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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 f