The people of God were in a very sad state when this chapter described them. Isaiah pictures them as brought into the lowest degree of fear and sorrow. He pleads with God to return to his chosen people, and restore their former peace and prosperity. He makes use of the past as an argument for the future, and recites the wonderful acts of God in days gone by as an encouragement to expect that he would do the like again. If it were not that God is unchangeable, no inference could be drawn from his past behaviour toward us; but inasmuch as he is immutably the same, yesterday, to-day, and for ever, we may safely infer that what he has done he will do again. They say that history repeats itself: it were more true to say that God abides the same, that his ways are everlasting, and his mercy endureth for ever. Therefore it is good and sound pleading to say, “Thou hast done this and that, therefore again make bare thine arm, and once more let thy people rejoice in thy faithfulness and thy power.”

While we may all do this on behalf of the church of God, and find a rich store of arguments in her past history, we may also do it for ourselves. Some of us are now getting into years, and we have known the Saviour for thirty years or more: we ought to be well supplied with reasons for trusting him, and I am sure we are so. Let us look back on the past, and remember how he has forgiven our transgressions, how he has recovered our backslidings, how he has relieved our necessities, how he has cheered our despondencies, and strengthened our weaknesses: he that is our God is still the God of salvation, and he will continue still to bless us, even to the end. Because the Lord is my shepherd, and now maketh me to lie down in green pastures, therefore I conclude that “surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” At the back of whatever I shall have to say this morning will lie this grand principle-that as the past is, so we may expect the future to be in reference to God’s dealings with us.

Let us come more closely to our point. From the text, and from its connection, I gather, first, that the presence of God is the one hope of his people. In this text the prophet speaks of God’s doing terrible things when he came down among his people. We shall next notice that the presence of God creates surprises: he did “things which we looked not for”: we shall observe, thirdly, that the presence of God achieves wonders,-“the mountains flowed down at thy presence”: and then, lastly, we shall come back to where we started, and reflect that we may expect the like results from the divine presence if we are privileged to enjoy it.

First let us meditate upon the fact that the divine presence is the one hope of the people of god. The prophet shows that he believed this, for he commences the chapter by a most ardent cry to God that he would come into the midst of his people: “Oh that thou wouldest rend the heavens, that thou wouldest come down.” A little before this (in the fifteenth verse of the previous chapter), he had prayed, “Look down from heaven”; but it is the characteristic of true prayer that it grows as it proceeds: he begins by asking God to look down; but he gathers intensity of desire and confidence of faith, and here he cries, “Come down.” So eager is he that God should come, and come at once, that he speaks to him as though addressing a warrior who lingered in his tent while a battle was raging, who would be so eager to rush to the help of his friends that he would not stay to remove the canvas or to lift the curtain, but would rend a way for himself through the canopy to come at once to the deliverance of those who called him to the rescue. “Oh that thou wouldest rend the heavens”: stay not, Great God, to pass through the gate of pearl, but rend yon empyrean: let the blue firmament be torn in twain, and do thou descend from heaven upon rushing mighty winds, for the help of thy people. When our divine Lord opened the way by which God could come to us poor guilty men, he did not lift the curtain nor fold it up; but the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom, and so the door was left wide open for ever; for none can ever fix the veil in its place again. It was through the open heavens that Christ went in where he now stands to plead for us, and by that open heaven the sacred Spirit descended to rest upon the Church. The impetuous character of the simile here used shows that the prophet looked upon the divine visitation as the one thing needful for Israel. O Lord, we do not ask thee to cause the earth to bring forth plentifully, or to make our wealth increase, or to make the kings of the earth favourable to thy cause; but come thyself to bless thy people, and they will need no more. Oh that thou wouldest come down: even so, come quickly. Is not this the prayer of every true heart here that knows the need of the Church and the need of the age? We do not so much require more ministers, or more eloquent teachers, but more of the sacred presence. We do not want wealth in the church, or magnificent buildings, or ornate services, but we crave above all things that the living God will refresh his people. If the Lord were in the midst of us, if the shout of a king were heard in our camps, then would our armies march to the victory, and our foes would be discomfited.

The desire of the prophet in the present instance is abundantly justified by the history of God’s people in all times: for when the tribes were in Egypt what could set them free from the iron bondage?-what but the presence of God? The Lord said, “I have surely seen the affliction of my people, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows.” Then the Lord came down to deliver them, and you know with what signs and wonders he plagued the proud Egyptian oppressor. Pharaoh said, “Who is Jehovah?” but he soon received his answer when the waters were turned into blood, and the dust into lice; when the cattle died of murrain, and every green thing in the land was blasted with lightning or eaten with locusts. Pharaoh and his people learned that when God is in the midst of his oppressed and down-trodden people they are “like an hearth of fire among the wood, and like a torch of fire in a sheaf.” God’s presence in Israel with Moses and Aaron brought them out “with a high hand, and with an outstretched arm.” When they started on that memorable night, after eating the passover, what was it that made the march of Israel so grand an event in history? Did not Jehovah lead the way? When they came to the borders of the Red Sea with the rocks on either side, and the angry host pursuing them, what was their defence but that God looked out from the fiery, cloudy pillar; and while his smile lit up the midnight of his people and made it bright as day, he looked forth from the cloudy side and troubled the Egyptians, and took off their chariot wheels, so that they drave them heavily? It was God’s presence that quickened the feet of Miriam and Israel’s daughters on the other side of the sea, when they struck their timbrels and cried, “Sing ye to the Lord, for he hath triumphed gloriously; the horse and his rider hath he thrown into the sea.” God’s presence did it all. He who amid their thick array his kingly dwelling made was the glory of their strength, the banner of their joy.

So was it when their marchings were through the lone wilderness. What made Israel thrive upon barren sand? What made the nation drink plenteously from the rock? It was the presence of God that made the earth a watered sod, the flint a gushing rill. The tabernacle stood in their midst, and the presence of God was symbolised there by a blaze of glory between the cherubim, and this it was that made Israel the chief among the nations. The whole of the story of Israel proves the same truth. God’s presence was Israel’s glory. When they grieved him and provoked him, then the feeblest of the nations round about them tyrannised over them. They were an insignificant and defenceless nation of themselves; but when God shone upon them they were great among the nations, and the sceptre of Israel was stretched from sea to sea. “God with us,” when written on Israel’s banner, secured them honour and conquest; but without God they could do nothing.

Dear friends, this truth which is thus borne out in the history of God’s ancient people, is certainly true with us. The favour of God is the hope of all his people. First, we see this in the person of the Lord Jesus Christ. Oh, when did you and I ever obtain comfort, or receive hope of acceptance, until we saw God with us in our flesh? The world must have perished if God had not come down to it in the person of his dear Son. At Bethlehem the wondrous mystery was seen: the Godhead veiled beneath the form of a babe. This was the birth of hope.

So, too, when the Lord Jesus comes to any one of us by his Spirit our hope begins. We see him as our Immanuel, and we are comforted. Dr. Watts most sweetly sings:-

“Till God in human flesh I see,

My thoughts no comfort find;

The holy, just, and sacred Three

Are terrors to my mind.

“But if Immanuel’s face appear,

My hope, my joy begins;

His name forbids my slavish fear,

His grace removes my sins.”

God saves us by coming to us in Christ with an atonement in his hands, wherewith to put away our sin.

Yes, and our hope of the perfection of our salvation still lies in the coming of Christ to us. We expect that when he cometh in the latter day, though our bodies may have seen corruption, and the worm may have devoured them, yet in our flesh we shall see God. When Christ shall come a second time the Archangel’s trump shall sound, and then shall we receive the adoption, to wit, the redemption of the body, for which we now hopefully await. Because he lives we shall live also, and because he shall come to be revealed, we also shall be manifested. Our Lord’s first coming in our flesh hath given us eternal salvation; his coming to us by his Spirit hath wrought in us a living faith, and his second coming by-and-by is the grand object of our hope. That day and hour no man knoweth, for the Father keepeth it in his own power; but the consummation of all our hopes is wrapped up in it, and therefore do we cry, “Come quickly; even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Amen.” So, you see, brethren, it is the presence of God with us in Christ which is the ground of all our hope.

Until our Lord’s glorious advent, the presence of the Holy Spirit in the Church is our only dependence for success in all that we attempt. If we meet for prayer, it must be praying in the Holy Ghost, for we know not what we should pray for as we ought till he instructs us. It is hard praying to an absent God: the Lord’s presence is the life of a prayer-meeting. If the Lord be not there to inspire the prayer, he is not there to hear the prayer. When we preach, it is poor testifying if we have not the Lord’s anointing resting upon us, and his presence all around us. If the Spirit of God be not with the preacher, a silent tongue might be as efficient as the most eloquent speech. So is it with our missionary enterprise: it must be a failure unless the Lord be in it from first to last. Every missionary might fitly say, “If thy Spirit go not with me, carry me not up hence.” Vain will it be to organize societies, enlist subscribers, and enter upon actual effort, and to spend money and zeal thereon, if the Lord be not there. “Without me ye can do nothing,” said our Lord of old, and the same is true unto this day.

The presence of God is essential to each one of us if we are to be saved. It is well for the prodigal to arise and go to his father, but the saving moment comes when his father meets him. “When he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and ran and had compassion on him, and fell upon his neck and kissed him”: there was the actual salvation. The lost sheep is not found till the Shepherd comes to it. God’s coming to a man convinces him of sin: he stands up for self-righteousness till the Holy Ghost constrains him to own the truth. Never did a stony heart turn itself to flesh, or a blind eye remove its own darkness. God must come in infinite freeness of grace, and work with boundless power of love, or the dead sinner will remain dead, and the blinded mind will remain blind. Ay, and after the work is begun, the presence of God in the soul is needful to its continuance and progress. We never take a step towards God except with God. Even the faintest desire towards him is breathed into us by his own Spirit; and as for the higher works of grace in the soul, they are evidently all of God, for the assurance of faith, the confidence of hope, and the consecration of love, never were ascribed by their possessors to any source less than divine. Let a man try to serve God without God and he will fail. Sitting at Jesus’ feet is our proper posture: when he teaches, we have knowledge; all else is conceit. In his company we are happy and useful; but apart from him we are miserable failures. Even in heaven itself the presence of God is the source of joy and perfection. Up yonder they need no candle, neither light of the sun, because the Lord God giveth them light: if he were not among them it would be dark as death-shade. The blessed ones drink from the river of his pleasures; no other stream makes glad the city of God. Their life is his life: their bliss is his own divine pleasure: they enter into Christ’s glory, and they are filled with Christ’s joy. Is it not clear enough that our most essential need is the nearness of God to our souls? “My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my expectation is from him.” David’s petition shall be mine: “Draw nigh unto my soul, and redeem it.” “It is good for me to draw near unto God.” O Lord, remember thy word unto thy servant,-“My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest.”

The second point I wish to bring before you is, when the Lord comes his presence creates great surprises: “When thou didst terrible things that we looked not for, thou camest down.”

It has always been so. Whenever God has come to men he has always surprised them. Even the most expectant among men have found their expectations far exceeded; while those who have been depressed, and have prophesied dark things, have been altogether taken aback to see the goodness of the Lord. God came to Jacob’s house, and his favourite son was sold for a slave,-the Ishmaelites took him down into Egypt. “Ah,” said Jacob when he thought on this and his other trials, “all these things are against me.” He could not make out that there could be any good intended of the Lord when he cried, “Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye would take Benjamin away.” And yet God was doing great things for him which he looked not for; for Joseph was set upon the throne of Egypt that he might provide a refuge for his old father and his brethren in the days when there should be a famine over all the earth. Then would he say unto them, “Come down unto me, tarry not; thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and there will I nourish thee.” God was doing for the trembling patriarch “things which he looked not for.” I shall not stop to give instances in the history of God’s people because they will occur to your own minds. Often did they cry out, “Thou art the God that doeth wonders! Who is like unto thee?” Do you think the Israelites when they stood by the Red Sea ever imagined they would walk through it dry-shod? When they stood on the burning sand did they expect to live under a vast sunshade all day long? yet they did so, for the cloudy pillar screened them from the heat. Did they suppose that their camp would be lit up at night as never canvas city had been lighted before, with an illumination brighter than our electric lights can give to us? Yet the flaming column was a grand illumination to them. When they were hungering did they hope to gather angels’ bread fresh from the skies? When they were thirsty did they reckon upon a smitten rock yielding an abundant stream? When they were bitten by serpents did they expect that a brazen serpent would work their cure? When they came to the river did they look to see old Jordan retreat before the priests’ feet? When they compassed the city of Jericho did they hope to see the wall tumble down about the ears of its inhabitants because the tribes sounded rams’-horns and gave forth a shout? No, the history of Israel is a series of surprises and unexpected mercies. The Lord doeth great marvels, and his people are filled with happy astonishment.

It has been even more so in the works of grace. See what God has done for us in matchless mercy. When he stood at the gates of Eden, and talked with Adam, and cursed the ground for man’s sake, could any onlooking angel have imagined that in all this God intended to display the greatness of his mercy, so that where sin abounded grace should much more abound? Did any man, did any angel, did any seraph, ever imagine that the Son of God would come down to be born into this rebel race? Did it ever enter into their conception that he would die, the just for the unjust, to bring men to God? Was it ever thought of that sinful man should be adopted into the divine family? Do you not think it a most amazing thing that sinful men should be born again, and adopted into the family of God?

“Behold what wondrous grace

The Father hath bestow’d

On sinners of a mortal race,

To call them sons of God!”

This was an honour that we looked not for. Moreover, God having made us to be his children, did we ever look that he would make us his heirs? Yet he saith, “If children, then heirs; heirs of God, joint-heirs with Christ.” Did it ever enter into man’s heart to conceive that the church should be married to Christ, wedded to him in bands of everlasting love? Did it ever enter the dreams of any intelligent being that God would lift up man, poor, fallen man, to sit in the person of Christ next to himself? Well did David cry, “What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands. This is wonderful.

Brethren, though we think we know what God in grace is doing, I am sure we do not. We shall not know ourselves when we get to heaven, and when we rise from the dead we shall say, “I believed in the resurrection of the dead, but this out-miracles all miracles.” When our Lord shall take us up into the glory, how amazed we shall be! To talk about that glory now doth ravish us, but to be in it, flooded with it, filled with it, crowned with it-this will be overwhelming. Surely we shall need stronger frames, and hearts more able to endure the weight of bliss than those which we now have.

How is it that we continue to be surprised at what God does? I answer, first, because our largest conceptions of God fall short of the truth. The man who has, like Enoch, walked with him for years, yet knows little of him. Ah, my brother, you do not know the heights and depths, the lengths and breadths of his wondrous liberality yet. God is infinite. We are as a tiny shell on the beach, we cannot hold the ocean, and therefore the measureless main must always be a marvel to us. We shall always be in a measure ignorant, and as the unknown is gradually revealed it will take us aback with absolute astonishment. Besides, our experience of God is very brief. We have lived as yet only for a span, or a hand’s breadth. Even you old men of sixty or seventy years, what are you? Your life has gone like the winking of an eye: it is nothing as compared with the life of God. Therefore there must be in God’s dealings a great deal yet to come of which poor, short-lived insects like ourselves can have no idea. Besides that, I am sorry to say our faith is shamefully weak, and does not look out for great things. We have never had such faith in God as he deserves at our hands. We have never believed him for more than twopence, when we ought to have believed in him for all the gold of Ophir. He is worthy of a trust boundless as the sea, and we have scarcely relied upon him beyond the mere drop of a bucket. By doing “exceeding abundantly above what we ask, or even think,” the Lord puts us into an amazed state. It will always be so. Even in heaven we shall still be astonished, as the poet puts it-

“Then let me mount and soar away

To the bright world of endless day;

And sing with rapture and surprise,

His loving-kindness in the skies.”

It is a most blessed thing it is so. I am so glad that God does those “things which we looked not for;” because, first, it keeps our life fresh and sweet, and puts far from us monotony and routine. You people who have no God must find life a threadbare tale; one week must be very like another, and one year as another, to you; but some of us can sing-

“Still has my life new wonders seen.”

Novels! I assure you that no novel can equal in interest the unvarnished facts of Christian experience, especially in the case of those who are much tried. Facts surpass fictions in their power to surprise. The makers of romances may rub their foreheads as long as they like, but they cannot invent stories at all comparable to those which happen to us in our ordinary lives. We do not get tired of living, because there is something new every morning in the goodness of the Lord; fresh revelations are brought out by the trials we are called to endure.

Thus he increases our knowledge. When you and I enter upon a new trouble, we ought to fall on our knees and thank God that he is about to elevate us to a higher grace of discipleship. Sanctified afflictions are spiritual promotions. When he puts me to greater pain my Lord thinks me in a fit state to be introduced into an inner chamber. The Christian’s experience is like that of the man who is conducted from an outer court into inner rooms, until he reaches the innermost of all. If God opens the first door of gracious knowledge, and lets you in, you are a saved man as soon as you enter by faith; but there is another door, and when you enter in there you are not only saved, but made useful in the saving of others. Yet there is another door, and if God favours you by admitting you into the inner chamber you will be a happy man, mighty in prayer, and confident in hope. Another door stands within this hallowed chamber, and if you can find the keyhole and use the key, you will enter into the secret hall of intimate fellowship with Christ. I do not know how many rooms there are one within another in the place of heavenly wisdom; but this I know, that whenever the Lord is about to introduce his servants into a still more secret chamber where they shall be nearer to himself, he generally sends them a new trial, to test them and to discover whether they can bear a fresh instalment of his revelations of love. Bless the Lord for trials, for they prove the Lord’s faithfulness, and endear him to our hearts. He will never lead us into a labyrinth without giving us the clue. Growing trials in God’s hand mean growing grace: you were once in a little canoe and you might not leave the tiny stream; but when years had gone by you rowed in a boat upon the river, though you dared not leave the shore: now the Lord has built you a larger vessel, and you make coasting voyages upon the sea; but he does not mean you always to be a mere coaster, carrying a few coals about, he intends you to cross the seas, to brave the ocean, and navigate the globe. As you are gradually fitted for longer voyages, so will you encounter rougher storms, and so will you see more of the works of the Lord and of his wonders in the deep.

Surprising mercies tend to rouse our gratitude. Have we not marvelled at the goodness of the Lord? “Bless the Lord,” we have said, “I never dreamed of such love. This way out of my difficulties is excellent, but it is one which I could not have foreseen. I am glad I was brought into straits that I might see how my Lord could bring me out of them.” I almost wish I had been with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, in the fiery furnace. It must have been a fine thing to walk unhurt among those glowing coals, and to come out, and be able to say of all your garments, to your children and your children’s children, “These have passed through the fire. See the hose and the hat which I wore amid the flames, there is not a smell of fire upon them.” What a wardrobe to pass on to your children’s children, to show what the Lord had done! Some of us can do this spiritually, for our hearts are stored with grateful memories.

How much God is glorified by his people when he does things they looked not for. Their neighbours are surprised. As they tell the tale even unbelievers are struck with it, and strangers join to say, “The Lord is good to his people, and his mercy endureth for ever.”

Dear friends, I know that some of you can tell of instances in which the presence of God has wrought great surprises for you, and I can join you in doing so. If you have had rich experiences be sure to tell them to others. Perhaps you remember that a fortnight ago, on the Sabbath morning, I preached of Paul’s deep experience, and I said that the experiences of the saints were a treasure, of which they were the trustees, for the benefit of others.* A well-known and beloved brother in Christ was here that morning,-I refer to Mr. W. Haslam, a clergyman of the Church of England,-and he so fully agreed with the remark that he carried it out by sending me a book, in which he has written out the story of the first twenty years of his ministry. I have much enjoyed the reading of the narrative, and to carry out the principle, I will now give you in brief the story of Mr. Haslam’s conversion, as an instance of “things which we looked not for.” You have all heard of Billy Bray, the Cornish Methodist, who was so mighty in prayer. There was a certain hill that Billy was accustomed to pass, for which he prayed with all his might, till he believed that his heavenly Father had given him that mountain, so that all the souls that lived on it should be saved. He visited all the houses, and obtained a blessing for the inhabitants, but as there were only three houses on the hill he prayed in his own simple way that more might be built. It seemed an odd prayer, and the neighbours did not think it a wise one, but nevertheless it was fulfilled. Some time after when he visited that place he found that Mr. Haslam had built a church and schools there, and his joy was great until he entered the church. At the sight of the surpliced choir and the Ritualistic performance poor Bray was greatly downcast, and said that it was nothing but an “old Pusey.” Billy went home and set himself to pray again for that hill, but the fact was quite unknown to those who were the objects of his petitions. Soon the Lord hearkened to the cry of his servant, and it came to pass that the Lord visited Mr. Haslam. His gardener fell sick, and in the time of his illness his churchmanship failed to comfort him; a Methodist brother visited him and was the means of his conversion. When the man told Mr. Haslam that he was converted he was very grieved and disappointed; he felt that he could never make Cornish men into Churchmen; they were confirmed schismatics. His favourite and most promising Churchman had become a Dissenter, and was actually praying that his master might become the same. What was to be done? Mr. Haslam had occasion to visit Mr. Aitken, and told him about the sad defection of the gardener. “Why,” said Mr. Aitkin, “you are not converted yourself; I am sure of it, or you would not have come here to complain of your gardener.” Conviction came into Haslam’s heart, his former hopes vanished, and in sadness he sought the Lord. Mr. Aitken said, “The best thing you can do is to shut the church up, and tell your people you will never preach again till you are converted.” He could not do that, but on the Sunday morning he went, ill and sad, to read the prayers, determined to send the people home as soon as they were finished. Instead of that his eye lighted on the text, “What think ye of Christ?” and he thought he would make a few observations upon that question before dismissing the congregation. For the rest I will quote his own words, lest I should seem to colour the incident by telling it in my own language. “As I went on to explain the passage, I saw that the Pharisees and scribes did not know that Christ was the Son of God, or that he was come to save them. They were looking for a king, the son of David, to reign over them as they were. Something was telling me, all the time, ‘You are no better than the Pharisees yourself-you do not believe that he is the Son of God, and that he is come to save you, any more than they did.’ I do not remember all I said, but I felt a wonderful light and joy coming into my soul, and I was beginning to see what the Pharisees did not. Whether it was something in my words, or my manner, or my look, I know not; but all of a sudden a local preacher, who happened to be in the congregation, stood up, and putting up his arms, shouted out in Cornish manner, ‘The parson is converted! the parson is converted! Hallelujah!’ and in another moment his voice was lost in the shouts and praises of three or four hundred of the congregation. Instead of rebuking this extraordinary ‘brawling,’ as I should have done in a former time, I joined in the outburst of praise; and to make it more orderly, I gave out the Doxology-‘Praise God, from whom all blessings flow’-and the people sang it with heart and voice over and over again. When this subsided, I found at least twenty people crying for mercy, whose voices had not been heard in the excitement and noise of thanksgiving. They all professed to find peace and joy in believing. Amongst this number there were three from my own house; and we returned home praising God.”

This is a memorable illustration of the statement that when God comes down among a people he does things we looked not for. You may hope that the divine Spirit will still display his power over the most unlikely persons to the glory of his grace. He can save the most obstinate, and bring opposers to the feet of Jesus. Plead with him to do so.

Thirdly, the presence of God dissolves difficulties. I would bring you back to the text again; for perhaps you are beginning to forget it. “When thou didst terrible things which we looked not for, thou camest down, the mountains flowed down at thy presence.” This is a blessed sentence, “The mountains flowed down at thy presence.” Israel had enemies which were strong and powerful, nations and kings towered above them like great mountains, but whenever God came to help them the kingdoms dissolved, the people were conquered, and the mountains and hills were laid low. At this present time great systems of error oppose the gospel of Jesus Christ: I need not mention them, for they are before us, and seem to rise like giant Alps, overtopping our faith. Blessed be God, the church only needs the divine presence in the midst of her, and all the systems of error will flow down at his feet like glaciers which dissolve in the summer’s sun. Perhaps you have seen a volcano when a stream of lava has been pouring down its side, and if so you have had the metaphor of the text before your eye. God does but touch it and the mountain melts and flows away. So will it be with infidelity and superstition, Rationalism and Ritualism, and every form of wrong. If the Holy Spirit clothes the church with power by his presence, the powers of evil will not maintain themselves for an hour, the fire of sacred truth and heavenly life will utterly dissolve them. Many hearts are hard as granite rocks: you may pray for them, talk to them, preach to them, but all in vain. What is required is the presence of God, and then hearts of stone are turned to flesh, dead souls feel the beating of spiritual life, and corruption is overcome of resurrection power. Do not be afraid, brother. No heart can stand out against the grace of God when it comes in all its power. Do not despair in reference to your prodigal boy: keep on praying, and he will yet come to the house of God with you, and you will sing together the praises of redeeming love. Despair of no one so long as you have a heart to pray.

Within our own selves also we may see mountains of difficulty, but if we go to Christ, and so obtain God’s help, every mountain shall sink and every rock melt.

“Thy mercy is more than a match for my heart,

Which wonders to feel its own hardness depart;

Dissolved by thy mercy, I fall to the ground,

And weep to the praise of the mercy I’ve found.”

There is nothing in you, there is nothing round about you, there is nothing on earth, there is nothing in hell, that can stand against you if you have God on your side, and you have God on your side when you put your trust in Jesus Christ. Between here and the eternal glories of heaven nothing shall ever stand against you if you do but trust in Jesus. No weapon that is formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue that shall rise against you in judgment you shall condemn.

Lastly, we may expect to see the same results from the divine presence to-day, and to-morrow, and as long as we live. God is the same. “Art thou not it that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon?” He is the same conquering Lord. The ages may have degenerated, but God has not degenerated. Do not say that the truth has lost its power. Its power always lay in God, and God is almighty still. He can work miracles to-day if he pleases: he could divide the Atlantic as easily as he did the Red Sea. “With God all things are possible,” not “were,” but “are” still.

As to spiritual wonders, people think that Pentecost was with us once, but never can return; but Pentecost was only the Feast of First Fruits, and first fruits predict the harvest. God will do greater things in the latter days than he did at Jerusalem at Pentecost. He says to us, “Open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it.” We do not believe in him. “If the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?” There is such a microscopic quantity of it that no eyes but his which are like a flame of fire could spy it out. Yet, I say, God is the same, and as worthy to be trusted. And, brethren, we are the same. “No,” you say, “we are not, we are not such good men as those who lived in the olden times.” I answer that they had the same passions and infirmities as we have now. There was not a morsel of good in the apostles, martyrs, and confessors but what God put there. One earthen vessel is of the same clay as another, and the same God may put the same treasure into one as well as into another. He can bless you and me as he did Peter, James, and John. Human nature is human nature still, both in its degradation and in its possibilities. God can make as much of you, my dear sister, as ever he did of Dorcas, or Mary, or Lydia; and he can make as much of you, my brother, as ever he did of any of the worthies of past times, if you will but trust him. This feeble arm could slay a thousand men, or pluck up the gates of Gaza, or kill a lion, or pull down a temple upon the Philistines, if God chose to use it as he did Samson’s. The Lord has his own choice of instruments, and he can make any instrument fit for his use if he pleases to do so.

Brethren, the promises are the same. “Oh,” say you, “how is that? Are not some of them out of date?” No; the covenant is made up of abiding promises, suitable for all ages and all of them are yea and amen in Christ Jesus. We have the sure mercies of David: they stand fast for ever and ever.

Mark you, there are things to be done yet by God which will astonish us beyond measure. We shall cry out against ourselves for our drooping and desponding thoughts; for by-and-by, perhaps ere some of us see death, we shall behold greater things than our fathers saw, and shall clap our hands for very joy. Read the chapter which follows our text, and see what God is going to do. “I am sought of them that asked not for me; I am found of them that sought me not: I said, Behold me, behold me, unto a nation that was not called by my name.” Heathens are to be saved, far off lands will soon be called. Watch for it, work for it, pray for it. Israel is also to be gathered,-“I will bring forth a seed out of Jacob, and out of Judah an inheritor of my mountains: and mine elect shall inherit it, and my servants shall dwell there.” O blessed hour, when the Jew shall worship the Christ whom he crucified! That is not all. There is coming yet-who knoweth how soon?-a new creation. “Behold, I create new heavens and a new earth: and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind. But be ye glad and rejoice for ever in that which I create: for, behold, I create Jerusalem a rejoicing, and her people a joy.” There will come a time in which the shortening of life after the deluge shall be remedied. “There shall be no more thence an infant of days, nor an old man that hath not filled his days: for the child shall die an hundred years old. As the days of a tree are the days of my people, and mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands.” Yes, and there comes a time of universal peace. “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: and dust shall be the serpent’s meat. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the Lord.” Verily, verily, I say unto you, this text is true. When God shall do terrible things which we looked not for, he shall come down among us, and the mountains shall flow at his presence. Amen and amen.

Portion of Scripture read before Sermon-Isaiah 63:15-19; 64.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-114, 63, 30.

“The Disciple Whom Jesus Loved”

A Sermon

Delivered on Lord’s-day Morning, May 23rd, 1880, by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“The disciple whom Jesus loved; who also leaned on his breast at supper.”-John 21:20.

Our Lord loved all his disciples:-“having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end.” He said to all the apostles, “I call you not servants; for the servant knoweth not what his Lord doeth: but I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you.” And yet within that circle of love there was an innermost place in which the beloved John was favoured to dwell: upon the mountain of the Saviour’s love there was a knoll, a little higher than the rest of the mount, and there John was made to stand, nearest to his Lord. Let us not, because John was specially loved, think less, even in the slightest degree, of the love which Jesus Christ gave forth to the rest of his chosen. I take it, brethren, that those who display an extraordinary love to one are all the more capable of great affection to many; and therefore, because Jesus loved John most, I have an enhanced estimate of his love to the other disciples. It is not for a moment to be supposed that any one suffered from his supreme friendship for John. John was raised, and they were not lowered, but raised with him. All believers are the dear objects of the Saviour’s choice, the purchase of his blood, his portion and inheritance, the jewels of his crown. If in John’s case one is greater in love than another, yet all are eminently great, and therefore if it should so happen that you dare not hope to reach the height of John, and cannot look to be distinguished above others as “the disciple whom Jesus loved,” yet be very thankful to be among the brotherhood who can each say, “He loved me, and gave himself for me.” If you have not attained unto the first three, be happy to belong to the host of those who follow the Son of David. It is a matchless privilege, and an unspeakable honour, to enjoy the love of Jesus, even if you march among the rank and file of the armies of love. Our Lord’s love to each of us hath in it heights immeasurable and depths unfathomable; it passeth knowledge.

Yet would I not utter this word of good cheer to make you remain at ease in a low state of grace; far rather would I excite you to rise to the highest point of love; for if already the Lord has loved you with an everlasting love, if already he has chosen you and called you, and kept you and instructed you, and forgiven you, and manifested himself to you, why should you not hope that another step or two may yet be taken, and that so you may climb to the very highest eminence? Why should you not ere long be styled like Daniel, a “man greatly beloved”? or like John, “that disciple whom Jesus loved”?

To be loved as John was, with a special love, is an innermost form of that same grace with which all believers have been favoured. You must not imagine when I try to exhibit some of the lovable traits of John’s character, that I would have you infer that the love of Christ went forth towards John in any other way than according to the law of grace; for whatever there was that was lovable in John it was wrought in him by the grace of God. Under the law of works John would have been as surely condemned as any of us, and there was nothing legally deserving in John. Grace made him to differ, just as truly as grace separates the vilest sinner from among the ungodly. Though it be granted that there were certain natural characteristics which made him amiable, yet God is the creator of all that is estimable in man, and it was not till the natural had been by grace transformed and transfigured into the spiritual that these things became the subject of the complacency of Christ Jesus. Brethren, we do not speak of John to-day as if he were loved because of his works, or stood higher in the heart of Christ on the ground of personal merit, whereof he might glory. He, like all the rest of his brethren, was loved of Jesus because Jesus is all love, and chose to set his heart upon him. Our Lord exercised a sovereignty of love, and chose John for his own name’s sake; and yet at the same time there was created in John much that was a fit object for the love of Christ. The love of Jesus was shed abroad in John’s heart, and thus John himself was made fragrant with delightful odours. It was all of grace: the supposition of anything else is out of place. I look upon this special form of our Lord’s love as one of those “best gifts” which we are bidden earnestly to covet-but a gift most emphatically, and not a wage or a purchasable commodity. Love is not bought. It never talks of price or claim. Its atmosphere is free favour. “If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.” The supremest love is to be sought for, then, after the analogy of grace, as gracious men seek greater grace, and not as legalists chaffer and bargain for reward and desert. If ever we reach the upper chambers of love’s palace love herself must lead us up the stairs, yea, and be to our willing feet the staircase itself. O for the help of the Holy Spirit while we speak upon such a theme.

And now, to come nearer to the text, first, dear friends, let us consider the name itself,-“The disciple whom Jesus loved.”

Our first observation upon it is,-it is a name which John gives to himself. I think he repeats it five times. No other writer calls John “the disciple whom Jesus loved”: John has thus surnamed himself, and all the early writers recognize him under that title. Do not suspect him, however, of egotism. It is one of the instances in which egotism is quite out of the question. Naturally, you and I would be rather slow to take such a title, even if we felt it belonged to us, because we should be jealous for our repute and be afraid of being thought presumptuous; but with a sweet naiveté which makes him quite forget himself, John took the name which he knew most accurately described him, whether others cavilled at it or no. So far from there being any pride in it, it just shows the simplicity of his spirit, the openness, the transparency of his character, and his complete self-forgetfulness. Knowing it to be the truth he does not hesitate to say it: he was sure that Jesus loved him better than others, and, though he wondered at it more than anyone else did, yet he so rejoiced in the fact that he could not help publishing it whatever the consequences to himself might be. Often there is a deal more pride in not witnessing to what God has done for us than in speaking of it. Everything depends upon the spirit which moves us. I have heard a brother with the deepest humility speak with full assurance of the divine love, and while some have thought that he was presumptuous, I have felt within myself that his positive testimony was perfectly consistent with the deepest humility, and that it was his simple modesty which made the man so utterly forget himself as to run the risk of being thought forward and egotistical. He was thinking of how he should glorify God, and the appearance of glorifying himself did not alarm him, for he had forgotten himself in his Master. I wish we could bear to be laughed at as proud for our Lord’s sake. We shall never have John’s name till like John we dare wear it without a blush.

It is a name in which John hides himself. He is very chary of mentioning John. He speaks of “another disciple,” and “that other disciple,” and then of “that disciple whom Jesus loved.” These are the names by which he would travel through his own gospel “incognito.” We find him out, however, for the disguise is too thin, but still he intends to conceal himself behind his Saviour; he wears his Master’s love as a veil, though it turns out to be a veil of light. He might have called himself if he had chosen, “that disciple who beheld visions of God,” but he prefers to speak of love rather than of prophecy. In the early church we find writings concerning him, in which he is named, “that disciple who leaned on Jesus’ bosom,” and this he mentions in our text. He might have been called “that disciple who wrote one of the gospels,” or “that disciple who knew more of the very heart of Christ than any other”; but he gives the preference to love. He is not that disciple who did anything, but who received love from Jesus; and he is not that disciple who loved Jesus, but “whom Jesus loved.” John is the man in the silver mask; but we know the man and his communications, and we hear him say, “We have known and believed the love that God hath to us. God is love, and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.”

The name before us is a name in which John felt himself most at home. No other title would so well describe him. His own name, “John,” means the “gift of God,” and he was a precious gift from God the Father to his suffering Son, and a great comfort to the Saviour during the years of his abode among men. Jesus doubtless counted him to be his Jonathan, his John, his God gift, and he treasured him as such; but John does not so much think of his being of any service to his Lord, as of that which his Lord had been to him. He calls himself “that disciple whom Jesus loved,” because he recognized the delightful obligation which springs out of great love, and wished ever to be under its royal influence. He looked on Jesus’ love as the source and root of everything about himself which was gracious and commendable. If he had any courage, if he had any faithfulness, if he had any depth of knowledge, it was because Jesus had loved these things into him. All the sweet flowers which bloomed in the garden of his heart were planted there by the hand of Christ’s love, so when he called himself “that disciple whom Jesus loved,” he felt that he had gone to the root and bottom of the matter, and explained the main reason of his being what he was.

This endearing name was very precious to him, because it evoked the sunniest memories of all his life. Those short years in which he had been with Jesus must have been looked upon by him in his old age with great transport, as the crown and glory of his earthly existence. I do not wonder that he saw Christ again in Patmos, after having seen him once in Palestine as he did see him; for such sights are very apt to repeat themselves. Such sights, I say; for John’s view of his Lord was no ordinary one. There is at times an echo to sights as well as to sounds; and he who saw the Lord with John’s eagle eye, with his deep-seated inner eye, was the likeliest man in all the world to see him over again in vision as he did see him amidst the rocks of the Ægean Sea. All the memories of the best part of his life were awakened by the name which he wore, and by its power he oft renewed that intimate communion with the living Christ which had lived on during the horrors of the crucifixion, and lasted to the end of his days. That charming name set all the bells of his soul a-ringing: does it not sound right musically?-“The disciple whom Jesus loved.”

That name was a powerful spring of action to him as long as he lived. How could he be false to him who had loved him so? How could he refuse to bear witness to the gospel of the Saviour who had loved him so? What leagues of journeying could be too long for the feet of that disciple whom Jesus loved? What mobs of cruel men could cow the heart of the disciple whom Jesus loved? What form of banishment or death could dismay him whom Jesus loved? No, henceforth in the power of that name John becomes bold and faithful, and he serves his loving Friend with all his heart. I say, then, that this title must have been very dear to John, because he felt himself most at home in it; the secret springs of his nature were touched by it, he felt his whole self, heart, soul, mind, memory, all comprehended within the compass of the words, “The disciple whom Jesus loved.”

It was a name which was never disputed. You do not find any one complaining of John for thus describing himself. General consent awarded him the title. His brethren did quarrel with him a little when his fond mother, Salome, wanted thrones for her two sons on the right and the left hand of the Messiah; but the love of Jesus to John never caused any illwill amongst the brethren, nor did John take any undue advantage of it. I believe that the apostles tacitly acknowledged that their Lord was perfectly right in his choice. There was something about John which made his brethren love him, and therefore they did not marvel that their Lord should make him his most intimate friend. The truly loved one of God generally receives the love of his brethren, ay, and even the love of the ungodly after a sort; for when a man’s ways please the Lord, he maketh even his enemies to be at peace with him. While David walked with God all Israel loved him, and even Saul was forced to cry, “Thou art more righteous than I.” John was so loving that he gained love everywhere. We may well be eager after this choice blessing, since it alone of all known treasures excites no envy among the brethren, but the rather makes all the godly rejoice. Inasmuch as saints wish to be greatly loved themselves, they are glad when they meet with those who have obtained that blessing. If we would ourselves smell of myrrh and aloes and cassia, we are glad to meet with those whose garments are already fragrant. You never find John lecturing his brethren, or acting as a lord over God’s heritage, but in all gentleness and lowliness he justified the affection which our Lord manifested toward him.

Thus much, then, with regard to the name. Secondly, let us look at the character which lay below it. I can only give a miniature of John: it is quite impossible in the few moments of a sermon to draw a full-length portrait; and, indeed, I am not artist enough to accomplish it if I should attempt the task. In the character of John we see much that is admirable.

First, let us look at his personality as an individual. His was a large and warm heart. Perhaps his main force lies in the intensity of his nature. He is not vehement, but deep and strong. Whatever he did he did right heartily. He was simple-minded, a man in whom there was no guile: there was no division in his nature, he was one and indivisible in all that he felt or did. He did not entertain questions, he was not captious, he was not apt to spy out faults in others, and as to difficulties, mental or otherwise, he seems to have been happily without them. Having pondered and come to a conclusion, his whole nature moved in solid phalanx with forceful march; whichever way he went he went altogether, and right resolutely. Some men go two ways, or they tack about, or they go towards their object in an indirect manner; but John steams straight forward, with the fires blazing and the engine working at full speed. His whole soul was engaged in his Lord’s cause, for he was a deep thinker, a silent student, and then a forceful actor. He was not impetuous with the haste of Peter, but yet he was determined and thorough-going, and all on fire with zeal.

He was exceedingly vivid in his beliefs, and believed to the utmost what he had learned of his Lord. Read his Epistle through, and see how many times he says “we know,” “we know,” “we know.” There are no “ifs” about him; he is a deep and strong believer. His heart gives an unfeigned assent and consent.

Withal there was an intense warmth about John. He loved his Lord, he loved his brethren; he loved with a large heart, for he had a grand nature. He loved constantly, and he loved in such a way as to be practically courageous for his Master, for he was a bold man, a true son of thunder. He was ready to go to the front if he was bound to do so, but it is in quite a quiet way, and not with a rush and a noise: his is not the dash of a cataract, but the still flow of a deep river.

Putting all together that we know about his personality, we look upon him as a man who was the reverse of your cold, calculating, slow-moving son of diffidence. You know the sort of persons I mean, very good people in their way, but by no means fascinating, or much to be imitated. He was quite the reverse of those dried, juiceless brethren who have no human nature in them-men who are somewhere about perfect, for they have not life enough to sin. They do no wrong, for they do nothing at all. I know a few of those delightful people, sharp critics of others and faultless themselves, with this one exception, that they are heartless. John was a hearty man: a man of brain, but of soul too-a soul which went out to the tips of his fingers, a man who was permeated with intense but quiet life: a man to be loved. His life was not that of an ice-plant, but of the red rose. He carried summer in his countenance, energy in his manner, steady force in all his movements. He was like that other John of whom he was once a disciple, “a burning and a shining light.” There was warmth as well as light in him. He was intense, sincere, and unselfish by nature, and a fulness of grace came upon him and sanctified these virtues.

Let us now view him in his relation to his Lord. The name he takes to himself is “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” Jesus loved him as a disciple. What sort of disciples do masters love? You that have ever been teachers of youth know that if teachers had their choice certain persons would be selected before others. If we teach we love teachable people: such was John. He was a man quick to learn. He was not like Thomas, slow, argumentative, cautious; but having once assured himself that he had a true teacher, he gave himself right up to him, and was willing to receive what he had to reveal.

He was a disciple of very keen eye, seeing into the soul of his instructor’s teaching. His emblem in the early church was the eagle,-the eagle which soars, but also the eagle which sees from afar. John saw the spiritual meaning of types and emblems; he did not stop at the outward symbols, as some of the disciples did, but his penetrating soul read into the depths of truth. You can see this both in his gospels and in his epistles. He is a spiritually minded man; he stays not in the letter, but he dives beneath the surface. He pierces through the shell, and reaches the inner teaching. His first master was John the Baptist, and he was so good a disciple that he was the first to leave his teacher. You hint that this did not show that he was a good disciple. Indeed it did, for it was the Baptist’s aim to send his followers to Jesus. The Baptist said, “Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world,” and John was so good a follower of the forerunner that he immediately followed the Lord himself, to whom the forerunner introduced him. This he did without a violent jerk: his progress was natural and even. Paul came to Jesus with a great start and twist, when he was put upon the lines on the road to Damascus: but John glided gently to the Baptist and then from the Baptist to Jesus. He was not obstinate, neither was he weak, but he was teachable, and so he made steady progress in his learning: such a disciple is one that a teacher is sure to love, and John was therefore “the disciple whom Jesus loved.”

He was full of faith to accept what he was taught. He believed it, and he believed it really and thoroughly. He did not believe as some people do, with the finger-ends of their understanding, but he gripped the truth with both hands, laid it up in his heart, and allowed it to flow from that centre, and saturate his whole being. He was a believer in his inmost soul; both when he saw the blood and water at the cross, and the folded grave-clothes at the sepulchre, he saw and believed.

His faith wrought in him a strong and enduring love, for faith worketh by love. He believed in his Master in a sweetly familiar way, “for there is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.” Such a trustful, confiding disciple is sure to be loved of his teacher.

John had great receptiveness. He drank in what he was taught. He was like Gideon’s fleece, ready to be saturated with the dew of heaven. His whole nature absorbed the truth as it is in Jesus. He was not a great talker: I should think he was almost a silent disciple. So little did he say that we have only one saying of his recorded in the gospels. “Why,” saith one, “I remember two or three.” Do you remind me that he asked that he might sit on the right hand of Christ? I have not forgotten that request, but I answer that his mother, Salome, spoke on that occasion. Again, you tell me that at the supper he asked, “Lord, who is it?” Yes, but it was Peter who put that question into his mouth. The only utterance that I remember in the gospel which was altogether John’s, is that at the sea of Tiberias, when he said to Peter, “It is the Lord.” This was a very significant little speech-a recognition of his Lord such as the quick eye of love is sure to make. He who lived nearest to Jesus could best discern him as he stood upon the shore. “It is the Lord,” is the gladsome cry of love, overjoyed at the sight of its Beloved. It might have served John as his motto-“It is the Lord.” O that we were able amid darkness and tossing to discern the Saviour, and rejoice in his presence. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God”; and such was the beloved disciple.

One great trait in John’s character as a disciple was his intense love for his teacher; he not only received the truth, but he received the Master himself. I take it that the leaning of a man’s faults often betrays his heart more than his virtues. It may seem a strange observation to make, but it is true. A true heart may as well be seen in its weakness as in its excellence. What were the weak points about John, as some would say? On one occasion he was intolerant. Certain persons were casting out devils, and he forbad them because they followed not with the disciples. Now, that intolerance, mistaken as it was, grew out of love to his Lord; he was afraid that these interlopers might set up as rivals to his Lord, and he wanted them to come under the rule of his beloved Jesus. At another time the Samaritans would not receive them, and he asked his Master that he might call down fire from heaven on them. One does not commend him, but still it was love to Jesus which made him indignant at their ungenerous conduct to their best friend. He felt so indignant that men should not entertain the Saviour who had come into the world to bless them that he would even call fire from heaven: it showed his burning love for Jesus. Even when his mother asked that he and the brother might sit upon thrones at the right hand and the left hand of Christ, it was a deep and thoughtful faith in Jesus which suggested it. His idea of honour and glory was bound up with Jesus. If he gives way to ambition it is an ambition to reign with the despised Galilean. He does not want a throne unless it be at his Leader’s side. Moreover, what faith there was in that request! I am not going to justify it, but I am going to say something to moderate your condemnation. Our Lord was going up to Jerusalem to be spat upon, and to be put to death, and yet John so thoroughly threw himself into his Lord’s career that he would fain share in the fortune of his great Cæsar, assured that it must end in his enthronement. He is content, he says, to be baptized with his baptism, and to drink of his cup; he only asks to share with Jesus in all things. As a good writer says, it reminds one of the courage of the Roman who when Rome was in the hands of the enemy purchased a house within the walls: John heroically asks for a throne at the side of one who was about to die on the cross, for he feels sure that he will triumph. When the cause and kingdom of Christ seemed ready to expire, yet so whole-hearted was John in his faith in God and his love to his beloved Lord, that his highest ambition was still to be with Jesus and take shares with him in all that he would do and be. So, you see, all through he loved his Lord with all his heart, and therefore Jesus Christ loved him: or let me turn it the other way,-the Lord loved John, and therefore he loved the Lord Jesus. It is his own explanation of it,-“We love him because he first loved us.”

I must ask you to look at John once more, as an instructed person. He was a beloved disciple, and remained a disciple, but he grew to know more and more, and in that capacity I would say of him, that doubtless our Lord Jesus loved him because of the tenderness which was produced by grace out of his natural warmth. How tender he was to Peter, after that apostle’s grievous fall, for early in the morning John goes with him to the sepulchre. He is the man who restored the backslider. He was so tender that our Lord did not say to John, “Feed my lambs”; for he knew he would be sure to do it; and he did not even say to him, “Feed my sheep,” as he did to Peter,-he knew that he would do so from the instincts of his loving nature. He was a man who under the tutorship of Christ grew, moreover, to be very spiritual and very deep. The words he uses in his epistles are mostly monosyllables, but what mighty meanings they contain. If we may compare one inspired writer with another, I should say that no other evangelist is at all comparable to him in depth. The other evangelists give us Christ’s miracles, and certain of his sermons, but his profound discourses, and his matchless prayer, are reserved for that disciple whom Jesus loved. Where the deep things of God are concerned there is John, with sublime simplicity of utterance, declaring unto us the things which he has tasted and handled.

Of all the disciples John was most Christlike. Like will to like. Jesus loved John for what he saw of himself in him, created by his grace. Thus I think you will see that, without supposing John to have possessed any merit, there were points in his personal character, in his character as a disciple, and in his character as an educated, spiritual man, which justified our Saviour in making him the object of his most intimate affection.

Very briefly, in the third place, let us review the life which grew out of this extraordinary love of Christ.

What was the life of John? First, it was a life of intimate communion. John was wherever Christ was. Other disciples are put away, but Peter and James and John are present. When all the disciples sit at the table, even Peter is not nearest to the Lord Jesus, but John leans his head upon his bosom. Their intercourse was very near and dear. Jesus and John were David and Jonathan over again. If you are a man greatly beloved you will live in Jesus, your fellowship will be with him from day to day.

John’s was a life of special instruction. He was taught things which no others knew, for they could not bear them. At the latter end of his life he was favoured with visions such as even Paul himself, though not a whit behind the chief of the apostles, had never seen. Because of the greatness of his Lord’s love to him he showed him future things, and lifted up the veil so that he might see the kingdom and the glory. They shall see most who love most; they shall be taught most who most completely give up their hearts to the doctrine.

John henceforth became a man in whose life there was amazing depth. If he did not say much as a rule while his Lord was with him, he was taking it all in for future use. He lived an inner life. He was a son of thunder, and could boldly thunder out the truth, because, as a thundercloud is charged with electricity, so had he gathered up the mysterious force of his Lord’s life, love, and truth. When he did break out there was a voice like the voice of God in him; a deep, mysterious, overwhelming power of God was about him. What a flash of lightning is the Apocalypse! What awful thunders sleep within the vials and the trumpets! His was a life of divine power because of the great fire which burned within; his was not the flash of crackling thorns beneath a pot, but the glow of coals in a furnace when the whole mass is molten into a white heat. John is the ruby among the twelve, he shines with a warm brilliance reflecting the love which Jesus lavished on him.

Hence his life was one of special usefulness. He was entrusted with choice commissions involving high honour. The Lord gave him to do a work of the most tender and delicate kind, which I am afraid he could not commit to some of us. As the Redeemer hung upon the tree dying he saw his mother standing in the throng, and he did not commit her to Peter, but to John. Peter would have been glad of the commission, I am sure, and so would Thomas, and so would James; but the Lord said to John, “Behold thy mother!” and to his mother, “Woman, behold thy son!” And from that hour that disciple took her to his own home. So modest, so retiring, I was going to say so gentlemanly, was John, that he was the man to take charge of a broken-hearted mother. Said I wrong that he was a true gentleman? Divide the word, and surely he was the gentlest of men. John has a delicate air and considerate manner, needful to the care of an honoured woman. Peter is good, but he is rough: Thomas is kind, but cold; John is tender and affectionate. When you love Jesus much he will trust his mother to you; I mean his church and the poorest people in it, such as widows and orphans, and poor ministers. He will trust them to you because he loves you much. He will not put everybody into that office. Some of his people are very hard and stony of heart, and fitter to be tax-collectors than distributors of alms. They would make capital officers in an army, but not nurses in a hospital. If you love Jesus much you shall have many delicate offices to perform which shall be to you proofs of your Lord’s trust in you, and renewed tokens of his love.

John’s life was, moreover, one of extraordinary heavenliness. They call him John the Divine, and he was so. His eagle wings bore him aloft into the heavenly places, and there he beheld the glory of the Lord. Whether in Jerusalem or in Antioch, in Ephesus or in Patmos, his conversation was in heaven. The Lord’s Day found him in the spirit, waiting for him that cometh with clouds,-so waiting that he who is the Alpha and Omega hastened to reveal himself to him. It was the love of his Lord which had thus prepared him for visions of the glory. Had not that love so enkindled his own love as to hold him faithfully at the cross all through the agony, he might never have been able to gaze upon the throne. He had lovingly followed him who had been pointed out to him as the “Lamb of God,” and therefore he was made meet to see him as the Lamb in the midst of the throne, adored of angels and redeemed saints, whose harps and viols are engrossed with his praise. O that we, too, could be freed from the grossness of earth, and borne aloft into the purer atmosphere of spiritual and heavenly things.

We close by saying, very briefly, let us learn lessons for ourselves from that disciple whom Jesus loved. May the Holy Spirit speak them to our inmost hearts.

First, I speak to those of you who are still young. If you wish to be “the disciple whom Jesus loved” begin soon. I suppose that John was between twenty and twenty-five when he was converted; at any rate, he was quite a young man. All the representations of him which have been handed down to us, though I attach no great value to them, yet unite in the fact of his youth. Youthful piety has the most profitable opportunity of becoming eminent piety. If you begin soon to walk with Christ you will improve your pace, and the habit will grow upon you. He who is only made a Christian in the last few years of his life will scarcely reach to the first and highest degree, for lack of time, and from the hampering influence of old habits; but you who begin soon are planted in good soil, with a sunny aspect, and should come to maturity. Soldiers who enlist early under the banner of our David have hope of becoming veterans, and attaining to the first three.

Next, if we would be like John in being loved by Christ, let us give our heart’s best thoughts to spiritual things. Brethren and sisters, do not stop in the outward ordinance, but plunge into its inner sense. Never allow your soul, on the Lord’s Day for instance, to be thankful and happy merely because you have been to the place of worship. Ask yourself, “Did I worship? Did my soul commune with God?” In the use of the two ordinances of baptism and the supper, content not yourself with the shell, but seek to get at the kernel of their inner meaning. Rest not unless the Spirit of God himself dwell within you. Recollect that the letter killeth; it is the spirit that giveth life. The Lord Jesus Christ takes no delight in those who are fond of broad phylacteries, and multiplied sacraments, and holy performances, and superstitious observances. The Father seeketh those to worship him who worship him in spirit and in truth. Be spiritual, and you are among those who are likely to be men greatly beloved.

Next to that, cherish a holy warmth. Do not repress your emotions and freeze your souls. You know the class of brethren who are gifted with refrigerating power. When you shake hands with them, you would think that you had hold of a fish: a chill goes to your very soul. Hear them sing. No, you cannot hear them! Sit in the next pew, and you will never hear the gentle hiss or mutter which they call singing. Out in their shops they could be heard a quarter of a mile off, but if they pray in the meeting, you must strain your ears. They do all Christian service as if they were working by the day for a bad master and at scanty wages: when they get into the world they work by the piece as if for dear life. Such brethren cannot be affectionate. They never encourage a young man, for they are afraid that their weighty commendation might exalt him above measure. A little encouragement would help the struggling youth mightily, but they have none to offer. They calculate and reckon and move prudently; but anything like a brave trust in God they set down as rashness and folly. God grant us plenty of rashness, I say, for what men think imprudence is about the grandest thing under heaven. Enthusiasm is a feeling which these refrigerators do not indulge. Their chant is, “As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen;” but anything like a dash for Christ and a rush for souls they do not understand. Mark this, if you trace such brethren home, you will find that they have little joy themselves and make very little joy for others. They are never quite certain that they are saved, and if they are not sure of it we may readily guess that other people are not. They spend in anxious thought the strength which ought to have gone in hearty love. They were born at the north pole, and live amid perpetual frost: all the furs of Hudson’s Bay could not warm them. About them you see none of the rich tropical flowers which bedeck the heart upon which the Sun of Righteousness shines with perpendicular beams. These chilly mortals have never traversed the sunny regions of heavenly love where the spices of holy delight load all the air, and apples of gold are everywhere within the reach of glowing hearts. The Lord bring us there! Jesus Christ loves warm people; he never shines on an iceberg except to melt it. His own life is so full of love that its holy fire kindles the like flame in others, and thus he has fellowship with those whose hearts burn within them. The fitness for love is love. To enjoy the love of Jesus we must overflow with love. Pray for earnest, eager, intense affection. Lay your hearts among the coals of juniper till they melt and glow.

Dear brother, if you want to be the man that Jesus loves, cultivate strong affection and let your nature be tender and kind. The man who is habitually cross, and frequently angry, cannot walk with God. A man of a quick, hot temper who never tries to check it, or a man in whom there is a malicious remembrance of injuries, like a fire smouldering amidst the embers, cannot be the companion and friend of Jesus, whose spirit is of an opposite character. A pitiful, compassionate, unselfish, generous heart is that which our Lord approves. Forgive your fellow as if you never had anything to forgive. When brethren injure you, hope that they have made a mistake, or else feel that if they knew you better they would treat you worse. Be of such a mind towards them that you will neither give nor take offence. Be willing to lay down, not only your comfort, but even your life for the brethren. Live in the joy of others, even as saints do in heaven. Love others so as to forget your own sorrows. So shall you become a man greatly beloved.

Last of all, may the Spirit of God help you to rise to heavenliness. Do not be miserable money-grubbers, or sordid earth-worms; do not be pleasure hunters and novelty seekers, do not set your affection upon these childrens’ toys, which will be so soon broken up. Be ye no more children, but men of God. Oh to find your joy in Christ, your wealth in Christ, your honour in Christ, your everything in Christ-this is peace. To be in the world but not to be of it: to linger here as if you were an angel sent from heaven to dwell for a while among the sons of men, to tell them of heaven, and point them the way-this is to abide in Christ’s love. To be always ready to fly, to stand on tip-toe, waiting for the heavenward call, to expect to hear the trumpet ring out its clarion note, the trumpet of the coming of your Lord-this is to have fellowship with Christ. Sit loose, I pray you, by this world; get a tighter grip of the world to come-so shall Jesus’ love be shed abroad within you. Throw your anchor upward, into the placid sea of divine love, and not like the seamen, downward, into a troubled ocean. Anchor yourselves to the eternal throne, and never be divided even in thought from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. May it be my privilege and yours, brothers and sisters, to lean these heads of ours on Jesus’ bosom, till the day break and the shadows flee away. Amen and Amen.

Portion of Scripture read before Sermon-1 John 2.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book.”-810, 784, 798.