You have probably noticed, dear friends, while reading the chapter from which our text is taken, that it seems to divide itself into two parts. The first portion concerns that glorious Servant of God, “who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God,” even our Divine Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ. There is, in this part of the chapter, somewhat of complaint; Christ was, as it were, uttering one of his Gethsemane groans when he said, “I have laboured in vain, I have spent my strength for nought, and in vain: yet surely my judgment is with Jehovah, and my work with my God.” As far as our Lord’s personal ministry among the Jewish people was concerned, it did seem as if he had laboured in vain, for almost all of them rejected him, and they even imprecated an awful curse upon themselves and their descendants when they said, “His blood be on us, and on our children.” He is here represented as crying out before Jehovah concerning this apparent failure of his earthly mission; and an answer is at once given to him which must have been eminently satisfactory to our Saviour’s spirit, for he adds, “Though Israel be not gathered, yet shall I be glorious in the eyes of Jehovah, and my God shall be my strength. And he said, It is a light thing that thou shouldest be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob, and to restore the preserved of Israel: I will also give thee for a light to the Gentiles, that thou mayest be my salvation unto the end of the earth.” Oh, what joy must have filled the heart of our Divine Master, even in the depths of his agony, as he saw that, through his death, all nations should ultimately behold the light of God’s salvation! What though Israel for a while rejected him? Yet multitudes of the Gentiles would receive him; and then, by-and-by, in the fulness of time, the Jews would also receive him, and own as King the Nazarene whom once they crucified on Calvary.

The second part of the chapter, singularly enough, relates to the Israelitish Church, and, to a large extent, to the whole Church of God, and it also contains a complaint. In the expressive language of verse 13, God bids the heavens and the earth rejoice: “Sing, O heavens; and be joyful, O earth; and break forth into singing, O mountains: for Jehovah hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted.” Yet, even while that jubilant note is pealing over sea and land, there is heard the wailing of poor forsaken Zion,-Judæa’s Church, the ancient Church of the living God; and she sighs, “ ‘Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.’ He is blessing the Gentiles, but I am left unblessed. He is gathering multitudes unto himself, to glorify his Son; but his poor Israel, his ancient choice, his first love, he seems to have left out of all reckoning, ‘Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.’ ” Then comes the Lord’s answer, “Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.” Israel shall yet own her King, her salvation waits for the appointed time. There is a high destiny in store for the Israel of God; and many shall yet see the day when he, who died as King of the Jews, shall live again to wear that title, and to be acknowledged as the head of all the house of Abraham.

My object, in speaking upon the familiar and precious words of our text, is just this. Sometimes, you and I get into the same sad condition as Zion was then in, and we fancy that God has forgotten us, so I want to show you that, if we are believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord gives to us an answer similar to that which he gave to sorrowful Zion, “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.” Upon that short sentence I shall try now to speak to you.

First, let us think, for a while, upon the fear expressed, the fear in the hearts of God’s people, which led to the utterance of our text. In verse 14, this fear is thus expressed, “Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.”

This fear has been felt by very many. Fear is a most contagious and infectious thing. When it has taken hold on one person, it has been often known to spread to many others till a terrible panic has resulted from a very slight cause. Here is the whole Jewish Church expressing the fear that God has forgotten her. I feel sure that I am not now addressing such a church as that; I hope that the most of those now present know that God has not forgotten them, and that they are walking in the light of his countenance so that they do not imagine that Jehovah has forsaken them. But, still, this fear has darkened, shall I say, every sky, and passed before the window of every spirit? Well, I will not go quite that length; yet I know that there must be but very few of us who have not, at one time or another, naughtily whispered to our own heart, if we have not said it aloud, “Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.” We have gone up to the house of God with our brethren, and we have seen them very happy. The Word of God has been precious to them, and they have seemed to enjoy it to the full; but we could not feed upon it, or get a glimpse of the Well-beloved; and we have gone out of the place sighing, “Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.” Have you never had that thought? If you never have, I hope you never will; but I fear that the most of us have, at some time or other, been subject to that distressing complaint.

And it has sometimes been very plaintively expressed. It is so in the text. I think I hear the mountains echoing the joyous voice of God, and the very skies reverberating with the song of the redeemed; and then, in between the breaks of the glad chorus, I catch this little mournful note, “Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.” Perhaps it is all the more plaintive because the tone seems to indicate that Zion felt that she deserved to have it so. She thought herself so insignificant, so sinful, so provoking, that it was no wonder that the great Jehovah should forget her in her littleness, and that the pure and holy God should turn away his face from such iniquity as hers. Brothers and sisters, I feel sure that you and I must have been in that state in which we could weep and groan and sigh because of the joy in the air of which we could not partake, the songs in which we could not unite unless we became utter hypocrites. We heard the sweet strains of the holy merriment in the Father’s house, but we felt that we could not join in it; and we sat by ourselves mourning, with our harps hanging on the willows, while everyone around us only increased our grief in proportion to his own delight. I am trying to speak to such troubled souls; God comfort them! There are many such, and their grief is great.

And some, too, are very obstinate while they are in that condition, for our text contains a very unreasonable complaint. Read the latter part of the 13th verse: “Jehovah hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted.” Yet, in the teeth of that double declaration, Zion said, “Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.” Ah! dear friends, our complaints of God are generally groundless. We get into a state of mind in which we say, “God has forsaken us,” when he is really dealing with us more than he was wont to do. A child who is feeling the strokes of the rod is very foolish to say, “My father has forgotten me.” No; those very blows, under which he is smarting, are reminders that his father does not forget him; and your trials and your troubles, your depressions and your sorrows, are tokens that you are not forgotten of God. The chastening which is guaranteed to every legitimate son is coming to you. If you had not been chastened, there would have been far more cause for saying, “My Lord hath forgotten me.” Besides, dear friend, you have had some comforts though you have had many sorrows; you can say, “Comforts mingle with my sighs.” Do not forget that. It is not all gall and wormwood; there is so much honey as greatly to mitigate the bitterness. Think of that, and do not obstinately stand to a word which, perhaps, you spoke in haste. If you have said, “My Lord hath forgotten me,” call back the word, for it cannot be true. You have slandered him who can never forget one of his own people. And if you have said, “Jehovah hath forsaken me,” again I ask you to call back the evil and false word, and eat it. Never let it be heard again, for it is impossible that Jehovah should change, or that the immutable love of his infinite heart should ever die out. Be not obstinate about this matter, I implore you; yet I have known some of God’s people stick to this grave falsehood, to their own grievous wounding and hurt.

I suppose that Zion came to this conclusion because she was in banishment. She was away from the land that flowed with milk and honey, and she was suffering in exile. Is this the conclusion to be drawn from all suffering? Does the vine say, “The vinedresser hath forsaken me because he prunes me so sharply”? Does the invalid say, “The physician hath forgotten me because he gives me such bitter medicine”? Shall the patient, beneath the knife, say, “The surgeon hath forsaken me because he cuts even to the bone”? You see at once that there is no reasonableness about such talk, so dismiss it at once. “Judge not the Lord” by outward providences, any more than “by feeble sense,” but trust him even when you can see no trace of his goodness to you. “Let God be true, and” every circumstance, as well as “every man, a liar;” for God must keep his promise to his people. He is immutable; he cannot possibly change. He must be true to every word that has gone forth out of his mouth. The fear that God may forsake and forget his own, if obstinately indulged, will certainly deserve to be set down among the wanton and unreasonable transgressions of his people against their gracious God.

Yet I think that there is some measure of grace mingled with this fear. Let me read you this passage straight on: “Jehovah hath comforted his people, and will have mercy upon his afflicted. But Zion said, Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.” She did not say that till God had visited her. “The Lord hath comforted his people.” He has brought them out of a yet lower depth that they were in, and they have been lifted up so high as now to want his presence, and to sigh for it. Beloved brother, you who are so deep down in the dungeon, I feel glad that you want to get out of it. There is, in your soul, a longing after God, is there not? There is a panting and a crying after peace with God, is there not? You are not satisfied as long as you even think that God has forsaken you, are you? Ah, then! this is the work of his Holy Spirit in your soul, making you long after the living God, so that there is some sign of grace even in that discontented moan of yours, for it proves that you cannot bear that God should forsake you. Now, if you belonged to the world, it would be nothing to you if the Lord did forsake you. If there were no grace in you, you would not care whether God forgot you or not; indeed, you might almost wish that he would forget you, and not visit you in his wrath. There is, therefore, some trace of his hand in your spirit, even now that you say, “Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me.”

Besides, although the text is a word of complaint, it has also in it a word of faith: “my Lord.” Did you notice that? Zion calls Jehovah hers though she dreams that he has forsaken her. I do love to see you keep the grip of your faith even when it seems to be illogical,-even if you fancy that the Lord hath forgotten and forsaken you. Though you fear that it is so, yet still say, “my Lord,” hold on to this assurance with a death-grip. If you cannot hold on with both hands, hold on with one; and if sometimes you can hold with neither hand, hold on with your teeth. Let Job’s resolve be yours: “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.… Though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God;”-“and every scattered grain of this my dust shall still confide in God.” Oh, for the faith that laughs at impossibilities, that leaps with joy between the very jaws of death itself, and sings in the very centre of the fire! Such a faith as that, whatever weakness there way be about it, brings glory to God. So I treasure up that little word “my.” There are only two letters in it, but they are fraught with untold hope to the man who can use them as Zion does here, “my Lord.”

So much for the fear which the text is intended to meet.

Now I come, as God shall help me, to speak concerning the comfort bestowed: “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.”

This assurance is the Lord’s answer to Zion’s lament, “Jehovah hath forsaken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me;” so take it from God’s own mouth, and never doubt it. God’s remembrance of his people as a whole, and of each individual in particular, has been secured by him beyond all question. “That we might have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us,” he has said to each of us, “ ‘I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands,’ I have done it, and I have done that which will render it utterly impossible that I should ever forget one of my people. I the Lord have committed myself to something which will henceforth render it absolutely certain that I never can forget my own, for ‘I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.’ ”

These words seem to say to us that God has already secured, beyond any possible hazard, his tender memory towards all his own. He has done this in such a way that forgetfulness can never occur at any moment whatsoever. The memorial is not set up in heaven, for then you might conceive that God could descend, and leave that memorial. It is not set up in any great public place in the universe, nor is it engraven in a signet ring upon God’s finger, for that might be taken off. It is not written upon the Almighty’s skirts,-to speak after the manner of men,-for he might disrobe himself for conflict; but he has put the token of his love where it cannot be laid aside,-on the palms of his hands. A man cannot leave his hands at home. If he has put something, by way of memorial, upon the walls of his house or the gates of his home, he may go away, and forget it. Or if, as I have said, he shall write the memorial upon some precious diamond, or topaz, or other jewels which he wears, yet he might lay them on one side. But God says, “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands,” so that the memorial is constantly with him; yea, it is in God himself that the memorial of his people is fixed.

I suppose the allusion is to an Oriental custom, possibly not very common, but still common enough to have survived to this day. Mr. John Anderson, the pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Helensburgh, who was a very dear friend of mine, told me that, on one or two occasions, he had seen, in the East, men who had the portraits of their friends, and others who had the initials of their friends, in the palms of their hands. I said to him, “But I suppose that, in time, they would wash off or wear out.” “No,” he said, “they were tattooed too deeply in to be removed, so that, whenever they opened their hand, there were the familiar initials, or some resemblance to the features of the beloved one, to keep him ever in remembrance.” And the Lord here adopts that ancient custom, and says, “I cannot forget thee; it is impossible for me to do so, for I have engraven thee where the memorial can never be apart from myself. ‘I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.’ ”

Now, what is it, dear friends, that makes it so certain that God cannot forget his people? Well, first, God remembers his eternal love to his people, and his remembrance of them is constant because of that love. He says to each believing soul, “I have loved thee with an everlasting love.” The people of God were loved by him long before the world was created; he has loved them too long ever to forget them. “I have loved too long,” said one man, “to be turned aside by the blandishment of another.” We cannot imagine anything that could separate us from that dear heart to which our heart is knit even with a human love; while both of us shall live, the twain are indeed one. And God has loved us more than husbands love their wives, or fathers love their children, or brothers love their brothers. His love is like a great ocean of which all human love is but a drop of spray; and he has loved us so long, so well, so deeply, so unreservedly, that he cannot forget us. Even when any one of his people wanders from him, and grieves his heart, he says, “Yes, but I have loved thee with an everlasting love, and I will not cast thee off. Though all that thou now art might tend to wean me from thee, yet mine is not the love of yesterday, it is not a passion like that which flames within some men for a brief space, and then quickly goes out in darkness.” It is God’s eternal love that makes him keep us in memory. He has graven us, from all eternity, upon the palms of his hands, and therefore he cannot forget us.

Next, God’s suffering love secures his memory of us. Well did we sing, just now,-

“The palms of my hands whilst I look on I see

The wounds I received when suffering for thee.”

Oh, how deeply the cruel gravers cut our names in Christ’s dear hands! Those nails that fastened him to the cross were the graving tools, and he leaned hard while the iron pierced through flesh, and nerve, and vein. Yet the graving of which our text speaks is more than that, for the Lord himself says, “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.” The sufferings of Christ for us were such that never, by any possibility, can he forget us. Since he has died for us, he will never cast us away. By his death, on Calvary’s cross, Christ ensured that all those for whom he died shall live with him in his kingdom as surely as he himself lives. He paid not in vain such a tremendous price; neither shall he lose any part of that which he has thus purchased for himself. What a blessed memorial, then, is not only God’s eternal love, but Christ’s suffering love!

Yet again, by the expression, “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands,” God seems to say, “I have done so much for you that I can never forget you.” God has actively wrought for his people in many ways, but I will only now mention what his Spirit has wrought in you; what a theme that is! And, from the fact that the Spirit of God has wrought so much in us, we derive the satisfaction that he will never forget us. A man does not forget the work of his own hands, especially if it is something very choice. I remember that, in the siege of Paris, a great artist hid away a grand picture which was then but partly finished. Did he forget to go to Paris when it had its liberty, and to seek out his painting? Assuredly not; he remembered the work of his own hands, and back he went to draw it out, and put the finishing touches to it. So, God has done too much for us for him ever to lose us. Has he not created us anew in Christ Jesus, and given his Spirit to dwell within us? Then, surely, he will never turn away from work so costly, so divine; but he will complete it to his own praise and glory.

But, once more, when a memorial is engraven on a man’s hand, then it is connected with the man’s life. While he lives, that memorial is a part of his life. So is it with God. He has linked his people with his life. Our Lord Jesus said to his disciples, “Because I live, ye shall live also.” The union between your incarnate God and yourself is a thing which is so complete that your life is intertwisted with his life. Christ and you have become one fabric. To tear you away would be to destroy him. “Your life is hid with Christ in God;” and until Christ himself shall die, his people shall not die. Oh, think of this wondrous mystery! The ever-blessed Son of God is bound up in the bundle of life with all his people.

This I take to be the meaning of the Lord’s words, “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.” I cannot go deeper into this blessed subject; but I pray God to take you deeper, for there is a great depth here.

Now, beloved, I turn to the third head of my discourse, upon which I will be very brief. We have had a fear expressed, and a comfort bestowed; now, here is an inspection invited. “Behold,” says Jehovah, “Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.”

Come, then. “Behold.” Look for yourselves. There is God the Father; did you say that he had forsaken you? But how can that be? Behold, and see. He is your Father if you are trusting in his Son, Jesus Christ. Do you forget, do you forsake your own children? Tell me. You had a boy, who well-nigh broke your heart. He went away, and you were sadly glad when he went, for he had so grieved you that you thought it better that he should be out of sight. But have you forgotten him? Suppose he came back to-night. ’Tis years now since he left you without your blessing. Mother, you have never heard from him. Father, no tidings of your boy ever come to you. But if, when you went home to-night, there should be a big fellow sitting by the fireside,-not your boy any longer, and yet your own long-lost son,-after the first surprise, and after you had seen that it was your son, tell me, mother, would you turn him out of doors for all his ingratitude to you? Father, what would you do, first of all? I know what I should do if it were my case; I should fondly kiss that cheek, and bless God that I had lived to see my son again, whatever he might have been, and however much he might have grieved me. If you, then, being evil, neither forget nor forsake your children, will your Father who is in heaven forget you? Behold, and see if it is possible. God the everlasting Father does so intensely love, so infinitely love his own children, that it must never be dreamt for a moment that it is possible for him to forget any one of them.

Come now, and look again. Behold, by faith, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity in Unity, Jesus, the Lamb of God. Look at him on the cross; oh, what griefs he there bore for his people! Take down the blessed body-(you can scarcely bear to handle it), and help to wrap it in its linen cloths, and lay it in the tomb. Why did he suffer thus? Why did he die? For his own loved ones; then, can he ever forget them? Is it possible? After all that agony, can Jesus forget? Oh, no! Our children may forget us; but the mother remembers how she suffered for the child, and she loves it for the very pangs she endured in its birth. She knows the struggles of her widowhood to find bread for the child,-how she starved herself to satisfy its hunger. Oh, what agony and selfdenial some parents have suffered for their children; but these make them all the dearer, and render it all the more impossible that they should ever forget them. Well, then, remembering all this, look into the face of your Saviour, who died for you, and will you dare to say that he can possibly forget you? It cannot be; he has graven you upon the palms of his hands, and he will never forget or forsake you.

Then think, also, of that dear and blessed Spirit of God, who has come into your heart, and striven with you when you resisted him, and at last won the day; and, since then, has helped your infirmities, checked your hastiness, aroused you from your sloth, and been everything to you that he could be; and do you think that, after all this, he will ever forget or forsake you? Oh, if he had meant to cast you away, he has had many opportunities when he might have done so. Surely, he would never have come to dwell in such a hovel as your fallen nature is if he had not intended to transform it, and make it into a pure alabaster palace wherein the living God might dwell. “Behold,” says the Lord. That is, look into this great truth; look deeply into it, and then say to yourself. “My fears of being forgotten or forsaken are all gone, for I am graven upon the palms of his hands.”

So I close by referring very briefly to the last point, which is this, a return suggested.

I want, brothers and sisters, to speak in a very homely and familiar way to each one of you; and, at the same time, to be speaking to myself as well as to you.

Does Christ remember us as I have tried to prove that he does? Then, let us remember him. To that end he ordained that blessed supper to which many of us are coming presently,-the eating of the bread, and the drinking of the cup in memory of him. “This do ye in remembrance of me.” Now try to forget everything but your Lord and Saviour. Pass an act of oblivion on all your cares, and troubles, and sorrows; and only look at him as though, like a mysterious stranger, he stood at the pew door, and leaned over you, and you seemed to feel his shadow falling upon you. Now think of him, for he is very near you, and you are very near to him.

And, brethren, let us not only remember him at his table, but let us remember him constantly. Let us, as it were, carry his name upon the palms of our hands; let us ask God to help us always to think of Jesus,-never to forget him, but to have the memory of him intertwisted with our very breathing, with the pulsing of our blood, till our whole nature, like a bell, shall ring out but one note, and that shall be love to Jesus, and our heart shall be like Anacreon’s harp, of which he said that he wished to sing of the deeds of Cadmus, but his heart and his harp resounded love alone. Oh, for the love of Christ to be the one all-engrossing, all-absorbing theme of our entire being, till we truly say to Christ, “I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands.”

And, brothers, let us remember Christ practically. We ought so to wear Christ on our hands that whatever we touch should be thereby Christianized. I have heard of the “christening” of babies, that is an idle superstition, and a perversion of Christ’s ordinance of believers’ baptism; but I believe in the Christ-ening of everything a Christian touches. Make it all Christlike by doing everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, as the apostle Paul says, “Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.” Thus engrave his name upon the palms of your hands.

And, so brethren, let the name of Christ, and your memory of it, become vital to you. Not with a broad phylactery, not with the borders of your garments enlarged, not with outward signs and tokens of which some think a good deal too much in these days,-for true religion consists not in a dress of this cut or that, nor does it lie in boasting, like Pharisees, what we are, sounding our own praise at the corners of the streets that all may know it and observe;-but true religion lies in this, that we cannot live without Christ, that our ordinary life becomes uplifted by the Christ who dwells within us, till every meal is a sacrament, every garment is a vestment, every place is an altar, and the whole world a temple in which we are kings and priests because God has made us so. Unto this may we each of us come, and come now!

If any of you have not yet believed in Jesus, oh, how I wish you would! As I am going away for a while, I shall not be able to speak personally to you for some time to come; but I hope that those, whom my voice has failed to influence, may be reached by some other servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall occupy this pulpit to speak to you in my absence. Oh, that you all knew my Lord! There is none like him. His bonds are freedom; his service is rest; to die for him, is life; to live for him, is heaven. God bring you to him and fasten you to him for ever! Amen, and Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

JOHN 14:1-21

We have often read this chapter, both in our private meditations, and at our public worship; but we cannot read it too often. It is sweet as honey and the honeycomb. It contains the very quintessence of consolation. Every word in the chapter is rich, and full of meaning. Perhaps they understand it best who cannot read it quickly, but are obliged to spell over every word of it, and so are like those who feast upon marrow and fatness.

Verse 1. Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me.

That is the cure for heart-trouble, and all other trouble, too,-believing in God, and believing in his Son, Jesus Christ. Faith is the double cure of trouble, for it delivers us altogether from the trouble, and, at the same time, it helps us to find sweetness in it as long as we have to endure it.

Notice that our Saviour says, “Let not your heart be troubled.” If your heart can be preserved from trouble, you will not be greatly tried by it. Trouble is in your house, perhaps; but, if so, let it not get into your heart. The waves beat all round your vessel, but let not the vessel itself leak, and take in the water: “Let not your heart be troubled.”

2. In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.

This was very largely the cause of their trouble; they were full of sorrow because their Lord and Master was going away from them; yet he was going for their good. It was with a set purpose that he was leaving them, and the same reason still keeps him away from us. We are not to mourn for him as we might for one slain in battle, who would never come back to us. He has gone for a little while to another country, to the great Father’s house, upon a most gracious and necessary errand: “I go to prepare a place for you.” The Spirit of God is down here to prepare us for the place; the Son of God is up yonder to prepare the place for us.

3. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

Do not tell us about a purgatory for Christ’s people, a limbo in which they are to lie awhile to be prepared to share his glory. No, he will come at the right time, and take them to be where he is, and they shall have the very place that Jesus has: “I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.” Do you want a better rest than that after all your work and warfare here below? Does not this prospect cheer you while you are journeying down the hill of life? It is better on before.

4. And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know.

“Ye know that I am going to the Father, and ye know that I am myself the way to the Father; I am going whence I came.”

5, 6. Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way? Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life:

“I am all that you want on your way to heaven, the truth that will make heaven for you, and the life which you will enjoy with me for ever in heaven. I give you all that while you are yet here below.”

6. No man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

There is no getting to God except through Christ. Those who say that we can go to heaven without a Mediator know not what they say, or say what they know to be false. There can be no acceptable approach to the Father except by Jesus Christ the Son.

7. If ye had known me, ye should have known my Father also:

For Christ is also “the mighty God, the everlasting Father.” All the character of God is seen in the Christ of God, and he who truly comes to Christ has really come to the Father.

7. And from henceforth ye know him, and have seen him.

I hope that this may be said of many of us, that we do truly know God; and, since we have seen Christ by faith, we have seen the Father also.

8. Philip saith unto him, Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us.

What a comfort these questions and blunders of Thomas and Philip ought to be to us, for it is clear that we are not the only dolts in Christ’s school; and if he could bear with them, he can bear with us also. Like them, how little do we retain of that which he teaches us! We are taught much, but we learn little, for we are such poor scholars. Our memory holds but little, and our understanding still less of what we have been taught, and we are all too apt to want something that we can see, just as Philip said, “Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us.”

9-11. Jesus saith unto him, Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip? he that hath seen me hath seen the Father; and how sayest thou then, Shew us the Father? Believest thou not that I am in the Father, and the Father in me? the words that I speak unto you I speak not of myself: but the Father that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works. Believe me that I am in the Father, and the Father in me: or else believe me for the very works’ sake.

Note how the Master continued to urge his disciples to believe. Again and again he returned to that vital point: “Believest thou?” “Believe me.…: believe me.” This he did because there is no relief from heart-trouble but by believing the everlasting truth of God, and especially by believing him who is “the truth.” The believer alone has true peace of heart; the unbeliever is tossed to and fro on the billows of the great ocean of doubt; how can he rest? There is nothing for him to rest upon. Happily, Christ is still saying, “Come unto me, and I will give you rest;” and they are truly wise who accept his gracious invitation.

12. Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father.

When Christ had gone back to the Father, he opened all heaven’s treasures for his people; he bestowed the Spirit of all grace, and so his servants were helped to do even greater works than he himself did while he was upon the earth. We cannot add anything to his atonement; that work must for ever stand as complete and unique; but there are other forms of service, in which he engaged in his earthly ministry, in which his servants have gone far beyond him. The Lord Jesus Christ never preached a sermon after which three thousand were converted and baptized in one day; to a large extent he kept his personal ministry within the bounds of Palestine; but, after his resurrection, when the Spirit was poured out at Pentecost, then, in the power of the Spirit, greater works than his were wrought the wide world over.

13, 14. And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.

Is that promise true to every man? Certainly not. It was made by Christ to his own disciples, and not to all of them absolutely; but only to them as they believe in him, as they are filled with his Spirit, and as they keep his commandments. There are some of God’s children who have little power with him in prayer,-some who walk so disorderly that, since they do not listen to God’s words, he will not listen to theirs. Yet he will give them necessaries, as you give even to your naughty and disobedient children; but he will not give them the luxury of prevailing prayer, and that full fellowship with him which comes through abiding in him. Such luxuries he saves for his obedient children, who are filled with his Spirit. Even under the old dispensation, David wrote, “Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart;” and in a very special sense, under the new dispensation, that spirituality of mind, which enables us to delight in God, is a necessary antecedent to our obtaining the desires of our heart in the high and spiritual sphere of prayer.

15-17. If ye love me, keep my commandments. And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever; even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him:

The world is carnal, it is unspiritual; therefore, it is unable to see or to know the Spirit of God. A man without a spiritual nature cannot recognize the Holy Spirit; he must be born again before he can do so. You who are only soul and body need to receive that third and loftier principle-the spirit which is wrought in us by the Spirit of God. Until you have it, this verse applies to you: “The Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him.”

17. But ye know him;

Christ’s own disciples know him.

17-19. For he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you. I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. Yet a little while, and the world seeth me no more; but ye see me: because I live, ye shall live also.

Oh, what a rich promise! How, then, can Christ’s people ever perish? Until Christ himself perishes, no child of his can ever be lost.

20. At that day ye shall know that I am in my Father, and ye in me, and I in you.

Three wondrous mysteries of union,-Christ in the Father, the Church in Christ, and Christ in his Church.

21. He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me: and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him.

May we be such lovers of Christ that he may love us, and manifest himself unto us, for his name’s sake! Amen.

CHRIST CRUCIFIED

A Sermon

Intended for Reading on Lord’s-day, May 6th, 1900, delivered by

C. H. SPURGEON,

at new park street chapel, southwark,

On a Lord’s-day Evening, early in the year 1858.

“For I determined not to know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”-1 Corinthians 2:2.

Corinth was situated in the midst of a people who admired eloquence and wisdom. This Epistle was written in the age of orators and philosophers. The apostle Paul was a man of profound learning; he had been educated at the feet of Gamaliel in all the wisdom of the East. We are quite sure he was a man of a very capacious mind; for, although his writings were inspired by the Holy Spirit, yet the Holy Spirit chose as his instrument a man evidently possessing the capacity for strong and vigorous thought and argument; and as for his oratorical powers, I believe that, if he had chosen to cultivate them, they would have been of the very first order, for we have in some of his Epistles eloquence more sublime than ever fell from the lips of Cicero or Demosthenes.

The temptation would exist, in the mind of any ordinary man entering into such a city as Corinth, to say within himself, “I will endeavour to excel in all the graces of oratory; I have a blessed gospel to preach that is worthy of the highest talents that ever can be consecrated to it.” “I am,” Paul might have said to himself, “largely gifted in the matter of eloquence, I must now endeavour carefully to polish my periods, and so to fashion my address as to excel all the orators who now attract the Corinthians to listen to them. This I may do very laudably, for I will still keep in view my intention of preaching Jesus Christ; and I will preach Jesus Christ with such a flow of noble language that I shall be able to win my audience to consider the subject.”

But the apostle resolved to do no such thing. “No,” said he, “before I enter the gates of Corinth, this is my firm determination; if any good is to be done there, if any are led to believe in Christ the Messiah, their belief shall be the result of hearing the gospel, and not of my eloquence. It shall never be said, ‘Oh! no wonder that Christianity spreads, see what an able advocate it has; ’but it shall be said, ‘How mighty must be the grace of God which has convinced these persons by such simple preaching, and brought them to know the Lord Jesus Christ by such humble instrumentality as that of the apostle Paul!’ ” He resolved to put a curb upon his fiery tongue, he determined that he would be slow in speech in the midst of them; and, instead of magnifying himself, he would magnify his office, and magnify the grace of God by denying himself the full use of those powers, which, had they been dedicated to God,-as indeed they were,-but had they been fully employed, as some would have used them, might have achieved for him the reputation of being the most eloquent preacher upon the face of the earth.

Again, he might have said, “These philosophers are very wise men; if I would be a match for them, I must be very wise, too. These Corinthians are a very noble race of people; they have been for a long time under the tuition of these talented men. I must speak as they speak, in enigmas and with many sophisms; I must always be propounding some dark problem. I need not live in the tub of Diogenes; but if I take his lantern, I may do something with it; I must try and borrow some of his wisdom. I have a profound philosophy to preach to these clever people; and if I liked to preach that philosophy, I should dash in pieces all their theories concerning mental and moral science. I have found out a wondrous secret, and I might stand in the midst of the market-place, and cry, ‘Eureka, Eureka,’ ‘I have found it,’ but I do not care to build my gospel upon the foundation of human wisdom. No, if any are brought to believe in Christ, it shall be from the simple unadorned gospel, plainly preached in unpolished language. The faith of my hearers, if they are converted to God, shall not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God.”

Can you not see, dear friends, that the apostle had very good reasons for coming to this determination? When a man says that he is determined to do a certain thing, it looks as if he knew that it was a difficult thing to do. So, methinks it must have been a hard thing for the apostle to determine to keep to this one subject, “Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” I am sure that nine-tenths of the ministers of this age could not have done it. Fancy Paul going through the streets of Corinth, and hearing a philosopher explain the current theory of creation. He is telling the people something about the world springing out of certain things that previously existed, and the apostle Paul thinks, “I could easily correct that man’s mistakes; I could tell him that the Lord created all things in six days, and rested on the seventh, and show him in the Book of Genesis the inspired account of the creation.” “But, no,” he says to himself, “I have a more important message than that to deliver.” Still, he must have felt as if he would have liked to set him right; for, you know, when you hear a man uttering a gross falsehood, you feel as if you would like to go in, and do battle with him. But instead of that, the apostle just thinks, “It is not my business to set the people right about their theory of the creation of the world All that I have to do is to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”

Besides, in Corinth, there was now and then sure to be a political struggle, and I have no doubt that the apostle Paul felt for his people, the Jews, and he would have liked to see all his Jewish kindred have the privilege of citizenship. Sometimes the Corinthians would hold a public meeting, in which they would support the opinion that the Jews ought not to have citizenship in Corinth; might not the apostle have made a speech at such a gathering? If he had been asked to do so, he would have said, “I know nothing about such matters; all I know is Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” They had political lectures, no doubt, in Corinth; and one man delivered a lecture upon this subject, and another upon that; in fact, all kinds of wonderful themes taken from the ancient poets were descanted upon by different men. Did not the apostle Paul take one of the lectures? Did he not say, “I may throw a little gospel into it, and so do some good”? No, he said, “I come here as Christ’s minister, and I will never be anything else but Christ’s minister; I will never address the Corinthians in any other character than that of Christ’s ambassador. For one thing only have I determined to know, and that is, Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” Would to God that all the ministers of this age had determined to do the same!

Do you not sometimes find a minister who takes a prominent part in an election, who thinks it his business to stand forth on the political platform of the nation; and did it ever strike you that he was out of his place, that it was his business to know nothing among men save Jesus Christ, and him crucified? Do we not see, at every corner of our streets, a lecture advertised to be delivered on this and that and the other subject, by this minister and that, who leave their pulpits in order that they may be enabled to deliver lectures upon all kinds of subjects? “No,” Paul would have said, “if I cannot spread the gospel of Christ legitimately, by preaching it openly, I will not do it by taking an absurd title for my sermon; for the gospel shall stand or fall on its own merits, and with no enticing words of man’s wisdom will I preach it.” Let anyone say to me, “Come and give your able advocacy for this or that reform,” and my answer would be, “I do not know anything about that subject, for I have determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” As Albert Barnes very well says, “This should be the resolution of every minister of the gospel. This is his business;-not to be a politician; not to engage in the strifes and controversies of men; not to be merely a good farmer, or scholar; not to mingle with his people in festive circles and enjoyments; not to be a man of taste and philosophy, and distinguished mainly for refinement of manners; not to be a profound philosopher or metaphysician, but to make Christ crucified the grand object of his attention, and to seek always and everywhere to make him known. He is not to be ashamed anywhere of the humbling doctrine that Christ was crucified. In this, he is to glory. Though the world may ridicule, though philosophers may sneer, though the rich and the gay may deride it, yet this is to be the grand object of interest to him; and at no time, and in no society, is he to be ashamed of it. It matters not what are the amusements of society around him; what fields of science, or gain, or ambition, are open before him; the minister of Christ is to know Christ and him crucified alone. If he cultivates science, it is to be that he may the more successfully explain and vindicate the gospel. If he becomes in any manner familiar with the works of art and of taste, it is that he may more successfully show to those who cultivate them the superior beauty and excellence of the cross. If he studies the plans and the employments of men, it is that he may more successfully meet them in those plans, and more successfully speak to them of the great plan of redemption. The preaching of the cross is the only kind of preaching that will be attended with success. That which has in it much respecting the Divine mission, the dignity, the works, the doctrines, the person, and the atonement of Christ, will be successful. So it was in the time of the apostles; so it was in the Reformation; so it was in the Moravian missions; so it has been in all revivals of religion. There is a power about that kind of preaching which philosophy and human reason have not. ‘Christ is God’s great ordinance’ for the salvation of the world; and we meet the crimes and alleviate the woes of the world just in proportion as we hold the cross up as appointed to overcome the one, and to pour the balm of consolation into the other.”

Would that all ministers would keep this in mind, that they should do nothing outside the office of the ministry, that to be once a minister is to be a minister for ever, and never to be a politician, never to be a lecturer; that to be once a preacher is to be a preacher of Christ’s holy gospel until Christ takes us to himself to begin to sing the new song before the throne.

Now, brethren and sisters, I have discharged my duty in saying these things. If they apply to any ministers whom you admire, I cannot help it. There is the text, and what do we learn from it but this, that the apostle Paul determined to do everything as a minister of Christ? And, my dear brethren and sisters, it is your duty to do this as hearers. As Christians, it is your duty and privilege to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

And first, with regard to the doctrines which you believe, I beseech you, do not know anything except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

You are told by one person that such-and-such a system of theology is based upon the soundest principles of reason. You are told by another that the old doctrines which you have believed are not consistent with these advanced times. You will now and then be met by smart young gentlemen who will tell you that, to be what is called a Calvinist, is to be a long way behind this progressive age; “for you know,” they say, “that intellectual preachers are rising up, and that it would be well if you would become a little more intellectual in the matter of preaching and hearing.” When such a remark as that is made to any one of you, I beseech you to give this answer, “I know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified. If you can tell me more about Christ than I know, I will thank you; if you can instruct me as to how I may become more like Christ, how I may live nearer in fellowship with him, how my faith in him may become stronger, and my belief in his holy gospel may become more firm, then I will thank you; but if you have nothing to tell me except some intellectual lore which you have with great pains accumulated, I will tell you that, although it may be a very good thing for you to preach, and for others who are intellectual to hear, I do not belong to your class, nor do I wish to belong to it; I belong to that sect everywhere spoken against, who after the way that men call heresy worship the Lord God of their fathers, believing all things that are written in the law and in the prophets. I belong to a race of people who believe that it is not the pride of intellect, nor the pomp of knowledge that can ever teach men spiritual things. I belong to those who think that out of the mouths of babes and sucklings God hath ordained strength, and I do not believe that out of your mouth God has ordained any strength at all. I belong to the men who like to sit, with Mary, at the feet of Jesus, and to receive just what Christ said, as Christ said it, and because Christ said it. I want no truth but what he says is truth, and no other ground for believing it but that he says it, and no better proof that it is true than that I feel and know it to be true as applied to my own heart.”

Now, dear friend, if you can do that, I will trust you anywhere,-even amongst the wisest heretics of the age. You may go where false doctrines are rife, but you will never catch the plague of heresy while you have this golden preservative of truth, and can say, “I know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.” As for myself, I can truly say, that Jesus Christ, and him crucified, is the sum of all knowledge to me; he is the highest intellectualism; he is the grandest philosophy to which my mind can attain; he is the pinnacle that rises loftier than my highest aspirations; and deeper than this great truth I wish never to fathom. Jesus Christ and him crucified is the sum total of all I want to know, and of all the doctrines which I profess and preach.

Next, it must be just the same in your experience. Brethren, I beseech you, in your experience, know nothing except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

You may go out to-morrow, not merely into the outside world, but into the church, the nominal church, and you will meet with a class of persons who take you by the ear, and who invite you into their houses, and the moment you are there, they begin to talk to you about the doctrines of the gospel. They say nothing about Christ Jesus; but they begin at once to talk of the eternal decrees of God, of election, and of the high mysteries of the covenant of grace. While they are talking to you, you say in your hearts, “What they are saying is true, but there is one lamentable defect in it all; their teaching is truth apart from Christ.” Conscience whispers, “The election that I believe is election in Christ. These men do not talk anything about that, but only of election. The redemption that I believe always has a very special reference to the cross of Christ. These men do not mention Christ; they talk of redemption as a commercial transaction, and say nothing about Jesus. With regard to final perseverance, I believe all that these men say; but I have been taught that the saints only persevere in consequence of their relation to Christ, and these men say nothing about that.” This minister, they say, is not sound, and that other minister is not sound; and let me tell you that, if you get amongst this class of persons, you will learn to rue the day that ever you looked them in the face. If you must come into contact with them, I beseech you to say to them, “I love all the truths that you hold, but my love of them can never overpower and supersede my love to Jesus Christ, and him crucified; and I tell you plainly, while I could not sit to hear erroneous doctrine, I could just as soon do that as sit to hear the truthful doctrine apart from the Lord Jesus Christ. I could not go to a place where I saw a man, dressed in gorgeous robes, who pretended to be Christ, and was not; and, on the other hand, I could not go to a place where I saw Christ’s real robes, but the Master himself was absent; for what I want is, not his robe, not his dress, I want the Master himself; and if you preach to me dry doctrine without Jesus Christ, I tell you it will not suit my experience; for my experience is just this, that while I know my election, I never can know it except I know my union with the Lamb. I tell you plainly that I know I am redeemed, but I cannot bear to think of redemption without thinking of the Saviour who redeemed me. It is my boast that I shall to the end endure, but I know-each hour makes me know-that my endurance depends upon my standing in Christ, and I must have that truth preached in connection with the cross of Christ.” Oh! have nought to do with these people, unless it is to set them right; for you will find that they are full of the gall of bitterness, the poison of asps is under their tongue; instead of giving you things whereon your soul can feed, they will make you full of all manner of bitterness, and malice, and evil speaking against those who truly love the Lord Jesus, but who differ from them in some slight matter.

You may meet with another class of persons who will take you by the other ear, and say to you, “We, too, love Christ’s doctrines, but we believe that our friends on the other side of the road are wrong. They do not preach enough experience;” and you say, “Well, I think I have got amongst the people who will suit me now;” and you hear the minister insisting that the most precious experience in the world is to know your own corruption, to feel the evil of the human heart, to have that filthy dunghill turned over and over in all its reeking noisomeness, and exposed before the sun; and after hearing the sermon, which is full of pretended humility, you rise from your seats more proud than you ever were in your lives, determined now that you will begin to glory in that very thing which you once counted as dross. The things which you were ashamed once to speak of, you now think should be your boast. That deep experience which was your disgrace shall now become the crown of your rejoicing. You speak to the dear brothers and sisters who imbibe this view, and they tell you to seek first, not the kingdom of God and his righteousness, but the hidden things of the prison, the discovery of the unrighteousness and unholiness of the soul. O my dear friends, if you wish to have your lives made miserable, if you want to be led back to the bondage of Egypt, if you want to have Pharaoh’s rope put round your necks once again, take their motto for your motto; but if you wish to live as I believe Christ would have you live, I would entreat you to say, “No, it does me good sometimes to hear of the evil heart, but I have made a determination to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified, and you do not tell me anything about him.” These men preach one Sunday upon the leper; but do they preach, the next Sunday, upon the leper healed? These men tell all about the filthy state of the human heart, but they say little or nothing about that river that is to cleanse and purify it. They say much about the disease, but not so much about the Physician; and if you attend their ministry very long, you will be obliged to say, “I shall get into such a doleful condition, that I shall be tempted to imitate Judas, and go out, and hang myself. So, good morning to you, for I have determined to know nothing in my experience but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”

I would be very earnest in trying to warn you about this matter, for there is a growing tendency, amongst a certain order of professing Christians, to set up something in experience except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. Tell me that your experience is all concerned with the Lord Jesus Christ, and I will rejoice in it; the more of Christ there is in it, the more precious it is. Tell me that your experience is full of the knowledge of your own corruptions, and I answer, “If there is not in it a mixture also of the knowledge of Christ, and unless the knowledge of Christ predominates to a large degree, your experience is wood, hay, and stubble, and must be consumed, and you must suffer loss.”

By the way, let me tell you a little story about Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. I am a great lover of John Bunyan, but I do not believe him infallible; and the other day I met with a story about him which I think a very good one. There was a young man, in Edinburgh, who wished to be a missionary. He was a wise young man; so he thought, “If I am to be a missionary, there is no need for me to transport myself far away from home; I may as well be a missionary in Edinburgh.” There’s a hint to some of you ladies, who give away tracts in your district, and never give your servant Mary one. Well, this young man started, and determined to speak to the first person he met. He met one of those old fishwives; those of us who have seen them can never forget them, they are extraordinary women indeed. So, stepping up to her, he said, “Here you are, coming along with your burden on your back; let me ask you if you have got another burden, a spiritual burden.” “What!” she asked; “do you mean that burden in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress? Because, if you do, young man, I got rid of that many years ago, probably before you were born. But I went a better way to work than the pilgrim did. The evangelist that John Bunyan talks about was one of your parsons that do not preach the gospel; for he said, ‘Keep that light in thine eye, and run to the wicket-gate.’ Why, man alive! that was not the place for him to run to. He should have said, ‘Do you see that cross? Run there at once!’ But, instead of that, he sent the poor pilgrim to the wicket-gate first; and much good he got by going there! He got tumbling into the slough, and was like to have been killed by it.” “But did not you,” the young man asked, “go through any Slough of Despond?” “Yes, I did; but I found it a great deal easier going through with my burden off than with it on my back.” The old woman was quite right. John Bunyan put the getting rid of the burden too far off from the commencement of the pilgrimage. If he meant to show what usually happens, he was right; but if he meant to show what ought to have happened, he was wrong. We must not say to the sinner, “Now, sinner, if thou wilt be saved, go to the baptismal pool; go to the wicket-gate; go to the church; do this or that.” No, the cross should be right in front of the wicket-gate; and we should say to the sinner, “Throw thyself down there, and thou art safe; but thou are not safe till thou canst cast off thy burden, and lie at the foot of the cross, and find peace in Jesus.”

Let me conclude by saying, brethren and sisters, determine, from this hour, that in your faith you will know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

I am perfectly certain that I have not a grain of my own merit to trust in, and not so much as an atom of creature strength to rely upon; but I find myself often, during the seven days of the week, relying upon merit of my own that does not exist, and depending upon strength of my own which I at the same time confess has no existence at all. You and I often call the Pope antichrist; but do we not ourselves often play the antichrist, too? The Pope sets himself up as the head of the Church; but do not we go further by setting ourselves up sometimes to be our own saviours? We do not say so, except in a sort of still small voice, like the mutterings of the old wizards. It is not a loud, out-spoken lie, because we should know then how to answer it; “but now,” whispers the devil, “how well you did that!” and then we begin to rely upon our works, and Satan says, “You prayed so well yesterday, you will never be cold in your prayers again; and you will be so strong in faith that you will never doubt your God again.” It is the old golden calf that is set up once more; for, although it was ground to powder, it seems to have the art of coming together again. After we have been told, ten times over, that we cannot have any merit of our own, we begin to act as if we had; and the man who tells you, in his doctrine, that all his fresh springs are in Christ, yet thinks and acts just as if he had fresh springs of his own. He mourns as if all his dependence were upon himself, and groans as if his salvation depended upon his own merits. We often get talking, in our own souls, as if we did not believe the gospel at all, but were hoping to be saved by our own works, and our own creature performances. Oh, for a stronger determination to know nothing henceforth but Jesus Christ, and him crucified! I would to God that I could make that resolution myself, and that you would all make it with me. I heard once of a countryman, who was preaching, one day, and he preached very nicely the first half of his sermon, but towards the end he entirely broke down, and his brother said to him, “Tom, I can tell you why you did not preach well at the end of your sermon. It was because you got on so nicely at first that the devil whispered, ‘Well done, Tom, you are getting on very well;’ and as soon as the devil said that, you thought ‘Tom is a very fine fellow,’ and then the Lord left you.” Happy would it have been for Tom if he could have determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified, and not to have known Tom at all. That is what I desire to know myself; for if I know nothing but the power which comes from on high, I never can be less powerful at one time than at another, and I can glory in my infirmity because it makes room for Christ’s power to rest upon me.

“I glory in infirmity,

That Christ’s own power may rest on me:

When I am weak, then am I strong,

Grace is my shield, and Christ my song.”

It would be a good resolution for you, brethren, and for myself, to determine to know nothing about ourselves, and nothing about our own doings. Now, friend John, begin to think nothing about yourself, and to know nothing but Jesus Christ. Let John go where he likes, and be you relying not upon John’s strength, but upon Christ’s. And you, Peter, know nothing about Peter at all, and do not boast, “Though all men should deny thee, yet will I never deny thee;” but know that Peter’s Lord Jesus is living inside Peter, and then you may go on comfortably enough.

Determine, Christian, that, by the grace of God, it shall be your endeavour to keep your eye single, to keep your faith fixed alone on the Lord Jesus, without any addition of your own works, or your own strength; and determining that, you may go on your way rejoicing, singing of the cross of Christ as your boast, your glory, and your all. We are now coming to the table of our Master, and I hope that this will be our determination there, to know nothing save Jesus Christ, and him crucified; and may the Lord give us his blessing! Amen.

Exposition by C. H. Spurgeon

PSALM 22

This Psalm is headed, “To the chief Musician upon Aijeleth Shahar,”-or, as the margin renders it, “the hind of the morning,”-“A Psalm of David.” It begins in the very depths of the Master’s sorrow, when this great and bitter cry escaped his lips,-

Verse 1. My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Every word is emphatic: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” “All others may forsake me, and I need not be greatly troubled at their absence; but ‘why hast thou forsaken me?” ’ “ ‘Why hast thou forsaken me?’ I understand why thou dost smite me, for I am the Shepherd predestined to be smitten for the flock, but ‘why hast thou forsaken me?’ ” “Why hast thou forsaken me?-thine only-begotten, thy well-beloved Son,-‘why hast thou forsaken me?’ ”

1. Why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?

“Why have I no inflowings of thy love,-no enjoyment of thy presence,-no whispers from thy heart? I am left alone,-left utterly,-left on the cross,-left in my direst need.” God’s adopted children do not usually talk like this; such a lament as this has not often come even from the martyrs for the faith, for, as a rule, they have had God with them in their hour of deepest agony; but here was One, who was far greater than they, who yet had to endure suffering from which they were exempted;-the only perfect One was forsaken by God. You know that it was because he stood in our stead that the Saviour had this pre-eminence in suffering and sorrow.

2. O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not; and in the night season, and am not silent.

Think of what a weight that unanswered prayer was upon the soul of the Well-beloved. Have you ever felt such a burden as that? Then, you are not alone in that experience, for he who is infinitely better than you can ever be had to think over his day prayers and his night prayers which, for a while, were not answered.

3. But thou art holy, O thou that inhabitest the praises of Israel.

Follow the example of your Lord, poor troubled soul. Find no fault with thy God, even though he should forsake thee. Call him holy, even though he should leave thee; and when he seems not to hear thy prayers, yet do not thou forget his praises.

4-6. Our fathers trusted in thee: they trusted, and thou didst deliver them. They cried unto thee, and were delivered: they trusted in thee, and were not confounded. But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people.

Think of our Divine Lord thus taking the very lowest place, and becoming, as it were, something less than man,-just that little crimson worm which has simply a life made up of blood. Christ likens himself to it as he says, “I am a worm, and no man.”

7, 8. All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying, He trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.

Oh! these were cruel and cutting words. Like a sharp razor, they cut to the very heart of our Divine Master as he heard his enemies exulting even over his faith, as though it had come to nothing, for now Jehovah himself had forsaken him, and left him to die alone upon the tree.

9, 10. But thou art he that took me out of the womb: thou didst make me hope when I was upon my mother’s breasts. I was cast upon thee from the womb: thou art my God from my mother’s belly.

Sometimes, we also may derive great comfort from this truth to which our Saviour here refers. When we could not help ourselves in the least degree, the Lord preserved us, so will he not again help us when we are at our worst? You who have reached your second childhood may reflect with gratitude and hope upon the way in which God took care of you in your first childhood. Then, you certainly were entirely dependent upon him, yet you fared well; and so you shall if each sense shall fail you,-if the power of moving shall be taken away, and the power of sight, and the power of hearing, yet the Lord, who blessed you when you were just born, will still preserve you right to the end. You remember how the Lord puts this truth in Isaiah 46:4: “Even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry you: I have made, and I will bear; even I will carry, and will deliver you.”

Our Saviour, having comforted himself thus, falls to praying again:-

11, 12. Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help. Many bulls have compassed me: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me round.

These were the Pharisees, the chief priests, and the strong Roman soldiers that compassed our Saviour when he was upon the cross.

13, 14. They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion. I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels.

Can you not see your Saviour hanging on the accursed tree,-every particle of him as it were loosened from its fellow by the fever raging in his whole being, and the anguish and deep depression of his spirit?

15. My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws;

Such was the intensity of his anguish that the fever within him turned his mouth into an oven, and his tongue was so dried up that it could scarcely stir.

15. And thou hast brought me into the dust of death.

As if his whole body were prepared to go back into its primary elements. He feels in himself the sentence pronounced upon the first Adam, “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”

16. For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have inclosed me:

These were the common people, the rabble, the multitude that thronged around, barking at him like a pack of hungry hounds.

16. They pierced my hands and my feet.

This little sentence shows that this Psalm must relate to the Lord Jesus. Truly did David see him in vision. It happened not to David to have his hands and feet pierced; but this was the portion of David’s Master and Lord; he could indeed say, “They pierced my hands and my feet.”

17. I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me.

He is emaciated through his fasting and all the agony he has endured, and his bones seem to break through his skin by reason of the cruel scourging to which he had been subjected.

18, 19. They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture. But be not thou far from me, O Lord: O my strength,-

That is, El,-the name he gave to God in the first verse: “O my strong One,”-

19-21. Haste thee to help me. Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion’s mouth: for thou hast heard me from the horns of the unicorns.

Did you notice that flash of light gleaming through the darkness, “Thou hast heard me”? Perhaps it was at that moment that the sun again shone forth; at any rate, it is clear that the lost light had returned to our suffering Lord, for the rest of this divine soliloquy is full of comfort and confidence.

22. I will declare thy name unto my brethren:

His first thought, even in his agony on the cross, was about them; and he seemed to say, “When I have risen from the dead, I will tell them all about this time of trial; and through the ages to come, I will tell my people how thou didst help me,-the greatest of all sufferers,-and that thou wilt help them also. I was left for a time, and yet I was not finally left. I cried, ‘Lama sabachthani,’ and yet I triumphed, even then, and so shall they. They shall do as I have done,-confide and conquer.”

22. In the midst of the congregation will I praise thee.

And you know that he did so; he stood in the midst of his people, and told them what God had done; and, spiritually, he stands in our midst at this moment, and he leads our songs of praise unto Jehovah.

23, 24. Ye that fear the Lord, praise him; all ye the seed of Jacob, glorify him; and fear him, all ye the seed of Israel. For he hath not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted; neither hath he hid his face from him; but when he cried unto him, he heard.

What a change of note! If men could hear us speak when we are in the depths of sorrow, they might conclude that God had forsaken us; but when we get out again, how quickly we eat our words, and how soon we begin to tell the goodness of the Lord! Then we lift up the joyous strain, “O give thanks unto the Lord; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever.”

25. My praise shall be of thee in the great congregation: I will pay my vows before them that fear him.

Christ still praises God in the great congregation. On my way to this evening’s service, I called to see one of our dear brethren who is very ill, and I was much refreshed with a sweet thing that he said:-“When we all get to heaven, we shall feel quite at home there, for you know, sir, we have worshipped in a great congregation for these many years.” And so we shall. There is something most exhilarating and refreshing in going with a multitude to keep holy day; the more, the merrier; but what shall be the joy in heaven, where the number of the redeemed cannot be counted, and all shall be continually praising God? This was one of the joys that was set before Christ, for which “he endured the cross, despising the shame.”

26. The meek shall eat and be satisfied:

Even in the time of his great agony, our Lord was thinking of you hidden ones, you little ones, who think yourselves worth nothing. Christ says that he was finding bread for you, for he gives us his flesh to eat, that flesh which is meat indeed.

26. They shall praise the Lord that seek him: your heart shall live for ever.

Because he died, all who trust in him shall live for ever. Oh! how sweetly does he die, with the thought of their eternal bliss upon his mind!

27. All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.

He sees the result of his death; he beholds the fruit of his soul-travail; and his heart is glad within him.

28-31. For the kingdom is the Lord’s: and he is the governor among the nations. All they that be fat upon earth shall eat and worship: all they that go down to the dust shall bow before him: and none can keep alive his own soul. A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a generation. They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a people that shall be born, that he hath done this.

The Psalm really ends with almost the last cry of our Lord upon the cross: “It is finished.” So the whole Psalm is a window through which we can see into the inmost heart of Christ when it was being rent upon the cross.