Study carefully the story of the enthusiastic Christian woman who poured the alabaster box of very precious ointment upon the head of our ever-blessed Lord and Saviour. Honoured as that action is by the universal church of God, it did not escape criticism among the religious people of her own day. The disciples censured her, but Christ defended her; and in the course of his vindication of her he said, “Why trouble ye the woman? for she hath wrought a good work upon me.” There is no reason for troubling gracious men and women; and specially no cause for so doing when their work is good, and is done for their Lord. Yet are there plenty of troublers around us to this day, and we could spare a few of them from our own immediate neighbourhood. They are only able to worry us so far as we think of them, and therefore we will let the wasps alone, and feed upon the honey which flowed from the lips of our Lord Jesus.

Observe that this woman had wrought a good work-good in intent, and good in itself. Her Lord said so, and his verdict ends all debate.

Observe specially that her good work was a good work upon the Lord Jesus. It was of no immediate benefit to anybody else, nor was it meant to be. “This ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor.” So Judas and the other disciples said. The five hundred pence which it would have produced might have been spent in bread, and so have fed many poor people; but she expended it on Jesus, and meant that it should all be used in his honour, and that only. Poor or no poor, she thought only of him. The ointment might have been used for certain purposes at festivals or otherwise, and so have been more or less beneficial to a number of persons; but on this occasion the benefit was to the Lord alone, and she meant it so to be. On this account the practical, philanthropical people called it “waste.” Is anything wasted which is all for Jesus? It might rather seem as if all would be wasted which was not given to him. This box of precious ointment was all for him. Other persons in the room might smell the sweet perfume, but that was not what the grateful woman aimed at; she intended all the sweetness for Jesus: it was a good work wrought upon him. The woman’s thought was that she would honour the Lord; her only intent was to show her reverence for him; and provided he should be pleased with her deed, she would be perfectly content, though no one else might be gratified. Her first and last thoughts were for the Lord Jesus himself.

We know from another evangelist that she broke the alabaster box. Was there need for that? Not in order that the ointment might be poured forth. She might, we should suppose, have opened the box in a less hasty manner; but the manner of a gift has frequently as much in it as the matter of a gift. She broke the box to display her eagerness, and to show that the choicest thing she had was not good enough for Jesus. She banished every notion of economy when she thought of her Lord. If she had possessed ten thousand times as much, she would have given it all to him, and have poured it out without stint. She did not count her offering a lavish expenditure: she would have made it lavish if it had been in her power. She would have no saving of pots and calculating of pennyworths when he was in the case: there should be no trace of niggard carefulness in her homage to her Lord. It was, therefore, as needful that she should break the box as that she should pour out the ointment; for she wanted to show that she loved her Saviour immeasurably; and she wished to express to him, as best she could, her intense veneration of him, and her ardent affection for him. Had some of us been there, we might have called it eccentricity, or fanaticism, or precipitancy, or waste; but she did not consider what onlookers might have to say: her only consideration was what Jesus might think. To please him was the height and range of her ambition. Happy woman, to have reached this gracious absorption!

The good work which she performed was, far beyond her own thought, a most appropriate one. Love is ever wise. Jesus was a King. He had ridden through the streets of Jerusalem in triumph. The multitude had strewn the branches in the way; they had saluted him with hosannas; they had done much by way of coronation; but they had not anointed him. Why this omission? She will anoint him if no one else will. Her hands shall bring out the perfumed nard, and pour the precious unguent upon the King of Israel. He was a priest, too, and, specially, a pardoning priest to her. She recognized his sacred priesthood; but the oil that fell on Aaron’s head had never, literally, fallen upon the head of Jesus, and therefore she must needs anoint him plenteously, till the oil not only ran to the skirts of his garment, but filled all the house where they were sitting. As King and as Priest, she will take care that he is not without a costly anointing. Moreover, it was customary to anoint pilgrims for their refreshment at the end of a long journey, when they came into the house. The host on this occasion had neglected this act of courtesy. It was most suitable that when this great Lord of pilgrims, whose path had been weary and woful, had, at length, nearly ended his years of travel in this thorny wilderness, he should receive refreshment from the woman’s hospitable hand. Weary and worn was he, and she would fain anoint him with the oil of gladness. Though others had rejected him, she anointed his head, and owned the wayworn traveller as the noblest guest earth ever entertained. In all this her good deed was fit and seasonable. Say you not so?

Our Lord said, and here I am free from all charge of following my fancy, and am sure to be correct, that there was another meaning more remarkable by far. Whether this woman, with some prophetic spirit resting upon her, saw further into our Lord’s words than his disciples did, we do not know; but Jesus declared that she did it for his burial-as it were, embalming him a little before the time for his closely-approaching sojourn in the tomb. There was a great appropriateness, then, in the act; and, we think, more appropriateness than she herself knew of at the time she did it; but it is ever so with loving hearts, reason does not guide them, but by a kind of holy instinct they hit upon the right thing. Where reason laboriously finds out wisdom, love discovers it at once. There are instincts of pure hearts that are more to be trusted than the conclusions of argumentative minds. The safest logic is often that of the heart, when at once it devises liberal things for Jesus. Mind you never set that logic aside. Here love devised the very deed that was required-the fittest action that could have been imagined under the sad circumstances so near at hand.

To come back to the point, however, which the woman was aiming at, she did all this, appropriate or not, to Jesus. It was a good work; but the point of it was that it was a good work wrought on him.

On this occasion I wish to speak of good works wrought on Jesus, and therefore I shall not be speaking to you all. Many of you are incapable of working a good work for Christ; for you are not saved yet. How can an evil tree bring forth good fruit? How can those who do not believe in Jesus do anything for him? It is not yet time for you to do anything for him. Your first business is that he should do everything for you. You must go to him as guilty sinners, and find mercy in him. I speak at this time only to those who have trusted in the Lord Jesus, and so have been set apart by him, and sanctified for ever by his one sacrifice. These, owing as they do, so much to their Lord, are those to whom I would speak now, and say, Render unto him good works that shall terminate in him, and shall be made to express your love to him.

Good works wrought upon Jesus, or solely in reference to him, are to be our subject. Very briefly we shall notice the feelings prompting this kind of service; secondly, we shall mention modes of such service; thirdly, we shall give counsels, or careful notes to be observed in such service; and then we shall conclude with a word by way of defence of service of this sort.

And, first, there are feelings which prompt true believers to do works as unto Christ. To bring forth these peculiar services, certain feelings move within the believer’s bosom.

The first, and the most powerful, probably, is gratitude. “We love him, because he first loved us.” He lived for us; he died for us; he rose for us; he pleads for us. We owe all to him. The natural impulse of the renewed heart is to say, “What can I do for him? I love his people, but I love him best. I love his ministers, but he is beyond them all. I love his cause in the earth; but I love himself better. While I owe much to his church and to his ministers, I owe most to him. I want to tell him how I love him; I want to show him, by some direct act done for him, that my heart adores him for all that he has done for me.” Beloved brethren and sisters, have you never felt in that way? I have often felt, even towards a kind earthly friend, that while I have been thankful for his gift, and for his help rendered, I have longed also to do something for the person helping me. When I have not known the person who helped me in my good work, I have wanted to know him; not from curiosity, but that I might say how grateful I felt to the bestower of such kindness. How often I have had my hand grasped by loving persons who have said, “I wanted to tell you that you led me to the Saviour!” They wanted to say it to me; and often have they written to me, and cheered my heart, because they felt a personal gratitude which wanted a personal expression. A poor woman once forced me with tears to receive a small sum of money for myself. I declined it till I saw that it would hurt her feelings, for she had evidently longed for this opportunity for expressing her thankfulness for the sermons she had read. If we feel thus towards an earthly friend, how much more shall we feel it towards him who has saved us by his blood! Do you not want to behold him, that you may tell him how you love him? Do you not feel prompted to devise some new method by which your love can manifest itself before the Beloved’s eyes, not in word only, but in deed and in truth.

Another feeling that will prompt us to the same course is that of deep veneration. One has admired the personal character of Jesus with a sacred admiration, thinking of him as the Son of man in perfection, and then as God over all, blessed for ever. We have first fallen at his feet in humble worship, and then, when we have risen, we have said to our altogether-lovely Lord, “Oh, that I could serve such a One as thou art! Show me what thou wouldst have me to do. Only do me the honour to allot me a service which I may render unto thee; for he is more than a king who is honoured to be the lowest menial in thy court. He who reigns over nations is not so happy as the man who is subject to thy rule. It is a delight to pay thee homage.” It is our heaven to think that we may be permitted to serve such a Christ, and to work a good work upon him.

Then, oftentimes, the feeling of sympathy will come in, and blend itself with veneration. Such sympathy is by no means to be condemned, but to be commended. I mean by sympathy this: have you not felt, when you have heard of our Redeemer’s sufferings and death, that he deserved a great reward for them? Have you not wished that you could put a crown upon his head for having so disinterestedly laid down his life for his enemies? We have sometimes sung in this house with all our hearts those words-

“Let him be crowned with majesty

Who bowed his head to death;

And be his honour sounded high

By all things that have breath.”

We have said in our hearts, How can we fitly honour this paragon of perfection, this mirror of unbounded love? Such a One as he is, having suffered so deeply, ought to be rewarded plenteously with the honour of all who can appreciate a great and noble deed.

That feeling of sympathy has been intensified when we have seen that, instead of honour, our Lord Jesus Christ receives coldness from the sons of men; nay, worse than that, is persecuted by their blasphemy, hounded by their hatred. Have you not felt, when you have heard his holy name blasphemed, as if you would blot that blasphemy out with your blood if you could? When you have seen his sacred day dishonoured, and the truths of the gospel denied, has not your soul burned within you? Have you not said, “What shall I do for this despised Saviour-maltreated by those whom he has blessed; and crucified afresh, and put to an open shame, even by these who profess to be his disciples? Traduced by those who call themselves his ministers? O Master, might I but do somewhat to wipe out these blots-to remove these slurs upon thy sacred name!” That feeling of sympathy with Jesus, working with veneration, backed with gratitude, will lead us to attempt brave deeds of love for him-for him personally, I mean.

In the midst of all this, as a central flame burning like the sun in the centre of the lesser lights, our affection for Jesus will make us long to serve him. We love our dear ones upon earth, but we love Jesus better than all of them put together. We love our brethren for Jesus’ sake, but he is the chief among ten thousand, and the altogether lovely. We could not live without him. To enjoy his company is bliss to us: for him to hide his face from us is our midnight of sorrow. In comparison with that, all other sorrows are but the shades of grief, but his departure would be the substance of distress. And, Master, when we have looked at thee, and seen the nail-prints, and beheld the scar in thy side; when we have beheld thee standing before thy Father’s throne still pleading for us, and revealing thine undying affection towards us, thy chosen, in thine intercession for us, we have said, “We must serve him. We must find out some way by which we may give him new honour.” Oh, that I had a crown to cast at his feet! Oh, that I could make new songs to be sung before him! Oh, that I could write fresh music for angelic harps! Oh, for the power to live, to die, to labour, to suffer as unto him, and unto him alone! You know better than I can tell you, many of you, what these aspirations are. I am merely traversing a road with which you are continually familiar. Let us keep company in thought; and may I beg that, on some sunny day, when my Lord gives me special work to do for him, you will be at my side with your gifts and efforts of love for his dear name?

I shall pass on, in the next place, to notice the modes in which this suggested service of good works done unto him may show itself. Holy Spirit, help me! We will begin, as it were, at the base of the pyramid, and go upward; and we may commence by saying that the entire life of the Christian ought to be, in many respects, a good work done unto Christ. Albeit that there must be in our life an eye to the good of our fellow-men, yet may we do it all unto the Lord. The same law which saith, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength,” adds, “and thy neighbour as thyself,” which proves that it does not necessarily take away any part of our love from God when we act in love to our fellow-men. The duties of life, though they are to be done with a view to our neighbour as God’s will requires, still ought, in the highest sense, to be performed mainly with an eye to the glory of Christ, and out of love to him. The servant is bidden to work, “as unto the Lord, and not unto men.” The master, also, ought to discharge his duties knowing that he has a Master in heaven; and the thought of that Master above should guide him in all he does. O Christian men and women, whatever your calling, discharge the duties of it with a view to glorifying him, whose name, as Christians, you bear! So let it be in every relation of life. Should not the child seek to honour Christ by being like the holy child Jesus? Should not the parent devote his child to Christ, earnestly praying that he may grow up in the fear of the Lord, and may serve the Lord? Every lawful relationship can be consecrated. In every condition of life we can glorify Jesus.

In all the moral obligations of life, Jesus should be before us. We should be honest, not only for our reputation’s sake, for that would be an unworthy motive, but for Christ’s sake. Would we have Christ’s disciples called “thieves”? We should be sternly upright, never by any means under suspicion of untruth or double-dealing, because we serve the Lord Christ, who is faithful and true. Of us more is expected than of others, since we serve a better Master than all others. God has done more for us; we have a clearer interest in the precious blood of Jesus, and therefore the common virtues of life ought to be exhibited in us to their fullest extent by the help of the Holy Spirit: so shall we do everything as unto the Lord Jesus.

Certain matters ordinarily overlooked in common life, the Christian must look to for Christ’s sake. For instance, that of forgiveness of injuries. Some will not forgive at all: this is fatal to all hope of salvation. Others will forgive, but not till after some considerable time of wrath: good delayed is evil indulged. But you Christian, you are to do a good work upon Christ by forgiving for his sake. He has forgiven you, and therefore you will forgive others freely, and continually. Your revenge is the noble vengeance of heaping coals of the fire of kindness upon your enemy’s head. You might have smitten him, but for Christ’s sake you bless him. No words of wrath shall defile your lips, for love commands silence within those gates of coral. You see Christ, as it were, covering your foe with his own merit, and you say, “For his sake I forgive you.” May your whole life, then, ordinarily, be lived as unto Jesus: and may special gems of forgiveness glisten in it!

Now go a step higher. That which is purely Christian work ought to be done also upon him, and for him. I mean by Christian work evangelical service which grows out of the plan of salvation. I refer to those things peculiar to Christians-such as spreading the gospel, teaching, instructing, consoling, almsgiving, and the like. All this should be done for Jesus more really than it often is. And that other part of Christian service, namely, endurance, the bearing of shame for Christ’s sake, the patient suffering of the will of God in providence-all this should be done for Christ most distinctly. I know there will be a second motive here, as in the former, and properly so. When I preach, I have an earnest desire to do good to my hearers: I ought to have such a desire. But yet, I desire to be moved by a higher motive than love to your souls: I desire that, by the stirring up of your minds, Christ may get glory; that you may be led to do something for him which will bring him honour, and please him. May you as saints be prospered, that the Lord of saints may be honoured! I look through you to Jesus. We ought to go to our Sunday-school class with the view of doing good to the children; yet above that object must rise the diviner object, namely, the honouring of Christ through those children. We seek the good of the children for Christ’s sake. Visit the sick, or preach in the street, or distribute your tracts; dear brethren and sisters, in doing these things you do well; but do not forget to perform these acts as unto the Lord, or else you will miss the flower and crown of your service. I am sure it will be sweeter to do your work, and easier to do it-at the same time, it will be better for your own souls, and you may more surely expect the divine blessing if you do all for Jesus’ sake.

And the same with the other branch of Christian service, namely, endurance: let us take up our cross because it is his cross, and we bear it after him. Oh, to lie still, and suffer without a murmur! Oh, to be silent under the shears, because our own blessed Lord was like a sheep before her shearers, and opened not his mouth! Oh, to be able to bear sarcasm, ridicule, misrepresentation, and even actual loss of this world’s goods, for the sake of Jesus, and to bear them meekly, and even joyfully, because it comes for his sake! To bear suffering for Jesus would be a novelty to some Christians; but to the true believer it is an exquisite delicacy. To suffer distinctly for Jesus is to work a work on his most blessed self. I place this on a higher range than the last set of duties which I mentioned; but still, we have not yet come to the purest form of good works wrought upon the person of our Lord Jesus.

We will go a step higher. There are works of the consecration of our substance. In these all Christians ought to abound. It is ours to give often, give largely, give even till we feel the pinch of giving. But we must take care that we truly give as to the Lord. When you give your money to the church of God to maintain the preaching of the gospel, or to assist missionary enterprise, or whatever else the church has in hand, you are doing a good work to others; you are helping on the gospel which has been a blessing to you, and will be a blessing to them. But, over and above that, your desire should be to do it as unto the Lord. In giving what we can of our substance it is sweet to lay it at his feet-not regarding it so much as going into the treasury of the church, as going into the hand of the crucified Saviour. We give for his sake who gave himself for us. We long that his kingdom may come, and that he may see of the travail of his soul.

The same should be true of what is bestowed upon the poor. When you noiselessly and quietly give to the poor, who need your help, you are doing it for Christ-if such, indeed, be your motive; and it ought always to be so. We are getting still nearer to the point when we give to the Lord’s poor because the poor saints are in living union with Jesus; they are a part of Christ’s body, and in giving to them, we are giving to Christ Jesus himself. When we feed, and clothe, and cherish poor aged believers because they belong to Christ, we are getting very near to that state of mind in which this good woman was when she wrought the good work upon Christ. I suppose the day will come in this age of novel reforms when we must not dare to help the poor and needy. We can hardly do so now without coming under the censure of the school of hard economists. I see notices in the windows requesting us by no means to give alms. I should like to put at the bottom of such placards the text of Scripture which commands us to give to him that asketh of us. Law or no law, I trust, when a Christian sees a case of necessity, he will not be held back by any motives of political economy, or any of the hard and fast teachings of the social scientists. But in your almsgivings see to it that, while ye do good unto all men, ye do it specially unto the household of faith.

“Oh,” cries one, “you may very soon be found helping a person that does not deserve it.” No doubt of it; but you had a great deal better do that than neglect those who should have your aid. If we give as unto the Lord, because he bids us do it, and for his sake, if any put our charity to an evil use, the sin will lie with them, and not with us. If in any cases applicants have deceived us, yet our act of charity is acceptable to God.

Never give for the sake of being thought generous; that spoils all: it is not giving, but buying a certain amount of respect at so much a pound. Never contribute to church-work, nor to the help of the poor, merely to gratify the instinct within you which finds it hard to say “No”; but do it because, if Christ asked you, you would give him anything, and you feel that when his poor have need you are bound to help them for his sake.

We will go a step higher, dear brethren. There are two great duties which the Lord has appointed for his people only, and these we should observe because they are appointed by him. I refer to the two commands regarding Baptism and the Supper of the Lord. In keeping these commandments there is a great reward to our own souls, but we ought to come as believers to be baptized out of love to Jesus. We ought not to ask, “What is the good of this?” We may not say, “Shall I get anything by it?” But we are to say simply this, “He bade me, and I will do it for the love I bear his name.” I feel shocked when I hear people say, “But it is not essential to salvation.” Thou mean and beggarly spirit! Wilt thou do nothing but what is essential to thine own salvation? A pharisee or a harlot might talk so. Is this thy love to Christ-that thou wilt not obey him, unless he shall pay thee for it? unless he shall make thy soul’s salvation depend upon it? Oh, if you love the Master, the least of his commandments will seem very precious in your sight, and you will feel that, because you love him, you obey him! If obedience to an ordinance should bring you no good whatever, if Jesus bade you, it is enough for you, whatever it may be. Indeed, it is all the sweeter to do the Lord’s bidding when no trace of personal gain can be found mingling with the motive.

So, too, when we approach the table of communion, we shall get a blessing there if we come aright; but I think we too often fail to remember that we should sit at the holy table with the sole view of honouring the Lord who in that festival is remembered. He says that we are to show his death until he come. It is to him that the feast is dedicated. To keep up the memory of his death, and to testify the fact to others, we eat of the bread and drink of the cup. We celebrate the sacred supper for our Lord’s sake; not because of church-rule, nor because it is the custom of the brotherhood so to do, nor even because it is a hallowed refreshment to our own hearts; but we commune at the sacred feast out of love to the Well-beloved.

But I will come to the point by saying, dear brothers and sisters, seek to do something for Jesus which shall even be above all this a secret sacrifice of pure love to Jesus. Do special and private work towards your Lord. Between you and your Lord let there be secret love-tokens. You will say to me, “What shall I do?” I decline to answer. I am not to be a judge for you; especially as to a private deed of love. The good woman in our text did not say to Peter, “What shall I give?” nor to John, “What shall I do?” but her heart was inventive. I will only say, that we might offer more private prayer for the Lord Jesus. “Prayer also shall be made for him continually.” Intercede for your neighbours; pray for yourselves; but could you not set apart a little time each day in which prayer should be all for Jesus. Could you not at such seasons cry with sacret pleadings, “Hallowed be thy name! Thy kingdom come! Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven?” Would it not be a sweet thing to feel at such a time-I shall now go up to my chamber, and give my Lord a few minutes of my heart’s warmest prayer, that he may see of the travail of his soul?

That is one thing which all saints can attend to. Another holy offering is adoration-the adoring of Jesus. Do we not too often forget this adoration in our assemblies, or thrust it into a corner? The best part of all our public engagements is the worship-the direct worship; and in this the first place should be given to the worship of the Lord Jesus. We sing at times to edify one another with psalms and hymns, but we should also sing simply and only to glorify Jesus. We are to do this in company; but should we not do it alone also? Ought we not all, if we can, to find a season in which we shall spend the time, not in seeking the good of our fellow-men, not in seeking our own good, but in adoring Jesus, blessing him, magnifying him, praising him, pouring forth our heart’s love towards him, and presenting our soul’s reverence and penitence. I suggest this to you: I cannot teach you how to do it. God’s Holy Spirit must show your hearts the way. But let me entreat you to believe that it will be no wasted thing if on him the good work of prayer and adoration shall begin, and on him it shall terminate. It will be a right thing and well done of you, if the Lord Jesus has for himself the choicest of your thoughts, emotions, words, and deeds. Oh, that all that we have could be laid at his feet! It would be no waste, but the proper use of all our good things.

But time fails me, and therefore I must, thirdly, and with extreme brevity, offer you a counsel or two about doing good works for Jesus. Take care that self never creeps in. It is to be all for Jesus: let not the foul fingers of self-seeking stain your work. Never do anything for Jesus out of love for popularity. Be always glad if your right hand does not know what your left hand does. Hide your works as much as possible from the praise of the most judicious friend. At the same time, let me also add, never have any fear of censure from those who know not your love to Jesus. This good woman did her work publicly, because it was the best way to honour her Lord; and if you can honour him by doing a good work in the market-place before all men, do not be afraid. To some, the temptation may be to court the public eye; to others, the temptation may be to dread it. Serve your Lord as if no eye beheld you; but do not blush though all the eyes in the universe should gaze upon you. Let not self, in either case, come in to defile the service.

Never congratulate yourself after you have wrought a work for Jesus. If you say unto yourself, “Well done!” you have sacrificed unto yourself. Always feel that if you had done all as it should be done, it would still be but your reasonable service.

Remember that deeds of self-sacrifice are most acceptable to Jesus. He loves his people’s gifts when they give, and feel that they have given. Oftentimes we are to measure what we do for him, not by what we have given, but by what we have left; and if we have much left we have not given as much as that widow who gave two mites-nay, for certain we have not, for she gave “all her living.”

Let us, above all, keep out of our heart the thought which is so common in this general life, that nothing is worth doing unless something practical comes out of it-meaning by “practical” some manifest result upon the morals or temporals of others. It is almost universal to ask the question, Cui bono?-“What is the good of it? What good will it do to me? What good will it do to my neighbour? To what purpose is this waste?” Nay, but if it will glorify Christ, do it; and accept that motive as the highest and most conclusive of reasons.

If a deed done for Christ should bring you into disesteem, and threaten to deprive you of usefulness, do it none the less. I count my own character, popularity, and usefulness to be as the small dust of the balance compared with fidelity to the Lord Jesus. It is the devil’s logic which says, “You see I cannot come out and avow the truth, because I have a sphere of usefulness which I hold by temporizing with what I fear may be false.” O sirs, what have we to do with consequences? Let the heavens fall, but let the good man be obedient to his Master, and loyal to his truth. O man of God, be just, and fear not! The consequences are with God, and not with thee. If thou hast done a good work unto Christ, though it should seem to thy poor bleared eyes as if great evil has come of it, yet hast thou done it, Christ has accepted it, and he will note it down, and in thy conscience he will smile thee his approval.

I will not detain you longer, but just close by saying, that there is a good defence for any kind of work which you may do unto Jesus, and unto Jesus only. However large the cost, nothing is wasted which is expended upon the Lord, for Jesus deserves it. What if it did no service to any other; did it please him? He has a right to it. Is nothing to be done for the Master of the feast? Are we to be so looking after the sheep as never to do honour to the Shepherd? Are the servants to be cared for, and may we do nothing for the Well-beloved Lord himself? I have sometimes felt in my soul the wish that I had none to serve but my Lord. When I have tried to do my best to serve God, and a cool-blooded critic has pulled my work to pieces, I have thought, “I did not do it for you! I would not have done it for you! I did it for my Lord. Your judgment is a small matter. You condemn my zeal for truth. You condemn what he commends.” Thus may you go about your service, my brother, and feel, “I do it for Christ, and I believe that Christ accepts my service, and I am well content.” Jesus deserves that there should be much done altogether for him. Do you doubt it? There is brought into the house, on his birthday, a present for father. That present is of no use to mother, or to the children; it cannot be eaten, it cannot be worn; father could not give it away to anybody, it is of no value to anybody but himself. Does anybody say, “What a pity it was to select such a gift, even though father is pleased”? No, everybody says, “That is just the thing we like to give to father, since he must keep it for himself. We meant it to be for him; we had no thought of any second; and we are glad that he must use our gift for his own pleasure.” So with regard to Jesus. Find out what will please him; and do it for him. Think of no one else in the matter. He deserves all you can do, and infinitely more.

Besides, you may depend upon it that any action which appears to you useless, if you do it prompted by love, has a place in Christ’s plan, and will be turned to high account. This anointing of our Lord’s head was said to be useless. “No,” said Jesus, “it falls in just in its proper place-she has done it for my burial.” There have been men who have done an heroic deed for Christ, and at the time they did it they might have asked, “How will this subserve my Lord’s purpose?” But somehow it was the very thing that was wanted. When Whitefield and Wesley turned out into the fields to preach, it was thought to be a fanatical innovation, and perhaps they, themselves, would not have ventured upon it if there had not been an absolute necessity; but by what seemed to that age a daring deed they set the example to all England, and open-air preaching has become an accepted agency of large value. If you, for Christ’s sake, become Quixotic, never mind; your folly may be the wisdom of ages to come.

Once again, the woman’s loving act was not wasted; for it has helped us all down to this very moment. There has it stood in the Book; and all who have read it, and are right in heart, have been fired by it to sacred consecration out of love to Jesus. That woman has been a preacher to nineteen centuries; the influence of that alabaster box is not exhausted to-day, and never will be. Whenever you meet a friend in Europe, Asia, Africa, or America, who has done anything unto our Lord Jesus, you still smell the perfume of the sacred spikenard. Her consecrated act is doing all of us good at this hour: it is filling this house with fragrance. If you are serving Christ in your own secret way in which you do not so much seek to benefit others as to honour him, it may be you will be an instructive example to saints in ages to come. Oh, that I could stir some hearts here to a personal consecration to Jesus, my Lord! Young men, we want missionaries to go abroad; are none of you ready to go? Young women, we want those who will look after the sick in the lowest haunts of London; will none of you consecrate yourselves to Jesus, the Saviour?

I shook hands, after the sermon this morning, with a good missionary of Christ from Western Africa. He had been there sixteen years. I believe that they reckon four years to be the average of a missionary’s life in that malarious region. He had buried twelve of his companions in the time. For twelve years he had scarcely seen the face of a white man. He was going to Africa to live a little while longer, perhaps, but he expected soon to die; and then he added (I thought sweetly) as I shook his hand, “Well, many of us may die: perhaps hundreds of us will do so; but Christ will win at the last! Africa will know and will fear our Lord Jesus; and what does it matter what becomes of us-our name, our reputation, our health, our life-if Jesus wins at the last?” What heroic words! What a missionary spirit! Live in that spirit, dear brethren and sisters, and in that spirit come now to the communion-table! Amen.

Portion of Scripture read before Sermon-Matthew 26:1-16.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-803, 660, 663.

LOVE’S COMPETITION

A Sermon

Intended for Reading on Lord’s-day, February 2nd, 1890, delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, Thou hast rightly judged.”-Luke 7:42, 43.

I remember seeing, somewhere or other, as a sign upon an inn, the words “The First and Last.” I do not know what that may happen to be among men, but I know that love is God’s first and last. It is there that he begins with us in mercy-“We love him, because he first loved us.” His love at the first springs up like a fountain in the midst of a desert, and freely flows along the wilderness to the unworthy sons of men. In the end, the result of that love is that men love him: they cannot help it any more than the rock can prevent the echo when the voice falls upon it. Love is not a creature of law: it comes not on demand, it must be free or not at all. It has its reasons why it springs up in our hearts; but it is not a mercenary thing which can be procured at such and such a price. It is not a matter of argument: it is not to itself an act performed as a matter of duty. Love is a duty certainly, but it does not come to us that way: it comes to us like a roe or a young hart, over every mountain and hill, leaping and bounding; it comes not as a heavy burden dragged along an iron way. If a man should give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned.

Men do not make themselves love by a course of calculation; but they are overtaken with it, and carried away by its power. When godly men consider and enjoy the great love of God to them, they begin to love God in return; just as the bud, when it feels the sunshine, opens to it of its own accord. Love to God is a sort of natural consequence which follows from a sight and sense of the love of God to us. I think it is Aristotle who says that it is impossible for a person to know that he is loved without feeling some degree of love in return. I do not know how that may be, for I am no philosopher; but I am sure that it is so with those who taste of the love of God. As love is the first blessing coming from God to us, so it is the last return from us to God: he comes to us loving, we go home to him loving.

I intend to keep to my text, and handle it red hot, by first noticing that it is taken for granted that pardoned sinners will love. “Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?” It is implied that the two debtors who had been frankly forgiven would both love their benefactor. The question was not “Which of them will love him?” but “Which of them will love him most?” So, then, I say, it is taken for granted in the text that those who are pardoned will love him who has so freely pardoned them.

And this, first, because it seems most natural that where kindness is received gratitude should be felt. This is so generally admitted that gratitude is found among the lowest and worst of mankind. “If ye love them which love you, what thank have ye? for sinners also love those that love them.” It is man-like to return good for good, and ingratitude is looked upon most rightly as one of the basest of the vices. Why, we find gratitude not only in men and women-intelligent creatures-but we find it in the very beasts of the field! “The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib.” How a dog that has received benefits from you will be attached to you, and by every possible means will endeavour to show his affection! The ancients had many rare stories of the gratitude of wild beasts. You remember that of Androcles and the lion. The man was condemned to be torn to pieces by beasts; but a lion, to which he was cast, instead of devouring him, licked his feet, because at some former time Androcles had extracted a thorn from the grateful creature’s foot. We have heard of an eagle that so loved a boy with whom he had played that, when the child was sick, the eagle sickened too; and when the child slept, this wild, strange bird of the air would sleep, but only then; for when the child awoke, the eagle awoke. When the child died, the bird died too. You remember that there is a picture in which Napoleon is represented as riding over the battlefield, and he stops his horse, as he sees a slain man with his favourite dog lying upon his bosom doing what he can to defend his poor dead master. Even the great man-slayer paused at such a sight. There is gratitude among the beasts of the field, and the fowls of the air. And, surely, if we receive favours from God, and do not feel love to him in return, we are worse than brute beasts; and so the Lord, in that pathetic verse in Isaiah, pleads against us, “The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master’s crib: but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider.” If we receive favours from God, it is but natural that we should love him in return. Alas, that many should be so unnatural, so false to every noble instinct, so dead to the gratitude which goodness deserves!

But gratitude should surely arise when the benefit is surpassingly great. When favours are far above the common run of blessings-when these favours are not such as are confined to time and to the body, but when they reach to eternity and bless the soul; when favours are of such weight as the forgiveness of sin, the salvation of the soul from wrath to come; surely here love must spring up with the greatest force and freedom. I would stand and sing to the fountain of the heart as Israel did in the wilderness, “Spring up, O well; sing ye unto it: The princes digged the well.” And has not our great Prince, who has been smitten upon the cheek, digged this well by giving us, through his free grace and dying love, to taste of full remission and of complete pardon of our guilt? Shall we not, must we not, love the Redeemer in return? To have sin forgiven and not to love God! I call common ingratitude worse than brutish; but in this case where shall I go for a word? I must call it devilish. It were worse than infernal to receive a deliverance from guilt so great, and from punishment so justly terrible, and not to love the Lord, through whom it is given to us. Oh, love the Lord, whose mercy endureth for ever! If, indeed, you have tasted of that mercy, you must love him. It cannot be otherwise-you are bound to God by bonds of love, and these draw you, by a secret but irresistible force, to love the Lord in return.

And moreover, not only is this natural and necessary, because of the greatness of the mercy, but the grace of God always takes care that wherever pardon is given love shall be ensured; for the Holy Spirit co-operates with the work of Christ, and if we are cleansed from the stain of our former evil through the blood of Christ, we are renewed and changed in the spirit of our minds by the Holy Spirit. He does not take away our sin, and then leave us that old heart of stone, insensible, ungrateful; but as he gives us a garment of righteousness he gives us a heart of flesh. The Spirit works in us a degree of love at the same time that he creates the first look of faith. Anon our faith increases by which we received remission, and then he works in us more and more that love to Christ by which we cling to him. This love works in us hatred of sin and a spirit of obedience, whereby we yield ourselves up to the service of him who has bought us with his precious blood. You know that it is so, brethren. Where pardon comes, delight in God comes with it. You know that God does not divide his gifts, and give justification to one and sanctification to another; but the covenant is one, and the blessings of the covenant are threaded on the one string of infinite wisdom, so that when there comes the washing in the blood, there comes also a cleansing with water by the Word. The Holy Spirit washes us from the power of sin, as the blood of Christ cleanses us from the guilt of sin. Where sin is forgiven, there must be love to the God who forgave it, because the Spirit of God makes sure work upon the heart of the believer, and one of his first works is love.

I need not argue this further, because all Christians know this as a matter of fact-where there is no love there is no pardon. You cannot be pardoned, and not love God as a result of his loving forgiveness. What was the very first emotion that you and I felt when we had a sense of guilt removed? We felt joy for our own sake; but immediately after, or at the same instant, we felt such intense gratitude to God that we loved him beyond all expression. We have sometimes been half afraid that we do not love God so much now as we did at that moment, though I trust that the fear is groundless. But at that moment there was nothing too hot or too heavy for us to have attempted on behalf of him who had taken the burden from off our shoulder. We would have said at that moment, “Here am I; send me,” if it had been to prison, or to death. Oh, the joy of those first days! They are rightly called the days of our espousals. And what love we had then! We were willing to leave all for Christ’s sake. We snapped fond connections at his command. Truly, like Israel of old, we would have gone after our God into the wilderness-ay, after our Saviour into the grave. Nothing could have kept us back, or have caused us to wander from him then. Do you not remember how you used to long for Sabbath-days, to hear of Jesus, and praise his name with his people? If there was a week-night service, you were always there, though no one persuaded you to go. Then, any corner in the meeting-house was good enough for you. Now, perhaps, you want a very soft cushion to sit upon. You sat then in a straight-backed pew, and did not know it. Now, you want very tender dealing; and the preacher must mind that he interests you by illustrations and poetical allusions; but then the gospel itself interested you; and however dull the preacher might have been, you were so willing to hear about Jesus, and to know of his love, that there you were, eager to hear the humblest evangelist. Wisdom did not need to press you into her house, for you were earnestly waiting at the posts of her doors, glad to hear even the footfalls of those who came in and out. Oh, those were brave days! I hope that we have braver days now; but, for certain, as sure as we knew our pardon, we felt that we loved the Lord with all our hearts.

Now I want to make a little practical use of this inference from the text. That pardoned souls love their pardoning God is a great truth, and a very solemn one in its bearings upon us at this time, for there are persons in this house of prayer who were never forgiven; and we are sure of that unhappy fact, since they do not love God. Their sins must be still upon them, because they have not the token of pardon, inasmuch as they have no love to Jesus Christ our Lord.

Oh, listen to me, ye that do not love God, and yet, perhaps, dream that you are saved! Are there not some here that seldom think of God, who do not care if a day, a week, a month, a year, should pass over their heads, and yet they have no thought of the Almighty Judge of all the earth? They receive his mercies; but they do not thank him. They feel his power; but they do not fear him. “God is not in all their thoughts.” O my hearer, if this be your case, you do not love him; for if we love any person, we are sure to think of him. Thoughts fly that way in which the heart moves. I do not say that we are always thinking of those we love; but I do say that our thoughts will fly that way when they can. You know at sunset where the crows live. Perhaps all day long you are unable to tell; for they may fly from one ploughed field to another to find their meat. But watch when night comes on, and when they are free from other obligations, and wish to find rest; they fly straight to those tall trees whereon they have built their nests. A man may, in the busy time of the day, think about fifty things; but let him be free from pressing labour and care, and he returns to his love as birds fly to their nests at night. His thought flies to Jesus, because Jesus is the home of his heart. If your hearts love God, your thoughts will run to him as the rivers run to the sea. Yea, and often in the very middle of business, the man who loves his God will be speaking with him. He may not interrupt the conversation, and those in the shop may not know what is on his mind; but his heart will be up above the mountains, where the angels dwell, communing with the great Father of lights. But where there is no thought of God, there is no love to him.

Are there not many who never do anything for God? He has made them, and he preserves them, and yet they never make him any return by way of willing action designed to give him pleasure. I may put it to some of you-did you ever do anything distinctly for God in all your lives? What! Not so much as once? Ah, me! a man so curiously made by the divine finger, displaying infinite skill in every blood-vessel, and nerve, and muscle, that are necessary for his life and motion, and yet he has never thought of the Great One who has set all this machinery in motion, and keeps it in action! To live only by God, and yet to live without him! Strange! Can there exist a man who never does anything for his God, who is constantly doing so much for him? If so, I would say to such a one-You have never been pardoned; for you do not love God, since you never think of him, and you do nothing for him.

Some men evidently do not love God, for they have no care about anything that concerns him. They do not refrain from sin because sin would grieve God. The idea of grieving God, perhaps, has not crossed their minds; so they vex the Holy Spirit most thoughtlessly. But, ah! if you love anyone, you will not like to cause him grief: you will not do the evil thing which he hates. He that loves God will often have a check put upon him, and feel that he cannot do this great wickedness, and sin against God. To sin against God is the greatest of sin, and the essence of sin. The venom of sin lies there. This makes sin so exceeding sinful, that it is against the God of love. But if you never felt that, then you do not love him; and, for certain, you are not forgiven.

Look at others: they do not love God, for they do not care for his house where his people meet. They seldom come to the meeting for worship; and if they come, it is from some other motive than to meet with God. They do not care for his day. Sundays are very dreary in London, so they say. There is nothing to interest them, for they have no interest in the great Father, or his incarnate Son; they have no care to hear of him, or to praise him, or to pray to him. They do not care for his Book, though it is a world of delights and comforts. The Bible is perfumed with the love of God, but they perceive not its fragrance. The Saviour’s face is to be seen reflected in almost every page, and yet some think that the Bible is more dull than an old almanack; and, though they must keep it in their house-for it is respectable to have a copy of it-yet to read it, and to read it with pleasure-why, that has never happened to them; nor is there any likelihood that it ever will unless they get made anew.

Nor do they care for God’s people. In fact, they like a quiet joke against Christian people; and sometimes, if they can see faults in them-and, oh, how readily they may!-they report those faults with considerable exaggerations, and feel pleased to eat up the faults of God’s people as they eat bread! Want of love to the children argues want of love to their Father. “He that loveth him that begat loveth him also that is begotten of him;” and we know that we love God when we love his children. But if in your heart there is no such love to his children, to his Book, to his day, to his house, or to his service, you may rest quite certain, my friend, that your guilt clings to you still. You are unpardoned, and God will require that which is past, and call you to account. For every secret thing he will bring you into judgment, and for every idle word that you have spoken he will take reckoning of you. Ah! how sad it is that when I am longing to speak joyously about the love that arises out of pardoned sin, I am compelled, for pity’s sake, to turn aside to give a warning to many who, having no love to God, prove by that fact that they have never been forgiven!

So I leave the first point. It is supposed in the text, and taken for granted, that all pardoned sinners will love him who has pardoned them.

But now, secondly, it is suggested in the text, that there are differences of degree in the matter of love to God. “Tell me which of them will love him most.” These words evidently show that some persons love God more than others, and that, albeit there must be a sincere love to God in all pardoned sinners, yet there is not the same degree of love. Love is evidently a grace which is not stereotyped, and cast in a mould, so as to be the same in every case, and at every time. Love is a thing of life: it is, therefore, a thing of growth. It is certainly so in our own selves. There was a time when we did not love God so much as we do now; and I grieve to say that there are even now times when we do not love God so much as we once did, for we grow cold and backsliding. Love is not like a piece of cast iron, fixed and set; but it grows, and has its times of budding, flowering, and leaf-shedding. It is like a fire; at one time it may burn low, and at another time it may be blown up to a very vehement heat. Love rises and falls: I speak not of God’s love to us; but of our love to God. It has its ups and downs, its summers and its winters, its flood-tides and its ebbs; and if we find a change in love, in the same heart, we are not at all astonished that it should differ in different hearts.

Besides, we know that there are differences in love, because there are differences in all the other graces. Faith-some men have much faith. God be thanked that there are men of strong faith still on the face of the earth! But there are others who have a faith which, though a true faith, is a very weak one. It is a trembling faith. It cannot walk the waves with Peter, but it can sink with him, and it can cry out for deliverance. Faith, in some Christians, seems to be a very feeble affair. As I said the other day, they hardly know whether it is faith or unbelief. Their cry is, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief,” as if they had made a mistake in calling it faith at all, for it was so mixed with unbelief. It is not always such an infant grace, for there are strong believers, who have turned to flight the armies of the aliens-men who have borne their cross without impatience, and their testimony without cowardice: men who have conquered sin, and lived in holiness, and brought glory to God. Faith, like a ladder, has its lower and its higher rounds. Faith has its dawning, its noon, its shade. We are sure that it is so, for we have observed it in ourselves, and seen it in others. We have seen it great, and we have seen it little.

The practical point I would reach is just this. Let us look, first of all, to our love in its sincerity. What if my love may not be compared with yours as to degree? Yet the Lord grant that I may truly love him. Peter could not say that he loved Christ more than others, but he did say, “Thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.” A little pearl is a pearl as much as a great one, though every one of us would sooner have the greater pearl. There is the Queen’s image on a fourpenny piece as certainly as there is upon the sovereign: though we would all prefer the golden coin. There is the image of God on all his people’s faith and love, whether great or little. The main thing with the coin is to be sure that it is genuine metal. So, if love be real love, that is the main point. Do you love the Lord with all your heart? If so, strive to have more love, but do not fling away what you have, for you would thus despise what the Spirit of God has wrought in you.

Endeavour also, dear friends, to have growing love. Do not be satisfied to be to-day what you were twelve months ago. I am afraid that some Christians do not grow much. I am very glad when I see them grow downward, when they are rooted in humility, when they have truer views of themselves than they ever yet had, and a deeper sense of their indebtedness to God. That is good growth. Try to have, however, a love that grows, so that you may more forcibly love Jesus Christ than you did in days that are past. Do say to yourself, “Well, if I have ever so little love, it shall be practical love, I will show it. I will be doing something for my Lord.” The woman, by whose means this parable was called forth, loved Christ so that she brought her alabaster box of ointment, and anointed his feet, and washed them with tears, and wiped them with the hair of her head. And one of the best ways to make love grow is to use all the love you have. Is it not so with merchants and their money? If they want to increase their capital, they trade with it. If you want to increase your love to Jesus, use it. Do not merely talk about it, but actually serve him under its sweet constraint. It is a very poor Christianity that consists in sitting still and dreaming, and never attempting any practical service for Jesus, our Lord. He that thinks that he will quietly enjoy religion all alone, will soon find that he has very little of it to enjoy; for doubts and fears will breed in swarms in a stagnant atmosphere. Where there is none of the blessed wind of activity, there will soon be mists and damps-perhaps foul gas and fevers.

And if you have but little love at present, cry to God to give you an intenser love; and, though I have said that to use your love is a good way to increase it, yet there is something still better, and that is, to know more, and feel more of the love of Christ to you. If you take exercise, you will increase your sense of warmth; but it will be a far surer thing if you get where the sun shines with equatorial heat: so other means are good, but to get near to Jesus is best of all. In proportion as you live close to the glorious central sun of the love of Christ, you will yourself be warm. I was about to compare the heart of my Lord to a volcanic mountain constantly streaming with the burning lava of love. Oh, that my soul could but get that fire-stream poured into it to set the whole of my nature on fire, and consume me in the flame-torrent of love!

You see that it is suggested in the text that there are differences in the degrees of love; and there let us leave it, for we must come to the third point.

Thirdly, the text puts to us a question, “Who will love him most?”

I want to introduce the question to you by saying that it is a very interesting one. After what the Lord has done for us, one takes pleasure in thinking what will come of it. One likes to think of the farmer’s harvest. After all that ploughing and sowing, what will come of it? It is interesting to begin to calculate the crop, and to anticipate the shouts of harvest-home. Now, what will come of infinite love, the supreme act of God’s heart to men? What will come out of the gift of his Only-begotten Son, and the putting away of sin through the death of Jesus? What will men do for God after this? How much will they love him? It is an interesting question. What have you to say upon it?

And it is a personal question, which the Lord puts to each one of us. You know he put it to Simon. “Tell me,” said he, “which of them will love him most?” And he puts it to us to consider it, to turn it over, and to give our own verdict; because there may be some blunder in our heart which this question is meant to set right; and the thoughts which the enquiry will cause in the spirit are meant to correct our judgments. Therefore do not put it aside, but try now to answer it as the Lord puts it.

It is a practical question-“Which of them will love him most?”-for everything in conduct depends upon love. Where there is much love, there is sure to be much service in proportion to the strength. Give us a church that loves Christ Jesus much. You will have mighty prayer-meetings; you will have a holy membership; you will have liberal giving to the cause of Christ; you will have hearty praising of his name; you will have careful walking before the world; you will have earnest endeavours for the conversion of sinners. Missions at home and abroad will be set on foot when love is fervent. When the heart is right, everything is likely to be right; but when the heart goes wrong, oh, what a fatal thing it is! A disease of the heart is looked upon as the worst of mischiefs that can happen to a man. One old doctor of my acquaintance used to say, “We can do nothing with the heart.” God keep us from a diseased heart: a fatty degeneration of the heart, or an ossification of the heart towards the Lord Jesus Christ!

The question asked in the text is, however, a somewhat limited one. It is this. The question is not, who in all the world will love Christ most?-but who out of two persons, in whom there is no particular difference of character, but only this one difference-that the one owes five hundred pence, and the other fifty-which out of these two will love Christ most? We will suppose that they are equally tender of heart, and equally regenerate; and that they do know, each of them, certainly, that his debt has been discharged. The only difference between them is that one has been a grosser sinner than the other; and the question asked is, “Which of those two will love the Saviour most?”

It is a very simple question, too, not at all hard to answer; for even this Simon, the Pharisee, who, like the rest of the Pharisees, was very badly instructed, yet, nevertheless, could see his way to answer the question correctly. So he answered, “I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most;” and the Lord replied, “Thou hast rightly judged.” Thus I have set before you the question.

And so, lastly, it is expected that we give a reply; and I do wish for myself-and therefore wish the same for you-that each one of us may say, “I am the man that ought to love the Lord Jesus most; and by his grace I will surely do so.”

The most indebted should love most. Have we not here many five-hundred-pence debtors? Some of my dear brethren here present were among outward sinners the very chief-men who could drink, and swear, and lie, ringleaders in everything that was evil. Blessed be God that such have been here led to Jesus! We heard the other night a dear brother tell us of what he used to be. With modesty and shamefacedness he mentioned how great his sin had been; but his sin was put away; he was pardoned, and he knew it, and rejoiced in it. Such a man must say, “I will love him most.” Where there has been overt sin, palpable, undeniable-where the outward character has been defiled and stained with it, forgiveness involves us in deep obligation to grateful love. You may stand in the front rank, and love Jesus most.

But I am not going to let you rise to that eminence of obligation, or rather sink to that depth of indebtedness without having a struggle for it myself. Some of us take that place of eminent obligation on another ground, and yet it is the same ground; for while some of us never were openly profane, or drunken, or immoral, we have to confess the equal greatness of our sin on account of our offending against light and knowledge, against early convictions, against a holy training, against a tender conscience, against singular favours received from God; and therefore with shame we begin to take the lowest room, acknowledging that to us belongs the greatest debt of grateful praise to God. When I was preaching once I said-and I meant it-that I should be the deepest debtor to divine grace that ever entered the gates of glory, and I ventured to say-

“Then loudest of the crowd I’ll sing,

While heaven’s resounding mansions ring,

With shouts of sovereign grace.”

It was in a country place, and as I came down the pulpit stairs many clustered about me to shake hands, and one old lady said to me, “You made one great blunder in your sermon.” I said, “My dear soul, I dare say I made a score. I am a great blunderer.” “No,” said she, “but you said that you would sing the loudest when you get to heaven; but you shall not, for I owe more to divine grace than you possibly can do. I was once a great sinner, and I have had much forgiven, and therefore I shall praise God more than you.” I did not yield the point, but I held my tongue. I could let her be first, and yet take the same place myself. As I went down the aisle many friends declared that they would not give way to me in that point, and that they ought to praise God more than I, for they owed him more. It was a happy controversy. It reminded me of Ralph Erskine’s Contention among the Birds of Paradise, where he represents the saints in glory, each saying that he shall lie the lowest, and shall praise the most sweetly the infinite love of God. I think that there are grounds upon which some here, who have been kept from everything which is outwardly evil, may, nevertheless, feel that inwardly they are five hundred pence debtors; and so, when the question is asked, “Which will love him most?” they will say, “Why, I! I was not so honest as some of those wicked fellows, I did not dare to say all they said, nor to be openly vile as they were; but I was quite as bad at heart, and if I dare have had my full swing, I should have been as base as they were.”

But I do not think that the spirit of the parable is exhausted by either of these cases. I think it includes more. There are some who evidently have not had more forgiven than others as to outward sin; on the contrary, they have been prudently brought up from their childhood, and yet for many a year they have been foremost in service, and have been special lovers of the Lord. Though by no means great offenders in their unconverted state, they are certainly great saints now; intense in their service, consistent in their character, fervent in their love. How is it that some who shout that they have been snatched from the burning, and according to their own statement were the very chief of sinners, and make a great trumpet-blowing over their own conversion, yet do not love the Lord Jesus one half so much as these dear, quiet souls who never went into open sin? I take it, the reason is this. Our estimate of sin is, after all, the thing which will create and inflame our love; for if a man thinks sin to be exceeding sinful, and feels it to be so, he has a deeper sense of his indebtedness than the man who may have committed grosser vices, but has never seen them in their real blackness, as they appear in the light of God’s countenance. Too many believers know little of what it is to be amazed and astounded at the heinousness of their transgressions. Why, time was with me-and is now-when, if I had inadvertently spoken a word that was not exactly true, it cost me more pain to think of what was only a hasty error than it has cost many men to repent of their cursing and swearing. I am sorry to say it, but I believe that some make a glory of their shame, and dare to brag of what they used to be. They stand up and make confession without a tear in their eye, or a blush on their cheek. Such testimony ought never to be heard, for it is a positive creator of evil in the minds of those that hear it. I am sorry to have to say it; but I know that it is so. Testimonies are published which are provocatives to vice, and rather tend to make men immoral than to make them turn to God. In certain circles he is treated as a hero who can prove that he has been a great rascal. It was not thus that the prodigal was received by his father: he never hung up his old rags as a trophy. O brethren, when we talk about what we were, we had better veil our faces. Our former follies are things to be confessed to God in secret; and if they must be spoken in public, to the praise of divine grace, there must be a careful avoidance of anything like boasting, for it is a shame even to speak of the things that were done of them in secret. When there is really a deep sense of sin, there is a holy, delicate way of speaking of it. Old sins are not to be talked of as an old soldier shoulders his crutch, and shows how fields were won. A crimson blush is the best colour to wear when we speak of our lost estate. To talk smilingly of injuries done to the delicacy of our own conscience, of awful injuries done to others by a foul example, is not to glorify God, but to enthrone vice.

And, dear friends, I believe that some, whom God has preserved by preventing grace from going into great sin, will, nevertheless, love him most because they have a clearer view than others of what it cost in order that they might be pardoned. Happy are they who remember well the griefs of our Lord in the garden of Gethsemane

“There’s ne’er a gift his hand bestows

But cost his heart a groan.”

Oh, if your heart dwells on Calvary, where falls the crimson shower of Christ’s most precious blood-if you gaze intently upon the wounds of Jesus till you die into the death of the Crucified, then do you love much. It is well to have the soul torn with anguish because

“It cost him cries and tears

To bring us near to God:

Great was our debt, and he appears

To make the payment good.”

For, in proportion as you estimate the sacrifice, you will love him whose own self was the sacrifice for sin. Brethren, I hope you all love Christ Jesus more than I do; for I would have him possess the highest love of every human heart: and yet I will not be willingly excelled by any one of you in a competition of love to Jesus. I will run my very best that no man take my crown.

But supposing, dear friends, any of you do love him most, then show it, just as that woman did who brought the alabaster box of precious ointment. If you love him most, do most. Do everything that is possible to humanity, quickened by the Spirit of God. If you have done much, do ten times more. Never talk of what you have done, but go on to something else. An officer rode up to his general, and said, “Sir, we have taken two guns from the enemy.” “It is well,” said the general, “Take two more.”

If you have most love to Christ, do most spiritual good to men. Yet do somewhat distinctly for Jesus. It is a blessed token for good when our work among men is not so much for the sake of sinners as for love of Jesus. When we love the brethren, it should be because they belong to Christ. It is sweet to serve the Lord Christ himself. See how the holy woman offered homage distinctly to her Lord: tears for his travel-stains, hair to wipe his feet, ointment to anoint his flesh Do your choicest and best for Jesus, for Jesus personally.

Try to do it most humbly. Stand behind him. Do not ask anybody to look at you. Do it very quietly. Do it, feeling that it is a great honour to be permitted to do the least service for Jesus. Do not dream of saying, “I am somebody. I am doing great things. I do more even than Simon, the Pharisee. Come see my zeal for the Lord of hosts.” Jehu talked in that fashion; but he was good for nothing. Do your personal part without seeking to be seen of men.

Do it self-sacrificingly. Bring your best ointment. Pinch yourself for Christ. Make sacrifices-go without this and that to have something wherewith you can do him honour.

Do it very penitently. When you serve him best, still let the tears fall on his feet, mingling with the costly ointment. The tears and the ointment go well together. Mourn your guilt, while you rejoice in his grace.

Do it continuously. “This woman,” said Christ, “since I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet.” Do not leave off loving him and serving him. Do it on, and on, and on, however much the flesh may ask for respite from service.

Do it enthusiastically. See how she kissed his feet; nothing less than this would express her love. Stoop down, and kiss and kiss again those blessed feet which travelled so far in love for you. Throw your whole soul into your deed of love. “Why,” they will say, “Mrs. So-and-so is enthusiastic. She is quite carried away by her zeal.” Let it be true, more and more. Never mind what the cold-hearted think, for they cannot understand you. They will say, “Ah! that young person is too fast by half.” Never mind. Be faster still. Wise people cry out, “He has too many irons in the fire.” But I say to you, blow up the fire; get all the irons red hot; and hammer away with all your might. With all your strength and energy plunge into the service of your Master. If you love your Master, you can best show your love by ardent service. The Lord bless you with the utmost degree of love, for Jesus Christ’s sake! Amen.

Portion of Scripture read before Sermon-Psalm 18.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-810, 814, 797.