“My King! My King!” Such was the reply made to a lady who with many others visited and distributed flowers to those splendid specimens of England’s Eastern forces called “The Indian Contingent.” These fine men landed in Southampton a little while ago on the way to take part in the Coronation pageant, called in their tongue “Tamasha.”
They were picked men of all castes, and tribes, and languages, from the magnificent troopers of the Governor-General’s body guard—stalwart Sikhs, with their almost Jewish features and long beards, to the little, but intensely plucky, Ghoorkha, with his terrible cookerie, with which at one blow he can cut off the head of an ox—some of their breasts were almost covered with medal-ribbons, telling of many a hard-fought field and of personal daring. The people were on the tiptoe of expectation to see these men, a thousand strong, march through the city. It was a sight never before witnessed. The port of Southampton has a long and interesting history. It dates at least from the time of King Canute, who to rebuke his courtiers for their excessive adulation and ascription to him of Divine power over the waves, bade them fix his throne on the edge of the sea and then commanded the tide to stop, which, of course, it did not, but flowed past him he knew there was but One who could say to the proud waves, “Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further” (Job 38): and he adopted this object-lesson way of instruction. It witnessed the embarkation of the army which by its stalwart bowmen gained the day at both Crecy and Poictiers. It witnessed also stirring times when the tidings of what is known in the Navy as “The glorious first of June” from Lord Howe’s victory over the French in 1784 reached this country, It was foremost in the shipping of the thousands and tens of thousands bound for the war in South Africa and now in their return. It is now over, thank God, and the shout of “PEACE! PEACE!” has sounded through the laid. Peace purchased at the cost of some 22,000 lives of officers and men. For a moment, let me ask you, my reader: Do you know, do you enjoy another peace? That peace which the Lord Jesus made upon the cross, as it is written, “Having made peace by the blood of His cross.” What a costly peace that was, which only the death of Him Who is Son of God and Son of Man could make.
To return to the reply made by the Eastern soldier to the lady’s query of, “What do you most want to see in England?” “MY KING!” was the immediate reply of the gallant soldier: “MY King!” Dear reader, remark he did not say, “The King” or “Our King,” but most markedly and emphatically, “MY KING!” Mark the intense individuality and personality of “MY KING.” No vague generalities with this warrior, as one often hears the Lord Jesus spoken of as “Our Saviour,” and when the speaker is asked, “Is He your Saviour,” too often he seems shut up, hesitates, and replies, “No: I can’t say He is my Saviour.”
There it is, not a personal appropriation of that Blessed One as his very own Saviour, but an indefinite generality, which, of course, brings no peace or real rest to the soul. How different, to Mary Magdalene, who when the risen Christ calls her by name “MARY!” her instant exclamation is, “RABBONI” — “My very own Master,” as it fully means; or Thomas in the same chapter (John 20) who on the Lord’s challenging him to re-open the wounds in his hands and side by his finger and hand, rather than be unbelieving, broke down through the grace shown, and says, “My Lord and MY God.” No vague generalities there, of course not, and never ought to be, or will be, if the soul is simple and just takes God at His word.
“BELIEVING, I rejoice
To see the curse remove:
And bless the Lamb with cheerful voice,
And sing redeeming love.”
I fancy I can see the fine fellow drawing himself up to the fullest height as he exclaimed, “MY KING!” This calls to one’s mind that passage in Isaiah 33, “Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty.” Yes, “Every eye shall see Him.” But will you be with those who will be near Him on that day? Not like Balaam, who said, “I shall see Him, but not now: I shall behold Him, but not nigh” (Numbers 24:17), thus foretelling his own doom! How unspeakably sad! Used of Jehovah to declare four of the most wonderful prophecies concerning His ancient people Israel, yet himself found amongst God’s enemies: cut off in his sins, as Numbers 31:8 shows, because he made Israel to sin.
Dear reader, do see to it at once, and get the question of your own salvation settled. It will be such a relief to pass from the indefinite “Our Saviour” to the personal “MY SAVIOUR,” and such will be the immediate effect of resting solely and entirely on God’s work, Let not this Eastern soldier rise up in judgment against you, but may his emphatic reply of “MY KING” come home to you, and raise the question, “Is that Blessed One my own Saviour?” and then to have it answered, “Yes, thank God, He is,” and then say, “He loved ME and gave Himself for me.” May this be your happy experience, then the gallant Sepoy’s answer of “MY KING MY KING!” will prove a blessing to you.
“Let those refuse to sing
Who never knew our God:
But children of the heavenly King,
Shall speak their joys abroad.”
S.V.H.