Delivered by
C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"Yea, he is altogether lovely."–Solomons Song 5:16.
NO WORDS can ever express the gratitude we owe to Him who loved us even
when we were dead in trespasses and sins: the love of Jesus is
unutterably precious and worthy of daily praise. No songs can ever
fitly celebrate the triumphs of that salvation which he wrought
singlehanded on our behalf: the work of Jesus is glorious beyond
compare, and all the harps of angels fall short of its worthy honour.
Yet I do believe, and my heart prompts me to say so, that the highest
praise of every ransomed soul and of the entire Christian church should
be offered to the blessed person of Jesus Christ, our adorable Lord.
The love of his heart is excelled by the heart which gave forth that
love, and the wonders of his hand are outdone by the hand itself, which
wrought those godlike miracles of grace. We ought to bless him for what
he has done for us as Mediator in the place of humble service under the
law, and for what he suffered for us as Substitute on the altar of
sacrifice from before the foundation of the world; and for what he is
doing for us as Advocate in the place of highest honour at the right
hand of the Majesty on high: but still the best thing about Christ is
Christ himself. We prize his, but we worship him. His gifts are valued,
but he himself is adored. While we contemplate, with mingled feelings
of awe, admiration, and thankfulness, his atonement, his resurrection,
his glory in heaven, and his second coming, still it is Christ himself,
stupendous in his dignity as the Son of God, and superbly beautiful as
the Son of man, who sheds an incomparable charm on all those wonderful
achievements, wherein his might and his merit, his goodness and his
grace appear so conspicuous. For him let our choicest spices be
reserved, and to him let our sweetest anthems be raised. Our choicest
ointment must be poured upon his head, and for his own self alone our
most costly alabaster boxes must be broken.
"He is altogether lovely." Not only is his teaching attractive, his
doctrine persuasive, his life irreproachable, his character enchanting,
and his work a self-denying labour for the common good of all his
people, but he himself is altogether lovely. I suppose at first we
shall always begin to love him because he first loved us, and even to
the last his love to us will always be the strongest motive of our
affection towards him; still there ought to be added to this another
reason less connected with ourselves, and more entirely arising out of
his own superlative excellence; we ought to love him because he is
lovely and deserves to be loved. The time should come, and with some of
us it has come, when we can heartily say "we love him because we cannot
help it, for his all-conquering loveliness has quite ravished our
hearts." Surely it is but an unripe fruit to love him merely for the
benefits which we have received at his hand. It is a fruit of grace,
but it is not of the ripest flavour; at least, there are other fruits,
both new and old, which we have laid up for thee, O our beloved, and
some of them have a daintier taste. There is a sweet and mellow fruit
which can only be brought forth by the summer sun of fellowship–love
because of the Redeemer's intrinsic goodness and personal sweetness. Oh
that we might love our Lord for his own sake, love him because he is so
supremely beautiful that a glimpse of him has won our hearts, and made
him dearer to our eyes than light. Oh that all true and faithful
disciples of our beloved Lord would press forward towards that state of
affection, and never rest till they reach it! If any of you have not
reached it, you need not therefore doubt your own safety, for whatever
the reason why you love Jesus, if you love him at all, it is a sure
pledge and token that he loves you, and that you are saved in him with
an everlasting salvation. Still covet earnestly the best gifts, and
rise to the highest degree of devotion,. Love as the purest of the
saints have loved; love as John the apostle loved, for still your Lord
exceeds all the loving homage you can pay to him. Love his person, love
himself; for he is better than all that he has done or given; and as
from himself all blessings flow, so back to himself should all love
return.
Our text tells us that Christ is altogether lovely. What a wealth of
thought and feeling is contained in that exclamation! I am embarrassed
to know how to preach on such a subject, and half inclined to wish it
had not been laid so much upon my heart. What, I pray you, what is
loveliness? To discern it is one thing, but it is quite another thing
to describe it. There is not one amongst us but knows how to appreciate
beauty, and to be enamoured of its attractions, but how many here could
tell us what it is? Stand up, my brother, and define it. Perhaps while
you were sitting down you thought you could easily tell the tale, but
now you are on your feet you find that it is not quite so easy to
clothe in words the thoughts which floated through your brain. What is
beauty? Cold-blooded word-mongers answer, fitness. And certainly there
is fitness in all loveliness. But do not tell me that beauty is mere
fitness, for I have seen a world of fitness in this world which,
nevertheless, seemed to me to be inexpressibly ugly and unlovable. A
wise man tells me that beauty is proportion; but neither is this a full
description by many a league. No doubt it is desirable that the
features should be well balanced; the eyes should be fitly set, no one
feature should be exaggerated, and none should be dwarfed.
"In nature what affects our hearts,
Is not th' exactness of peculiar parts;
'Tis not a lip or eye we beauty call,
But the joint force and full result of all."
Harmony is beauty. Yet I have seen the chiselled marble, fashioned with
skilful art into a well-nigh perfect form, which did not, could not,
impress me with a sense of loveliness. There stands in one of the halls
of the Vatican a statue of Antinous. Every feature in that statue is
perfect in itself, and in complete harmony with all the rest. You could
not find the slightest fault with eye or nose or mouth. It is indeed as
much the ideal of male beauty as the Venus is of female charms, yet no
one could ever have been enchanted with the statue, or have felt
affection to the form which it represents. There is no expression
whatever in the features. Everything is so adjusted and proportioned
that you want a divergence to relieve you. The materialism is so
carefully measured out that there needs a stir, a break in the harmony
to give at least some semblance of a soul. Beauty, then, consists not
in mere harmony, nor in balancing the features.
Loveliness surely is attractiveness. Yes, but that is another way of
saying you do not know what it is. It is a something that attracts you,
and constrains you to exclaim, "Nought under heaven so strongly doth
allure." We feel its power, we become its slaves; but we cannot write
with pen of cold steel, nor could we write even with a pen of
lightning, a description of what it is. How, then, can I–enamoured,
entranced, enraptured as I am with him whom my soul loveth–how can I
speak of him? He is altogether lovely? Where shall I find words, terms,
expressions that shall fitly set him forth? Unless the Eternal Spirit
shall upraise me out of myself I must for ever be incapable of setting
forth the Well-beloved.
Besides, were I baffled by nothing else, there is this, that the beauty
of Christ is mysterious. It surpasses all the comeliness of human form.
He may have had great beauty according to the flesh. That I cannot
tell, but I should imagine that such a perfect soul as his must have
inhabited a perfectly molded body. Never yet did you or I gaze with
satisfaction upon the work of any painter who has tried to picture our
Lord Jesus Christ. We have not blamed the great masters, but we have
felt that the effort surpassed their powers. How could they photograph
the sun? The loftiest conceptions of great artists in this case fall
far short of the mark. When the brightness of the Father's glory is the
subject the canvas glows in vain. Art sits at her easel and produces
diligently many a draught of the sacred features; but they are all
failures, and they must be. Who shall ever depict Immanuel,
God-with-us? I suppose that, by-and-by, when our Lord had entered upon
his active life, and encountered its struggles, his youthful beauty was
marred with lines of sadness and sorrow. Still his courage so
overshadowed his cares, the mercy he showed so surpassed the misery he
shared, and the grace he dispensed so exceeded the griefs that he
carried, that a halo of real glory must ever have shone around his
brow. His countenance must still have been lovely even when surrounded
with the clouds of care and grief. How can we describe even the marred
visage? It is a great mystery, but a sure fact, that in our Lord's
marred countenance his beauty is best seen. Anguish gave him a
loveliness which else he had not reached. His passion put the finishing
touch upon his unrivalled loveliness.
But, brethren, I am not about to speak of Christ's loveliness after the
flesh, for now after the flesh know we him no more. It is his moral and
spiritual beauty, of which the spouse in the song most sweetly says,
"Yea, he is altogether lovely." The loveliness which the eye dotes on
is mere varnish when compared with that which dwells in virtue and
holiness; the worm will devour the loveliness of skin and flesh, but a
lovely character will endure for ever.
I. THIS IS RARE PRAISE. Let that be our first head. This is rare
praise. What if I say it is unique? For of no other being could it be
said, "Yea, he is altogether lovely."
It means, first, that all that is in him is lovely, perfectly lovely.
There is no point in our Lord Jesus that you could improve. To paint
the rose were to spoil its ruddy hue. To tint the lily, for he is lily
as well as rose, were to mar its whiteness. Each virtue in our Lord is
there in a state of absolute perfection: it could not be more fully
developed. If you were able to conceive of each virtue at its ripest
stage it would be found in him. In the matter of transparent
ingenuousness and sterling honesty, did ever man speak or act so
truthfully as he? Ask, on the other hand, for sympathizing tenderness
and love, was ever any so gentle as Jesus? Do you want reverence to
God? how he bows before the Father. Do you want boldness before men?
how he beards the Pharisees. You could not better anything which you
find in Jesus. Wherever you shall cast your eye it may rest with
satisfaction, for the best of the best of the best is to be seen in
him. He is altogether lovely at every separate point, so that the
spouse, when she began with his head, descended to his feet, and then
lifting her eyes upward again upon a return voyage of delight, she
looked into his countenance and summed up all that she had seen in this
one sentence, "He is altogether lovely." This is rare praise.
And he is all that is lovely. In each one of his people you will find
something that is lovely,–in one there is faith, in another abounding
love; in one tenderness, in another courage, but you do not find all
good things in any one saint–at least not all of them in full
perfection; but you find all virtues in Jesus, and each one of them at
its best. If you would take the best quality of one saint, and the best
quality of another–yea, the best out of each and all the myriads of
his people, you would find no grace or goodness among them all which
Jesus does not possess in the fullest degree and in the highest
perfection. He combines all the virtues, and gives them all a sweetness
over and beyond themselves. In flowers you have a separate beauty
belonging to each; no one flower is just like another, but each one
blushes with its own loveliness: but in our Lord these separate and
distinct beauties are found united in one. Christ is the posy in which
all the beauties of the garden of perfection are bound up. Each gem has
its own radiance: the diamond is not like the ruby, nor the ruby like
the emerald; but Christ is that ring in which you have sapphire, ruby,
diamond, emerald, set in choice order, so that each one heightens the
other's brilliance. Look not for anything lovely out of Jesus, for he
has all the loveliness. All perfections are in him making up one
consummate perfection; and all the loveliness which is to be seen
elsewhere is but a reflection of his own unrivalled charms.
In Jesus Christ–this, moreover, is rare praise again–there is nothing
that is unlovely. You have a friend whom you greatly admire and fondly
esteem, of whom, nevertheless, I doubt not you have often said to
yourself in undertone, "I wish I could take away a little of the rough
edge of his manners here and there." You never thought that of Christ.
You have observed of one man that he is so bold as to be sometimes
rude; and of another that he is so bland and amiable that he is apt to
be effeminate. You have said, "That sweetness of his is exceedingly
good, but I wish that it were qualified with sterner virtues." But
there is nothing to tone down or alter in our divine Lord. He is
altogether lovely. Have you not sometimes in describing a friend been
obliged to forget, or omit, some rather prominent characteristic when
you wished to make a favourable impression? You have had to paint him
as the artist once painted Oliver Cromwell; the great wart over the
eyebrow was purposely left out of the portrait. Cromwell, you know,
said, "Paint me as I am, or not at all." We have, however, often felt
that it was kind to leave out the warts when we were talking of those
we esteemed, and to whom we would pay a graceful tribute. But there is
nothing to leave out in Christ, nothing to hold back, or to guard, or
to extenuate. In him is nothing redundant, nothing overgrown. He is
altogether lovely. You never need put the finger over the scar in his
case, as Apelles did when he painted his hero. No; tell it all out:
reveal the details of his private life and secret thoughts, they need
no concealment. Lay bare the very heart of Christ, for that is the
essence of love and loveliness. Speak of his death-wounds, for in his
scars there is more beauty than in the uninjured comeliness of another:
and even when he lies dead in the tomb he is more comely than the
immortal angels of God at their best estate. Nothing about our Lord
needs to be concealed; even his cross at which his enemies stumble, is
to be daily proclaimed, and it will be seen to be one of his choicest
beauties.
Frequently, too, in commending a friend whom you highly appreciated,
you have been prone to ask for consideration of his position, and to
make excuse for blemishes which you would fain persuade us are less
actual than apparent. You have remarked how admirable he acts
considering his surroundings. Conscious that someone would hint at an
imperfection, you have anticipated the current of conversation by
alluding to the circumstances which rendered it so hard for your friend
to act commendably. You have felt the need of showing that others
influenced him, or that infirmity restrained him. Did you ever feel
inclined to apologize for Christ? Did he not always stand unbending
beneath life's pressure, upright and unmoved amidst the storms and
tempests of an evil world? The vilest calumnies have been uttered
against him, in the age just past which produced creatures similar to
Thomas Paine, but they never required an answer; and as for the more
refined attacks of our modern skepticism, they are for the most part
unworthy even of contempt. They fall beneath the glance of truth,
withered by the glance of the eye of honesty. We never feel concerned
to vindicate the character of Jesus; we know it to be safe against all
comers. No man has been able to conjure up an accusation against Jesus.
They seek false witnesses, but their testimony agrees not together. The
sharp arrows of slander fall blunted from the shield of his
perfectness. Oh, no; he is altogether lovely in this sense–that there
is nothing whatever in him that is not lovely. You may look, and look,
and look again, but there is nothing in him that will not bear scrutiny
world without end. Taking the lord Jesus Christ as a whole–this is
what our text intends to tell us–he is inexpressibly
lovely–altogether lovely. The words are packed as tightly as they can
be, but the meaning is greater than the words. Some translate the
passage "He is all desires," and it is a good translation too, and
contains a grand truth. Christ is so lovely that all you can desire of
loveliness is in him; and even if you were to sit down and task your
imagination and burden your understanding to contrive, to invent, to
fashion the ideal of something that should be inimitable–ay (to utter
a paradox) if you could labour to conceive something which should be
inconceivably lovely, yet still you would not reach to the perfection
of Christ Jesus. He is above, not only all we think, but all we dream
of.
Do you all believe this? Dear hearers, do you think of Jesus in this
fashion? We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen. But
no man among you will receive our witness until he can say, "I also
have seen him, and having seen him, I set to my seal that he is
altogether lovely."
II. And now, secondly, as this is rare praise, so likewise IT IS
PERPETUAL PRAISE. You may say of Christ whenever you look at him, "Yea,
he is altogether lovely." He always was so. As God over all, he is
blessed for ever, Amen. When in addition to his godhead, he assumed our
mortal clay, was he not inimitably lovely then? The babe in Bethlehem
was the most beautiful sight that ever the world beheld. No fairer
flower ever bloomed in the garden of creation than the mind of that
youth of Nazareth gradually unfolding, as he "grew, and waxed strong in
spirit, filled with wisdom: and the grace of God was upon him." All the
while he lived on earth, what moral perfections, what noble qualities,
what spiritual charms were about his sacred person! His life among men
is a succession of charming pictures. And he was lovely in his bitter
passion, when as the thick darkness overshadowed his soul he prayed, in
an agony of desire, "Not my will, but thine, be done." The bloody sweat
did not disfigure, but adorn him. And oh, was he not lovely when he
died? Without resentment he interceded for his murderers. His patience,
his self-possession, his piety, as "the faithful martyr," have fixed as
the meridian of time the hour when he said, "It is finished," and
"bowed his head," and "cried with a loud voice, Father, into thy hands
I commend my spirit." He is lovely in his resurrection from the dead;
beyond description lovely. Not a word of accusation did he utter
against his cruel persecutors, though he had risen clothed with all
power in heaven and in earth. With such tender sympathy did he make
himself known to his sorrowing disciples, that despite the waywardness
of their unbelief their hearts' instinct told them it was the same
Jesus." He is altogether lovely.
He will be lovely when he comes with solemn pomp, and sound of trumpet,
and escort of mighty angels, and brings all his saints who have
departed with him, and calls up those that are alive and remain on the
earth till his advent, to meet him in the air. Oh, how lovely he will
appear to the two throngs who will presently join in one company! How
admirable will his appearance be! How eyes, ears, hearts and voices
will greet him! With what unanimity the host redeemed by blood will
account their highest acclamations as a trivial tribute to his honour
and glory! "He is altogether lovely." Yea, and he shall be lovely for
ever and ever when your eyes and mine shall eternally find their heaven
in beholding him. "Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, to-day, and for
ever," is always worthy of this word of praise–"altogether lovely."
Let us retrace our steps for a minute. The more we study the four
gospels, the more charmed we are with the gospel; for as a modern
author has well said, "The gospels, like the gospel, are most divine
because they are most human." As followers of Jesus, rank yourselves
with those men who companied with him all the time that he went in and
out among them; and you shall find him lovely in all conditions. Lovely
when he talks to a leper, and touches and heals him; lovely by the
bedside when he takes the fever-stricken patient by the hand and heals
her; lovely by the wayside, when he greets the blind beggar, puts his
finger on his eyes and bids him see; lovely when he stands on the
sinking vessel and rebukes the waves; lovely when he meets the bier and
rekindles the life that had expired; lovely when he visits the
mourners, goes with the sisters of Bethany to the new-made grave, and
weeps, and groans, and–majestically lovely–bids the dead come forth.
Lovely is he when he rides through the streets of Jerusalem upon a
colt, the foal of an ass. Oh, had we been there, we would have plucked
the palm branches, and we would have taken off our garments to strew
the way. Hosannah, lovely Prince of Peace! But he was just as lovely
when he came from the garden with his face all besmeared with bloody
sweat; just as lovely when they said, "Crucify him, crucify him;" just
as lovely, and if possible more so, when down those sacred cheeks there
dripped the cursed spittle from the rough soldiers' mouths; ay, and
loveliest, to my eyes loveliest of all, when mangled, wounded,
fainting, bruised, dying, he said, "My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken me?" uttering a plaintive cry of utmost grief from the felon's
gibbet whereon he died. Yea, view him where you will, in any place
soever, is he not–I speak to you who know him, and not to those who
never saw him with the eye of faith–is he not, in the night and in the
day, on the sea and on the land, on earth and in heaven, altogether
lovely?
He is lovely in all his offices. What an entrancing sight to see the
king in his beauty, with his diadem upon his head, as he now sits in
yonder world of brightness! How charming to view him as a priest, with
the Urim and Thummin, wearing the names of his people bejewelled on his
breastplate! And what a vision of simple beauty, to see him as a
prophet teaching his people in touching parables of homely interest, of
whom they said, "Never man spake like this man"! The very tones of his
voice, and the glance of his eyes, made his eloquence so supreme that
it enthralled men's hearts. Yes, he is lovely, altogether lovely in any
and every character. We know not which best beseems him, the highest or
the lowliest positions. Let him be what he may–Lamb or Shepherd,
Brother or King, Saviour or Master, Foot-washer or Lord–in every
relation he is altogether lovely.
Get a view of him, my brethren, from any point and see whether he is
not lovely. Do you recollect the first sight you ever had of him? It
was on a day when your eyes were red with weeping over sin, and you
expected to see the Lord dressed in anger coming forth to destroy you.
Oh, it was the happiest sight I ever saw when I beheld my sins rolling
into his sepulchre and when looking up I beheld him my substitute
bleeding on the tree. Altogether lovely was he that day. Since then
providence has given us a varied experience and taken us to different
points of view that we might look at Christ, and see him under many
aspects. We look at statues from several standpoints if we would
criticize them. A great many in London are hideous from all points of
view–others are very well if you look at them this way, but if you go
over yonder and look from another point the artist appears to have
utterly failed. Now, beloved, look at Jesus from any point you like,
and he is at his best from each and every corner. You have been in
prosperity: God multiplied your children and blessed your basket and
your store,–was Jesus lovely then? Assuredly he was the light of your
delights. Nothing he had given you vied with himself. He rose in your
hearts superior to his own best gifts. But you tell me that you have
been very sick, and you have lost one after another of your dear ones;
your means have been reduced; you have come down in the world: say,
then, is Jesus lovely now? I know that you will reply "Yes, more than
ever is Christ delightful in mine eyes." Well, you have had very happy
times, and you have been on the mount of hallowed friendship. The other
Sunday morning many of us were up there, and thought like Peter that we
should like to stay there for ever; and is not Jesus lovely when he is
transfigured and we are with him? Yes, but at another time you are down
in the depths with Jonah, at the bottom of the sea. Is not Christ
lovely then? Yes, even there he hears our prayer out of his holy
temple, and brings us again from the deep abyss. We shall soon lie
dying. Oh, my brethren, what brave talk God's people have often given
us about their Lord when they have been on the edge of the grave! That
seems to be a time when the Well-beloved takes the veil off his face
altogether and sits by the bedside, and lets his children look into his
face, and see him as he is. I warrant you the saints forget the
ghastliness of death when their hearts are ravished with the loveliness
of Christ.
Yes, hitherto, up to this point Jesus has been lovely; and now let us
add that he will always be so. You know there are persons whom you
account beautiful when you are young, but when you grow older in years,
riper in judgment, and more refined in taste, you meet with others who
look far more beautiful. Now, what think you of your Lord? Have you met
with anyone in fact or in fable more beautiful than he? You thought him
charming when you were but a babe in grace. What think you of him now?
Taste, you know, grows, and develops with education: an article of
virtue which fascinated you years ago has no longer any charms for you
because your taste is raised. Has your spiritual taste outgrown your
Lord's beauties? Come, brothers, does Christ go down as you learn truth
more exactly and acquaint yourself more fully with him? Oh no. You
prize him a thousand times more to-day than you did when the first
impression of his goodness was formed in your mind. Some things which
look very lovely at a distance lose their loveliness when you get near
to them: but is it not true (I am sure it is) that the nearer you get
to Christ the lovelier he is? Some things are only beautiful in your
eyes for their novelty: you admire them when you have seen them once;
if you were to see them a dozen times you would not care much about
hem. What say you about my Master? Is it not true that the oftener you
see him, the more you know him, and the more familiar your intercourse
with him, the more he rises in your esteem? I know it is so; and well,
therefore, did the spouse say, "He is altogether lovely."
Christ is altogether lovely in this respect–that, when men reproach
him and rail at him, he is often all the lovelier in his people's eyes.
I warrant you Christ has been better known by the burn-side in Scotland
by his covenanting people than ever he has been seen under the fretted
roof of cathedral architecture. Away there in lonely glens, amid the
mosses and the hills, where Covenanters met for fear of Claverhouse and
his dragoons, the Lord Jesus has shone forth like the sun in his
strength. We have nowadays to be satisfied with his moonlight face, but
in persecuting days his children have seen his sun face, and oh! how
glad they have been. Hear how the saints sing in prison! Listen to
their charming notes, even on the rack, when the glory of his presence
fills their souls with heaven on earth, and makes them defy the
torments of the flesh. The Lord Jesus is more lovely to the soul that
can bear reproach for him than he is to any other. Put the cross on his
back if you will, but we love him all the better for that. Nail up his
hands, but we love him all the better for that. Now fasten his feet;
ay, but our soul melteth with love to him, and she feels new reasons
for loving him when she beholds the nails. Now stand ye around the
cross, ye worldlings, and mock him if ye will. Taunt and jest, and jeer
and jibe–these do but make us love the better the great and glorious
one, who "made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of
a servant, and being found in fashion as a man, humbled himself and
became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross."
Beloved, you shall keep on looking at Christ from all these points of
view till you get to heaven, and each time you shall be more enamoured
of him. When you reach the celestial city and see him face to face,
then shall you say, "The half has not been told us," but even here
below Christ is altogether lovely to his people.
III. I leave that head just to notice, in the third place, that though
this praise is rare praise and perpetual praise, yet also IT IS TOTALLY
INSUFFICIENT PRAISE.
Say ye that he is altogether lovely? It is not enough. It is not a
thousandth part enough. No tongue of man, no tongue of angel, can ever
set forth his unutterable beauties. "Oh," say you, "but it is a great
word, though short; very full of meaning though soon spoken–altogether
lovely." I tell you it is a poor word. It is a word of despair. It is a
word which the spouse uttered, because she had been trying to describe
her Lord and she could not do it, and so she put this down in very
desperation: as much as to say, "There, the task is too great for me. I
will end it. This is all I can say. Yea, he is altogether lovely.'" I
am sure John Berridge was right when he said–
Living tongues are dumb at best,
We must die to speak of Christ.
Brethren, the praise of the text is insufficient praise, I know,
because it is praise given by one who had never seen him in his glory.
It is Old Testament praise this, that he is altogether lovely: praise
uttered upon report rather than upon actual view of him. Truly I know
not how to bring better, but I shall know one day. Till then I will
speak his praise as best I can, though it fall far short of his
infinite excellence. Our text is cloth of gold, but it is not fit for
our Beloved to put the sole of his foot upon. He deserves better than
this, for this is only the praise of a church that had not seen him
die, and had not seen him rise, and had not seen him in the splendour
at the divine right hand. "Well," say you, "try if you can do better."
No, I will not, because if I did praise him better, the style would not
last long, for he is coming quickly, and the best thing the best
speaker could ever say of him will be put out of date by the majesty of
his appearing. His chariot is waiting at his door now, and he may soon
come forth from his secret chambers and be among us, and oh! the
glory–oh! the glory! Paul, you know, stole a glance through the
lattices one day when he was caught up into the third heaven. Somebody
said to me, "I wonder Paul did not tell us what he saw." Ay, but what
he saw he might not tell, and the words he heard were words which it
were not lawful for a man to utter, and yet to live among this evil
generation. We shall hear those words ourselves soon, and see those
sights not many days hence, so let it stand as it does, "He is
altogether lovely." But when you have thus summed up all that our poor
tongues can express, you must not say, "Now we have described him." Oh
no, sirs, ye have but held a candle to this glorious sun, for he is
such an one as thoughts cannot compass, much less language describe.
I leave this point with the reflection, that God intends to describe
him and set him forth one day. He is waiting patiently, for
longsuffering is part of Christ's character; and God is setting forth
the longsuffering of Christ in the patient waiting of these eighteen
hundred years. But the day shall presently dawn and usher in the
everlasting age when Christ shall be better seen, for every eye shall
see him, and every tongue confess that he is Lord. The whole earth will
one day be sweet with the praise of Jesus. Earth, did I say? This
alabaster box of Christ's sweetness has too much fragrance in it for
the world to keep it all to itself; the sweetness of our Lord's person
will rise above the stars, and perfume worlds unknown. It will fill
heaven itself. Eternity shall be occupied with declaring the praises of
Jesus. Seraphs shall sing of it; angels shall harp it; the redeemed
shall declare it. He is altogether lovely. The cycles of eternity as
they revolve shall only confirm the statement of the blood-redeemed
that he is altogether lovely. O that the day were come when we shall
bow with them and sing with them! Wait a little while and be not weary,
and you shall be at home, and then you shall know that I spoke the
truth when I said that this was insufficient praise. Earth is too
narrow to contain him, heaven is too little to hold him, eternity
itself too short for the utterance of all his praises.
IV. So I close with this last thought, which may God bless, for
practical uses. This praise is VERY SUGGESTIVE.
If Christ be altogether lovely it suggests a question. suppose I never
saw his loveliness. Suppose that in this house there should be souls
that never saw anything in Christ to make them love him. If you were to
go to some remote island where beauty consisted in having one eye and a
twisted mouth, and a sea-green complexion, you would say, "Those people
are strange beings." Such are the people of this world. spiritual
beauty is not appreciated by them. This world appreciates the man who
makes money, however reckless he may be of the welfare of others while
scheming to heap up riches for himself. As for the man who slays his
fellow-creatures by thousands, they mount him on a bronze horse, put
him on an arch, or they pile up a column, and set him as near heaven as
they can. He slew his thousands: he died blood-red: he was an emperor,
a tyrant, a conqueror: the world feels his power and pays its homage.
As for this Jesus, he only gave his life for men, he was only pure and
perfect, the mirror of disinterested love. The vain world cannot see in
him a virtue to admire. It is a blind world, a fool world, a world that
lieth in the wicked one. Not to discern the beauties of Jesus is an
evidence of terrible depravity. Have you, my dear friend, frankly to
confess that you were never enamoured of him who was holy, harmless,
and undefiled, and went about doing good? Then let this come home to
you–that the question is not as to whether Christ is lovely or not,
the mistake is here–that you have not a spiritually enlightened eye, a
fine moral perception, nor even a well-regulated conscience, or you
would see his loveliness at once. You are dark and blind. God help you
to feel this.
Do you not love Christ? Then let me ask you why you do not? There was
never a man yet that knew Christ that could give a reason for not
loving him, neither is there such a reason to be discovered. He is
altogether lovely. In nothing is he unlovable. Oh I wish that the good
Spirit of God would whisper in your heart, and incline you to say, "I
will see about this Christ. I will read of him. I will look at the four
portraits of him painted by the evangelists, and if he be indeed thus
lovely, no doubt he will win my heart as he appears to have won the
hearts of others." I pray he may. But do not, I pray you, continue to
deny Christ your love. It is all you can give him. It is a poor thing,
but he values it. He would sooner have your heart than all the gold in
Europe. He would sooner have the heart of a poor servant girl or of a
poor humble labourer upon the soil than the queen's diadem. He loveth
love. Love is his gem–his jewel. He delights to win it, and if he be
indeed altogether lovely, let him have it. You have known people, I
dare say, whom you could not help loving. they never had to say to you,
"Love me," for you were captivated at once by the very sight of them.
In like manner many and many have only received one beam of light from
the Holy Spirit, and have thereby seen who Jesus was, and they have at
once said of him, "Thou hast ravished my heart with one look of thine
eyes," and so it has been that all their life long they have loved
their Lord. Now, the praise is suggestive still further. "Is Christ
altogether lovely? Then do I love him? As a child of God, do I love him
as much as I ought? I do love him. Yes, blessed be his name, I do love
him. But what a poor, cold, chill love it is. How few are the
sacrifices I make for him. How few are the offerings that I present to
him. How little is the fellowship that I maintain with him." Brother,
is there a rival in your heart? Do you allow anyone to come in between
you and the "altogether lovely." If so, chase out the intruder. Christ
must have all your heart, and let me tell you the more we love him the
more bliss we shall have. A soul that is altogether given up to the
love of Christ lives above care and sorrow. It has care and sorrow, but
the love of Christ kills all the bitterness by its inexpressible
sweetness. I cannot tell you how near a man may live to heaven, but I
am persuaded that a very large proportion of the bliss of heaven may be
enjoyed before we come there. There is one conduit pipe through which
heavenly joy will flow, and if you draw from it you may have as much as
you will. "Abide in me" says Christ; and if you do abide in his love
you shall have his joy fulfilled in yourselves that your joy may be
full. You will have more capacious vessels in heaven, but even now the
little vessel that you have can be filled up to the brim by knowing the
inexpressible loveliness of Jesus and surrendering your hearts to it.
Oh that I could rise to something better than myself. I often feel like
a chick in the egg; I am picking my way out, and I cannot get clear of
my prison. Fain would I chip the shell, come forth to freedom, develop
wings, and soar heavenward, singing on the road. Would God that were
our portion. If anything can help us to get out of the shell, and to
begin to rise and sing, it must be a full and clear perception that
Jesus is altogether lovely. Come, let us be married to him afresh
to-night. Come, believing hearts, yield again to his charms; again
surrender yourselves to the supremacy of his affection. Let us have the
love of our espousals renewed. As you come to his table bethink you of
the lips of Christ, of which the spouse had been speaking before she
uttered my text,–"His mouth is most sweet." There are three things
about Christ's mouth that are very sweet. The first is his word: you
have heart that. The second is his breath. Come, Holy Spirit, make thy
people feel that. And the third is his kiss. May every believing soul
have that sweet token of his eternal love.
Forgive my ramblings. May God bless to all his people the word that has
been spoken. May some that never knew my Master ask to know him
to-night. Go home and seek him. Read the word to find him. Cry to him
in prayer and he will be found of you. He is so lovely that I should
not live without loving him; and I shall deeply regret if any one of
you shall spend another four-and-twenty hours without having had a
sight of his divine face by faith.
PORTION OF SCRIPTURE READ BEFORE SERMON–1 John 3.
HYMNS FROM "OUR OWN HYMN BOOK"–782, 793, 785.