Do You Know Him?

Do You Know Him?

A Sermon

(No. 552)

Delivered on Sunday Morning, January 31st, 1864, by the

Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,

At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington

"That I may know him."–Philippians 3:10.

THE object of the apostle's life–that for which he sacrificed
everything: country, kindred, honor, comfort, liberty, and life itself,
was, that he might know Christ. Observe that this is not Paul's prayer
as an unconverted man, that he may know Christ, and so be saved; for it
follows upon the previous supplication that he might win Christ and be
found in him. This is the desire of one who has been saved, who enjoys
the full conviction that his sins are pardoned, and that he is in
Christ. It is only the regenerated and saved man who can feel the
desire, "That I may know him." Are you astonished that a saved man
should have such a desire as this? A moment's reflection will remove
your astonishment. Imagine for a moment that you are living in the age
of the Roman emperors. You have been captured by Roman soldiers and
dragged from your native country; you have been sold for a slave,
stripped, whipped, branded, imprisoned, and treated with shameful
cruelty. At last yon are appointed to die in the amphitheatre, to make
holiday for a tyrant. The populace assemble with delight. There they
are, tens of thousands of them, gazing down from the living sides of
the capacious Colosseum. You stand alone, and naked, armed only with a
single dagger–a poor defense against gigantic beasts. A ponderous door
is drawn up by machinery, and forth there rushes the monarch of the
forest–a huge lion; you must slay him or be torn to pieces. You are
absolutely certain that the conflict is too stern for you, and that the
sure result must and will be that those terrible teeth will grind your
bones and drip with your blood. You tremble; your joints are loosed;
you are paralyzed with fear, like the timid deer when the lion has
dashed it to the ground. But what is this? O wonder of mercy!–a
deliverer appears. A great unknown leaps from among the gazing
multitude, and confronts the savage monster. He quails not at the
roaring of the devourer, but dashes upon him with terrible fury, till,
like a whipped cur, the lion slinks towards his den, dragging himself
along in pain and fear. The hero lifts you up, smiles into your
bloodless face, whispers comfort in your ear, and bids you be of good
courage, for you are free. Do you not think that there would arise at
once in your heart a desire to know your deliverer? As the guards
conducted you into the open street, and you breathed the cool, fresh
air, would not the first question be, "Who was my deliverer, that I may
fall at his feet and bless him?" You are not, however, informed, but
instead of it you are gently led away to a noble mansion house, where
your many wounds are washed and healed with salve of rarest power. You
are clothed in sumptuous apparel; you are made to sit down at a feast;
you eat and are satisfied; you rest upon the softest down. The next
morning you are attended by servants who guard you from evil and
minister to your good. Day after day, week after week, your wants are
supplied. You live like a courtier. There is nothing that you can ask
which you do not receive. I am sure that your curiosity would grow more
and more intense till it would ripen into an insatiable craving. You
would scarcely neglect an opportunity of asking the servants, "Tell me,
who does all this, who is my noble benefactor, for I must know him?"
"Well, but" they would say, "is it not enough for you that you are
delivered from the lion?" "Nay," say you, "it is for that very reason
that I pant to know him." "Your wants are richly supplied–why are yon
vexed by curiosity as to the hand which reaches you the boon? If your
garment is worn out, there is another. Long before hunger oppresses
you, the table is well loaded. What more do you want?" But your reply
is, "It is because I have no wants, that, therefore, my soul longs and
yearns even to hungering and to thirsting, that I may know my generous
loving friend." Suppose that as you wake up one morning, you find lying
up on your pillow a precious love-token from your unknown friend, a
ring sparkling with jewels and engraved with a tender inscription, a
bouquet of flowers bound about with a love-motto! Your curiosity now
knows no bounds. But you are informed that this wondrous being has not
only done for you what you have seen, but a thousand deeds of love
which you did not see, which were higher and greater still as proofs of
his affection. You are told that he was wounded, and imprisoned, and
scourged for your sake, for he had a love to yon so great, that death
itself could not overcome it: you are informed that he is every moment
occupied in your interests, because he has sworn by himself that where
he is there you shall be; his honors you shall share, and of his
happiness you shall be the crown. Why, methinks you would say, "Tell
me, men and women, any of you who know him, tell me who he is and what
he is;" and if they said, "But it is enough for you to know that he
loves you, and to have daily proofs of his goodness," you would say,
"No, these love-tokens increase my thirst. If ye see him, tell him I am
sick of love. The flagons which he sends me, and the love-tokens which
he gives me, they stay me for awhile with the assurance of his
affection but they only impel me onward with the more unconquerable
desire that I may know him. I must know him; I cannot live without
knowing him. His goodness makes me thirst, and pant, and faint, and
even die, that I may know him."

Have I imagined emotions which would not be natural? I think not. The
most cool and calculating would be warmed with desires like these.
Methinks what I have now pictured before you will wake the echoes in
your breasts, and you will say, "Ah, it is even so! It is because
Christ loved me and gave himself for me that I want to know him; it is
because he has shed his blood for me and has chosen me that I may be
one with him for ever, that my soul desires a fuller acquaintance with
him."

Now may God, the Holy Ghost, very graciously lead me onward that I may
also quicken in you the desire to know HIM.

I. Beloved, let us PASS BY THAT CROWD OF OUTER-COURT WORSHIPPERS WHO
ARE CONTENT TO LIVE WITHOUT KNOWING CHRIST. I do not mean the ungodly
and profane; we will not consider them just now–they arc altogether
strangers and foreigners to him–I mean children of God: the visible
saints. How many there are of these whom I must call outer-court
worshippers, for they are strangers to this panting to know him. They
can say with Paul, "That I may win him and be found in him"–that they
do want; but this higher wish, "That I may know him," has not stirred
their hearts. How many brethren we know, who are content to know
Christ's historic life! They read the evangelists and they are charmed
with the perfect beauty of the Savior's history. "Never man spake like
this man," say they; and they confess that never man acted with such
love as lie did. They know all the incidents of his life, from his
manger to his cross; but they do not know HIM. They are as men who have
read " Caesar's Commentaries," but who have never seen Caesar. They
know the battles which Caesar fought; they can even recognize the
mantle which Caesar wore "that day he overcame the Nervii;" but they do
not know Caesar himself. The person of the Lord Jesus is us much hidden
from their eyes us the golden pot of manna when concealed in the ark.
They know the life of Christ, hut not Christ the Life; they admire his
way among men, hut they see not himself as the way.

Others there are who know Christ's doctrine, and prize it too, but they
know not Him. All which he taught is dear to them; orthodoxy–for this
they would burn at Smithfield, or lay down their necks at Tower Hill.
Many of them are well-instructed and divinely-illuminated in the
doctrine of Christ, and the wonder is, that they should stop there;
because, beloved, it does seem to me when I begin to know a man's
teaching, that the next thing is the desire to know his person.
Addison, in one of the " Spectators," tells us that the reason why so
many books are printed with the portraits of the authors is just this,
that as a man reads a book, lie feels a desire to know what sort of
appearance the author had. This, indeed, is very natural. If you have
ever been refreshed under a minister's printed sermons, if you have at
any time received any benefit from his words, I know you have said, "I
would like to see that man; I would like to hear the truth flow hot and
fresh from his living lips; I would like to know just how he said that
sentence, and how that passage sounded as it came from his earnest
heart." My beloved, surely if you know the doctrine of Jesus, if you
have so been with Christ as to sit at his feet and hear what he has to
say, you must, I hope, have had some longings to know him–to know his
person; and if you have, you will have had to pass by multitudes of
followers of Jesus who rest satisfied with his words, but forget that
he is himself "THE WORD."

Beloved, there are others–and against them I bring no complaint; they
go as far as they can–who are delighted with Christ's example.
Christ's character is in their esteem the mirror of all perfection.
They desire to walk in his footsteps; they listen to his sermon upon
the Mount; they are enchanted with it–as well they may be; they pray
to he obedient in all things to Christ, as their Master and their Lord.
They do well. Mark, I am finding no fault with any of these who prize
the history, or who value the doctrine, or who admire the precept; but
I want more. I do want, beloved, that you and I should "know HIM." I
love his precepts, but I love HIM better. Sweet is the water from
Bethlehem's well; and well worth the struggle of the armed men to win
but a bucket from it; but the well itself is better, and deserves all
Israel's valor to defend it. As the source is ever more valuable than
the stream, so is Christ ever better than the best words of his lips,
or the best deeds of his hand. I want to know him. I do care for his
actions; my soul would sit down and admire those masterly works of holy
art–his miracles of humiliation, of suffering, of patience, and of
holy charity; but better far I love the hands which wrought these
master-works, the lips which spoke these goodly words, and the heart
which heaved with that matchless love which was the cause of all. Yes,
beloved, we must get farther than Immanuel's achievements, however
glorious; we must come to "know him."

Most believers rest perfectly at ease with knowing Christ's sacrifice.
They see Jesus as the great High Priest, laying a great sacrifice upon
the altar for their sins, and with their whole heart they accept his
atonement. By faith they know that all their sin is taken away by
precious blood. This is a most blessed and hallowed attainment, I will
grant you; but it is not every Christian who perceives that Christ was
not only the offerer of a sacrifice, but was himself the sacrifice,
and, therefore, loves him as such. Priest, altar, victim, everything
Christ was. He gathers up all in himself, and when I see that he loved
me, and gave himself for me, it is not enough to know this fact: I want
to know him, the glorious person who does and is all this. I want to
know the man who thus gave himself for me. I want to behold the Lamb
once slain for me. I want to rest upon the bosom which covers the heart
which was pierced with the spear; I pray him to kiss me with the kisses
of that mouth which cried, "Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?" I love
Calvary, the scene of woe, but I love Christ better, the great object
of that agony; and even his cross and all his sufferings, dear though
these must ever be to the Christian mind, only occupying a second
place; the first seat is for himself, his person, his deity, and
humanity.

Thus, you see, we have to leave a great many believers behind; nor have
we enumerated all, for I believe that even some of those saints who
have received grace to look for the coming of Christ, yet in their
vision of his coming too much forget him. Is it not possible for nine
to pant for the second advent as to lose sight of him who is to make
that advent? So to long for a millennium, that I may forget him who is
to reign King of kings? So to pant after that glory of Israel that I
may forget him who is Israel's glory? Anywhere short of knowing him, I
would not have you stop, beloved; and even when you know him, I would
urge you still to be impelled with the same desire, and to press
forward, crying with the apostle, "That I may know him."

Beloved, how many there are who have heard of Christ and read about
Christ, and that is enough for them! But it is not enough for me, and
it should not be enough for you. The apostle Paul did not say "I have
heard of him, on whom I have believed," but " I know whom I have
believed." To hear about Christ may damn you, it may be a savor of
death unto death to you. You have heard of him with the ear; hut it is
essential that you know him in order that you may be partakers of
eternal life. My dear hearers, be not content unless you have this as
your soul's present portion.

Others there be who have been persuaded by the judgment and
encouragement of others, that they know something about the great
Redeemer. They do not know him, but still they are persuaded by others
that they have an interest in him. Let me warn you of second-hand
spirituality, it is a rotten, soul-deceiving deception. Beware of all
esteeming yourself according to the thoughts of others, or you will be
ruined. Another man's opinion of me may have great influence over me, I
have heard of a man in perfectly good health killed by the opinion of
others. Several of his friends had foolishly agreed to play him a
practical trick; whereupon one of them met him and said, "How ill you
look this morning." He did not feel so; he was very much surprised at
the remark. When he met the next, who said to him, "Oh! dear, how bad
you look," lie began to think there might be something in it; and us he
turned smart round the corner, a third person said to him, "What a
sight you are! How altered from what you used to be!" He went home ill,
he took to his bed and died. So goes the story, and I should not marvel
if it really did occur. Now, if such might be the effect of persuasion
and supposed belief in the sickness of a man, how much more readily may
men be persuaded into the idea of spiritual health! A believer meets
you, and by his treatment seems to say, " I welcome you as a dear
brother"–and means it too. You are baptized, and you are received into
Church-fellowship, and so everybody thinks that von must be a follower
of Christ; and yet you may not know him. Oh, I do pray you, do not be
satisfied with being persuaded into something like an assurance that
you are in him, but do know him–know him for yourself.

There are many who I hope will be saved ere long; but I am in great
doubt of them, because they can only say they half think they know
Christ; they do not quite believe in him, but they do not disbelieve in
him; they halt between two opinions. Ah, dear hearer, that is a very
dangerous place to stand in. The border-land is the devil's hunting
ground. Undecided souls are fair game for the great fowler. God give
you once for all the true decision by which through grace you shall
know him. Do not be satisfied with thinking you know him; hoping you
know him, but know him. Oh, it is nothing to have heard about him, to
have talked about him, to have eaten and have drank with him, to have
preached him, or even to have wrought miracles in his name, to have
been charmed by his eloquence, to have been stirred with the story of
his love, to have been moved to imitate him–this shall nothing avail
you, unless you win him and are found in him. Seek with the apostle, to
give up everything of your own righteousness, and all other objects and
aims in life, and say, "This I seek after, that I may know him." Thus
much, then, on the first point. Leaving those behind who do not know
him, let us make an advance.

II. Secondly, let us DRAW CURTAIN AFTER CURTAIN WHICH SHALL ADMIT US TO
KNOW MORE OF CHRIST.

Did you ever visit the manufactory of splendid porcelain at Sevres? I
have done so. If anybody should say to me, "Do you know the manufactory
at Sevres?" I should say, " Yes, I do, and no, I do not. I know it, for
I have seen the building; I have seen the rooms in which the articles
are exhibited for sale, and I have seen the museum and model room; but
I do not know the factory as I would like to know it, for I have not
seen the process of manufacture, and have not been admitted into the
workshops, as some are. "Suppose I had seen, however, the process of
the moulding of the clay, and the laying on of the rich designs, if
anybody should still say to me, "Do you know how they manufacture those
wonderful articles?" I should very likely still be compelled to say,
"No, I do not, because there are certain secrets, certain private rooms
into which neither friend nor foe can be admitted, lest the process
should be open to the world." So, you see, I might say I knew, and yet
might not half know; and when I half knew, still there would be so much
left, that I might be compelled to say, "I do not know." How many
different ways there are of knowing a person–and even so there are all
these different ways of knowing Christ; so that you may keep on all
your lifetime, still wishing to get into another room, and another
room, nearer and nearer to the great secret, still panting to "know
him." Good Rutherford says, "I urge upon you a nearer communion with
Christ, and a growing communion. There are curtains to be drawn by, in
Christ, that we never shut, and new foldings in love with him. I
despair that ever I shall shall win to the far end of that love; there
are so many plies in it. Therefore, dig deep, and set by as much time
in the day for him as you can, he will be won by labor."

To begin with. We know a person when we recognize him. You know the
Queen. Well, I do. I recollect seeing her, and if I were to see any
quantity of ladies, I think I should know which was the Queen and which
was not. You may say honestly that you know her to that extent.
Beloved, every Christian must in this sense know Christ. You must know
him by a divine illumination so as to know who he is and what line is.
When Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Whom sayest thou that I am," he said,
"Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God;" and the Lord replied,
"Blessed art thou, Simon Barjonas, for flesh and blood hath not
revealed this unto thee." It is an early step in this knowledge of
Christ, to know and to believe that Jesus Christ is Lord; to know that
Christ is God, divine to me; that Christ is man, brother to me–bone of
my bone and flesh of my flesh–that as such line is a sin-subduing
Savior; that line is for inc an intercessor, pleading before the
throne; my prophet, priest, and king–in this sense I trust that most
of you know him. If you do not, breathe the silent prayer now, "Lord,
help me that I may know him." But this knowledge of recognition is
comparatively a low attainment, one of the lowest rounds of the ladder
of light.

In the second place, a believer knows Christ, to a higher degree when
he knows him by practical experiment at acquaintance with what he does.
For instance, I know Christ as a cleanser. They tell me he is a
refiner, that he cleanses from spots; he has washed me in his precious
blood, and to that extent I know him. They tell me that he clothes the
naked; he hath covered me with a garment of righteousness, and to that
extent I know him. They tell me that he is a breaker, and that he
breaks fetters, he has set my soul at liberty, and therefore I know
him. They tell me that he is a king and that he reigns over sin; he
hath subdued my enemies beneath his feet, and I know him in that
character. They tell me he is a shepherd: I know him for I am his
sheep. They say he is a door: I have entered in through him, and I know
him as a door. They say he is food: my spirit feeds on him as on the
bread of heaven, and, therefore, I know him as such. You know if anyone
says, "Do you know doctor So-and-so?" It is a very satisfactory answer,
if you can reply, "Oh, yes, I know him, for he attended me the last
time that I was ill." There is more knowledge in that, than if on could
only say, " Oh, yes, I know him: he wears such-and-such a hat or "line
is a man of such-and-such an appearance." So, Christian, thing is a
second and higher step to know Christ, because you have experienced in
your own soul that he is just what God has revealed him to be.

But we know a man in a better sense than this when we are on speaking
terms with him. "Do you know So-and-so?" " Yes," you say, I not only
know him by name, so as to recognize him; I not only know him as a
tradesman having dealt with him, but I know him because when we pass
each other in the morning, we exchange a word or two; and if I had
anything to say upon matters–any request to make–I should feel no
difficulty about asking him." Well, now. the Christian knows his Lord
in this sense, line has every day official communication with Christ,
line is on speaking terms with him. There may be persons here, perhaps,
who know the Queen in a sense in which I do not know her–perhaps they
speak to him. They have so done; I have never done that; they go beyond
me there. But you see, dear friends, this is not a very great thing
because you may be on speaking terms with a man, but you may not know
much of him for all that. So you may be in the habit of daily prayer,
and you may talk with Christ every morning and every evening, and you
may know exceedingly little of him. You are on speaking terms with him;
but there ins something beyond this, very far beyond this. As I might
say that I know a man merely because I meet him every day, and ask him
for what I want, and understand that he is kind and generous; but how
shallow is such an acquaintance, for I do not know his private
character nor his inward heart. Even so a believer may have constant
dealings with Christ in his prayers and in his praises, and yet for all
that, he may have only gone a certain distance, and may have need still
to pray, "That I may know him."

But you are said to know a person better still when he invites you to
his house. At Christmas time there is a family party and a romp, and he
asks you there, and you are one of the children, and enter into all
their sports around the fire-side, and you indulge as they do in the
genialities of social life. You are asked again; you go there pretty
often; in fact, if there is a happy evening in that house they
generally expect to see friend So-and-so there. Well, now, that is
better. We are getting now into something like knowing a man; and I do
trust there are many of you, beloved, who have got as far as this with
regard to your divine Lord. Christ has entertained you with some rare
visits from his gracious presence. He brought you into the
banquetting-house, and his banner over you was love. When he manifested
himself, he did it unto you as he did not unto the world. He was
pleased in the majesty of his condescension, to take you aside and show
you his hands and his side. He called you "Friend;" he treated you as
such, and permitted you to enjoy thine sweets of being one of the
family.

Ah, but you may go into a man's house as a constant visitor, and yet
you may not know him–that is to say, not in the highest sense. You
speak to the man's wife and say, "Your husband is a marvellously
charming man; what a cheerful, joyful, spirited man he is; he never
seems to have any depressions of spirit, and experiences no changes
whatever." She shakes her head. and she says, "Ah! you do not know him,
you do not know him as I do;" because shine sees him at all times and
at all hours; she can read the very heart of the man. That Christian
has grown much in grace who has advanced not only to be the friend of
Christ, having occasional fellowship with him, but who comes to
recognize his marriage-union with the person of his Lord, and of whom
it can be said, "The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him; and
he will show them his covenant," Now we have the intimacy of love, with
its perfect frankness, nearness, sweetness, joyousness, delight. The
rending away of every separating veil makes the communion to be as near
as it well can be this side the black river; but a Christian may get
farther than this.

Even the spouse may not know her husband. The most loving wife who ever
entered into the cares of her husband, must have discovered that there
is a something which separates his experience from her powers of
comprehension. Luther's wife. Catherine, was of all women the wife for
Luther; but there were times in Luther's gigantic tribulations, when he
must leave Kate behind. There were extraordinary times within him;
times both of ecstatic joy, when like a great angel, he stretched his
mighty wings, and flew right up to heaven, and of awful misery, when he
seemed to sink down to the very depths of hell; and in either case, no
other heart could keep pace with him. Then it was himself alone who had
communion with himself. And a Christian may so grow in grace as to
become identified with Christ, a member of his body; not so much
married to him as a part of him, a member of the great body of Christ,
so that he suffers with Christ, sympathizes with Jesus, his heart
beating to the same dolorous tune, his veins swollen with the sumac
floods of grief, or else his eyes sparkling with that same gleam of
joy, according to the Master's Word, "That my joy might remain in you,
and that your joy might be full."

Well, have not you waded out of your depth some of you? I have
certainly got out of my own. I feel as if the Master might come on to
this platform, look round on many of us, and say, "Have I been so long
time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?" for truly even
in the minor sense, though I trust we arc saved, though we have
believed in Jesus, yet we have not reached the height of this great
text–"That I may know him."

III. Having taken you so far, let us SIT DOWN A FEW MINUTES AND
CONSIDER WHAT SORT OF KNOWLEDGE THIS KNOWLEDGE OF CHRIST IS–"That I
may know him."

Then it is clear, if I know him I shall have a very vivid sense of his
personality. "That I may know him." He will not be to me a myth, a
vision, a spirit, bat a person, a real solid person, as much real as I
am myself, or as my dearest friend can be to me. My soul, never be
satisfied within a shadowy Christ. My heart, be thou never content
until he hath embraced thy soul, and proved to thee that he is the
lover of his people. This knowledge, then, must be a knowledge of him
in his personality. Then, beloved, it must be a personal knowledge on
our part. I cannot know Christ through another person's brains. I
cannot love him with another man's heart, and I cannot see him with
another man's eyes. Heaven's delight is, "Mine eyes shall see him and
not another." These eyes shall behold the King in his beauty. Well,
beloved, if this be heaven, we certainly cannot do without a personal
sight of Christ here. I am so afraid of living in a second-hand
religion. God forbid that I should get a biographical experience. Lord
save us from having borrowed communion. No, I must know him myself. O
God, let me not be deceived in this. I must know him without fancy or
proxy; I must know him on mine own account.

Then these few thoughts upon what sort of knowledge we must have. It
must be an intelligent knowledge–I must know him. I must know his
natures, divine and human. I must know his offices–I must know his
attributes–I must know his works–I must know his shame–I must know
his glory; for I do not know him if it be merely a subject of passion
and not of intellect. I must let my head consciously meditate upon him
until I own something like an idea of him, that I may "Comprehend with
all saints what is the breadth, and length and depth, and height; and
to know the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge."

Then I must have an affectionate knowledge of him; and, indeed, if I do
know him at all, I must love him. As it is said of some men, that there
is such a charm about them, that if you once get into their company you
cannot criticise any longer, but must admire; so you feel with Christ.
It is said of Garibaldi, that if you are in his society he charms all,
so that even malice and slander must be silent in his presence.
Infinitely, supremely so is it with Christ. Being near him, his love
warms our hearts, till we glow with intense love to him.

Then I shall find, if I know Christ, that this is a satisfying
knowledge. When I know Christ my mind will he fill to the brim–I shall
feel that I have found that which my spirit panted after. "This is that
bread whereof if a man eat he shall never hunger."

At the same time it is an exciting knowledge; the more I know of
Christ, the more I shall want to know. The deeper I plunge the greater
the deeps which will be revealed. The higher I climb the loftier will
be the summits which invite my eager footsteps. I shall want the more
as I get the more. My spiritual thirst will increase, though in another
sense it will be entirely quenched.

And this knowledge of Christ will be a most happy one, in fact, so
happy, that sometimes it will completely bear me up above all trials,
and doubts, and sorrows; and it will, while I enjoy it, make me
something more than "Man that is born of a woman who is of few days,
and full of trouble;" for it will fling about me the immortality of the
ever-living Savior, and gird me with the golden girdle of his eternal
happiness. To be near to Christ, is to be near to the pearly gates of
the golden-streeted city. Say not, "Jerusalem, my happy home, my labors
have an end in thee;" but say, "Jesus, thou art my rest, and when I
have thee, my spirit is at peace." I might thus keep on speaking in
praise of this knowledge, but I will not.

Only permit me to say, what a refreshing, what a sanctifying knowledge
is this, to know him. When the Laodicean Church was neither hot nor
cold, but lukewarm, how did Christ seek her revival? Did he send her
precious doctrines? Did he send her excellent precepts? Mark you, he
came himself, for thus it is said, "Behold, I stand at the door, and
knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come into
him, and will sup with him, and he with me." That is a cure for it all,
you see. No matter how lukewarm, though God may say, "I will spue thee
out of my mouth," yet, if Christ comes, that is the cure. The presence
of Christ with his Church puts away all her sicknesses. When the
disciples of Christ were at sea in a storm, do you recollect how he
comforted them? Did he send them an angel? No. "It is I, line not
afraid;" and when they knew him, then they had no more fears. They were
assembled one night, "the doors being shut for fear of the Jews:" how
did he comfort them? Jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and
said, "Peace be unto you." There was Thomas, full of doubts and fears.
How did Jesus Christ take away his doubts? "Reach hither thy finger,
and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my
side." Oh! it is Christ, it is Christ who cures all. The company of
Christ is the only thing which a Christian wants. I will undertake that
if his heart be like an iceberg, as soon as Jesus comes, it shall flame
like Vesuvius. His spirit shall be dead and like a rotten corpse; but
if Jesus comes he shall leap like a hart, and become strong as a young
unicorn. Thy presence makes me like the chariots of Amminadib. Now, do
not think I am talking what I do not know. Do not imagine that I am
talking mere fanatical slip-slop which I cannot prove. I do assert (and
God who searcheth all hearts, knows how true this is), I do assert
that, from the depths of doubt, of dullness, of worldliness, I have
leaped in one moment into love, and life, and holy enthusiasm, when
Jesus Christ has manifested himself to nine. I cannot describe the
difference between my spirit, water-logged, worm-eaten, ready to sink
to the bottom without Christ, and that same spirit, like a strong
stanch ship, with sails full, with favorable wind, speeding into
harbor, with a golden freight. Like you poor little bird which some
cruel boy has torn from the nest and almost killed–it is not fledged
yet, and cannot fly, and it lies down to die, trampled in the mire in
the streets–that is my heart without Christ. But see that other bird!
The cage-door is opened, its wings vibrate, it sings within all its
might. and flies up to talk with the sun–that is my heart when I have
the conscious presence of my Lord Jesus Christ! I only bring in my own
consciousness because I do not know yours; but I think I will now
venture to say that every believer here will admit it is the same with
him–

"Midst darkest shades if he appear

My dawning is begun;

He is my soul's bright morning star,

And he my rising sun.

IV. I shall close by urging you, dearly beloved, who know the Lord, to
take this desire of the apostle, and by exhorting you, make it your
own, "That I may know him." I wish I had time this morning–time will
fly–I wish I had time to urge and press you, believers, onward to seek
to know him. Paul, you see, gave up everything for this–you will be
seeking what is worth having. There can be no mistake about this. If
Paul will renounce all, there must be a reward which is worthy of the
sacrifice. If you have any fears, if you seek Christ and find him, they
will be removed. You complain that you do not feel the guilt of sin;
that you cannot humble yourself enough. The sight of Christ is the very
best means of setting sin in its true colors. There is no repenting
like that which comics from a look of Christ's eye: the Lord turned and
hooked upon Peter, and he went out and wept bitterly. So it is not a
sight of the law, it is the sight of Christ looking upon us which will
break our hearts.

There is nothing like this to fill you with courage. When Dr. Andrew
Reed found some difficulties in the founding of one of his orphan
asylums, he sat down and drew upon a little piece of paper the cross,
and then he said to himself, "What, despair in the face of the cross?"
and then he drew a ring round the cross, and wrote in it nil
desperandum! and took it for his coat of arms. Oh, there cannot be any
despair in the presence of the cross. Thou dying Lamb, didst thou
endure the cross, despising the shame, and shall I talk of difficulties
when thy glory is in the way? God forbid! O holy face, bedewed with
bloody sweat, I pledge myself in thy solemn and awful presence, that
though this face of mine should be bedewed with sweat of the like sort,
to accomplish any labor upon which thou shalt put me; by thy will and
in thy strength, I will not shrink from the task. A sight of Christ,
brethren, will keep you from despondency, and doubts, and despair. A
sight of Christ! How shall I stir you to it? It will fire you to duty;
it will deliver you from temptation; it will, in fact, make you like
him. A man is known by his company; and if you have become acquainted
with Christ, and know him, you will be sure to reflect his light. It is
because the moon hath converse within the sun, that she hath any light
for this dark world's night; and if you talk with Christ, the Sun, he
will shine on you so gloriously, that you. like the moon, shall reflect
his light, and the dark night of this world shall be enlightened by
your radiance. The Lord help us to know him.

But I do seem, this morning, to have been talking to you about him, and
not to have brought him forward. O that I knew how to introduce you to
him! You who do not love him, O that I could make you seek after him!
But you who do love him and have trusted in him, O that I could make
you hunger and thirst until you were filled with him! There he is,
nailed to his cross, suffering–oh! how much!–for you; there he is,
risen, ascended, pleading before the throne of God for you. Here he is:
"Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." Here he is,
waiting to be comforted with your company, desiring communion with you,
panting that his sister, his spouse, would be no longer a stranger to
him. Here he is, waiting to be gracious, saying, "Come unto me all ye
that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Come,
Christian, come, let this be thy desire, "That I may know him."

And you who do not know him, and have not loved him, I pray you,
breathe this prayer with me, " Lord, be merciful to me a sinner." O
sinner, he is a gentle Christ; line is a loving Savior, and they that
seek him early shall find him. May you seek and find him, for his
name's sake. Amen.