DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 18, 1870,
BY C. H. SPURGEON,
AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.
"The officers answered, Never man spoke like this Man." John 7:46.
THE chief priests and Pharisees sent officers to lay hold upon the
Savior lest His preaching should altogether overthrow their power.
While the constables who had mingled with the throng were waiting for
an opportunity of arresting the Lord Jesus, they themselves were
arrested by His earnest eloquence. They could not take Him, for He had
fairly taken them, and when they came back without a prisoner, they
gave their reason for not having captured Him in these memorable words,
"Never man spoke like this Man."
Two or three remarks as a preface to our discourse. It is a sure sign
of a falling Church when its leaders call in the aid of the secular
arm. The rule of the Scribes and Pharisees must have been weakness,
itself, when it needed to wield the truncheon of the civil magistrate
as its only sufficient argument against its antagonist. That Church
which has been supported by bayonets, is in all probability, not far
off its demise. Any Church which long collects its tithes and its
offerings by the hand of the police, and by legal process and
distraint, is also, depend upon it, none too strong.
The Church which is unable to maintain itself by spiritual power is
dying, if not dead. Whenever we think of calling in an arm of flesh to
defend the faith, we may very seriously question whether we have not
made a mistake, and whether that which can be supported by the sword
must not greatly differ from the Savior's kingdom, of which He said,
"My kingdom is not of this world, else would My servants fight."
The more a man leans on a big staff the more sure are you that he is
feeble. In proportion as Churches rely on Acts of Parliament, human
prestige, and legal authority–in that very degree they show their
weakness. Call in the sheriffs officer, and you have virtually called
in the gravedigger! In this respect it is peculiarly true, "All they
that take the sword shall perish with the sword." A Church is buried by
the State, and not supported, when it draws its sustenance from forced
tithes and legalized exactions.
Observe, next, that in the end the spiritual power will always baffle
the temporal. The officers are fully armed and quite able to complete
the arrest of the Preacher. He has no weapons with which to oppose
them. He stands unarmed amid the throng–probably none of His disciples
would lift a finger to defend Him–or if they did, He would bid them
put up their sword into its sheath. And yet the officers cannot seize
the non-resistant Preacher. What stays their hands? It has come to a
combat between body and mind, and mind prevails.
The eloquent tongue is matched against the two-edged sword, and it has
won the day. No fears or qualms of conscience hampered the constables
and yet they could not lay their hands on Him. They were chained to the
spot where they stood–spellbound by the mystic power of His speech.
His very tones fascinated them! The discourse which He poured forth so
fluently held them fast as His willing captives. It has always been
so–the spiritual has conquered the physical. Though at first it seemed
an unequal conflict, yet in the long run the elder has served the
younger.
The club of Cain may lay Abel level with the dust, but it does not
silence him–from the ground the blood of Abel continues still to cry.
Martyrs may be consigned to prison, and dragged from prison to the
stake–so that to all appearance a full end is made of the good
men–but "even in their ashes live their wonted fires." At the stake
they find a platform with a boundless auditory, and from the grave
their teaching cries with louder voice than from the pulpit.
Like seeds sown in the earth they spring up and multiply themselves.
Others arise to bear the same witness, and if need be to seal it in the
same fashion. As Pharaoh's mighty hosts could not combat with the hail
and the lightning which plagued the fields of Zoan, and as all their
chivalry could not put to flight the darkness that might be felt, even
so when God sends His Truth with power upon a land, battleaxe and
buckler are vain in the opposers' hands. Our appointed weapons of
attack are not carnal, neither can they be withstood by shield or
armor. Our bowstrings cannot be broken, or
the edge of our sword blunted. Let but the Lord furnish His ministers,
as he did at Pentecost, with wondrous Words instead of shields, and
spears, and swords–and these weapons of the holy war will prove
themselves to be irresistible.
Fight on, O Preacher! Tell forth the story of the Cross! Defy
opposition and laugh persecution to scorn, for, like your Master, you
shall, as His servant, ascend above all your enemies, lead your
captivity captive, and scatter good gifts among the sons of men! Note
again that God can get testimonies to the majesty of His Son from the
most unlikely places. I do not know who these constables may have been,
or from what class of men they were drawn, but generally the civil
authorities do not employ the most refined and intellectual persons to
act as officers.
They do not require much tenderness of spirit for such work–a rough
hand, a keen eye and a bold spirit are the principal requisites for a
constable. The priests and Pharisees would naturally select for the
seizing of the great Teacher those who were least likely to be affected
by His teaching. And yet these men–doubtless men of brutal habits, men
ready enough to do their masters' bidding–showed within themselves
sufficient mental capacity to feel the power of the matchless oratory
of Jesus Christ.
Those who were sent as enemies came back to rehearse His praises, and
so to vex His adversaries. Truly the Lord can make the stones to cry
out of a wall, and the beam out of the timber to answer it if He wills.
He can transform the ready instruments of opposition into the willing
advocates of His righteous cause. Not only as in the case of Saul of
Tarsus can He direct a high character into the right path, but He can
uplift the groveling and put a testimony into their mouths. He makes
the wrath of men to praise Him.
He compels His adversaries to do Him homage. Keep good heart, then, O
you soldiers of the Cross! Let no thought of discouragement ever flit
across your spirits. Greater is He that is for us than all they that
are against us. He can and will glorify His Son Jesus. Even the devils
shall acknowledge His almighty power. His Word has gone forth and His
Oath has confirmed it–"Surely as I live, says the Lord, all flesh
shall see the salvation of God." God will glorify Himself even by the
tongues of His enemies! In this hope let us set up our banners.
The text introduces to our notice the eloquence of our Lord Jesus
Christ and upon that topic we shall try to speak. May the Holy Spirit
enable us. We shall note first the peculiar qualities of it, which
amply justified the praise of the constables. Secondly, personal
recollections of it, treasured up by ourselves. And, thirdly, prophetic
anticipations of the time when our souls shall hear His voice yet more
distinctly, and shall say again, "Never man spoke like this Man."
I. Let us note the PECULIAR QUALITIES of our Lord's eloquence. As among
kings He is the King of kings. As among priests He is the great High
Priest. As among Prophets He is the Messiah. And so is He the Prince of
preachers, the Apostle of our profession. They who are most excellent
as preachers are those who are most like He. But even those who by
being most like He have become eminent, they are still far short of His
excellence. "His lips," says the spouse, "are like lilies, dropping
sweet smelling myrrh." He is a Prophet mighty in word and deed.
To form a right conception of our Lord's ministry it is necessary to
note the whole of it, and we may do so without departing from the text.
For though the officers did not hear all that Jesus said, I have no
doubt that the qualities which shone in His entire ministry were, many
of them, apparent in the discourse which He delivered on that
particular occasion. Follow me, therefore, as I note the leading
qualities of His unrivalled eloquence.
The most casual reader of Christ's discourses would observe that their
style is singularly clear and easy to understand. And yet their matter
is by no means trivial or superficial. Did ever man speak like this
Man, Christ Jesus, for simplicity? Little children gathered around Him,
for much of what He said was interesting, even to them. If there was
ever a difficult word in any of Christ's discourses, it is because it
must be there owing to the faultiness of human language. But there is
never a hard word inserted for its own sake, where an easier word could
have been employed.
You never find Him, for the sake of display, speeding upon the wings of
rhetoric. He never gives forth dark sayings that His hearers may
discover that His learning is vast and His thinking profound. He is
profound, and in that respect, "never man spoke like this Man." He
unveils the mysteries of God. He brings to light the treasures of
darkness of the ages past which Prophets and kings desired to see, but
into which they could not pry.
There is, in His teaching, a depth so vast that the greatest human
intellect cannot fathom it. And all the while He speaks like the "holy
child Jesus"–in short sentences, with plain words. He speaks in
parables with many illustrations of the most homely kind–about eggs,
and fish, and candles, and bushels, and sweeping houses, and losing
pieces of money,
and finding sheep. He never paraded the stale and mildewed metaphors of
your mere rhetoricians–"rippling rills, verdant meads, star-bespangled
heavens," and I know not what besides.
The hackneyed properties of theatrical orations are not for Him–His
speech abounds in the true and most natural of images, and is ever
constructed not to display Himself, but to make clear the Truth which
He was sent to reveal. "Never man spoke like this Man!" The common
people with their common sense heard Him gladly, for even if they could
not always grasp the full compass of His teaching, yet upon the surface
of His plain speech there glittered lumps of golden ore well worthy to
be treasured up.
For this quality our Savior, then, remains unrivalled, easily
understood, yet profound. His speech had this also about it–He spoke
with unusual authority. He was a master dogmatist. It was not, "it may
be so," or, "it can be proven," or, "it is highly probable." No, it
was, "Verily, verily, I say unto you." And yet, side by side with this
was an extraordinary degree of humility. The Master spoke dogmatically,
but never with proud self-sufficiency, after the manner of the children
of conceit. He never pestered you with assumptions of superiority, and
claims to official dignity.
He borrowed no assistance from a priestly robe, or from an imposing
title. Meek He was as Moses, but like Moses He spoke the Words of the
Lord with absolute authority. Lowly and gentle of heart, never
extolling Himself, nor bearing witness of Himself, for then, as He
says, His witness would not be true. He was nevertheless the
unhesitating minister of righteousness, speaking with power, because
the Lord's Spirit had anointed Him.
Coming out of the ivory palaces, fresh from the bosom of His
Father–having looked into the unseen and heard the infallible
oracle–He spoke not with bated breath, with hesitancy and debate as
the scribes and lawyers. He spoke not with arguments and reasonings as
the priests and Pharisees, creating perplexity and pouring darkness
upon human minds. "Verily, verily, I say unto you," were His favorite
Words. He spoke that He did know, and testified what He had seen, and
demanded to be accepted as sent forth from the Father.
He did not debate, but declare. His sermons were not guesses, but
testimonies. Yet He never magnifies Himself, He lets His works and His
Father bear witness of Him. He asserts Truth from His own positive
knowledge, and because He has a commission from the Father to do
so–but never as mere dogmatists do with an extolling of their own
selves, as though they were to be glorified and not the God who sent
the Truth and the Spirit by whom it is applied.
Further, in our Lord's preaching there was a wonderful combination of
faithfulness with tenderness. He was, indeed, the Prince of faithful
preachers. Not even Nathan, when He stood before King David, and said,
"You are the man," could be more true to human conscience than Christ
was. How those cutting words of His must have told, like rifle bullets
when they were first hurled against the respectability of the age, "Woe
unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!" "Woe unto you, lawyers,"
and so forth.
There was no mincing matters, no winking at wickedness because it
happened to be associated with greatness, no excusing sin because it
put on the sanctimoniousness of religion. He neither fawned on the
great, nor pandered to the populace. Jesus reproved all classes to
their faces concerning their sins. It never occurred to Him to seek to
please men. He looked to the doing of His Father's business, and since
that business often involved the laying of righteousness to the line,
of judgment to the plummet, He spared not to do it.
Perhaps no preacher ever used more terrible words with regard to the
fate of the ungodly than our Lord has done. You shall ransack even
medieval records to find more fearfully suggestive descriptions of the
torments of Hell. Those awful sentences which fell from the lips of the
Friend of Sinners prove that He was too much their Friend to flatter
them. Too much their Friend to let them perish without a full warning
of their doom. And yet, though He thundered like His own chosen
Boanerges, what a Barnabas the Savior was!
What a Son of Consolation! How gentle were His Words! He did not break
the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. For the woman taken in
adultery He had no word of curse. For the mothers of Jerusalem bringing
their babes He had not a syllable of reprehension. Kind, gentle,
tender, loving–the speech which at one time sounded as the voice of
Jehovah which breaks the cedars of Lebanon, and makes the hinds to
calve–was at other seasons modulated to music, softened to a whisper,
and used to cheer the disconsolate and bind up broken hearts. "Never
man spoke like this Man," so faithful and yet so tenderly affectionate,
so mindful of the least good which He could see in man, and yet so
determined to smite hypocrisy wherever His holy eyes could discover it.
You will observe in the Savior's preaching a remarkable mingling of
zeal with prudence. He is full of ardor, the zeal of God's House has
eaten Him up. He never preached a cold, dull sermon in all His life. He
was a pillar of light and fire. When He spoke, His Words burned their
way into men's minds by reason of the Sacred enthusiasm with which He
delivered them! And yet His fervor never degenerated into wildfire like
the zeal of ignorant and over-balanced minds. We know some whose zeal,
if tempered with knowledge, might be of use to the Church–but being
altogether without knowledge–it is dangerous both to themselves and to
their cause.
Fanaticism may spring out of a real desire for God's Glory. There is,
however, no need that earnestness should degenerate into rant. It never
did so in the Savior's case. His zeal was red hot, but His prudence was
calm and cool. He was not afraid of the Herodians, but yet how quietly
did He answer them in that trap concerning tribute-money! They would
never forget the penny and the question, "Whose image and
superscription is this?" He was ready to meet the Sadducees at any
time, but He was on His guard, so that they could not entangle Him in
His speech. He was quite sure to escape their nets, and take them in
their own craftiness.
If a question is asked, which for the moment He does not care to
answer, He knows how to ask them another question which they, also,
cannot answer–and send them about their business covered with shame.
It is a grand thing when a man can be warm and wise–when he can carry
about him an unexcitable temperament, and yet the force which excites
others–unmoved himself, the man of prudence becomes the power by which
others are moved. Such was the Savior.
But I must not let that sentence of mine pass unchallenged–in the
higher sense He was always more moved than the people–but I mean as to
temper and spirit He was not readily disturbed. He was self-possessed,
prudent, wise, and yet when He spoke He flashed, and burned, and blazed
with a sacred vehemence which showed that His whole soul was on fire
with love to the souls of men. Zeal and prudence in remarkable
proportions met in Jesus, and, "Never man spoke like this Man."
So, too, everyone who has read our Lord's discourses and marked His
character will have perceived that love was among the leading
characteristics of His style as a Preacher. He was full of tenderness,
brimming with sympathy, overflowing with affection. That weeping over
Jerusalem, whose children He would have gathered, was but one instance
of what happened many a time in His life. His heart sympathized with
sorrow whenever His eyes beheld it. He could not bear that the people
should be like sheep without a shepherd, and He worked many deeds of
kindness, and said many words of instruction, because He loved them.
But our Savior's speech was never affected and canting. He used no
stale honey, there was nothing of that–I do not know the word to
use–that insincere sweetness, which in some people is disgustingly
perceptible. He was far removed from the effeminacy which, in too many
cases, passes for Christian love. I loathe in my very soul the talk of
those who call everybody, "dear" this, or "dear" that, endearing those
whom, perhaps, they never knew, and to whom they would not give a
sixpence if they wanted it. I hate this sugar of lead, this spiritual
billing and cooing.
Where there is the least of the meat of true charity, we find most of
the parsley or the fennel which are used for garnishing. The bottle is
empty and so they label it to make it pass for full. No, give me a man,
give me a man! Let me hear outspoken speech, not effeminate canting,
whining, and pretended ecstasies of affection. In nine cases out of ten
the biggest bigot in the world is the man who preaches up
liberality–and the man who can hate you worst is he who addresses you
in softest phrases.
No, let a man love me, but let it be with the love of a man. Let no man
cast aside that which is masculine, forcible, and dignified under the
notion that he is making himself better by becoming soft and babyish.
It was never so with the Savior. He condemned this or that evil in no
measured terms. There was in Him no apologizing, no guarding of
expressions, no fawning, no using of soft words. They who are shaken
with the wind and affect flattering phrases stand in kings' palaces.
But He, the people's Preacher, One chosen out of the people, dwelt
among the many, a Man among men.
He was manly all through. Love in Him abounded, love unsurpassed, but
also manliness of the noble sort. Far above the petty arts of
professional orators, and the shallow arguments of thinkers, His
teaching dealt out Truth with courageous fidelity and generous
affection. He held His own position, but trampled on none. He committed
Himself to no man, but He was willing to bless every man. His love was
no imitation, but a solid ingot of the gold of Ophir. No one else in
this matter has so exactly struck the balance, and therefore, "Never
man spoke like this Man."
One memorable Characteristic of our Lord's preaching was His remarkable
commingling of the excellences which are found separately in His
servants. You know, perhaps, a preacher who is admirable when he
addresses the mind. He can explain and expound very logically and
clearly–and you feel that you have been instructed whenever you have
sat under him. But the light, though clear, is cold like moonlight–and
when you retire, you feel that you know more–but yet are none the
better for what you know.
It were well if those who can enlighten the head so well would remember
that man has also a heart. On the other hand we know others whose whole
ministry is addressed to the passions and the emotions. During a sermon
you shed any quantity of tears, you pass through a furnace of
sensation–but as to what is left which is calculated permanently to
benefit you–it is difficult to discover. When the sermon is over, the
shower and the sunshine have both departed, the fair rainbow has
disappeared from sight, and what remains? It were well if those who
always talk to the heart remembered that men have heads as well.
Now the Savior was a Preacher whose head was in His heart, and whose
heart was in His head. He never addressed the emotions except by
motives which commended themselves to the reason. Nor did He instruct
the mind without at the same time influencing the heart and conscience.
Our Savior's power as a speaker was comprehensive. He aroused the
con-science–who more than He? With but a single sentence He convicted
those who came to tempt Him, so that beginning with the eldest, and
ending with the youngest, they all went out ashamed.
But He was not a mere render open of wounds–a cutter and a killer. He
was equally great in the art of holy consolation. With intonations of
matchless music He could say, "Go your way. Your sins, which are many,
are forgiven you." He knew how to console a weeping friend as well as
to confront a boisterous enemy. His superiority was felt by all sorts
of men. His artillery struck at all ranges–His mind was equal to all
emergencies. It was for good, like the sword of the cherubim at the
gates of Eden for evil. It turned every way to keep the gates of Life
open for those who would gladly enter there.
My Brethren, I have entered upon a theme which is boundless. I merely
touch some of the outer skirts of my Master's robes. As for Himself, if
you would know how He spoke you must hear Him. One of the ancients was
likely to say that he could have wished to have seen Rome in all its
splendor, to have been with Paul in all his labors, and to have heard
Christ when preaching. Surely it were worth worlds but once to have
caught the round of that serene, soul-stirring voice–to have beheld
for once the glance of those matchless eyes as they looked through the
heart–and that heavenly Countenance as it glowed with love!
His eloquence had, however, this, for its main aspect–that it
concerned the greatest truths that were ever made manifest to man. He
brought light and immortality to light. He cleared up what had been
doubtful. He resolved that which had been mysterious. He declared that
which is gracious, that which saves the soul and glorifies God. No
preacher was ever laden with so Divine a message as Christ. We who
bring the same glad tidings bring the news as second hand, and but in
part. He came forth from the Father's bosom with the whole Truth, and,
therefore, "Never man spoke like this Man."
II. Secondly, let us try to awaken in the saints Some PERSONAL
RECOLLECTIONS of the Savior's eloquence. Lend me your memories, you
people of God. Do you remember when you first heard Him speak? We shall
not talk of words which cleave the air, but of those spirit-words which
thrill the heart and move the soul. Follow me, then, and recall to
fondest memory His Words of pity, of which I may truly say, "Never man
spoke to me like this Man."
It was in the dim dawning of my spiritual life, before it was yet
light, before the sun had fully risen. I felt my sin, I grieved beneath
its weight. I despaired, I was ready to perish. And then He came to me.
Well do I remember accents which then I scarcely could understand,
which nevertheless cheered my spirit. They sounded like these, "Come
unto Me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest." "Him that comes to Me I will in no wise cast out."
Soft and sweet were the tones, and tremulous with fond anxiety. They
came as from One who had bled and died. Do you remember when you also
heard them? I do not mean when you heard them from the pulpit, from the
minister–but in your heart–from Gethsemane, the Cross, and the
Throne. It was sweet to know that Jesus pitied you. You were not saved,
and you were afraid that you never might be, for the sea worked and was
tempestuous, but He said, "It is I, be not afraid." You began to
perceive that there was mercy if you could get it–that one tender
heart felt for you–one strong arm was ready to help you. You could no
longer lament, "No man cares for my soul," for you perceived that there
was a
Savior, and a great one. Those were sweet sounds that now and then were
heard above the tumultuous deep which called unto deep at the noise of
God's waterspouts. None else ever spoke as He did.
Do you remember how in those days you heard His voice with words of
persuasion? You had often heard Gospel invitations as the call of man,
but then they came to you as the voice of God heard in the silence of
your heart, saying, "Turn you, turn you, why will you die, O house of
Israel?" "Come now, and let us reason together: though your sins are as
scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. Though they are red like
crimson, they shall be as wool." Do you remember how they followed one
another, each word suiting your particular condition and having still
accumulated power over your mind?
Did not Jesus often seem to say to you, "Yield now, poor Sinner, cast
away your weapons of rebellion. Destroy not your own soul! Look unto Me
and be saved. For I have loved you and made atonement for your sins"?
Those were marvelous pleadings which at last won your heart by force of
love. You had much ado to resist those persuasions, and you did resist
them for awhile. And like the spouse in the Canticle, you permitted the
lover of your soul to wait outside your door, and say, "Open to Me, My
head is wet with dew, and My locks with the drops of the night." Yet
you found it hard to resist Him, for the persuasions of His love were
mighty upon you as He drew you with cords of love, with bands of a Man,
until you could hold out no longer.
Beloved, you surely call to mind when the words of persuasion were
by-and-by followed with words of power! "Never man spoke like this
Man," when He said to my darkened soul, "let there be light." Well do I
remember that admonition, "Arise, shine, for your light is come. Awake,
you that sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you
light." Do you remember when He passed by and saw you in your blood,
and said to you, "Live," and cast the skirts of covenant love over you,
and washed you, and made you clean, and laid you in His bosom, and made
you His forever? "Never man spoke like this Man."
Do you remember when He made all your darkness and sorrow to pass away
as in a moment by saying to you, "I am your salvation"? Have you
forgotten that word of pardon? I can never forget it–even if I outlive
Methuselah, it must still remain green in my memory! The words came
with power when I looked to the Cross, and heard the absolving words,
"Your sins are forgiven you." "Never man spoke like this Man."
No priest can give an awakened conscience rest, nor any other, except
the great High Priest, Jesus, Melchisedek, the sinner's Pardoner. No
words of hope, nor thoughts of consolation can ever breed such peace
within the spirit as the blood of Jesus brings when it speaks within
the heart far better things than that of Abel. It reconciles us unto
our God and so gives perfect peace.
Since the time when first we heard His pardoning voice, we, many a
time, have heard Him speaking with right royal words, and we have said,
"Never man spoke like this Man." How sweet it has been to sit in the
assembly of the saints when the Gospel has been, indeed, His Word to
our souls! Oh, the marrow and the fatness, the feast of fat things, of
fat things full of marrow which we have fed upon when the King has sat
at the table! When our Beloved speaks His Word of promise, how has it
revived our drooping spirit! It came as dew upon the tender herb. It
touched our lips as a coal from off the altar. It gave us healing,
consolation, joy.
Beloved, cannot you look back to many instances when you had no food
for your soul but the promise–when your soul knew no music but the
word of His love? Blest Master, speak to me thus evermore–
"Each moment draw from earth away
My heart, that lowly waits Your call.
Speak to my inmost soul, and say,
'I am your Love, your God, your All!'
To feel Your power, to hear Your voice,
To taste Your love, is all my choice." And when you have enjoyed His
Presence in your solitude, have had communion with Him, and He has
revealed His ancient, His unchanging, His never-ending, His boundless
love to you–have you not prized His Words far above the choicest joys
of earth?
When you have confessed your sins with penitent sorrow and He has given
back the word of full remission. When you have revealed your sorrow and
received the assurance of His tender sympathy. When you have laid bare
your weakness and received the word that strengthens–have you not been
ready to challenge all Heaven to compare with Him–and
exclaimed, "Never man spoke like this Man"? To those who are
unbelievers, and to those professors who live at a distance from
Christ, this will sound like mere fancy, but believe me, it is not so.
If there is anything real beneath the skies, it is the communion which
Christ has with His people by His Spirit.
"Truly our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Christ." We
hear His voice, though not with these ears, and we so hear it as to
know it, as sheep discern their shepherd's voice. And a stranger we
will not follow, for we know not the voice of strangers. Our ears being
opened by the Spirit, we at this hour can say, "I sleep, but my heart
wakes. It is the voice of my Beloved, my soul melts while He speaks."
Now, my dear Friends, there are some words of our Savior spoken long
ago, which, since we have known Him have been so quickened by His
Presence that we number them from now on among personal recollections.
That word, "I have loved you with an everlasting love." It is true it
is written in the Bible, an old, old saying–but I can say and so can
many of you, that it has been a new saying to me. We have by faith been
enabled to hear it as spoken to us, and the Spirit of the blessed God
has so brought it home to our hearts that it is as if Christ had never
said it before, but had spoken it to us personally. Yes, "I have loved
you with an everlasting love."
There are many here who have heard Him say, "I have chosen you and not
cast you away." The Spirit of God has made many an ancient saying a
speech from the living Jesus to us. Those words of His when He said,
"Lo, I come: in the volume of the Book it is written of Me, I delight
to do Your will, O My God"–our faith has stood at Bethlehem's manger
and we have seen the Body prepared for Him, and Himself putting on the
form of a servant. His coming to seek and to save that which was lost
has become a personal coming to us, and we have rejoiced in it
exceedingly.
Has not the voice which came of old from the sea when He said, "It is
I, be not afraid," been a voice to you? And the voice from Jerusalem,
"How often would I have gathered you"–has it never bewailed the
perishing ones around you? The voice from Bethany, "I am the
resurrection and the life"–has it never been heard at the burial of
your brother? The voice from the table when He washed His disciples'
feet–and bade them wash one another's feet–has it not excited you to
humble service of the Brethren?
Have we not again and again heard the cry of Gethsemane, "Not as I
will, but as You will"? I cannot convince myself that I did not
actually hear the Redeemer say that. At any rate, I have rejoiced when
in the spirit of resignation the echo of it has been heard in my own
spirit. Do I not this very day hear Him saying, though long ago He
spoke it, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do"? His
intercession for my guilty soul. What is it but the continuance of that
gentle prayer? And for certain that last concluding sentence, "It is
finished," "Consummatum est"–my ears may not have heard it, but my
soul hears it now and rejoices to repeat the words!
Who shall lay anything to my charge since Christ has consummated my
deliverance from death, Hell, sin, and brought in a perfect
righteousness for me? Yes, these old sayings of Christ heard years ago
we have heard in spirit, and our witness is after hearing them all,
"Never man spoke like this Man." None can be compared with Him at their
best. His ministers cannot rival Him–they do but echo His speech.
III. I shall close by mentioning certain PROPHETIC ANTICIPATIONS which
lodge in our souls with regard to that eloquence in the future.
Brethren, you have heard the voice of Jesus, but are you expecting to
still hear it? As long as ever you live you are to speak for Jesus–but
your hope for His kingdom does not lie in your speech but in His voice.
He can speak to the heart, He can make the Truth which you only utter
to the ear penetrate to the mind and heart. We expect that our exalted
Lord will speak before long with louder voice than before.
The Gospel chariot lags awhile. As yet He goes not forth conquering and
to conquer, but He will yet gird His sword upon His thigh and His voice
shall be heard marshalling His hosts for the battle. Let but Christ
give the word, and the company of them that shall publish it shall be
exceedingly great. Let Him send forth the Word of His might from Zion,
and thousands shall be born in a day. Yes, nations shall be born at
once!
The elect of God, today apparently but few, shall come out from their
hiding places, and Christ shall see of the travail of His soul and be
satisfied. Despite the melancholy belief of some that the world will
come to an end with a defeated God and with only a few saved, I
nevertheless am certain that Scripture warrants brighter hopes. One day
"the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover
the sea." "The glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall
see it together," this we know, for God has said it. In all things
Christ shall have the pre-eminence, and therefore in the matter of
souls saved He will have the pre-eminence over Satan and the souls who
are lost.
for an hour of that voice of the Lord which is full of majesty, that
voice which breaks the cedars of Lebanon, and makes them to skip like a
calf–Lebanon and Sirion like a young unicorn! When shall the voice of
the Lord shake the wilderness of Kadesh and discover the forests? It
shall yet be heard, and in His temple shall everyone speak of His
Glory. For the Lord sits upon the flood, yes, the Lord sits King
forever. Have hope, then. Let your anticipations be of brighter times,
for He will speak–He that shakes both Heaven and earth when He wills
it. And when He speaks, you will say, "Never man spoke like this Man."
We expect personally for ourselves, if Jesus comes not before we
depart, to hear Him speak sweetly to us in the hour of death. Talk of
it solemnly and softly, for put it in whatever light you may, it is
dread work to die. But when we lie a dying, and the sounds of earth are
shut out from the lone chamber, and the voice of affection is drowned
in mournful sobs, then Jesus will come and make our bed, and speak as
never man spoke, saying "Fear not, I am with you. Be not dismayed, I am
your God. When you pass through the rivers I will be with you, the
floods shall not overflow you." Dying Christians, by the songs which
they have lifted up, and by the joy which has sparkled from their eyes
have proven that the voice of Jesus is such that, "Never man spoke like
this Man."
Beloved, what will that voice be to our disembodied spirits when our
souls shall leave this clay and fly through tracks unknown to see the
Savior? I know not with what words of welcome He may address us then.
He may reserve His choicest utterances for the day of His appearing,
but He will not take us into His bosom without a love word, nor receive
us into our quiet resting places without a cordial commendation. What
must it be to see His face, to hear His voice in Heaven? Then shall we
know that, "Never man spoke like this Man."
And then when the time ordained of old is fulfilled, when the day comes
that the dead shall hear the voice of God, when the Resurrection and
the Life shall speak with trumpet tones, and the righteous shall be
raised from their graves– oh, then it will be seen, as they all obey
the quickening word–that "Never man spoke like this Man." He who
speaks the resurrection word is man as well as God. "As by man came
death, by Man came also the resurrection from the dead." And then, when
you and I shall be at His right hand. When the body and soul reunited
shall receive the final award, and He shall say in inimitable tones,
"Come, you blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you
from before the foundation of the world," we shall not need to say,
"Never man spoke like this Man."
When we, with Him, shall enter into the everlasting rest, when He shall
deliver up the mediatorial kingdom to God, even the Father, and God
shall be All in All, we, in the retrospect of all He said on earth and
said in Heaven–we in the constant hearing of His voice who shall wear
His priesthood perpetually, looking still like a lamb that has been
slain– we shall then bear fullest witness that, "Never man spoke like
this Man."
Mark well, my Hearers, that in such confession every soul of you will
have to unite. You may live enemies to Christ, and you may die
strangers to Him, but that, "Never man spoke like this Man," you shall
be made to feel. If today you will not acknowledge that His mercy to
you is unbounded, that His condescension in inviting you to come to Him
today is worthy of loving admiration. If you will not yield, but shut
your ears to the invitation of His mercy when He says, "Come unto Me,
and I will give you rest," yet at the last, an unwilling assent to our
text will be wrung from you.
When He shall say, "Depart, you cursed, into everlasting fire in Hell,
prepared for the devil and his angels," the thunder of that word shall
so torment you, the terror of His speech shall so shake you, and
utterly dissolve you, that you shall feel, wondering all the while that
it was a Man who could speak thus, that, "Never man spoke like this
Man." You have sometimes upbraided the preacher for speaking too
severely–you will then know that he was not severe enough.
You have sometimes marvelled that the minister should give such fearful
descriptions of the wrath to come–you thought he went too far. But
when the pit opens wide her mouth and the devouring flames leap up to
devour you at the word of the once crucified Savior, then you will say,
for terror and for wrath, for overwhelming horror–"Never man spoke
like this Man." The lips that said "Come, you weary," shall say,
"Depart, you cursed," in tones which none but such lips could give
forth.
Love once made angry turns to wrath, intense and terrible. Oil is soft,
but how fiercely it burns! Beware, lest His anger is kindled against
you, for it will burn even to the lowest Hell. The Lamb of God is as a
lion to those who reject His love. Provoke Him no longer. May the Holy
Spirit bow you to repentance. God grant that in a far happier sense
than this last, you may learn to say, "Never man spoke like this Man."
But one way or other every soul here, and every soul of woman born,
shall acknowledge that, "Never man spoke like this Man." To God I
commend you. Farewell.
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Negotiations For Peace