Either the beloved changes, and

there is disappointment; or death comes in, and there is

bereavement. The more tender the heart, the greater its unrest.

Those in whom the heart is simply one of the largest valves are

undisturbed, because they are callous; but the sensitive, the

generous, the unselfish, are often found seeking rest and finding

none. To such, the Lord Jesus says, "Come unto Me, and I will give

you rest." Look hither, ye loving ones, for here is a refuge for

your wounded love! You may delight yourselves in the Well-beloved,

and never fear that He will fail or forget you. Love will not be

wasted, however much it may be lavished upon Jesus. He deserves it

all, and he requites it all. In loving Him, the heart finds a

delicious content. When the head lies in His bosom, it enjoys an

ease which no pillow of down could bestow. How Madame Guyon rested

amid severe persecutions, because her great love to Jesus filled

her soul to the brim! O aching heart, O breaking heart, come

hither, for Jesus saith, "I will give you rest."

_The conscience_, when it is at all alive and awake, is much

disturbed because the holy law of God has been broken by sin. Now,

conscience once aroused is not easily quieted. Neither unbelief

nor superstition can avail to lull it to sleep; it defies these

opiates of falsehood, and frets the soul with perpetual annoyance.

Like the troubled sea, it cannot rest; but constantly casts up

upon the shore of memory the mire and dirt of past transgressions

and iniquities. Is this your case? Then Jesus says, "I will give

you rest." If, at any time, fears and apprehensions arise from an

awakened conscience, they can only be safely and surely quieted by

our flying to the Crucified. In the blessed truth of a

substitution, accepted of God, and fully made by the Lord Jesus,

our mind finds peace. Justice is honoured, and law is vindicated,

in the sacrifice of Christ. Since God is satisfied, I may well be

so. Since the Father has raised Jesus from the dead, and set Him

at His own right hand, there can be no question as to His

acceptance; and, consequently, all who are in Him are accepted

also. We are under no apprehension now as to our being condemned;

Jesus gives us rest, by enabling us to utter the challenge, "Who

is he that condemneth?" and to give the reassuring answer, "Christ

hath died."

_The intellect_ is another source of unrest; and in these

times it operates with special energy towards labour and travail

of mind. Doubts, stinging like mosquitoes, are suggested by almost

every page of the literature of the day. Most men are drifting,

like vessels which have no anchors, and these come into collision

with us. How can we rest? This scheme of philosophy eats up the

other; this new fashion of heresy devours the last. Is there any

foundation? Is anything true? Or is it all romance, and are we

doomed to be the victims of an ever-changing lie? O soul, seek not

a settlement by learning of men; but come and learn of Jesus, and

thou shalt find rest! Believe Jesus, and let all the Rabbis

contradict. The Son of God was made flesh, He lived, He died, He

rose again, He lives, He loves; this is true, and all that He

teaches in His Word is assured verity; the rest may blow away,

like chaff before the wind. A mind in pursuit of truth is a dove

without a proper resting-place for the sole of its foot, till it

finds its rest in Jesus, the true Noah.

Next, _these words mean rest about all things_. He who is

uneasy about anything has not found rest. A thousand thorns and

briars grow on the soil of this earth, and no man can happily

tread life's ways unless his feet are shod with that preparation

of the gospel of peace which Jesus gives. In Christ, we are at

rest as to our duties; for He instructs and helps us in them. In

Him, we are at rest about our trials; for He sympathizes with us

in them. With His love, we are restful as to the movements of

Providence; for His Father loves us, and will not suffer anything

to harm us. Concerning the past, we rest in His forgiving love; as

to the present, it is bright with His loving fellowship; as to the

future, it is brilliant with His expected Advent. This is true of

the little as well as of the great. He who saves us from the

battle-axe of Satanic temptation, also extracts the thorn of a

domestic trial. We may rest in Jesus as to our sick child, as to

our business trouble, or as to grief of any kind. He is our

Comforter in all things, our Sympathizer in every form of

temptation. Have you such all-covering rest? If not, why not?

Jesus gives it; why do you not partake of it? Have you something

which you could not bring to Him? Then, fly from it; for it is no

fit thing for a believer to possess. A disciple should know

neither grief nor joy which he could not reveal to his Lord.

_This rest_, we may conclude, _must be a very wonderful one_,

since Jesus gives it. His hands give not by pennyworths and

ounces; he gives golden gifts, in quantity immeasurable. It is

Jesus who gives the peace of God which passeth all understanding.

It is written, "Great peace have they which love Thy law;" what

peace must they have who love God's Son! There are periods when

Jesus gives us a heavenly Elysium of rest; we cannot describe the

divine repose of our hearts at such times. We read, in the

Gospels, that when Jesus hushed the storm, "there was a great

calm," not simply "a calm", but a great calm, unusual, absolute,

perfect, memorable. It reminds us of the stillness which John

describes in the Revelation: "I saw four angels standing on the

four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth,

that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on

any tree;" not a ripple stirred the waters, not a leaf moved on

the trees.

Assuredly, our Lord has given a blessed rest to those who

trust Him, and follow Him. They are often unable to inform others

as to their deep peace, and the reasons upon which it is founded;

but they know it, and it brings them an inward wealth compared

with which the fortune of an ungodly millionaire is poverty

itself. May we all know to the full, by happy, personal

experience, the meaning of our Saviour's promise, "I will give you

rest"!

II. But now, in the second: place, let us ask,--Why should we

have this rest?

The first answer is in our text. We should enjoy this rest

_because Jesus gives it_. As He gives it, we ought to take it.

Because He gives it, we _may_ take it. I have known some

Christians who have thought that it would be presumption on their

part to take this rest; so they have kept fluttering about, like

frightened birds, weary with their long flights, but not daring to

fold their tired wings, and rest. If there is any presumption in

the case, let us not be so presumptuous as to think that we know

better than our Lord. He gives us rest: for that reason, if for no

other, let us take it, promptly and gratefully. "Rest in the Lord,

and wait patiently for Him." Say with David, "My heart is fixed, O

God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise."

"Now rest, my long-divided heart,

Fix'd on this blissful centre, rest."

Next, we should take the rest that Jesus gives, _because it

will refresh us_. We are often weary; sometimes we are weary in

God's work, though I trust we are never weary of it. There are

many things to cause us weariness: sin, sorrow, the worldliness of

professors, the prevalence of error in the Church, and so on.

Often, we are like a tired child, who can hold up his little head

no longer. What does he do? Why, he just goes to sleep in his

mother's arms! Let us be as wise as the little one; and let us

rest in our loving Saviour's embrace. The poet speaks of--

"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep;"

and so it is. Sometimes, the very best thing a Christian man

can do is, literally, to go to sleep. When he wakes, he will be so

refreshed, that he will seem to be in a new world. But

spiritually, there is no refreshing like that which comes from the

rest which Christ gives. As Isaiah said, "This is the rest

wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest: and this is the

refreshing." Dr. Bonar's sweet hymn, which is so suitable for a

sinner coming to Christ for the first time, is just as appropriate

for a weary saint returning to his Saviour's arms; for he, too,

can sing,--

"I heard the voice of Jesus say,

'Come unto Me, and rest;

Lay down, thou weary one, lay down

Thy head upon My breast.'

I came to Jesus as I was,

Weary, and worn, and sad:

I found in Him a resting-place,

And He has made me glad."

Another reason why we should have this rest is, that _it will

enable us to concentrate all our faculties_. Many, who might be

strong servants of the Lord, are very weak, because their energies

are not concentrated upon one object. They do not say with Paul,

"This one thing I do." We are such poor creatures that we cannot

occupy our minds with more than one subject, at a time. Why, even

the buzzing of a fly, or the trumpeting of a mosquito, would be

quite sufficient to take our thoughts away from our present holy

service! As long as we have any burden resting on our shoulders,

we cannot enjoy perfect rest; and as long as there is any burden

on our conscience or heart, we cannot have rest of soul. How are

we to be freed from these burdens? Only by yielding ourselves

wholly to the Great Burden-Bearer, who says, "Come unto Me, and, I

will give you rest." Possessing this rest, all our faculties will

be centred and focussed upon one object, and with undivided hearts

we shall seek God's glory.

Having obtained this rest, _we shall be able to testify for

our Lord_. I remember, when I first began to teach in a Sunday-

school, that I was speaking one day to my class upon the words,

"He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life." I was rather

taken by surprise when one of the boys said to me, "Teacher, have

_you_ got everlasting life?" I replied, "I hope so." The scholar

was not satisfied with my answer, so he asked another question,

"But, teacher, don't you _know?_" The boy was right; there can be

no true testimony except that which springs from assured

conviction of our own safety and joy in the Lord. We speak that we

do know; we believe, and therefore speak. Rest of heart, through

coming to Christ, enables us to invite others to Him with great

confidence, for we can tell them what heavenly peace He has given

to us. This will enable us to put the gospel very attractively,

for the evidence of our own experience will help others to trust

the Lord for themselves. With the beloved apostle John, we shall

be able to say to our hearers, "That which was from the beginning,

which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we

have looked upon, and our hands have handled, of the Word of life;

(for the life was manifested, and we have seen it, and bear

witness, and shew unto you that eternal life, which was with the

Father, and was manifested unto us;) that which we have seen and

heard declare we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with

us: and truly our fellowship is with the Father, and with His Son

Jesus Christ."

Once more, _this rest is necessary to our growth_. The lily

in the garden is not taken up and transplanted two or three times

a day; that would be the way to prevent all growth. But it is kept

in one place, and tenderly nurtured. It is by keeping it quite

still that the gardener helps it to attain to perfection. A child

of God would grow much more rapidly if he would but rest in one

place instead of being always on the move. "In returning and rest

shall ye be saved; in quietness and in confidence shall be your

strength." Martha was cumbered about much serving; but Mary sat at

Jesus' feet. It is not difficult to tell which of them would be

the more likely to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord

Jesus Christ.

This is a tempting theme, but I must not linger over it, as

we must come to the communion. I will give only one more answer to

the question, "Why should we have this rest?" _It will prepare us

for heaven_. I was reading a book, the other day, in which I met

with this expression,--"The streets of heaven begin on earth."

That is true; heaven is not so far away as some people think.

Heaven is the place of perfect holiness, the place of sinless

service, the place of eternal glory; and there is nothing that

will prepare us for heaven like this rest that Jesus gives. Heaven

must be in us before we are in heaven; and he who has this rest

has heaven begun below. Enoch was virtually in heaven while he

walked with God on the earth, and he had only to continue that

holy walk to find himself actually in heaven. This world is part

of our Lord's great house, of which heaven is the upper story.

Some of us may hear the Master's call, "Come up higher," sooner

than we think; and then, with we rest _in_ Christ, there we shall

rest _with_ Christ, The more we have of this blessed rest now, the

better shall we be prepared for the rest that remaineth to the

people of God, that eternal "keeping of a Sabbath" in the Paradise

above.

III. I have left myself only a minute for the answers to my

third question,--How can we obtain this rest?

First, by _coming to Christ_. He says, "Come unto Me, . . .

and I will give you rest." I trust that all in this little company

have come to Christ by faith; now let us come to Him in blessed

fellowship and communion at His table. Let us keep on coming to

Him, as the apostle says, "to whom coming," continually coming,

and never going away. When we wake in the morning, let us come to

Christ in the act of renewed communion with Him; all the day long,

let us keep on coming to Him even while we are occupied with the

affairs of this life; and at night, let our last waking moments be

spent in coming to Jesus. Let us come to Christ by searching the

Scriptures, for we shall find Him there on almost every page. Let

us come to Christ in our thoughts, desires, aspirations wishes; so

shall the promise of the text be fulfilled to us, "I will give you

rest."

Next, we obtain rest by _yielding to Christ_. "Take My yoke

upon you, . . . and ye shall find rest unto your souls." Christ

bids us wear _His_ yoke; not make one for ourselves. He wants us

to share the yoke with Him, to be His true yoke-fellow. It is

wonderful that He should be willing to be yoked with us; the only

greater wonder is that we should be so unwilling to be yoked with

Him. In taking His yoke upon us what joy we shall enter upon our

eternal rest! Here we find rest unto our souls; a further rest

beyond that which He gives us when we come to Him. We first rest

in Jesus by faith, and then we rest in Him by obedience. The first

rest He gives through His death; the further rest we find through

copying His life.

Lastly, we secure this rest by _learning of Christ_. "Learn

of Me, for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest

unto your souls." We are to be workers with Christ, taking His

yoke upon us; and, at the same time, we are to be scholars in

Christ's school, learning of Him. We are to learn _of_ Christ, and

to learn _Christ_; He is both Teacher and lesson. His gentleness

of heart fits Him to teach, and makes Him the best illustration of

His own teaching. If we can become as He is, we shall rest as He

does. The lowly in heart will be restful of heart. Now, as we come

to the table of communion, may we find to the full that rest of

which we have been speaking, for the Great Rest-Giver's sake!

Amen.

THE MEMORABLE HYMN.

"And when they had sung an hymn, they went out into the mount

of Olives."--Matthew xxvi. 30.

THE occasion on which these words were spoken was the last meal of

which Jesus partook in company with His disciples before He went

from them to His shameful trial and His ignominious death. It was

His farewell supper before a bitter parting, and yet they needs

must sing. He was on the brink of that great depth of misery into

which He was about to plunge, and yet He would have them sing "an

hymn." It is wonderful that He sang, and in a second degree it is

remarkable that they sang. We will consider both singular facts.

I. Let us dwell a while on the fact that Jesus sang at such a

time as this. What does He teach us by it? Does He not say to each

of us, His followers "_My religion is one of happiness and joy;_

I, your Master, by My example would instruct you to sing even when

the last solemn hour is come, and all the glooms of death are

gathering around you? Here, at the table, I am your Singing-

master, and set you lessons in music, in which My dying voice

shall lead you: notwithstanding all the griefs which overwhelm My

heart, I will be to you the Chief Musician, and the Sweet Singer

of Israel"? If ever there was a time when it would have been

natural and consistent with the solemnities of the occasion for

the Saviour to have bowed His head upon the table, bursting into a

flood of tears; or, if ever there was a season when He might have

fittingly retired from all company, and have bewailed His coming

conflict in sighs and groans, it was just then. But no; that brave

heart will sing "an hymn." Our glorious Jesus plays the man beyond

all other men. Boldest of the sons of men, He quails not in the

hour of battle, but tunes His voice to loftiest psalmody. The

genius of that Christianity of which Jesus is the Head and

Founder, its object, spirit, and design, are happiness and joy,

and they who receive it are able to sing in the very jaws of

death.

This remark, however, is quite a secondary one to the next:

_our Lord's complete fulfilment of the law is even more worthy of

our attention_. It was customary, when the Passover was held, to

sing, and this is the main reason why the Saviour did so. During

the Passover, it was usual to sing the hundred and thirteenth, and

five following Psalms, which were called the "_Hallel_." The first

commences, you will observe, in our version, with "Praise ye the

Lord!" or, "Hallelujah!" The hundred and fifteenth, and the three

following, were usually sung as the closing song of the Passover.

Now, our Saviour would not diminish the splendour of the great

Jewish rite, although it was the last time that He would celebrate

it. No; there shall be the holy beauty and delight of psalmody;

none of it shall be stinted; the "Hallel" shall be full and

complete. We may safely believe that the Saviour sang through, or

probably chanted, the whole of these six Psalms; and my heart

tells me that there was no one at the table who sang more devoutly

or more cheerfully than did our blessed Lord. There are some parts

of the hundred and eighteenth Psalm, especially, which strike us

as having sounded singularly grand, as they flowed from His

blessed lips. Note verses 22, 23, 24. Particularly observe those

words, near the end of the Psalm, and think you hear the Lord

Himself singing them, "God is the Lord, which hath shewed us

light: bind the sacrifice with cords, even unto the horns of the

altar. Thou art my God, and I will praise Thee: Thou art my God, I

will exalt Thee. O give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good: for

His mercy endureth for ever."

Because, then, it was the settled custom of Israel to recite

or sing these Psalms, our Lord Jesus Christ did the same; for He

would leave nothing unfinished. Just as, when He went down into

the waters of baptism, He said, "Thus it becometh us to fulfil all

righteousness," so He seemed to say, when sitting at the table,

"Thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness; therefore let us

sing unto the Lord, as God's, people in past ages have done."

Beloved, let us view with holy wonder the strictness of the

Saviour's obedience to His Father's will, and let us endeavour to

follow in His steps, in all things, seeking to be obedient to the

Lord's Word in the little matters as well as in the great ones.

May we not venture to suggest another and deeper reason? Did

not the singing of "an hymn" at the supper show _the holy

absorption of the Saviour's soul in His Father's will?_ If,

beloved, you knew that at--say ten o'clock to-night--you would be

led away to be mocked, and despised