The simplest incident will sometimes awaken the deepest reflection and lead the thoughts into the most blessed paths of profitable meditation; especially if a name which has a ready answer in the heart is mentioned.
" You know," said a christian lady to a girl whom she found one day ill in bed, " that Jesus died for us." "Yes," replied the feeble voice, " but I know something better than that; I know He died for me." A chord was struck in the visitor's heart which instantly vibrated to the touch of these telling words. They were friends in a moment and forever. The dear uniting name was precious to both. They were one in Christ Jesus. Conversation led them to speak of the time, the means of the girl's conversion, and other circumstances familiar to the mind of the christian friend. It was a moment of real joy. Up till then the sick one was unknown as having received blessing through the preaching.
In musing on the triumphs of God's grace-on a soul sealed for eternal blessedness-we feel constrained to refer to an anecdote which we have sometimes related when preaching the gospel, and which we know the Lord has blessed to many souls. But it surely deserves a wider circulation than the sphere of our own personal service. For the circumstances of the case we are indebted to the trustworthy pen of Dr. Winslow, and so accept the narrative as well authenticated.
During the late disastrous war between the Northern and Southern States of America, a traveler, when visiting those scenes of desolation, entered what may be called a soldiers' cemetery-the place where the slain had been buried after the battle of Chickamauga. The visitor's attention was arrested by a man planting flowers on one of its lonely and humble graves. He softly drew near, feeling that the scene was hallowed by such memorials of tender love.
" Is it a son that lies buried here?" kindly inquired the stranger. " No," was the reply. " A son-in-law?" " No." " A brother?" "No."
"A relation?" "No," was still the brief reply. " Whose memory, then, may I venture to ask, do you so sacredly cherish?" Pausing a moment to give vent to his emotion, he gave the following account of the young volunteer whose memory and remains were so dear to him.-
" When the war broke out, I was drafted to go and join the army. No draft money was given me, and I was unable to procure a substitute, and made up my mind to go. Just as I was leaving home to report myself for duty at the conscript camp, a young man whom I had known called on me and offered to go in my stead. ' You have a large family,' he said, ' which your wife cannot support when you are gone. I am a single man, I have no one depending upon me, I will go for you.' He went. In the battle which was fought here, the dear generous young man fell dangerously wounded. He died in the hospital, and was buried here. Ever since his death it has been my desire to visit the place of his interment, and having saved sufficient money for that purpose, I arrived yesterday, and to-day found his grave." Having concluded his touching story, he again bent over the grave, planted another flower, and, we doubt not, watered it with his tears.
The inquirer passed on, but his heart was too deeply affected with a sight, such as he had never seen before, and such as he is not likely ever to see again, to go far away. He returned to look once more on that sacred spot. But, oh! what now met his eyes! A sight that Heaven itself would look down well pleased to see. Not only was the volunteer's grave now garlanded with flowers, but a rough board was placed at the end of the turf, on which were simply carved these few, but touching, weighty words-
" He died for me."
Nothing more. Nothing could be added without marring its perfectness. We know not which to admire most-the grateful love, the refined taste, or the sublime sentiment, of this remarkable, poor man It stands alone, we hesitate not to say, in its great idea, amongst all the epitaphs in the world. Surely he must have known Him who died the sinner's substitute; and the confession of faith, which has been long on record, " Who loved me, and gave himself for me." There is only one great original. But, oh! what a lesson, what an example, what a rebuke, to me, to thee, my reader, to all mankind!
The volunteer died in generously taking his poor neighbor's place and saving him from the consequences of joining the Southern army; but the blessed Lord Jesus Christ died to save us from the consequences of sin-eternal misery. Not merely from poverty and suffering in this life, but from the torments of hell forever; where the worm dies not, and the fire is not quenched. " If one died for all," as the scriptures plainly teach-though all will not be saved, for all men have not faith (2 Cor. 5:14; 1 Tim. 2:5, 6; 2 Thess. 3:2)-who then can be guiltless if grateful honors are not shown to His name? We are not asked to garland His tomb, or to inscribe our faith on His cross; but we are asked to believe in His love, and in His dying for us of His own voluntary will. And faith will always make His love and His death as personal as Paul did; " who loved me, and gave himself for me." Not merely, He died for us, or them, but " He died for me."
The dying girl had, as it were, raised her board; gladly would she have placed it in the window, or fastened it on the housetop, that she might tell all who passed by, " Jesus died for me;" but better far, these precious words were written on the imperishable tablets of her heart, and the offerings of her love were not a few flowers that bloom only for a day, but in songs of praise forever. The simple yet strong faith that delights in these words, is sweet to the heart and brings us near to Himself. " Jesus died for me." He.... me; He.... me. There is no truth more plain in scripture, and none more assuring or comforting to the heart. The cross is the fullest expression of His love, and the foundation of all our blessing. Though now in glory the Lord puts nothing between our hearts and Himself, and neither does faith.
" Ascended now in glory bright,
Life-giving Head Thou art;
Nor life, nor death, nor depth, nor height,
Thy saints and Thee can part."
But alas, alas, are there not many for whom Jesus died, who cherish no gratitude for His love, no memorial of His death? yet He died willingly, voluntarily, that they might be saved from endless woe. What can the Lord Himself think, what can Heaven think, what can all enlightened minds think, of such unaccountable ingratitude? How unmitigated must the remorse of the ungrateful be in the hopeless depths of hell forever! Not one alleviating circumstance; not one drop of water to cool the burning tongue. The darkest, the deepest, the most ignominious place in the regions of the lost must be their portion forever.
Some little time ago a young man was introduced to a preacher after having listened to his discourse; and on being asked if he was a believer in Christ, he replied, in rather an offhand way, " Of course I am, I have always believed in Him, we have no one else to believe in, He died on the cross for us." Without contradicting him, the preacher said, " May I ask how old you are?" "I am seventeen," he said.
" Well now, my dear young man, will you answer me another question? If you believe that Jesus died on the cross to save you from the pains of hell, have you ever really, when alone, knelt down and thanked Him for it? " " No," was his honest reply. " Then you must be a stranger to Him: He will at last say, to all such, ' I never knew you; depart from me, ye workers of iniquity.' Sleep not, young man, for your soul's sake, for Jesus' sake, for heaven's sake, for hell's sake, sleep not until you have considered your ways and turned to the Lord. Only think, you have reached the age of seventeen and never thanked the Lord Jesus for all He has done that you might be pardoned and saved forever." But are there not many, who are more than seventeen, and who are chargeable with the same neglect of the Lord Jesus? Will not the gratitude of the Southerner, his flowers, his tears, his board, his inscription, rise in judgment against all such, cover them with everlasting shame, and aggravate their everlasting condemnation?
Let the love of Jesus then, my dear reader, who died for the chief of sinners-and more thou canst not be-move thy heart to grateful love and admiration of that blessed One. If this great fact move not thy heart, what will? He finished the work of man's redemption on the cross; He now rests on the throne in glory, waiting for thee. He will hear thy prayers, see thy tears, rejoice in thy faith, and listen to thy praise and thanksgiving; unlike the young volunteer who heard not the sighs, saw not the tears of him for whom he died. The most melting expressions of his love were all unheeded by the lifeless volunteer. He knew not that flowers bloomed on his lonely grave, or that his neighborly love was now made known in artless eloquence to the universe.
And wilt thou, my dear reader, allow a devotion of heart around that silent grave to excel thine to a risen, living Savior, who bids thee come to Him and dwell with Him forever? God forbid! Awake, awake, from thy long sleep of sin; arise, arise, to the consciousness that Jesus died that thou mightest live-live forever. Let thy gratitude be proportionate to the greatness of the sacrifice, thy faith proportionate to the dignity of Him who died, thy zeal to the deliverance accomplished and the salvation secured. " Could I grave these blessed words, ' He died for me,'" said one in great ecstasy one evening, " on every tree that grows, on every leaf that quivers, on the face of all rocks; and could I herald them forth on the wings of the wind, I would tell the vast universe of God that ' Jesus died for me '-that I live through His death, and shall reign with Him in glory forever." This was faith, love, gratitude, and zeal for the Lord's glory. Go thou, my dear friend, learn of Jesus and do likewise.
The Divine Anathema. 1 Cor. 16:22.
It is difficult to speak or write without deep feeling when dwelling on that awful word, and with so many on every side who are utterly careless as to its dread reality. " If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha"-accursed of the Lord at His coming. But is this, some may ask, its plain and true meaning 7 Most assuredly it is. Nothing could be plainer, more definite or absolute. The curse of God is the eternal doom of all who love not the Savior of mankind-His well-beloved Son. " If any man" is surely most comprehensive; any man, no matter who he is, what he is, where he is, how he reasons, what excuses he may offer: the word of God is positive, it has gone forth from His throne, it is unalterable, it is fixed as the foundation of that throne, changeless as His own being-" If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maranatha,"- anathematized when the Lord shall come.
Do you think, dear reader, this judgment severe? It may appear so at first sight, or to a thoughtless reader; but a moment's reflection will convince you that it is not only just, but necessary in the righteous government of God. He loves His Son, knows what He has done and suffered for mankind, and fairly estimates His claims on their grateful love. All this He has revealed to us; we know His mind. And how sweetly He has pressed His love upon us! with every blessing that love can give, and the bearer to us of all these blessings is the Son of His own bosom whom He spared not, " but delivered him up for us all." But, surely, if we are careless about all these things, and despise the bearer of Heaven's richest favors, what will the throne of judgment say? Is there no crime in despising both the love and the authority of God; in disregarding His demands for the honor of His Son? Are His rights not to be vindicated, or the claims of His Son maintained? Rest assured my fellow-sinner, that so just, so holy, so righteous, will the judgment of God be, that the vast universe will resound with a solemn Amen, as the curse of God is pronounced on those who have hated, in place of having loved the Lord Jesus. Heaven will willingly own it; the faithful on earth will re-echo heaven's universal Amen; the condemned must own it, and hell too must groan out reluctantly its Amen, and acknowledge that God is holy and just and good, and that the man who is accursed has only lost what he despised, and is now in the place which he chose for himself.
But, pray, my dear reader, ere it be too late, and ere this year also close upon thy unsaved soul, come a little nearer, and let us examine more closely, the claims of Him whom God would have thee love. Is He fairly entitled to the homage of thy heart and the willing, happy obedience of thy life? Surely, oh most surely He is, and He only!
To love the Lord is to believe in Him; and the more we meditate on His love to us, and what He has gone through for us, the more will our faith expand, and rise into the most admiring, adoring, grateful love. But we must know Him to believe in Him, and know Him in the fullest expression of His love to us. Blessed Lord! He invites us to come to Him, to be drawn to Him by the attractions of His cross, and the glory of His Person. " And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me. This He said, signifying what death He should die." (John 12:32, 33.) Never was God's love to thee a sinner, and God's hatred of thy sin, so fully manifested as in the cross of His dear Son; and never did His love to the lost and helpless soul shine so brightly. Here thou wilt do well to pause for a moment and dwell on this wondrous sight, this twofold aspect of the cross. When or how could God's hatred of sin be so manifested as when He judged it in the Person of His own beloved Son? The thought is overwhelming! But it must forever justify God in punishing sin in the person of the impenitent sinner himself. The cross will stand forever as the declaration of God's righteousness in the judgment of sin, and in pardoning the chief of sinners, who believes in Jesus. But also, look at the greatness of God's love to the sinner in the sufferings and death of Jesus. Every drop of that precious blood which was shed on Calvary, proclaims to heaven, earth and hell, God's love to the lost and ruined sinner.
But sin must be put away according to the claims of God's glory, that His love may flow forth freely, and the full blessing come to us. Without the shedding of blood is no remission. Jesus, the sinless One, in the greatness of His love, bore the judgment due to sin. He was nailed to the accursed tree, that the anathemas of God might never fall on us and sink our souls in hell for 'ever. In love, He endured the cross, and there was nothing. that His love did not willingly endure that God might be glorified and the sinner saved. But who can speak of the judgment of God against sin! That which man is disposed to make light of; that which thou hast made light of these many years. The waves and billows of divine wrath rolled over His sinless, spotless soul; His brow was wreathed with a crown of thorns, emblem of the curse of sin; He was forsaken of God; He tasted the bitterness of death. God hid His face from Him, when bearing our sin; but at length the cup was drained, and the shout of victory was heard, " It is finished." All was now done; every claim of heaven, and every need of the sinner fully met; sin and guilt were put away; the word of God maintained inviolate, and His name glorified. But again we say; again we press upon thy attention the awful thought-the judgment due to sin. And as the Lord Himself says, " If they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?" What will become of the dry, lifeless, rotten branch, when exposed to the fury of the burning flame?
But tell me, 0 my friend, tell me, before I close, Hast thou been in any measure drawn to Jesus by His wondrous love in dying on the cross, in dying for thee?-In dying that thou mightest be drawn to Him in faith and love, and delivered from the awful judgment due to thy sins? But is His love less to-day than it was the day on which He died? Surely not! His love is the same; the same yesterday, to-day, and forever. He waits to be gracious now, He loves to bless now, He delights to save now, He rejoices over every returning sinner now, He is ready to receive every repenting, returning prodigal now. Flee then, my friend, oh flee to His open, His outstretched arms. No anathemas are there. All is love; and such love! The folded arms, the fond embrace, the robe, the ring, the fatted calf, the joyous welcome of heaven's myriad hosts; all await thy coming. Thou knowest the invitation and the promise, " Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." Believe His word-His loving word to worn and weary hearts-Come! Believe His promise true, Come! The love that suffered for sinners ready to perish, bids thee, Come!
What so fitted to melt thy heart, to win thy confidence, as a Savior's love! Despise not this love, I entreat thee, or, what must the end be? Thou wilt surely find that thou hast not been frightened with vain fears; the anathemas of indignant justice will far exceed in their terrible thunders the most vivid description of either preacher or writer. And thou shalt also find in that awful day of retribution that this sore judgment is not for thy common sins merely, but for the great-the aggravated sin, of rejecting a Savior's love. " If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema Maran-atha," are the just and unalterable words of Heaven.
Once more, my friend, for I tremble to leave thee, lest thou art still preferring the favor of the world to the love of Christ. Pharaoh hardened his heart against the judgment of God, but what must be the guilt of him who hardens his heart against the love of Jesus! Bow, then, 0 lost one, bow, bow at Jesus' feet. Salvation, full, free, and everlasting is there; peace with God is there, the eternal glories of heaven are there: delay not then, I beseech thee,; years roll on; the end draws near; divine love has sent forth another and another messenger of peace to thee; but the last will soon be here; the dreadful day of recompense lingers not; the gathering storm of divine wrath can only be averted by the sheltering blood of the slain Lamb. Flee then, to that refuge, flee; it is thy only covert from the storm, thy only hiding-place from the sweeping tempest of coming wrath. But flee now-just now-lest thou shouldst be overtaken suddenly and swept into the lake of fire. Before turning thy thoughts to anything else, turn to the Lord; speak to Him; confess thy sins to Him; have faith in His love, and in His precious blood which cleanseth from all sin. Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him.