“This do in remembrance of Me.”
1 Corinthians 11:24
IT seems, then, that Christians may forget Christ. The
text implies the possibility of forgetfulness concerning Him whom gratitude and
affection should constrain them to remember. There could be no need for this
loving exhortation if there were not a fearful supposition that our memories
might prove treacherous and our remembrance superficial in its character, or
changing in its nature. Nor is this a bare supposition–it is, alas, too well
confirmed in our experience, not as a possibility, but as a lamentable fact. It
seems at first sight too gross a crime to lay at the door of converted men.
It appears almost impossible that those who have been
redeemed by the blood of the dying Lamb should ever forget their Ransomer–that
those who have been loved with an everlasting love by the eternal Son of God,
should ever forget that Son. But if startling to the ear, it is, alas, too
apparent to the eye to allow us to deny the fact. Forget Him who never forgot
us? Forget Him who poured His blood forth for our sins? Forget Him who loved us
even to the death? Can it be possible? Yes it is not only possible, but
conscience confesses that it is too sadly a fault of all of us–that we can
remember anything except Christ.
The Object which we should make the monarch of our hearts
is the very thing we are most inclined to forget. Where one would think that
memory would linger and unmindfulness would be an unknown intruder–that is the
very spot which is desecrated by the feet of forgetfulness–the place where
memory too seldom looks. I appeal to the conscience of every Christian here–can
you deny the truth of what I utter? Do you not find yourselves forgetful of
Jesus? Some creature steals away your heart and you are unmindful of Him upon
whom your affection ought to be set. Some earthly business engrosses your
attention when you should have your eye steadily fixed upon the Cross.
It is the incessant round of world, world, world–the
constant din of earth, earth, earth, that takes away the soul from Christ. Oh,
my Friends, is it not too sadly true that we can recollect anything but Christ
and forget nothing so easy as Him whom we ought to remember? While memory will
preserve a poisoned weed, it suffers the Rose of Sharon to wither.
The cause of this is very apparent–it lies in one or two
facts. We forget Christ because regenerate persons as we are–still corruption
and death remain even in us. We forget Him because we carry about with us the
old Adam of sin and death. If we were purely new-born creatures, we should
never forget the name of Him whom we love. If we were entirely regenerated
beings, we should sit down and meditate on what our Savior did and suffered. As
He is. All He has gloriously promised to perform. And never would our roving
affections stray, but stay centered, nailed, fixed eternally to one Object–we
should continually contemplate the death and sufferings of our Lord.
But alas, we have a worm in the heart, an abode of pests,
a morgue within. Lusts, vile imaginations and strong evil passions like wells
of poisonous water send out streams of impurity. I have a heart, which God
knows I wish I could wring from my body and hurl to an infinite distance. I
have a soul which is a cave of unclean birds, a den of loathsome creatures
where dragons haunt and owls do congregate, where every evil beast dwells–a
heart too vile to have a parallel–“deceitful above all things and desperately
wicked.”
This is the reason why I am forgetful of Christ. Nor is
this the sole cause. I suspect it lies somewhere else, too. We forget Christ
because there are so many other things around us to attract our attention,
“But,” you say, “they ought not to do so, because though they are around us,
they are nothing in comparison with Jesus Christ–though they are in dread
proximity to our hearts, what are they compared with Christ?” But do you know,
dear Friends, that the nearness of an object has a very great effect upon its
power? The sun is many, many times larger than the moon, but the moon has a
greater influence upon the tides of the ocean than the sun, simply because it
is nearer and has a greater power of attraction.
So I find that a little crawling worm of the earth has
more effect upon my soul than the glorious Christ in Heaven. A handful of
golden earth, a puff of fame, a shout of applause, a thriving business, my
house, my home will affect me more than all the glories of the upper world.
Yes, than the beatific vision itself–simply because earth is near and Heaven is
far away. Happy day, when I shall be borne aloft on angels' wings to dwell
forever near my Lord–to bask in the sunshine of His smile and to be lost in the
ineffable radiance of His lovely countenance.
We see, then, the cause of forgetfulness. Let us blush
over it. Let us be sad that we neglect our Lord so much. And now let us attend
to His Word, “This do in remembrance of Me,” hoping that its solemn sounds may
charm away the demon of base ingratitude.
We shall speak, first of all, concerning the blessed
Object of memory. Secondly, upon the advantages to be derived from remembering
this Person. Thirdly the gracious help, to our memory–“This do in remembrance
of Me.” And fourthly, the gentle command, “This do in remembrance of Me.” May
the Holy Spirit open my lips and your hearts, that we may receive blessings.
First of all, we shall speak of THE GLORIOUS AND PRECIOUS
OBJECT OF MEMORY–“This do in remembrance of Me.” Christians have many treasures
to lock up in the cabinet of memory. They ought to remember their
election–“Chosen of God before time began.” They ought to be mindful of their
extraction, that they were taken out of the miry clay, hewn out of the horrible
pit. They ought to recollect their effectual calling, for they were called of
God and rescued by the power of the Holy Spirit. They ought to remember their
special deliverances–all that has been done for them and all the mercies
bestowed on them.
But there is One whom they should embalm in their souls with
the most costly spices–One who, above all other gifts of God, deserves to be
had in perpetual remembrance. One, I said, for I mean not an act, I mean not a
deed. But it is a Person whose portrait I would frame in gold and hang up in
the state-room of the soul. I would have you earnest students of all the deeds
of the conquering Messiah. I would have you conversant with the life of our
Beloved. But O forget not His Person. For the text says, “This do in
remembrance of ME.” It is Christ’s glorious Person which ought to be the object
of our remembrance. It is His image which should be enshrined in every temple
of the Holy Spirit.
But some will say, “How can we remember Christ’s Person
when we never saw it? We cannot tell what was the peculiar form of His visage.
We believe His countenance to be fairer than that of any other man–although
through grief and suffering more marred–but since we did not see it, we cannot
remember it. We never saw His feet as they trod the journeys of His mercy. We
never beheld His hands as He stretched them out full of loving kindness. We
cannot remember the wondrous intonation of His language, when in more than
seraphic eloquence, He awed the multitude and chained their ears to Him. We
cannot picture the sweet smile that ever hung on His lips nor that awful frown
with which He dealt out anathemas against the Pharisees. We cannot remember Him
in His sufferings and agonies for we never saw Him.”
Well, Beloved, I suppose it is true that you cannot
remember the visible appearance, for you were not then born. But do you not
know that even the Apostle said though He had known Christ after the flesh,
yet, thenceforth after the flesh He would know Christ no more. The natural
appearance, the race, the descent, the poverty, the humble garb–they are
nothing in the Apostle’s estimation of His glorified Lord. And thus, though you
do not know Him after the flesh, you may know Him after the spirit. In this manner
you can remember Jesus as much now as Peter, or Paul, or John, or James, or any
of those favored ones who once trod in His footsteps, walked side by side with
Him, or laid their heads upon His bosom. Memory annihilates distance and leaps
over time and can behold the Lord, though He is exalted in glory.
Ah, let us spend five minutes in remembering Jesus. Let
us remember Him in His baptism, when descending into the waters of Jordan, a
voice was heard, saying, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
Behold Him coming up dripping from the stream. Surely the conscious water must
have blushed that it contained its God. He slept within its waves a moment–to
consecrate the tomb of Baptism–in which those who are dead with Christ are
buried with Him. Let us remember Him in the wilderness, where He went straight
from His immersion. Oh, I have often thought of that scene in the desert, when
Christ, weary and worn, sat down, perhaps upon the gnarled roots of some old
tree!
Forty days had He fasted. He was hungry. Then in the
extremity of His weakness there came the evil spirit. Perhaps he had veiled his
demon royalty in the form of some aged pilgrim and taking up a stone, said,
“Wayworn pilgrim, if you are the Son of God command this stone to be made
bread.” Methinks I see him, with his cunning smile and his malicious leer, as
he held the stone and said “If”–blasphemous if–“If you are the Son of God,
command that this stone shall become a meal for me and you, for both of us are
hungry and it will be an act of mercy. You can do it easily, speak the word and
it shall be like the bread of Heaven. We will feed upon it and you and I will
be friends forever.”
But Jesus said–and O how sweetly did He say it–“Man shall
not live by bread alone.” Oh, how wonderfully did Christ fight the Tempter!
Never was there such a battle as that. It was a duel foot to foot–a
single-handed combat–when the champion lion of the pit and the mighty Lion of
the tribe of Judah fought together. Splendid sight! Angels stood around to gaze
upon the spectacle, just as men of old did sit to see the tournament of noted
warriors. There Satan gathered up his strength. Here Apollyon concentrated all
his Satanic power that in this giant wrestle he might overthrow the Seed of the
woman. But Jesus was more than a match for him. In the wrestling He gave him a
deadly fall and came out more than a conqueror. Lamb of God! I will remember
Your desert strivings when next I combat with Satan. When next I have a
conflict with roaring Diabolus I will look to Him who conquered once for all
and broke the dragon’s head with His mighty blows!
Further, I beseech you remember Him in all His daily
temptations and hourly trials, in that life-long struggle of His through which
He passed. Oh, what a mighty tragedy was the death of Christ! And His life,
too! Ushered in with a song, it closed with a shriek, “It is finished.” It
began in a manger and ended on a Cross–but oh, the sad interval between! Oh,
the black pictures of persecution when His friends abhorred Him. When His foes
frowned at Him as He passed the streets. When He heard the hiss of calumny and
was bitten by the foul tooth of envy. When slander said He had a devil and was
mad–that He was a drunken man and a wine-bibber–and when His righteous soul was
vexed with the ways of the wicked. Oh, Son of God, I must remember You. I
cannot help remembering You, when I think of those years of toil and trouble
which You did live for my sake.
But do you know my chosen theme–the place where I can
always best remember Christ? It is a shady garden full of olives. O that spot!
I would that I had eloquence, that I might take you there. Oh, if the Spirit
would but take us and set us down hard by the mountains of Jerusalem, I would
say, see, there runs the brook of Isedron, which the king Himself did pass. And
there you see the olive trees. Possibly, at the foot of that olive tree lay the
three disciples when they slept.
And there, ah, there, I see drops of blood! Stand here,
my Soul, a moment. Those drops of blood–do you behold them? Mark them. They are
not the blood of wounds–they are the blood of a Man whose body was then
unwounded. O my soul, picture Him when He knelt down in agony and sweat–sweat
because He wrestled with God–sweat because He agonized with His Father. “My
Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me.” O Gethsemane! Your
shades are deeply solemn to my soul. But ah, those drops of blood! Surely it is
the climax of the height of misery. It is the last of the mighty acts of this
wondrous sacrifice. Can love go deeper than that? Can it stoop to greater deeds
of mercy? Oh, had I eloquence I would bestow a tongue on every drop of blood
that is there–that your hearts might rise in mutiny against your languor and
coldness and speak out with earnest burning remembrance of Jesus. And now,
farewell, Gethsemane.
But I will take you somewhere else where you shall still
behold the “Man of Sorrows.” I will lead you to Pilate’s hall and let you see
Him endure the mockeries of cruel soldiers–the smiting of mailed gloves, the
blows of clenched fists. The shame, the spitting, the plucking of the hair–the
cruel buffetings. Oh, can you not picture the King of Martyrs stripped of His
garments–exposed to the gaze of fiend-like men? See you not the crown about His
temples, each thorn acting as a lancet to pierce His head? Stare you not at His
lacerated shoulders and the white bones starting out from the bleeding flesh?
Oh, Son of Man! I see You scourged and flagellated with rods and whips! How can
I cease to remember You? My memory would be more treacherous than Pilate, did it
not ever cry, Ecce Homo– “Behold the man.”
Now, finish the scene of woe by a view of Calvary. Think
of the pierced hands and the bleeding side. Think of the scorching sun and then
the entire darkness. Remember the broiling fever and the dread thirst. Think of
the death shriek, “It is finished!” and of the groans which were its prelude.
This is the Object of memory. Let us never forget Christ. I beseech you, for
the love of Jesus, let Him have the chief place in your memories. Let not the
Pearl of Great Price be dropped from your careless hand into the dark ocean of
oblivion.
I cannot, however, help saying one thing before I leave
this head–and that is, there are some of you who can very well carry away what
I have said because you have read it often and heard it before. But still you
cannot spiritually remember anything about Christ because you never had Him
manifested to you–and what we have never known–we cannot remember. Thanks be
unto God, I speak not of you all, for in this place there is a goodly remnant
according to the election of grace and to them I turn. Perhaps I could tell you
of some old barn, hedge-row, or cottage. Or if you have lived in London, about
some garret, or some dark lane or street, where first you met with Christ. Or
some chapel into which you strayed and you might say, “Thank God, I can
remember the seat where first He met with me and spoke the whispers of love to
my soul and told me He had purchased me”–
“Do mind the place, the spot of ground,
Where Jesus did you meet?”
Yes and I would love to build a temple on the spot and to
raise some monument there–where Jehovah-Jesus first spoke to my soul and
manifested Himself to me. But He has revealed Himself to you more than once–has
He not? And you can remember scores of places where the Lord has appeared of
old unto you, saying, “Behold I have loved you with an everlasting love.” If
you cannot all remember such things, there are some of you that can. And I am
sure they will understand me when I say, come and do this in remembrance of
Christ–in remembrance of all His loving visitations–of His sweet wooing
words–of His winning smiles upon you–of all He has said and communicated to
your souls. Remember all these things tonight, if it is possible for memory to
gather up the mighty aggregate of grace. “Bless the Lord, O my soul and forget
not all His benefits.”
II. Having spoken upon the blessed Object of our memory,
we say, secondly, a little upon THE BENEFITS TO BE DERIVED FROM A LOVING
REMEMBRANCE OF CHRIST.
Love never says, “Cui bono?” Love never asks what benefit
it will derive from love. Love from its very nature is a disinterested thing.
It loves for the creature’s sake it loves and for nothing else. The Christian
needs no argument to make Him love Christ–just as a mother needs no argument to
make her love her child. She does it because it is her nature to do so. The
new-born creature must love Christ–it cannot help it. Oh, who can resist the
matchless charms of Jesus Christ?–the fairest of ten thousand fairs, the
loveliest of ten thousand loves. Who can refuse to adore the prince of
perfection, the mirror of beauty, the majestic Son of God? But yet it may be
useful to us to observe the advantages of remembering Christ, for they are
neither few nor small.
And first, remembrance of Jesus will tend to give you
hope when you are under the burden of your sins. Let us notice a few characters
here tonight. There comes in a poor creature. Look at him! He has neglected
himself this last month. He looks as if he had hardly eaten his daily bread.
What is the matter with you? “Oh,” says he, “I have been under a sense of
guilt. I have been again and again lamenting, because I fear I can never be
forgiven–once I thought I was good, but I have been reading the Bible and I
find that my heart is ‘deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.’ I
have tried to reform, but the more I try, the deeper I sink in the mire. There
is certainly no hope for me. I feel that I deserve no mercy–it seems to me that
God must destroy me, for He has declared, ‘The soul that sins it shall die.’
And die I must, be damned I must, for I know I have broken God’s Law.”
How will you comfort such a man? What soft words will you
utter to give him peace? I know! I will tell him to remember Christ. I will
tell him there is One who paid the mighty debt of misery. Yes, I will tell you
drunkard, swearer–whatever you have been–I will tell you that there is One who
for you has made a complete atonement. If you only believe on Him you are safe
forever. Remember Him, you poor dying, hopeless creature and you shall be made
to sing for joy and gladness. Look, the man believes and in ecstasy exclaims,
“Oh, come all you that fear God and I will tell you what He has done for my
soul”–
“Tell it unto sinners, tell,
I am, I am out of Hell.”
Hallelujah! God has blotted out my sins like a thick
cloud! That is one benefit to be derived from remembering Christ. It gives us
hope under a sense of sin and tells us there is mercy yet.
Now, I must have another character. And what does he say?
“I cannot stand it any longer–I have been persecuted and ill-treated because I
love Christ. I am mocked and laughed at and despised–I try to bear it, but I
really cannot. A man will be a man–tread upon a worm and he will turn upon you.
My patience altogether fails me. I am in such a peculiar position that it is of
no use to advise me to have patience, for patience I cannot have. My enemies
are slandering me and I do not know what to do.”
What shall we say to that poor man? How shall we give him
patience? What shall we preach to him? You have heard we wish some friend to
say to us? Shall we tell him that other persons have borne as much? He will
say, “Miserable comforters are you all!” No, I will tell him, Brother, you are
persecuted. But remember the words of Jesus Christ, how He spoke unto us and
said, “Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for great is your reward in
Heaven, for so persecuted they the Prophets that were before you.”
My Brother! Think of Him, who when He died, prayed for
His murderers and said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
All you have to bear is as nothing compared with His mighty sufferings. Take
courage–face it again like a man–never say die. Let not your patience be gone.
Take up your cross daily and follow Christ. Let Him be your motto–set Him
before your eyes. And, now, receiving this, hear what the man will say. He
tells you at once–“Hail, persecution! Welcome shame! Disgrace for Jesus shall
be my honor and scorn shall be my highest glory–
‘Now, for the love I bear His name,
What was my gain I count my loss,
I pour contempt on all my shame,
And nail my glory to His cross.’ "
There is another effect, you see, of remembering Christ.
It tends to give us patience under persecution. It is a girdle to brace up the
loins so that our faith may endure to the end.
Dear Friends, I should occupy your time too much if I
went into the several benefits. So I will only just run over one or two
blessings to be received. It will give us strength in temptation. I believe
that there are hours with every man when he has a season of terrific
temptation. There was never a vessel that lived upon the mighty deep but
sometimes it has to do battle with a storm. There she is, the poor boat, rocked
up and down on the mad waves. See how they throw her from wave to wave, all
toss her to mid-Heaven. The winds laugh her to scorn. Old Ocean takes the ship
in his dripping fingers and shakes it to and fro. How the mariners cry out for
fear!
Do you know how you can put oil upon the waters and all
shall be still? Yes, one potent word shall do it. Let Jesus come. Let the poor
heart remember Jesus and steadily, then, the ship shall sail, for Christ has
the helm. The winds shall blow no more, for Christ shall bid them shut their
mighty mouths and never again disturb His child. There is nothing which can
give you strength in temptation and help you to weather the storm like the name
of Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God.
Then again, what comfort it will give you on a sick
bed–the name of Christ! It will help you to be patient to those who wait upon
you and to endure the sufferings which you have to bear. Yes, it shall be so
with you, that you shall have more hope in sickness than in health and shall
find a blessed sweetness in the bitterness of gall. Instead of feeling vinegar
in your mouth through your trouble, you shall find honey for sweetness in the
midst of all the trial and trouble that God will put upon you–“For He gives
songs in the night.”
But just to close up the advantages of remembering
Christ–do you know where you will have the benefit most of all? Do you know the
place where chiefly you will rejoice that you ever thought of Him? I will take
you to it. Hush! Silence! You are going upstairs into a lonely rooms. The
curtains hang down. Someone stands there weeping. Children are around the bed
and friends are there. See that man lying there? That is yourself–look at how
his eyes are your eyes–his hands are your hands. That is yourself–you will be
there soon, Man! That is yourself–do you see it?
It is a picture of yourself–those are your eyes that soon
will be closed in death–your hands that will lie stiff and motionless–your lips
that will be dry and parched, between which they will put drops of water. Those
are your words that freeze in air and drop so slowly from your dying lips. I
wonder whether you will be able to remember Christ there? If you do not, I will
picture you. Behold that man, straight up in the bed–see his eyes starting from
their sockets? His friends are all around, they ask him what he sees. He
represses the emotion. He tells them he sees nothing. They know that there is
something before his eyes. He starts again. Good God! what is that I see–I seem
to see? That is it? Ah, one sigh! The soul is gone.
The body is there. What did he see? He saw a flaming
throne of judgments. He saw God upon it with His scepter. He saw books opened.
He beheld the Throne of God and saw a messenger with a sword brandished in the
air to smite him low. Man! That is yourself. There you will be soon. That
picture is your own portrait. I have photographed you to the life. Look at it.
That is where you shall be within a few years–yes, within a few days.
But if you can remember Christ, shall I tell you what you
will do? Oh, you will smile in the midst of trouble. Let me “Farewell! Weep not
for me! The kind God shall wipe away all tears from every eye.” Those round
about are addressed, “Prepare to meet your God and follow me to the land of
bliss.” Now he has set his house in order. It is done. Behold him, like good
old Jacob, leaning on his staff, about to die. See how his eyes sparkle! He
claps his hands–they gather round to hear what he has to say. He whispers,
“Victory!” And summoning a little more strength, he cries, “Victory!” And at
last, with his final gasp, “Victory, through Him that loved us!” And He dies.
This is one of the great benefits to be derived from remembering Christ–to be
enabled to meet death with blessed composure.
III. We are now arrived at the third portion of our
meditations which is A SWEET AID TO MEMORY.
At schools we use certain books, called “Aids to Memory.”
I am sure they rather perplexed than assisted me. Their utility was equivalent
to that of a bundle of staves under a traveler’s arm–true, he might use them
one by one to walk with, but in the meantime he carried a host of others which
he would never need. But our Savior was wiser than all our teachers and His
remembrances are true and real aids to memory. His love tokens have an
unmistakable language and they sweetly win our attention.
Behold the whole mystery of the sacred Eucharist. It is
bread and wine which are lively emblems of the body and blood of Jesus. The
power to excite remembrance consists in the appeal thus made to the senses.
Here the eye, the hand, the mouth find joyful work. The bread is tasted and
entering within, works upon the sense of taste, which is one of the most
powerful remembrances. The wine is sipped–the act is palpable. We know that we
are drinking and thus the senses which are usually clogs to the soul become wines
to lift the mind in contemplation.
Again–much of the influence of this ordinance is found in
its simplicity. How beautifully simple the ceremony is–bread broken and wine
poured out. There is no calling that thing a chalice, that thing a paten and
that a host. Here is nothing to burden the memory–here is the simple bread and
wine. He must have no memory at all who cannot remember that he has eaten bread
and that he has been drinking wine. Note again, the mighty pregnancy of these
signs–how full they are of meaning. Bread broken–so was your Savior broken.
Bread to be eaten–so His flesh is meat indeed. Wine poured out, the pressed
juice of the grape–so was your Savior crushed under the foot of Divine Justice.
His blood is your sweetest wine. Wine to cheer your heart–so does the blood of
Jesus. Wine to strengthen and invigorate you–so does the blood of the Mighty
Sacrifice. Oh, make that bread and wine to your souls tonight a sweet and
blessed help of remembrance of that dear Man who once on Calvary died. Like the
little ewe lamb, you are now to eat your Master’s bread and drink from His cup.
Remember the hand which feeds you.
But before you can remember Christ well here, you must
ask the assistance of the Holy Spirit. I believe there ought to be a
preparation before the Lord’s Supper. I do not believe in Mrs. Toogood’s
preparation, who spent a week in preparing and then finding it was not the
Ordinance Sunday, she said she had lost all the week. I do not believe in that
kind of preparation. But I do believe in a holy preparation for the Lord’s
Supper–when we can on a Saturday, if possible, spend an hour in quiet
meditation on Christ and His passion. When, especially on the Sabbath
afternoon, we can devoutly sit down and behold Him–then these scenes become
realities and not mockeries, as they are to some.
I fear greatly that there are some of you who will eat
the bread tonight and will not think about Christ–some of you who will drink
the wine and not think of His blood–and vile hypocrites you will be while you
do it. Take heed to yourselves, “He that eats and drinks unworthily, eats and
drinks–what?–"damnation to himself.” This is plain English. Mind what you
are doing! Do not do it carelessly. For of all the sacred things on earth, it
is the most solemn. We have heard of some men banded together by draining blood
from their arms and drinking it all round. That was most horrid, but at the
same time most solemn.
Here you are to drink blood from the veins of Christ and
sip the trickling stream which gushed from His own loving heart. Is not that a
solemn thing? Ought anybody to trifle with it? To go to church and take it for
sixpence? To come and join us for the sake of getting charities? Away with it!
It is an awful blasphemy against Almighty God and among the damned in Hell!
Those shall be among the most accursed who dared thus to mock the holy
ordinance of God. This is the remembrance of Christ. “This do in remembrance of
Me.” If you cannot do it in remembrance of Christ, I beseech you, as you love
your souls, do not do it at all. Oh, regenerate man or woman, enter not into
the court of the priests, lest Israel’s God resent the intrusion.
IV. And now to close up. Here is A SWEET COMMAND–“This do
in remembrance of Me.” To whom does this command apply? “This do YOU.” It is
important to answer this question–“This do YOU.” Who are intended? You who put
your trust in Me. “This do you in remembrance of Me.” Well, now, you should
suppose Christ speaking to you tonight. And He says, “This do you in
remembrance of Me.” Christ watches you at the door. Some of you go home and
Christ says, “I thought I said, ‘This do you in remembrance of Me.’ ” Some of
you keep your seats as spectators. Christ sits with you and He says, “I thought
I said, ‘This do you in remembrance of Me.’ ” “Lord, I know You did.” “Do you
love Me then?” “Yes, I love You. I love You, Lord, You know I do.” “But, I say,
go down there–eat that bread, drink that wine.” “I do not like too, Lord. I
should have to be baptized if I joined that Church and I am afraid I shall
catch cold, or be looked at. I am afraid to go before the Church, for I think
they would ask some questions I could not answer.”
“What?” asks Christ, “Is this all you love Me? Is this
all your affection to your Lord? Oh, how cold to Me, your Savior. If I had
loved you no more than this, you would have been in Hell–if that were the full
extent of My affection, I should not have died for you. Great love bore great
agonies–and is this all your gratitude to Me?” Are not some of you ashamed,
after this? Do you not say in your hearts, “it is really wrong”? Christ says
“Do this in remembrance of Me,” and are you not ashamed to stay away? I give a
free invitation to every lover of Jesus to come to this table. I beseech you,
deny not yourselves the privilege by refusing to unite with the church. If you
still live in sinful neglect of this ordinance, let me remind you that Christ
has said, “Whosoever shall be ashamed of Me in this generation, of him will I
be ashamed, when I come in the glory of My Father.”
Oh, soldier of the Cross, act not the coward’s part! And
not to lead you into any mistakes, I must just add one thing and then I have
done. When I speak of your taking the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper, do not
imagine that I wish you for one moment to suppose that there is anything saving
in it. Some say that the ordinance of Baptism is non-essential. So is the
ordinance of the Lord’s Supper–it is non-essential, if we look upon it in the
light of salvation. Be saved by eating a piece of bread? Nonsense, confounded
nonsense! Be saved by drinking a drop of wine? Why, it is too absurd for common
sense to admit any discussion upon!
You know it is the blood of Jesus Christ. It is the merit
of His agonies. It is the purchase of His sufferings–it is what He did–that
alone can save us. Venture on Him–venture wholly–and then you are saved. Do you
know, poor convicted Sinner, the way of salvation? If I ever meet you in the
next world, you might, perhaps, say to me, “I spent one evening, Sir, in
hearing you and you never told me the way to Heaven.” Well, you shall hear it–
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, trust in His name, find
refuge in His Cross, rely upon the power of His Spirit, trust in His
righteousness and you are saved beyond the vengeance of the Law, or the power
of Hell. But trust in your own works and you are lost as sure as you are alive.
Now, O ever glorious Son of God, we approach Your table
to feast on the viands of grace. Permit each of us, in reliance upon Your
Spirit, to exclaim in the words of one of Your own poets–
“Remember You and all Your pains
And all Your love to me?–Yes,
While a pulse or breath remains,
I will remember You.
And when these failing lips grow dark
And thought and memory flee
When You shall in Your kingdom come,
Jesus, remember me!”
