Our Saviour, before he was nailed to the cross, and on the cross, several times had drinks of different sorts offered to him. Whilst they were nailing him to the cross, they endeavoured to make him drink wine, or vinegar as it is called, mingled with gall; and when he had tasted of it,-he did taste it,-he would not drink it. When he was on the cross, the soldiers, mocking him, offered him vinegar, or their weak drink of which they ordinarily partook, pledging him in their cups with scorn. And once more, when he said, “I thirst,” they took a sponge filled with vinegar, dipped it in hyssop, and put it to his lips.

This occasion of offering the wine mingled with myrrh is, I believe, different from all the rest. This wine mingled with myrrh was given to him as an act of mercy. Matthew Henry seems to think that it was prepared by those holy women who were wont to attend to the necessities of our Lord. They had followed him in all his footsteps whithersoever he went; it was by their bounty that the bag which Judas kept was generally as full as it was required to be, so that out of the store they could go and buy meat for their Master and for his disciples. It was these holy women who prepared the spices to embalm him at his burial; and Matthew Henry thinks that these women, prompted by their compassion for him, got ready this cup of wine mingled with myrrh, that he might be strengthened for his miseries, and that those miseries might in some degree be alleviated by the partial stupefaction which a strong draught o£ wine and myrrh would give to him.

This time, our Saviour positively declined the cup: “he received it not.” The wormwood he tasted, but this he received not at all; he would have nothing to do with it. Why? The answer is not to be found in our Saviour’s abstemiousness, for he was not abstemious; he was never self-indulgent, but he certainly was never abstemious. He was “the Son of man” who “came eating and drinking;” he felt no repugnance to wine; he himself made it, he himself drank it; he even earned for himself the name, “a gluttonous man and a winebibber”; not deservedly, but because, in contrast to John, who abstemiously refrained from ordinary food, Jesus Christ sat down with publicans and sinners, feasted with the feasters, and ate and drank like other men. Nor do I think the reason is to be found in any love of pain that Christ had, nor in any heartless bravado, which would lead him to say, “I will suffer, and I will put the cup away from me.” Far be that from Christ; he never thrust himself in the way of suffering when it was unnecessary; he did not go to give himself up into the hands of his enemies before his hour was come; he avoided persecution when the avoidance of the persecution would not be an injury to his cause; he withdrew out of Judæa, and would not walk in that land, because of Herod, who sought to slay him. I believe that, if our Saviour had not been the atoning sacrifice, if his sufferings had been merely those of a martyr, he would have quaffed to the very dregs the cup that was offered him, and would not have left any of it. The reason why he refused the cup, I think, is to be found in another thing altogether.

There is a glorious idea couched in the fact that the Saviour put the myrrhed wine-cup entirely away from his lips. On the heights of heaven the Son of God stood of old, and he looked down and measured how far it was to the utmost depths of misery; he cast up the sum total of all the agonies which a man must endure to descend to the utmost depths of pain and misery. He determined that, to be a faithful High Priest, and also to be a suffering one, he would go the whole way, from the highest to the lowest, “from the highest throne in glory to the cross of deepest woe.” This myrrhed cup would just have stopped him within a little of the utmost limit of misery; therefore, he said, “I will not stop half-way, but I will go all the way; and if this cup can mitigate my sorrow, that is just the reason why I will not drink it, for I have determined that to the utmost lengths of misery I will go, that I will do, and bear, and suffer all that Incarnate God can bear for my people, in my own mortal body.”

Now, beloved, it is this fact that I wish to bring out before you-the fact that Jesus Christ came into the world to suffer, and that because the myrrhed cup would have prevented him from reaching the lowest step of misery, “he received it not.” I shall have to show you, first, that this was very frequently the case throughout his life, that he would not take a step which would have diminished his miseries, because he was determined to go the whole length of suffering. Secondly, I shall try to show you the reason for this determination. Then, thirdly, I shall close up by speaking of the lesson that we may learn from it.

Our Saviour would go the whole length of misery; he would suffer in every respect like as we suffer; he would bear the whole of the tortures of atonement, without even the slightest shadow of mitigation or alleviation. Now, I think I can show you that, on many occasions in Christ’s life, he determined to be tempted in every point in which men are tempted, and to be tempted to the utmost limit of the power of temptation; nor would he even accept anything which would have limited the force of the temptation upon man. I will give you some proofs of this.

First, Christ knew that you and I would be exposed to peril; he therefore determined that he would be exposed to peril, too, and that he would not by any means, when it was in his power, escape from the peril. Let me show him to you high up there, on the pinnacle of the temple; there stands our Master, and a fiend by his side, on a giddy eminence, with but little beneath his feet; he stands poised aloft, he looks down the hill on which the temple is built, into the depths below; and the enemy says, “Cast thyself down, commit thyself to the care of the angels.” It was like this myrrhed cup-“Do not stand in this peril; cast thyself upon that promise, and risk thyself upon the angels’ wings, for they shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.” But like as he would not receive this cup, so neither would he receive this deliverance from his peril; but there he stood erect, confident in his God, not using the means of deliverance which the tempter wished him to exercise, even as he would not drink this cup.

Take another case: Jesus Christ knew that many of his people would have to suffer bodily wants, and poverty, and woe. He therefore hungered; after forty days’ fast, when he might have delivered himself from his hunger by turning stones into bread, one would have said, “It would have been a very innocent act to turn stones into bread, and feed himself;” but, “No,” says Christ to the gnawing pangs of hunger, “I will let you go as far as you can; I will not turn these stones into bread; I will let hunger exercise all its power upon me; I will let my body be gnawed by its fierce teeth; I will not mitigate its misery.” He would not receive that wine mingled with myrrh that the devil offered him in the wilderness, when he tempted him to make the stones into bread; he would not take the mitigation of his misery.

I will tell you another case. Many men have attempted to have their lives cut short because they have so much misery, and no more hope of being happy, therefore they have wished for death; they have wished that they might be as the untimely birth, that they might be shut up in the bowels of the earth for ever. They have longed for death, and desired it; and if an opportunity had cast itself in their way in which they might have died with honour, without having even the disgrace of suicide, how many would have accepted the alternative of death! Here is our Saviour in the same condition; for he is dragged to the brow of the hill of Nazareth. O Son of man, thy wisest choice is to be dashed down the sides of the hill on which the city is built! If thou art wise, thou wilt let them hurl thee headlong; there would be an end of all thy misery, for there are years before thee through which thou wilt be roasted at the slow fire of persecution, and afterwards thou wilt have to pass through floods of deepest misery. Do you not think the temptation started up in his mind, “Let yourself be cast down”? He knew all about it. Had he been cast down, he would have died an honourable death, like the death of a prophet slain in his own country; but no, “passing through the midst of them, he went his way,” because, as he refused the wine-cup, so he refused a hasty death, which would have delivered him from his miseries.

Do you not observe that. I have only just given you specimens? You will find that all through the Saviour’s life it was just the same. You will not find him in one instance working a miracle to lessen his own bodily fatigue, or to alleviate his own bodily wants and necessities, but always letting the ills of this life wreak themselves upon him with all their fury. He hushed the winds once, but it was for his disciples, not for himself; he lay in the ship asleep, and let the waves toss him up and down as much as they pleased. He multiplied the loaves and fishes i but it was for the multitude, not for himself. He could find money in a fish’s mouth: but it was to pay the tribute, not for himself. He could scatter mercies wherever he went,-open men’s eyes, and deliver many of them from pains: he never exercised any of his skill upon himself. If the wind blew, he let it spend itself upon his cheeks, and crack them; if the cold was bitter, he let the cold come round him, as it did in the garden of Gethsemane; if journeying was troublesome, he journeyed where he might have travelled as his Father did; as old Thomas Sternhold says in his fine translation of the Psalms-

“The Lord descended from above,

And bow’d the heavens most high,

And underneath his feet he cast

The darkness of the sky.

“On cherub and on cherubim

Full royally he rode,

And on the wings of mighty winds

Game flying all abroad.”

So might Jesus, if he pleased, but he journeyed on in weariness. He might have made the water leap out of the well to his hand, but there he sat and thirsted, while he had power to make fountains gush even from the stone on which he sat. On the cross, “I thirst,” was his cry; and yet, if he pleased, he might have opened in himself rivers of living water; he had them for others, but he had none for himself. You will observe this fact that, in all the history of Christ, never once did he take anything which could have lessened his miseries, but he went the whole length; and as on this occasion he refused the wine drugged with myrrh, so never did he receive anything that had a tendency to prevent him from going to the requisite lengths of suffering.

Now let me show you the reason for this. Was it out of any love to suffering that he thus refused the wine-cup? Ah, no; Christ had no love of suffering. He had a love of souls, but like us he turned away from suffering, he never loved it. We see he did not, for even in the garden he said, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.” It was his human nature struggling against suffering, as human nature rightfully does. God has made us so that we do not naturally love suffering, and it is not wrong for us to feel some repugnance to it, for God has implanted that repugnance in us. Christ did not suffer because he loved suffering. Why, then, did he suffer? For two reasons: because this suffering to the utmost was necessary to the completion of the atonement, which saves to the utmost; and because this suffering to the utmost was necessary to perfect his character as “a merciful High Priest” who has to compassionate souls that have gone to the utmost of miseries themselves; that he might know how to succour them that are tempted.

First, I say it was necessary to make the atonement complete. I do think that, if our Saviour had drunk this myrrhed cup, the atonement would not have been valid. It strikes me that, if he had drunk this wine mingled with myrrh, he could not have suffered to the extent that was absolutely necessary. We believe Christ did, on the cross, suffer just enough, and not one particle more than was necessary for the redemption of his people. If, then, this wine-cup had taken away a part of his sufferings, the ransom price would not have been fully complete, it would not have been fully paid. And if it had but taken away so much as a grain, the atonement would not have been sufficiently satisfactory. If a man’s ransom is to be paid, it must be all paid; for though but one single farthing be left unpaid, the man is not fully redeemed, and he is not yet totally free. If, then, this drinking of the wine-cup had taken out the smallest amount from that fearful price of agony which our Saviour paid, the atonement would have been insufficient-insufficient only to a degree, but even insufficiency to a degree, however small, would have been enough to have caused perpetual despair, yea, enough to have shut the gates of heaven against all believers. The utmost farthing must be paid; inexorable justice never did yet omit so much as a fraction of its claim. Nor would it in this case have exonerated in any measure; Christ must pay it all. The wine-cup would have prevented his doing that, therefore he would suffer and go the whole length of suffering; he would not stop, but would go through it all.

Again, I say it was that he might be made a compassionate High Priest. Someone might have said, “When my Master died, he did not suffer much. He suffered somewhat, but the wine-cup prevented much suffering. I dare not touch the wine-cup; at least, I dare not take it so as to alleviate my sufferings at all; then I must suffer more than he, for that drugged wine I must not drink. Surely, then, my Master cannot sympathize with me, if I for conscientious motives bear suffering without accepting alleviations which some think are wrong.” “Nay,” said the Master, “nay, you shall never say that. If you have to suffer without a comfort, I will let you know that I suffered without a comfort, too.” You say, “Oh, if I had some myrrh given me which could mitigate my woe, it were well! “Ah!” says the Saviour, “but I have had it offered to me, and I will not drink it, in order that you may see that I suffered woe without the comfort, without the cordial, without the consolation, which you think would enable you to endure it.” O blessed Lord Jesus, thou wast “tempted in all points like as we are”! Blessed be thy name! This myrrh-cup could have put a plate of steel upon thy breast, it would have blunted many darts of suffering; therefore thou didst put it aside that thou mightest, naked, suffer every shaft to find its target in thy heart. This myrrh-cup would have steeled thy feelings, so that thou couldst not be rent by the whips of anguish; therefore thou wouldst not take its steeling influence, its hardening qualities. Thou, who didst stoop to become a poor, weak worm, “a worm and no man,” didst bear the agony, without making the agony less, or strengthening thine own body to bear it. O blessed High Priest! Go to him, ye tried and tempted ones; go to him, and cast your burdens on him; he can bear them, he has borne burdens heavier than yours before. Cast your burden on the Lord, as his shoulders can sustain it; and his shoulders, that have borne trouble without comfort, can bear your troubles, though they be comfortless ones, too. Do but tell them to your Master, and you shall never find a lack of sympathy in him.

When Christ was offered this cup, he would not receive it. Sometimes, beloved, it is in your power to escape from sufferings for Christ’s sake; and you may rightly do so, if you can escape from them without injuring the mission upon which your Father has sent you; for as he sent his Son into the world, even so has he sent you into the world. You have your mission; and there are times when the acceptance of a cordial, or the reception of an escape from peril, would be a degradation to your high dignity, an injury to your office; and therefore there are times when you should decline even the cup of consolation itself. You and I are called to hold fellowship with Christ in his sufferings; perhaps our business places us where we have to hold fellowship with Christ in the suffering of contempt. The finger is pointed at us; the lip is sometimes protruded in derision; sometimes an expression is used towards us, calling us a hypocrite, a cant, a formalist. You may be apt to think, “Oh, that I could avoid all this! I wish I could escape.” Can you avoid it, and serve your Master as well? If you can, then drink the myrrh-cup, and avoid the misery; but if you cannot, and if it is proven that your position is one of duty, and one in which you can honour your Master, it is at your peril that you exchange your situation for an easier one, if you exchange it for one less useful.

“Oh!” says one, “I work among wicked men, and I have to bear a testimony for truth in their midst; may I not leave the place at once? I feel that I am doing good there; but the jeers and taunts are so hard to bear, that the good I do seems to be always counterbalanced by the misery I suffer.” Take care, take care, lest you let the flesh prevail over the spirit. It would be like a myrrh-cup to you, for you to leave your situation, and go to another; it would be the removal of your pain; ponder a long time before you do it, weigh it well. If your Maker has put you there, to suffer for his name’s sake, come not down from the cross to which he has nailed you by a daily crucifixion, till you have suffered all; and take not the myrrh-cup of an escape until you have borne all for Christ. I think it was holy Polycarp who, when the soldiers came to him to take him to prison, made his escape; but when, he found afterwards that his doing so had dispirited some Christians, and had been attributed to his cowardice, when next the soldiers presented themselves, and he had an opportunity to escape, “No,” he said, “let me die.” It had been foolhardy of him, if he had run into the teeth of men the first time, in order to be put to death; but when he saw that he would serve his Master better by his death than by his life, it would have been an unrighteous thing if he had drunk of the wine-cup, if he had made his escape, and not died for his Master’s sake.

O my brethren, I do think that there are many cordials which the world, too, has to offer to the Christian which he must not drink at all, because if his Master wishes him to have fellowship with him in his suffering, it is his to suffer so far as his Master wills. You are perhaps a man or a woman of a sorrowful spirit; you are given to solitude and loneliness. There are certain amusements, which some men say are harmless; they tell you that they are meant for you, and ask you to go and take them. You think, “Well, in my low state, surely I might take these things. If I were happy and joyous, I should not need them; but surely, my Father, ‘like as a father pitieth his children,’ will pity me; and if I do these things, and do them merely for temporary comfort, my heart seems as though it would break if I had not this little temporary excitement.” Take care, take care, that it is not the wine-cup that prevents you, my friends. If your Master gives you the wine-cup, the golden wine-cup filled with the precious wine of the covenant, the strong promises, and sweet fellowship in Christ, drink it without a moment’s hesitation. Drink it and be glad, for God has said, “Give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish;” and this is the strong drink he gives to you in the golden wine-cup of the Saviour’s fellowship. Drink it, and be happy. But if men would offer it to you, look many a time before you drink it. It may be, you may be right in drinking it, it may not be a wrong thing; but it may be, too, that even a thing that is innocent to others, may be wrong to you; and the taking of that amusement and pleasure into your hand, might be like our Saviour’s taking the myrrh-cup and drinking it. It would be a stultifying you, a preventing you from learning all the lessons of your misery, from going in all the steps of your Redeemer, who wishes us to follow him through all the miseries which he has ordained for us, that they may be the means of fellowship with him in his suffering.

This is the only lesson I desire to give you at this time. If the Lord impress it on our minds, it may be of use to us. Only let me say, how many there are who would have drunk this wine-cup, if it had been offered to them! Your Saviour has taken from you the desire of your eyes with a stroke; he has robbed you of one who is dear and near to you. Say, Christian, if you had had the myrrh-cup put before you, if it had been said, “If you like, that loved one of yours shall live,” if it had been offered to you that the life that has been taken away should be spared, could you with fortitude have said, “Not my will, but thine, be done”? Could you have put it away, and said, “No, my Master, if this cup may not pass from me except I drink it, thy will be done. And what is more, if it may pass from me, if I need not suffering, yet if I can honour thee more by suffering, and if the loss of my beloved one will serve thee and please thee, then so let it be, I refuse the comfort, when it comes in the way of thine honour; I reject the favoured mercy if it comes in the teeth of thy glory. I am willing to suffer; thy consolations I care not for; if I can honour thee better without them, I will do without them?”

There are some among you in the habiliments of mourning. Let me just, in conclusion, note a very beautiful thought of a good man on a passage of Scripture. Jesus says in his prayer, “Father, I will that they also, whom thou hast given me, be with me where I am.” Do you know why good men die? Do you know why the righteous die? Shall I tell you what it is that kills them? It is Christ’s prayer-“Father, I will that they be with me.” It is that that fetches them up to heaven. They would stop here, if Christ did not pray them to death. Every time a believer mounts from this earth to heaven, it is caused by Christ’s prayer. “Now,” says this good old divine, “many times Christ and his people pull against one another in prayer. You bend your knee in prayer, and say, ‘Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am;’ Christ bends his knee, and says, ‘Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am.’ ” So, you see, one gets hold of him, and the other, too. He cannot be in both places; the beloved one cannot be with Christ and with you, too. Now, what shall be the answer? Put the prayers side by side; you are praying, “Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am;” and there is your Saviour, praying that they may be with him where he is. Now, if you had your choice; if the King should step from his throne, and say, “Here are two supplicants; they are praying opposite to one another; their prayers are clearly contrary to each other; I cannot answer them both;” oh, I am sure, though it were agony, you would start from your feet, and say, “Jesus, not my will, but thine, be done.” You would give up your prayer for your sick husband’s life, for your sick wife’s life, for your dying child’s life, if you could realize the thought that Christ was praying in the opposite direction, “Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am.”

And now we come to the supper of our Master; oh, may the Master give us fellowship with him! Poor sinners that know not Christ, I have hardly a moment in which to address you; but remember, the separation which will be made between you and the church to-night is but a picture of an awful separation which shall be made between you and the church at the last great day. You will sit upstairs, some of you, to look down upon the solemnity: remember, you may look upon it here, but you will not look upon it in heaven, unless your hearts be made new by Christ, and unless you be washed in his precious blood.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-22 (Part II.), 280, 279.

Expositions by C. H. Spurgeon

MARK 15:15-39 and LUKE 23:27-49

We will read two short passages from the Gospels this evening. May the blessed Spirit, who taught the Evangelists to record the sad story of our Lord’s sufferings and death, give us fully to enter into the blessed meaning of it while we read it! First turn to Mark 15., verse 15.

Mark 15 Verses 15, 16. And so Pilate, willing to content the people, released Barabbas unto them, and delivered Jesus, when he had scourged him, to be crucified. And the soldiers led him away into the hall, called Prætorium;

The guard-room of Herod’s palace, where the Prætorian guards were wont to gather.

16-20. And they call together the whole band. And they clothed him with purple, and platted a crown of thorns, and put it about his head, and began to salute him, Hail, King of the Jews! And they smote him on the head with a reed, and did spit upon him, and bowing their knees worshipped him. And when they had mocked him,

To the utmost, and gone the full length of their cruel scorn,

20-23. They took off the purple from him, and put his own clothes on him, and led him out to crucify him. And they compel one Simon a Cyrenian, who passed by, coming out of the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to bear his cross. And they bring him unto the place Golgotha, which is, being interpreted, The place of a skull. And they gave him to drink wine mingled with myrrh: but he received it not.

They did for him what they did for others who were crucified, they gave him myrrhed wine, as a stupefying draught; “but he received it not.” He came to suffer, and he would bear even to the end the full tale of his suffering.

24-27. And when they had crucified him, they parted his garments, casting lots upon them, what every man should take. And it was the third hour, and they crucified him. And the superscription of his accusation was written over, THE KING OF THE JEWS. And with him they crucify two thieves; the one on his right hand, and the other on his left.

They gave him the place of eminence, as if he were a greater offender than either of the two thieves.

28. And the scripture was fulfilled, which saith, And he was numbered with the transgressors.

Sinners to the right of him, sinners to the left of him, sinners all round him, compassed about with those who sinned in the very highest degree by putting him to death: “He was numbered with the trangressors.” Oh, that sweet word! It is the hope of transgressors now that he was counted with them, and for his sake all the benefactions of heaven now descend upon transgressors who accept him as their Substitute and Saviour.

29. And they that passed by railed on him,

Not only those who sat down to gloat their cruel eyes upon his miseries, but even the passers-by, “They that passed by, railed on him,”-

29, 30. Wagging their heads, and saying, Ah, thou that destroyest the temple, and buildest it in three days, save thyself, and come down from the cross.

He never said he would destroy the literal temple. He did, however, say concerning the temple of his body, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up,” and he did raise it up in three days after they had destroyed it.

31. Likewise also the chief priests mocking said among themselves with the scribes, He saved others; himself he cannot save.

What they said in bitter scorn was true; for mighty love had bound his hands for self-salvation. Infinite in love, found guilty of excess of love to men, “He saved others; himself he could not save.”

32, 33. Let Christ the King of Israel descend now from the cross, that we may see and believe. And they that were crucified with him reviled him. And when the sixth hour was come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour.

A supernatural darkness, which could not have occurred according to the laws of nature. It did, as it were, “set a tabernacle for the sun,”-the Sun of Righteousness was canopied a while in darkness, that no longer might those horrible eyes gaze upon his terrible anguish.

34. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

There was a denser darkness over his spirit than was over all the land, and out of that darkness came this cry of agony.

35. And some of them that stood by, when they heard it, said, Behold, he calleth Elias.

Ah, me! This was either a cruel jest upon our Saviour’s prayer, or an utter misapprehension of it.

36. And one ran and filled a spunge full of vinegar, and put it on a reed, and gave him to drink, saying, Let alone; let us see whether Elias will come to take him down.

Jesus did receive this vinegar, and so fulfilled Ps. 69:21: “In my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.”

37, 38. And Jesus cried with a loud voice, and gave up the ghost. And the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom.

Even as the flesh of Christ, which is the veil of the Incarnate God, was rent, so now was the veil of mystery taken away. The temple in her sorrow rent her veil. The old ceremonial law passed away with this token of grief by the rending of the veil. It was a strong, I might say, a massive veil; it could not have been rent by any ordinary means; but when the hand of God takes hold upon the veil of Jewish types, it readily rends, and into the innermost mystery of the holy of holies we may gaze, yea, and through it we may enter.

39. And when the centurion, which stood over against him, saw that he so cried out, and gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son of God.

Convinced by the cross. Oh, the triumphs of Christ! The last word he speaks won this testimony from the centurion in charge of the crucifixion.

Now we will read part of Luke’s narrative.

Luke 23. Verses 27-31. And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children. For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bare, and the paps which never gave suck. Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills, Cover us. For if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?

Our Saviour, even amidst the greatest sufferings, seemed almost to forget them in the deep sympathy that he had for the people around him. He pictured in his mind’s eye that awful siege of Jerusalem. Who can read it, as Josephus describes it, without feeling the deepest horror? Oh, the misery of the women and of the children in that dreadful day when the zealots turned against each other within the city, and fought to the death, and when the Roman soldiery, pitiless as wolves, at last stormed the place! Truly did the Saviour say of it that there should be no day like to it; neither was there It was the concentration of human misery; and our Lord wept because he foresaw what it would be, and he bade these poor women reserve their tears for those awful sorrows.

32, 33 And then were also two other, malefactors, led with him to be put to death And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, then they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left

O blessed Master they did not spare thee any scorn! There was no mode of expressing their contempt which their malignity did not invent. Truly, “he was cumbered with the transgressors.” You could not count the three sufferers en Calvary without counting him; he was so completely numbered with the others that he must be reckoned as one of them.

34. Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do

It was all that he could say in their favour, and he did say that. If there is anything to be said in thy favour, O my fellow-sinner, Christ will say it; and if there is nothing good in thee that his eyes can light upon, he will pray on his own account, “Father, forgive them for my sake.”

34. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots.

His garments were the executioners’ perquisites; pitilessly they took them from him, arid left him naked in his shameful sorrow.

35. And the people stood beholding.

There was no pity in their eyes. No one of them turned away his face because he could not look upon so disgraceful a deed.

35. And the rulers also with them derided him, saying, He saved others; let him save himself, if he be Christ, the chosen of God.

I have already reminded you that there was a deep truth hidden away in what these cruel mockers said, for Jesus must give himself up as a ransom if we were to be redeemed.

36-38. And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him, and offering him vinegar, and saying, If thou be the king of the Jews, save thyself. And a superscription also was written over him in letters of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew,

For these were the three languages known to the throng, and Pilate invited them all to read in “Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew,”-

38, 39. this is the king of the jews. And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us.

Poor man; even though he is dying a felon’s death, he must be in the swim with the multitude, he must keep in with the fashion, so strong, so powerful, is the popular current with all mankind.

40-42. But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss. And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.

It was strange that Christ should find a friend dying on the cross by his side. Nobody else spoke to him about a kingdom. I am afraid that even his former followers began to think that it was all a delusion; but this dying thief cheers the heart of Jesus by the mention of a kingdom, and by making a request to him concerning that kingdom even when the King was in his death agony.

43. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise.

The Master, you see, uses his old phraseology. In his preaching, he had been accustomed to say, “Verily, verily,” and here he is, even on the cross, the same Preacher still, for there was such assurance, such confidence, such verity, in all his words, that he never had to alter his style of speaking. “Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise.” Well does our poet put it,-

“He that distributes crowns and thrones,

Hangs on a tree, and bleeds and groans.”

He was distributing these crowns and thrones even while hanging on the tree. “Tell it out among the nations that the Lord reigneth from the tree,” may not be an exact translation of the Psalm, but it is true, Psalm or no Psalm.

44. And it was about the sixth hour,

About noon, when the sun was at its height.

44. And there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour.

Three o’clock in the afternoon.

45. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst.

As if the great light of heaven and the pattern of heavenly things were both disturbed. The sun puts on mourning, and the temple rends her veil in horror at the awful deed enacted on the cross.

46. And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father,

Is it not sweet to see how Jesus begins and ends his prayers on the cross with “Father”?

46-48. Into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost. Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly this was a righteous man. And all the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their breasts, arid returned.

A strange ending to that day, was it not? The three hours’ darkness and the death-cry of the Christ had not converted them, but it had convicted them of sin. They felt that a great and heinous crime had been committed; and, though they had come together as to a mere show or sight, they went away from the spectacle impressed as they had never been before: “All the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their breasts, and returned.”

49. And all his acquaintance, and the women that followed him from Galilee, stood afar off, beholding these things.

In these doings on Calvary you and I have a share,-in their guilt, or else in their merit. Oh, that we may not be condemned with those who were guilty of his death, but may we be cleansed by that precious blood which puts away the sin of all who believe on him.

CHEERING WORDS

A Sermon

Intended for Reading on Lord’s-day, December 22nd, 1895,

delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at the metropolitan tabernacle, newington.

“As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love.”-John 15:9.

The Saviour was about to leave his disciples, and this was the hardest trial which they had ever experienced. As there could be no trial to them like the loss of the Saviour’s presence, it was at this time Jesus brought forth his richest consolation. He seems to have kept the best wine and the most potent cordial till the time when their spirits most required to be comforted. He said to them more fully than he had ever said it before, “Take this for your comfort; live upon it while I am absent from you; live upon it always-that, as the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you.”

But what is this richest of all cordials? What is this marrow and fatness? It is the assurance of his love to us; and surely there cannot be a more delightful thought that can fill the soul of a mortal than this,-“The Son of God loves me.” Did you never sit down for half an hour, and try to masticate and digest this thought? That God should pity me, I can understand, being so far inferior to himself, and so full of misery. That he should be generous to me, I can comprehend, from the liberality and bounty of his nature, and from my great necessities. But that he should love me, is wonderful. I cannot see anything lovely in myself, and there are many who see that there is much unloveliness about me, and I do not doubt that there is; but yet he who knows me better than I know myself, and is not unmindful of my infirmities and weaknesses, says he loves me. He does not put me at arm’s length, and then feed me from his bounty: that would be gracious; but he opens wide his bosom, and takes me into his heart. He shuts the golden doors, and takes me in to dwell for ever, that in the ivory palaces I may be made glad with the cassia and the aloes of his delightful presence. Man, didst thou ever get this into thy soul? hen though thou mayest be clothed in rags, thou wilt feel as though thou wert wrapped about with imperial purple. Although thou mayest dwell in a very poor and lonely cottage, when this thought shines upon thee, thou wouldst not change thy cottage for a palace. Unto which of the angels did he ever say this? I believe angels are the subjects of divine love in a certain sense, but I have never read of Christ saying to them: “As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you.” This is the special privilege of the sons of Adam, who have fallen, which angels never have. How marvellous! And is it not more than marvellous, that God should have selected me out of the sons of Adam? Perhaps there is nothing in any of you which you can look upon as a reason why God should love you. Did I say “perhaps”? Why, there are ten thousand things about everyone of us that might have won for us the Almighty’s hatred. Instead of this, he says he loves us, his people. Surely, if I were to say no more, but sit down and leave you to think over the fact that God loves you, and that your name is dear to Jehovah, your souls might be satisfied as with marrow and fatness.

The text itself clearly contains two things,-a declaration and an exhortation.

The declaration is like a door on two hinges, and on these the test swings. The hinges are “as” and “so”-“As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you.” What if I call them two diamond pivots, upon which the pearly gate of love turns to shut in God’s people!

These words may be viewed in four lights. The word “as” is used here for the sake of affirmation. The Saviour does as much as say, in the most solemn manner possible, to his believing people, “I love you, and I love you as surely as my Father loves me.” There are a great many new doctrines starting up nowadays, and perhaps to-morrow morning there will be another. New opinions are constantly coming up, but I do not recollect ever hearing anybody say that the Father does not love the Son. Whatever new heresies there may be,-and there will be plenty of them,-I do not suppose that this will ever be the subject of heresy. It is so firmly believed, that I never heard a sermon preached to prove it; it is a doctrine taken for granted, and laid hold of as being an elementary truth of the Christian system. Jesus Christ, then, says, “You do not doubt that the Father loves me; now just as surely as the Father loves me, I say, solemnly and truly, that I love you.” He says this to every one of us who trusts in him,-to all of you poor, troubled Christians, who have so many cares that you would not like to count them; you to whom it was whispered, the other day,-

“The Lord hath forsaken thee quite;

Thy God will be gracious no more.”

“No,” says Jesus, “you do not think that the Father has cast me off, or ceased to love me? Then do not think that I have cast you off, or ceased to love you; you are the purchase of my blood, and as surely as the Father loves me, so do I still love you.”

This “as” may not only be regarded as an affirmation, but also what is very near akin to it, a confirmation. In order to strengthen their faith, God has been pleased to give his people not merely his Word, but tokens and signs to confirm his Word. When Noah had been delivered from the flood by means of an ark, he might still have been very timid at the first shower of rain, and have been afraid that the world was going to be drowned again; but to remove any fears he might have had, lo, there appears in the heavens God’s bow, a bow of many colours, illustrating the joy which there should be in the hearts of those with whom God had made a covenant; not a black bow as though it were bent on destruction, nor a crimson bow as though it wore dipped in blood, but a bow of many colours, a bow turned upwards, not shooting the arrows of vengeance upon mankind, but hinting to us that we may shoot our prayers up to heaven,-a bow unstrung, and a bow without an arrow, to show that God had ceased from warring with his creatures, and had made peace with man. As soon as Noah saw that bow, he said, “I shall not be drowned, the world will not be destroyed by a flood.” God also gave his servant David a sign when he told him that, as long as the sun and moon should shine in their places, he would not break his covenant with David. The rainbow is a very sweet sign, but we cannot always see it; and the sun and moon are not always visible, so the Lord has been pleased to give to his people a sign which is always visible, a symbol which is good by day and by night, and which is not dependent upon raindrops and sunbeams. The Christian, by the eye of faith, can always look up to heaven, and see Christ in the bosom of his Father. You have no doubt, I am sure, that Christ is the object of divine affection. You can see it clearly, and there is no doctrinal error at all clouding your view of the love of the Father for his Son. Now this is to be to me the token that Jesus Christ loves me. I look up and see Jesus resting in his Father’s heart; and I, a poor sinner, resting upon Jesus, and finding all my help in him, know that I am in Christ’s heart, and that nothing shall ever pluck me thence. I know this because I have the sign that “as” the Father loves the Son, “so” Christ loves me. May God give us grace to see and rejoice in this “as” of confirmation!

But perhaps the fulness of this meaning lies in the fact that this is an “as” and a “so” of comparison. I think the text means that, in the same way as the Father loves the Son, just in the same way Jesus loves his people. And how does the Father love the Son? He loved him without beginning. You do meet with strange people sometimes, but I do not recollect ever meeting with anyone who thought that God the Father did not at some time or other love the Son. It is commonly and currently believed amongst all who accept the Bible as true, that from everlasting to everlasting the love of God is set upon his Son. We believe that long “ere worlds were made or time began” the Lord Jesus Christ was dear to his eternal Father. Now, as the Father loves Christ, so Christ loves us, and therefore he loves us without beginning. Long before the lamps of heaven were kindled, or the stars began to twinkle in the sky, when as yet all this world slept in the mind of God as unborn forests sleep within the acorn-cup, we were in the heart of Christ.

When we rest upon Christ, we may be infallibly certain that his foreseeing eye beheld us, and that his foreloving heart loved us when as yet we had no being. In the book wherein all his members were written, which in continuance were fashioned when as yet there were none of them, there he read our names, our forms, our lineaments. He saw our characters and knew our sins.

“He saw us ruined in the fall,

Yet loved us notwithstanding all.”

You can go back to the beginning of human affection; you can easily go back to the beginning of your love to God, but God’s love to us is a deep which has no bottom.

“The streams of love I trace

Up to their fountain-God;

And in his mighty breast I see

Eternal thoughts of love to me.”

And I suppose we all believe that the Father loves his Son without any end. You have no idea, I suppose, that at any time the Father will cease to love his own dear Son. You cannot suppose such a thing; your mind can hardly conjure up such a blasphemous thought as that there should ever be a division amongst the Persons of the Trinity, and that Jesus Christ should be driven from his Father’s heart. “Now,” saith Christ, “as the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you,” that is, without end.

“Once in Christ, in Christ for ever;

Nothing from his love can sever.”

This is a great and precious truth, but I know some people who use it very badly, for they say, “I was in Christ once, and therefore I must be in Christ now.” But that is not the question. If you were once in Christ, you are in Christ now; but can you really and truly say that you are in Christ now? Are you now resting upon him? Are you now walking in his ways? Are you now reflecting his image? Are you now trusting that his Spirit dwells in you? If not, I do not care what you say about having been once in Christ, for I do not believe that, unless you are in Christ now. This truth which you use as a buttress for your presumption, should rather be used as a stimulus to self-examination. Remember, it is written, “But if any man draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him;” and if you have drawn back, you have given clear proof that his soul has no pleasure in you, for they who are in Christ Jesus are kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation; they are preserved by Christ Jesus; they are sanctified by his indwelling Spirit, and their path, according to Solomon, “is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day.” God grant that we may prove our calling by our perseverance!

Let us just for a moment suck in the truth of this very precious doctrine that, as surely as the Father will always continue to love Jesus Christ, so Jesus Christ will always continue to love us. Some of us, perhaps, look forward to old age without expecting any very great delight in it. There are times when the grinders fail, because they are few, and they that look out of the windows are darkened. But, saint, thou needest not fear the loosing of the silver cord, for thy God shall never change; his eye shall not wax dim; his natural force shall never abate. If thou shouldst be bowed double with infirmity, yet remember that the everlasting God fainteth not, neither is weary, and his love for thee will never cease. Perhaps at times we look forward to death with a sort of shiver. I trow that there are seasons when even the very best of God’s servants do not find death the sweetest possible subject for contemplation, but I do not think that any of us who believe in Jesus have the slightest reason to be afraid to die. On the contrary, we may rejoice in it; for our Saviour will not leave us in the hour of death. Still is he in the Father’s bosom, and still shall we be there even when the chill floods are about us, and the boomings of the eternal waves shall be sounding in our ears. Rest confident, Christian, that even down to the grave Christ will go with you, and that up again from it he will be your Guide and your Companion to the celestial hills.

I am sure you are all perfectly agreed, too, that God the Father loves Jesus Christ without any change. You do not believe, as instructed disciples, that the Father loved Jesus Christ more at one time than at another. It is our belief that when Christ said, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” he was still as dear to his Father’s heart as he ever had been. There was a hiding of his face from his Son, but not a turning away of his heart. Can you suppose that his Father loved him the least when he was most obedient? When he was obedient unto death, and fulfilled his Father’s will at all hazards in the awful darkness, do you think that then the Father’s heart was cold and stony towards him? Oh, no; it was but a change of manifestation, but his inward love was still the same! Now, Christian, take this for your own comfort, that there is never any change in Jesus Christ’s love to those who rest in him. Yesterday you were on Tabor’s top, and you said, “He loves me.” To-day you are in the Valley of Humiliation; but he loves you just the same. On the hill Mizar, and far away among the Hermons, you heard his voice which spoke so sweetly with the turtle-notes of love; and now on the sea, or even in the sea, when all his waves and billows go over you, and deep calleth unto deep at the noise of his waterspouts, he is just as loving to you as ever he was. He does not change one whit. If you lived in certain lands, you might look up and see on the mountain some glorious old peak lifting its snow-white head into the clouds. When you look up the next morning, can you see the mountain? No, you see nothing but fog. Is there no mountain? Oh, yes,-

“The mountains when in darkness hidden,

Are real as in the day.”

So is it with you. You look up to-day and see your Father’s love, and rejoice in it; to-morrow you may not see it so clearly, but it has not gone, for it abides fixed and stable, and never changes. Gourds may grow and wither, but God’s love neither grows nor withers; it knows not the shadow of a change. As the Father loves Christ without change, so doth Christ love us without change.

Once more, and then we shall entrench upon another interpretation of the word “as.” I think it also means that the Father loves the Son without any measure. I was going to say that this is an “as “of degree; but it is a degree without any degree, or rather, it is a degree which cannot be measured. You cannot say of the Father’s love to the Son that he loves him up to such a point and there stops; and you cannot say of Jesus Christ’s love to his people that he loves them so much, but does not love them any farther.

“Oh, no; Christ loves his Church,

His glory ‘tis to bless;

He cannot love her more,

He will not love her less.”

The whole heart of Christ was emptied into his people’s hearts. You say his people’s hearts could not hold all. Very likely; but that is no reason why Christ did not give us all. If I cannot hold all the sea, yet God may give me all the sea. The Christian is filled with all the fulness of God. He has as much of Christ in him as he can hold. He is in Christ, and Christ is in him. He dwells in God, and God dwells in him. Both these are Scriptural expressions. There is no conceivable limit to the love of God to us in Jesus Christ; and if you want a proof of it, go to Calvary, and see there how he gave himself for us; how he was stripped naked to his shame, that he might clothe us; how he spared neither hands, nor feet, nor head, nor back; nay, how he spared not even his own heart, but poured out from it blood and water. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for” those whom he loves. There cannot be greater love than that of Christ, he went as far as infinity could go in love; and do you know how far that is? No.

“Imagination’s utmost stretch

In wonder dies away”

at the thought of infinite love stretching its wings, and putting itself forth to its highest pitch. Such is Jesus Christ’s love to you. What was that you said the other night? That you were afraid you would exhaust the patience of God? A little sprat said once he was afraid he should drink the sea dry, but there was never any the less water in the sea for all that he drank, for he was in the sea, and all he drank was in the sea still. So all that we get from God is still in God, for “in him we live, and move, and have our being.” If you could give to a poor man in the street any quantity of money, and still have just as much in your own pockets, nay, if you could still have the same money in your own pockets that you had given to him, the man would say, “Well, giving does not impoverish you, and restraining doth not enrich you, therefore you may well give freely.” Oh! there are some of us who have such large appetites for divine love. I have sometimes felt such hungering after my God that I thought my soul could never be satisfied. I have thirsted after him till I have felt like behemoth, who trusteth that he can drink up Jordan at a draught. But there is enough in God to satisfy all our soul’s needs. We sometimes sing what is strictly true,-

“All my capacious powers can wish,

In thee doth richly meet.”

Come, then, beloved, you have a full Saviour, a precious Saviour, one who loves you without any measure, without any degree, even as the Father loves him! There is much food here for those who know how to feed upon it. May the Holy Ghost help us so to do!

Let me now ask your patient attention while I speak upon the exhortation of the text: “Continue ye in my love.”

“What, what!” says one, “does he love us with an everlasting love, and yet thus admonish us,’ Continue ye in my love’?” Yes, yes; the certainty of the thing does not at all weaken the force of the precept. This is God’s plan, to work out his own purpose by an exhortation. Diligent students of God’s Word must have noticed that the very things which in one part of Scripture are spoken of as unconditional gifts, are in other parts spoken of as blessings to be anxiously desired and eagerly sought after. The two things are correct and consistent one with the other, only some people get one of their eyes bound up, so that they are not able to see two truths at a time. I am thankful if you can see one, but I should be still more glad if you could see two, because I think that then you would be more like the perfect man in Christ Jesus, who enters into life with both eyes. You find in one place that God is exhorting his people to good works as if their good works were all their own, and yet in another place he tells them that their good works are the gifts of his Spirit. In one place he tells the saints that they shall hold on their way, and in another place he exhorts them to hold on their way. This is not at all inconsistent, because the exhortation, by God’s grace applied to the heart, ministers to the fulfilment of the decree. My good old grandfather, I think, was quite right, when he said, “I rest my salvation upon the finished work of Jesus Christ as if I had never performed a good work in all my life, and then I endeavour to do good works as if everything depended upon them.” This is what the Saviour seems to say to his disciples, “Continue ye in my love, continue in the path of obedience, in the path of faith, and by your keeping of this exhortation shall my purpose be fulfilled, and you shall be preserved in my love.”

Not that this is exactly the meaning of the text. Although this may lie on the surface, it seems to me rather to suggest such counsel as this: “Continue ye to exhibit to others the love which I have exhibited to you.” Some professed Christians never get into Christ’s love at all in this sense of it. It strikes me that one of the truest signs of grace in the young Christian is his love to others. As soon as ever he is himself saved, he wants to have other people saved. I do not believe that heaven is a place into which, if I get, I shall be eternally happy at the thought of other people being shut out. On the contrary, I look forward to it as the place where Christ shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied, and it is not a little that will satisfy him! If you ever get any comfort from the thought of others being shut out, you may keep your comfort to yourselves. My comfort is, and I hope it always will be, to labour to be the means of bringing others in. Oh, to bring sinners to Christ! Oh, to feel the same love beating in our hearts which Christ has beating in his; not to the same degree, of course, but the same kind of love. Oh, to be baptized into that same river of love in which Christ was baptized, and to come out of it to continue in the same sort of love, so as to have the same love to others which Jesus Christ had to us! Do not be afraid of having too much love for precious souls. Do not think that you will ever go beyond the love of Jesus Christ in that matter. Poor cold hearts as we are, how shall we warm into anything like his affection?

“Did Christ o’er sinners weep,

And shall our cheeks be dry?”

Ah, there are some cheeks that were never wet with the tear for others yet; and there are some hearts that never were ready to break for the conversion of others! “Well,” says one, “every tub must stand on its own bottom.” Yes, sir, and if you trust to yourself, it will be your everlasting ruin. If you have found honey, your first desire is that another should taste of its sweetness; and, having found Christ yourself, your first instinct will be to turn round and say to others, “Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world.” I find that, when I preach the gospel without tenderness, I do not get such a blessing as I do when it melts my own soul. It is a good thing when the preacher finds his own heart breaking. Heart-broken ministers are very soon made heart-breaking ministers. Love to others has a kind of sympathetic influence; and under the blessing of God the Holy Spirit, when men see that we care about them, they are often led to care about themselves. May all Christians here get fully into Christ’s love, and learn to look at sinners as Christ looked at them in all their awful danger, and weep over them even as Christ wept over Jerusalem!

I think, however, that the Saviour meant even a little more than this. Sometimes we get into Christ’s love, and enjoy it in our own hearts. It is the sweetest thing this side heaven to know and enjoy the love of Jesus Christ, to have our head lying on his bosom, so that we can feel his heart beat, and then to hear him say, “I have loved thee, and given myself for thee.” You know this, do you? Then I know your prayer will be, like that of the spouse, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.” I do not know how it is with you, but I find it rather more easy to get into this state, than to keep there. I can get up the mountain, by God’s grace, but the difficulty is to stop there. Peter said, “It is good for us to be here; let us build three tabernacles.” Yes, but it is not so easy to build one tabernacle upon the mountain. Christ’s love-visits are so often like those of angels-few and far between! But yet we cannot blame our Beloved. Forbid it, my tongue, that thou shouldst ever say a word against him. No, he would never turn me out of doors. The fault is my own, it is I who leave the table, and refuse to stop with him any longer. Oh, may his love bind us so fast to the altar, that we may never stray from it, but may continue in his love!

“Well,” says one, “I do not think that any man could keep long in communion, with Christ if he had as many troubles as I have.” Did you ever read about Enoch? We are told that he lived three hundred and sixty-five years, and walked with God; and if Enoch walked with God so long, do you think that you cannot walk with him for the few years of your short life? “Oh!” you say, “but Enoch was differently situated from what I am.” And yet it is written, “Enoch walked with God,.… and begat sons and daughters,” which seems to say that the common engagements of life, and the ordinary cares of a family, need not break off our walking with God. But you say, “He did not live in such times as these.” No, he did not live in such good ones, for he lived before the rising of the Sun; he lived in the twilight, in the dim, dark ages, before the great Sun of Righteousness had arisen with healing beneath his wings. Enoch walked with God nearly four hundred years; but there are some of us who cannot walk with him for four hundred hours! Oh, may the Lord grant us more grace, for that is where the mischief lies! The most of God’s people, I am afraid, are in the condition of being just alive. Sometimes a man is washed up on a rock, and you put your hand to his bosom to see if there is any heat left in him, and hold a looking-glass to see if he has any breath; you look for signs and evidences, and at last you say, “Yes, he is alive.” And this is just like a great many of you. You have to look for signs and evidences to know if you are alive; you are just washed up on the rock, and that is all. But look at many of us here: we do not want signs and evidences; we are alive, and we know that we are; we can talk and laugh, and eat and drink, and engage in business; we are perfectly sure that we are alive, because we are in good health. And so it is with Christians when they get to be in good sound spiritual health, and are enabled by divine grace to do much for their Master. I should not be satisfied with being merely alive; if I were lying stretched upon the bed, and someone should say to me, “Well, you know you are alive,” I should tell him that I was not satisfied merely with that, I wanted to be healthy and well, God grant that we may not only know Christ’s love, but that we may get into the soul of it, into the marrow and fatness of it, till we live in it; and then may God’s grace help us to continue in it!

But there are some poor souls here who have never got into this love at all, nor do they know anything about it. Perhaps, dear friends, you desire to know it. Well, there is only one place where you can see it. The window through which you can look into God’s heart is the cross of Christ. If you want to read the love of God, go and look through the wounds of the Saviour, and as you stand looking through those wounds, you will, if you listen, hear a voice saying,-

“Love’s redeeming work is done;

Come, and welcome, sinner, come.”

I have never heard of Jesus Christ shutting the door against a sinner. There is a notice that is put in some gentlemen’s parks, stating that they do not allow beggars or dogs there; but Jesus Christ puts up a notice that he does allow beggars; in fact, there are none but beggars who ever go to him; and even those who are such beggars that you would not pick their clothes from a dunghill, Jesus Christ receives into his house, into his heart, into the bath of his blood, and wraps them in the robe of his perfect righteousness. O poor sinner, do come and try him, and he will not cast you out!

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

JOHN 15

Verse 1. I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.

Not only the Mosaic law, but the whole creation is full of types of Christ. All the vines that we see in this world are only as it were typical; but Christ is the substance,-the substance of nature as well as of grace: “I am the true vine,” and the real Husbandman, who watches over everything, who has the whole Church, yea, the whole universe, under his care, is the great Father: “My Father is the husbandman.”

2. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away:

It has no right to be there, for it is not there by a vital union; it will only harbour mischief if it is allowed to remain, therefore let it be taken away; and taken away it certainly will be by the Husbandman who makes no mistakes.

2. And every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.

So there is taking away for the fruitless branches, and pruning for the fruit-bearing branches. Are you suffering under the pruning-knife just now? Accept it joyfully. How much better that the knife should cut off your superfluities than that it should cut you off! The mercy is that, although God will purge and prune his vine-branches, he will not destroy them.

3. Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you.

Christ had so dealt with his disciples that he left them like a pruned vine, ready and prepared for fruitfulness.

4. Abide in me, and I in you.

The pruning is nothing without the abiding in Christ. You may suffer again and again; but no good can come of it except you have vital, continuous, everlasting union with Christ. You cannot take a branch away from the vine for a little while, and then put it back again; its life depends upon the perfect continuity of its union. So is it with us and Christ: the branch is in the vine, and the vine is in the branch. The very essence and pap of the vine are in the branch even as the branch is part and parcel of the vine.

4, 5. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me. I am the vine, ye are the branches:

You are not the vine; do not think that you are; and if God blesses you, and makes you of some importance in the Church, yet do not dream that you are the Church, that you are the very root and stem of it. Ah, no! at the utmost, “ye are the branches.”

5. He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit:

Oh, what a searching word is this! Are we bringing forth much fruit? I trust, dear brethren, that we are bringing forth some fruit; but, oh! what a test is this, “He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit.” Christ expects much from those who have this doubly high privilege of having him in them, and of being themselves in him.

5, 6. For without me ye can do nothing. If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.

And are there sufficient of them for that? It is enough to bring tears into one’s eyes to think that there should be enough fruitless, unabiding, merely nominal members of Christ to pay for gathering up to make a fire. Oh, sad, sad thing is this! It is the grief of the Church, it is the sorrow of God’s ministers, it ought to call for great self-examination in our own hearts that mere professors, those who apostatize after having made a profession of religion, do not seem to have been thought by the Saviour to be here and there one, but to be so many that “men gather them, and east them into the fire, and they are burned.”

7. If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.

Power in prayer is dependent upon full enjoyment of union and communion with Christ. It is not every man who can ask of God what he wills, and get it; but it is such a man, and such a man only, as shall be found abiding in Christ, and having Christ’s words abiding in him. If we do not take notice of what Christ says, can we expect that he will take notice of what we say? If we do not obey him when he asks this and that of us, how can we reckon that he will give us this and that when we ask it of him? No, this is the condition of power in prayer, “If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.”

8. Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.

You shall be known to be the disciples of the much fruit-bearing Saviour. He was no moderately good man, he was not one who was only a little useful in the world; but our blessed Master was perfectly consecrated, he abounded in every good word and work; and unless we are the same, how shall men think that we are his disciples?

9. As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you:

Matchless, matchless word! The love of God the Father to the Son is the immeasurable measure of the love of Christ to his people,-without beginning, without end, without change, without bounds. As the Father loved Christ, so has Christ loved us.

9. Continue ye in my love.

Abide in it, live in it as the fish lives in the stream, enjoy it, do nothing contrary to it.

10, 11. If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love; even as I have kept my Father’s commandments, and abide in his love. These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full.

When Christ cannot rejoice in us, you may rest assured that we cannot rejoice in ourselves; but when his grace so operates upon us that he sees that in us which gives him content, then it is that we shall feel a blessed content ourselves.

12. This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.

I am sure you will never love each other too much. You cannot go beyond this rule: “Love one another, as I have loved you.”

13. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

What more has he that he can lay down when, having given up all else, he gives life itself for them?

14. Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.

You cannot be his friends if you are disobedient to his commands. An act of disobedience is unfriendliness; ay, and the omission of obedience is unfriendliness to Christ. I wish we would always remember that every sin, either of omission or of commission, is an unfriendly act towards our best Friend.

15. Henceforth I call you not servants; for the servant knoweth not what his lord doeth; but I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you.

The law made man do this and that, but it communicated very little of the secret counsels of God; but there is a holy familiarity between Christ and his people, a sacred confidence which Christ has manifested towards us in revealing the very heart of God to us, and therefore we are put upon a very high standing, not as servants now, but as friends. O friends of Christ, show yourselves friendly by your entire obedience to his gracious will!

16. Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you.

Fruitfulness, perseverance, and power in prayer, these are the priceless boons that come to us through our being one with Christ.

17. These things I command you, that ye love one another.

As if there were many things in one in that command. It is but one command, but it is so comprehensive that all the commandments are fulfilled in this one: “that ye love one another.”

18. If the world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it hated you.

So you need not be at all surprised if the world hates you.

19. If ye were of the world, the world would love his own: but because ye are not of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you.

Therefore expect it, in some form or other, for you will be sure to meet with it. The seed of the serpent never will love the seed of the woman.

20, 21. Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have, persecuted me, they will also persecute you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep your’s also. But all these things will they do unto you for my name’s sake, because they know not him that sent me.

“If I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin,”-as if all the rest would scarcely have been sin at all in comparison with that sin against the light which men committed after Christ had spoken to them. What a wonderful thing it is that the very word which is the creation of all good should, through the perversity of men’s will, become also the creation of evil!

22, 23. If I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin: but now they have no cloke for their sin. He that hateth me hateth my Father also.

There is a hatred of God in all hatred of the Mediator. Men may say that they love God, and yet despise Christ, but it cannot be so. Christ is so truly God, and so clear a manifestation of God, that, if men knew God, they would certainly hate him if they hate Christ.

24-27. If I had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin: but now have they both seen and hated both me and my Father. But this cometh to pass, that the word might be fulfilled that is written, in their law, They hated me without a cause. But when the Comforter is come, whom I will send unto you from the Father, even the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father, he shall testify of me: and ye also shall bear witness, because ye have been with me from the beginning.

Hymns from “Our Own Hymn Book”-196, 761, 797.