AND THERE
IS ONE, my friends. One who has done for us more than ever husband
or father, wife or brother, can do to call out our gratitude. One
who has suffered for us more than the saddest wretch upon this earth
can suffer, to call out our pity. One who is nobler, purer, more
lovely in character than all others who ever trod this earth, to call
out our admiration. One who is wiser, mightier than all rulers and
philosophers, to call out all our reverence. One who is tenderer,
more gentle, more feeling-hearted, than the kindest woman who ever
sat by a sick bed, to call out all our love. Of whom can I be
speaking? Of whom but of Jesus; He who for us stooped out of the
heaven of heavens; for us left His eternal glory in the bosom of the
Father; for us took upon Him the form of a servant, and was born of a
village maiden, and was called the son of a carpenter; for us
wandered this earth for thirty years in sorrow and shame; for us gave
His back to the scourge, and His face to shameful spitting; for us
hung upon the cross and died the death of the felon and the slave.
Oh! my friends, if that story will not call out our love, what will?
If we cannot admire Christ, whom can we admire? If we cannot be
grateful to Christ, to whom can we be grateful? If we cannot pity
Christ, whom can we pity? If we cannot feel bound in honour to live
for Christ, to work for Christ, to delight in talking of Christ,
thinking of Christ, to glory in doing Christ's commandments to the
very smallest point, to feel no sacrifice too great, no trouble too
petty, if we can please Christ by it and help forward Christ's
kingdom upon earth--if we cannot feel bound in honour to do that for
Christ, what honour is there in us? Again, I say, if we cannot love
Christ, whom can we love? If the remembrance of what He has worked
for us will not stir us up to work for Him, what will stir us up?
I say it again, we are bound by every tie, by every feeling that can
bind man to man, to devote ourselves to Christ, the Man of all men.
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