The Gladness of the Man of Sorrows

The Gladness of the Man of Sorrows
A Sermon
(No. 498)
Delivered on Sunday Morning, March 8th, 1863, by the
Rev. C. H. SPURGEON,
At the Metropolitan Tabernacle, Newington
"Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness: therefore God, thy
God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows. All
thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory
palaces, whereby they have made thee glad."–Psalm 45:7, 8.
DURING THE LAST FEW SABBATH-DAYS we have been considering the
sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ. We followed him through the agony
of the garden, the sorrows of the betrayal, the weariness and slander
of his various trials, the shame and mockery of the soldiery, and the
sorrows of his cross-bearing progress along the streets of the city. It
seems fit this morning to make a pause that we may take breath awhile
in this our pilgrimage of sorrow, and be comforted by a view of the
glory-land to which the thorny pathway leads. A festive occasion like
the present may have unfitted your minds for deep contemplations upon
the Passion, and it may be more congenial with our present mood of
gladness to meditate upon the glory which followed the shame. The same
person will be before our eye, but we shall view him in a brighter
light, we shall see the silver lining of the black cloud of anguish,
the rich pearls hidden in the stormy deep of his sufferings, and the
days of heaven which were conceived in the womb of the black night of
his agony. The Man of Sorrows is the fountain of all joy to others, and
is the possessor of all the joys of heaven and earth, by virtue of his
triumphs. He has experienced joys in proportion to his sorrows; as he
once waded through deep waters of grief he has now climbed to the
highest mountains of happiness. For the joy that was set before him he
endured the cross despising the shame, and now having sat down at his
Father's right-hand he enjoys pleasures for evermore. We have seen our
David crossing the brook Kedron weeping as he went; shall we not gaze
upon him as he dances before the ark for joy? We saw him crowned with
thorns, shall we not go forth to meet him and behold him with the crown
wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in
the day of the gladness of his heart? Oh that while we muse upon these
things our heavenly Father may hear the prayer of our great Advocate
who once cried on our behalf–"And now come I to thee; and these things
I speak in the world, that they might have my joy fulfilled in
themselves."
Our text describes the joy poured forth upon our glorious King in a
twofold manner. Our Lord is first made joyous by his Father–"Thou
lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness: therefore God, thy God,
hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows." But
there is another joy, which he getteth not from one person, but from
many. Read the next verse–"All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes,
and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee
glad." Here both saints and angels unite to swell the ever-deepening,
and widening river of the Savior's gladness. When we shall have walked
by these still waters and trodden these green pastures, perhaps we
shall be prepared to say with the apostle, "And not only so, but we
also joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we have now
received the atonement," and we shall be qualified to sing with the
spouse, "We will rejoice and be glad in thee; Ye will remember thy love
more than wine; the upright love thee."
I. Come, my brethren, let us ponder that part of OUR SAVIOR'S JOY WHICH
IS GIVEN HIM BY HIS FATHER.
To a degree the Redeemer possessed this joy even while he was here on
earth. We are not sure that the early life of the Savior was full of
sorrow. As he grrew in wisdom and in stature, he also grew in favor
both with God and man; and favor with God and man would probably give
the youthful Jesus an unusual degree of holy happiness. When he entered
upon his public ministry, sorrows in troops beset him, so that the
countenance once fairer than the children of men, became more marred
than that of any man, and at the age of thirty-two or thirty-three he
was taken to be near fifty, from the effect of labor, hardship and woe.
Yet, even in the days of his affliction, the Great Mourner was not
utterly wretched, even amid the wormwood and the gall there were drops
of joy. When, in his baptism, the heavens were opened, and the Spirit
descended, did that divine Dove bring no peace, no comfort upon his
wings? When the Father bare witness, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I
am well pleased," did those approving words from the opening heavens
afford no satisfaction to the mind of the obedient Son? Brethren, the
perfect nature of our Redeemer could not but rejoice exceedingly in the
smile of the Father and the descent of the Holy Ghost. When in the
wilderness, after the forty days of fasting and of temptation, the
angels ministered unto him, did they bring him no celestial joys, no
consolations of God? Did he know no secret joys upon the mountain-tops,
where he communed with God at midnight? Was it no delight to him to
utter sweet invitations and loving words of mercy? Surely those lips
were blessed which poured forth benedictions, and there must have been
some comfort in the hands which bound up the broken-hearted and opened
the prisons of the captives. We read that Jesus rejoiced in spirit, and
said, "Father, I thank thee, that thou hast hid these things from the
wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes; even so, Father,
for so it seemed good in thy sight." The doctrine of electing love
stirred the deeps of his great soul, and made the floods clap their
hands. "The King shall joy in thy strength, O Lord; and in thy
salvation how greatly shall he rejoice."
Do you think, brethren, our Savior lived in this world, doing so much
good, without receiving some joy in his acts of mercy? To teach, to
labor, and to make men holy, must give joy to a benevolent mind. It
could not be otherwise than pleasant to a good man to do good. If God
deligllteth in mercy, surely his express image must do the same. To
restore the dead to their sorrowing relations, was this no
satisfaction? Did the widow's grateful eye in the gates of Nain kindle
no joy-flashes in his heart? Bid the thankfulness of Mary and Martha
inspire no comfort in the Life-giver? Think you that it was not
gladsome work to feed the famishing multitudes? Who could look upon the
feasting thousands without rejoicing? To heal the leper, to restore the
lame, to give eyes to the blind and ears to the deaf, who could do all
this and not be happy in distributing the boons? Surely, brethren,
there were some hosannas in Jesu's ears, and though he could always
bear the cry of "Crucify him! Crucify him!" yet he must have felt the
wondrous joy of doing good, which is one of the delights entailed on
all self-sacrificing lovers of others.
Bethink you, beloved, of his character, and surely he must have known
the joy of being good; for there is a deep gladness in holiness, a
blessed peacefulness in righteousness. The holiness of angels is their
happiness, and although to a large degree the Savior laid his peace
aside, yet there is a rest of soul from which virtue cannot separate.
Distractions of conscience he never knew, disturbance of mind, on
account of sin he did not feel on his own account, although as our
substitute he was made sin for us. He suffered. Mark, I am not for a
moment detracting from his sufferings, high mountains of grief I see;
the eagle's wing cannot reach their summit, nor foot of angel climb
their brows; but lo, I see leaping streams of pleasure running adown
the rugged steeps, and amid the hollows of the desolate hills I gaze
upon deep lakes of joy unfathomable by mortal line.
Brethren, we have every reason to believe that our Savior permanently
found a solace while on earth, in the consideration that he was doing
his Father's will. He said, "It is my meat and my drink, to do the will
of him that sent me." "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's
business?" On several occasions the voice from heaven proclaimed the
Father's good pleasure in his only begotten: once the glory of heaven
enwraps him on the holy mount; and during his whole life he had the
presence of God until the moment of necessary desertion, when we find
him, for the first and only time, crying, "My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me!" To do a work which he had contemplated from all
eternity, to engage in an occupation which had always been most
delightful in prospect, could not have been altogether and only
sorrowful. It was a Passover with many bitter herbs, but with desire
had he desired to eat of it. It was a baptism, and a baptism of blood,
but he was straitened until it was accomplished. Of old, in expectation
his delights were with the sons of men. Were there none in the work?
Brethren, let your Lord speak for himself–"Lo, I come: in the volume
of the book it is written of me, I delight to do thy will, O my God:
yea, thy law is within my heart."
In the glorious prospect which this great work opened to him when it
should he completed, I am absolutely sure our Savior found comfort.
Think not I speak too strongly; I have scriptural warrant. Turn to the
twenty-second Psalm, which is the soliloquy of Christ upon the cross,
and you find him, after he bemoaned his desolate condition, comforting
himself thus, "All the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto
he Lord: and all the kindreds of the nations shall worship before thee.
All they that be fat upon earth shall eat and worship: all they that go
down to the dust shall bow before him: and none can keep alive his own
soul. A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a
generation. They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a
people that shall be born, that he hath done this." He saw with
prescient eye through the thick darkness which enveloped the cross, the
rising of the bright sun of heaven's eternal noon. He saw, when he hung
upon the cross, not only the mocking eyes of multitudes of enemies, but
the loving eyes of millions of souls whom he should redeem from hell;
he heard not only the shouts of the ribald mob, but the songs of
blood-redeemed spirits. When he saw the lions and heard them roar, was
it not a comfort to the shepherd that he had kept the sheep, and none
of them had perished. Indeed, my brethren, there is more than enough of
evidence to prove that a rich anointing of gladness rested on the head
of the Man of Sorrows.
Still, dear friends, this may be viewed by some as a moot point; we
allow that there is room for difference of opinion; but not so as to
the great joy which Christ obtained after he had endured the cross,
despising the shame. Let us enter into the secret joys of our Beloved.
Consider, my brethren, the work accomplished; Chiist has borne the
wrath of God; God is reconciled to his people; death has been
destroyed; Christ as risen from the dead; the dragon's head has been
broken, the powers of sin have been subdued; our Lord ascends to heaven
with a shout, with the trump of the archangel; the glorified spirits
accord him a triumphal entry. "Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be
ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors, that the King of Glory may come
in!" He sits down upon his throne at his Father's right hand, and then
it is that he is anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows.
I should not have failed to remark that, as God, our Redeemer always
possessed fullness of joy and pleasures for evermore, We are speaking
of him in his complex person as man and God, and in his official
character as Mediator, it is his delight in this capacity which we now
consider.
The joy of the risen Mediator laid, first of all, in this, that he had
now accomplished a work which he had meditated upon from all eternity.
Before the day-star marked the dawn; before the calm of space had ever
been stirred by wing of angel, or the solemnity of silence had been
startled with song of seraph, Christ had purposed to redeem his people,
It was in the eternal purpose of the great Second Person in the Divine
Unity, from before all worlds, to redeem unto himself a people by
price. What joy must it give him now that he can say, "I have finished
transgression, made an end of sin, and brought in everlasting
righteousness."
His heart had not only meditated, but had been mightily set upon his
work. He had bound his people's names upon his breast; he had graven
them upon the pylons of his hands. His ears were bored, for he intended
to serve even until death. What if I say that, from before all worlds,
he thirsted and panted that he might do the Father's will, and redeem
his people from their ruin! Now, brethren, that desire which had been
in him like coals of juniper, unquenchable, is now fulfilled to the
uttermost; how can he be otherwise than anointed with the oil of
gladness above his fellows, since none other ever purposed so firmly or
succeeded so perfectly.
Consider, too, how great the pains which he endured, and we must
believe the joy to be commensurate with the pain. In the accomplishing
of his great iife-purpose, he descended to the cross of deepest woe.
Have I not tried to paint in my poor way the mysterious agonies of our
blessed Savior? but I feel that I have failed. Now when all this had
been suffered, what joy to look back upon it! Never day so bright as
that which follows black darkness; never calm so sweet as that which
succeeds hurricane and tempest; never native place so delightful as to
the long exiled pilgrim. So deep the sorrow, so high the joy; so
unspeakable the grief, so unutterable the bliss.
Remember, beloved brethren, the enemies he had overcome, and you will
not marvel that his joy was matchless. Had he not worsted Death–grim
tyrant–vanquisher of all mankind? Had he not broken the head of the
old serpent, who in his crushing coils had bound and pressed a universe
of souls? Did he not defeat in battle all the fiends in hell? Was not
evil for ever dethroned? Did not goodness sit upon a glorious high
throne? Was not virtue exalted to the highest heaven, and sin cast down
to the lowest hell in that day of the judgment of this world, when the
Prince of Darkness was cast out? "Behold," he might have said, "I see
Satan falling like lightning from heaven; the dragon bound with a great
chain. Lo, hell's gates are shut upon the saints, the grave is rifled
of its spoils, heaven is crowded with the saved, and earth purified
from sin." O Jesus, thou mighty conqueror, thy glorious victories must
surely give to thee, as they do to us, a blessed anointing with the oil
of gladness!
Our Lord possesses in heaven now, as perfect man, the joy of looking
back upon a life without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; the
satisfaction of seeing this perfect obedience covering all his people,
till they stand lovely in his loveliness; the equal delight of
observing the efficacy of his blood to wash the foulest, and make them
whiter than snow, while his intercession scatters mercy in one
everlasting shower upon the sons of men. Since his heart was love his
joy must be in deeds of love, and as he has become a fountain always
welling up with loving gifts towards the chosen sons of men, his
delight must be unchanging like his nature, and unbounded like his
divinity. "God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness
above thy fellows."
We pause a moment, having tried to dwell upon the joy, to notice the
cause of it. "Thou lovest righteousness, and hatest wickedness,
therefore God hath anointed thee." It seems, then, that the first cause
why Jesus Christ has received fullness of joy lies in his having loved
righteousness. This he did necessarily because of the spotless purity
of his nature; this he did practically in the hallowed sincerity and
integrity of his life. Of whom could it be said so truly as of our
Lord, that the law of God was in his heart. How abundantly did he prove
his love to righteousness, by vindicating it in his death, fulfilling
in his own person all the sentence of divine wrath taking upon himself
all the curses which fell upon offenders. You cannot suppose
righteousness to be more clearly manifested than in the living works of
Jesus, nor more completely avenged than in the dying throes. How
sovereign is that righteousness to which even the Son of God bowed his
head and gave up the ghost. The world deluged with water, the plains of
Sodom smoking with brimstone, the land of Egypt vexed with plagues, all
these terrible things in righteousness manifest the justice of God, but
none of them so solemnly as the voluntary sacrifice of Jesus. Our
Beloved loved righteousness indeed when he emptied out all his
heart-floods that he might make us righteous. Moreover, as in his life
and death we see that he loved righteousness, we discern it too in the
constant effect of his work. His gospel makes men righteous. Does it
not give them a legal righteousness by imputation, a real righteousness
by infusion, a righteousness which covers them with fine linen without
and makes them all glorious within. The spirit of the gospel which we
preach is to magnify that which is pure and lovely and of good repute.
Wherever the Lord Jesus displays his gracious power, sins yields the
throne, purity wins the scepter, grace reigns through righteousness
unto eternal life through the perfect sacrifice, the living power of
Jesus.
The text adds, "Thou hatest wickedness." A man's character is not
complete without a perfect hatred of sin. "Be ye angry, and sin not."
There can hardly be goodness in a man if he be not angry at sin; he who
loves truth must hate every false way. How our Lord Jesus hated it when
the temptation came! Thrice it assailed him in different forms, but
ever it was, "Get thee behind me, Satan." How he hated it when he saw
it in others; none the less fervently because he showed his hate
oftener in tears of pity than in words of rebuke; yet what language
could be more stern, more Elijah-like, than the words, "Woe unto you,
scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye devour widows' houses, and
for a pretense make long prayer." He hated wickedness so much that he
bled that he might wound it to the heart; he died that it might die; he
was buried that he might bury in his tomb; and he rose that he might
for ever trample it beneath his feet. Christ is in the Gospel, my
brethren, and you all know low utterly that Gospel is opposed to
wickedness in every shape. No matter how wickedness may array itself in
fair garments, and imitate the language of holiness, the precepts of
Jesus, like his famous scourge of small cords, chase wickedness out of
the temple, and will not let it have peaceful lodging in the Church. So
too, in the heart where Jesus reigns, what war there is between Christ
and Belial? And when our Redeemer shall come to be our judge, in those
thundering words, "Depart, ye cursed," which are, indeed, but al
prolongation of his life-teaching concerning sin, then shall it be
seen, I say, that he hated wickedness. As warm as is his love to
sinners, so hot is his hatred of sin; as perfect as is the
righteousness which he completed, so perfect shall be the destruction
of every form of wickedness. Oh thou glorious champion of right, and
destroyer of wrong, for this cause hath God, even thy God, anointed
thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows.
But, beloved, we must dwell for one moment upon another thought
supplied by the text. The character of this joy is hinted at by way of
comparison–"God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of
gladness above thy fellows." And who are his fellows? Suppose his
fellows to be the kings and princes of this world, for the psalm is
descriptive of Christ in his royalty. Well, is he not anointed with
gladness above them all? Kings rejoice in their dominions, their extent
and population: our King looks from shore to shore, and from the river
even to the ends of the earth, and of his dominion there is no end.
Princes delight in the fame and honor which their office and deeds may
bring them; but before the Lord Jesus Christ the fame of monarchs
dwindles into nothing. His name shall endure for ever; throughout all
generations the people shall praise him. Monarchs delight in the riches
and treasure which their dominions yield; Christ receiveth a wealth of
love and homage from his people, before which the riches of Croesus
become poverty itself. "The daughter of Tyre shall be there with a
gift; even the rich among the people shall entreat thy favor." Kings
are wont to rejoice in the victories they have achieved. He that cometh
from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah, travelling in the greatness
of his strength, hath more joy than they. They boast the sureness of
their throne; but "thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever." The inward
thought of some kings may be that they are invincible in power, and
that their will is law; but at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow,
and his enemies shall become as the fat of rams; into smoke shall they
consume, yea, into smoke shall they consume away. Good kings rejoice in
the beneficence of their rule, and the happiness of their subjects; our
King may surely glory in the favors which he has scattered from his
scepter. But time would hail us if we were to complete the contrast
here. Kings of the earth, ye may take off your crowns, and remain
uncrowned in the presence of lying Jesus, for on his head are many
crowns. O ye lords and mighty men, ye may lay down your dignities and
honors, for ye are unhonoured and undignified in the presence of him
who is above his fellows!
My brethren, where shall his fellows be found? Search ye among the
wise, and who shall match the gladness of incarnate wisdom, for man's
wisdom bringeth sorrow. Go ye, and travel among the famous, and who
shall be compared with his illustrious name, where else is there a name
so full of joy? Search out the mighty, who hath an arm like his? Go ye,
and search among the good and excellent, who have blessed their kind by
philanthropy; who among them is so anointed as the Man of Nazareth? As
the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the
sons. Standing as high above all the rest of men as the heavens are
above the earth; he is, indeed, anointed with the oil of gladness above
his fellows. I find that some interpreters read it–"The oil of
gladness for his fellows." The rendering is probably incorrect, but it
bears a very truthful, sweet, and comfortable thought in it. If the
saints are his fellows, and he is not ashamed to call them brethren,
then the oil of gladness was first poured on his head, that it might
descend even to the skirts of his garments, and that all the saints
might be made partakers of his joy.
We have said enough, we think, on this first point; here is the
material for much meditation. Search, my brethren, and learn how the
Lord, even our God, has glolified his Son Jesus.
II. Turn we now to THE GLADNESS AFFORDED BY THE CHURCH. "All thy
garments smell of myrrh, and cassia, and aloes, out of the ivory
palaces, whereby they have made thee glad." His garments have been
saturated with very precious and fragrant odours; this is the work of
his Church. In the phrase, "ivory palaces" the allusion is to certain
costly structures which some Oriental kings erected, plated within and
without with ivory. We read of Ahab that he built an ivory house; and
it was a solemn threat from the lip of Amos, "the houses of ivory shall
perish." These ivory houses relate, I suppose, either to the courts of
glory, or, more consistently with our interpretation this morning, to
the hearts of believers; or, better still, to the churches, which are
like palaces of ivory, both for glory and majesty, for richness, and
for purity. The saints' graces, their love, their praise, their
prayers, their faith, are like myrrh, cassia, and aloes, and the
Savior's garments are so perfumed therewith, that when he rides in his
triumphal chariot he scatters sweet odours all around. It is a great
and certain truth, that Christ finds an intense satisfaction in his
Church. "He will rejoice over thee with joy; he will rest in his love;
he will joy over thee with singing." In his people, as the objects of
his choice, he finds satisfaction; tis true there is nothing in them
naturally; they are by nature heirs of wrath, even as others; but
having set his love upon them, having determined to make them his
people, he takes a delight in the objects of his choice because of that
choice. Nothing in us could have been the origin of the Saviours first
delight in us. Now, doubtless, that we are his workmanship, he takes a
delight in the works of his own hands; but when we were like broken
potsherds, thrown away upon the dunghill of the fall, if he saw
anything in us it must have been in his own eyes.
But, dear friends, as men always take a deep interest in that which has
cost them dearly, so since that triumphant day when Jesus stretched out
his hands upon the tree and paid the price for his people, he has found
an infinite solace and delight in them. He sees in every believer's
face a memento of his groans; he looks into the eye of every penitent,
and sees his own tears there; he hears the cry of every mourner, and
there hears his own groans over again; he beholds the reward of his
soul's travail in every regenerate heart, and hence, as the purchase of
his blood, we make him glad.
Again, as his workmanship, as he sees us day by day more conformed to
his image, he rejoices in us. Just as you see the sculptor with his
chisel fetching out the statue which lies hidden in the block of
marble, taking off a corner here, and a chip there, and a piece
here–see how he smiles when he brings out the features of the form
divine–so our Savior, as he proceeds with his graving tool, working
through the operation of the Spirit, and making us like unto himself,
finds much delight in us. The painter makes rough drafts at first, and
lays on the colors roughly; some do not understand what he is doing,
and for three or four sittings the portrait is much unlike the man it
aims at representing; but the painter can discern the features in the
canvass; he sees it looming through that mist and haze of color; he
knows that beauty will yet beam forth from yonder daubs and blotches.
So Jesus, though we are yet but mere outlines of his image, can
discover his own perfection in us where no eye but his own, as the
Mighty Artist, can perceive it. Dear friends, it is for this reason,
because we are the work of his hands, that he taketh delight in us.
Know ye not that we are his brethren–and brothers should delight in
brothers. Nay, we are his spouse–and where should the husband find his
comfort but in his bride? We are his body–shall not the head be
content with the members? We are one with him, vitally, personally,
everlastingly one; and it is little marvel, therefore, if we have a
mutual joy in each other, so that his garments smell of myrrh, aloes,
and cassia, out of the ivory palaces of his Church, wherein he hath
been made glad.
Let us think how we can make him glad. Brethren, our love to
Christ–oh! we think it so cold, so little, and so, indeed, we must
sorrowfully confess it to be, but it is very sweet to Christ. We can
never compare our love to Christ with his love to us, and yet he does
not despise it. Hear his own eulogy of his Church in the Song, "Thou
hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my
heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. How fair is
thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine!
and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!" "Thou art beautiful,
O my love, as Tirza, comely as Jerusalem, terrible as an army with
banners. Turn away thine eyes from me, for they have overcome me." See,
see, my brethren, his delight in you. When you lean your head on his
bosom, you not only receive, but you give him joy; when you gaze with
love upon his beauteous face, you not only receive comfort, but give
delight. Our praise, too, gives him joy, when from our hearts we sing
his name, and when gratefully, though silently, we breathe a song up to
his throne. As princes are delighted with incense, so is Christ
delighted with the praise of his people. And our gifts, too, delight
him. As the son of our good Queen accepts rich tokens of kindness from
the people of his land, so our Lord Jesus is charmed with the offerings
of his people. He loves to see us lay our time, our talents, our
substance upon his altar, not for the value of what we give, but for
the sake of the motive from which the gift springs. He takes far more
delight in what we do for him than our Queen's son could take in
splendid arches, or in the glorious pageantry of yesterday. To Christ
the shouts of his people are better than the cheers of the most
enthusiastic populace, and to him the lowly offerings of his saints are
more acceptable than thousands of gold and silver. Forgive your enemy,
and you make Christ glad; distribute of your substance to the poor, and
he rejoices; be the means of saving souls, and you give him to see of
the travail of his soul; preach his gospel, and you are a sweet savor
unto him; go among the ignorant and among the hopeless, and try to lift
them up, and you have given him satisfaction. I tell you, brother, it
is in your power this very day to break the alabaster box and pour the
precious ointment on his head, as did the woman of old, whose memorial
is to this day set forth. You can anoint him above all his fellows with
the oil of gladness.
I think I see a great procession. It is Jesus Christ riding alone
through the tens of thousands of souls whom he has redeemed with his
own blood. I think I see him looking to the right hand and to the left
as he rides along the centuries. See how every windows of every age are
crowded! Glorified spirits look down from the housetops of heaven: the
Church militant looks up from the streets of earth, multitudes upon
multitudes of souls that love him, and call him King, salute him as
their Redeemer. I notice that, as he goes along in this great
procession, his eyes are bright with joy. We liked to see the Prince
and Princess happy yesterday but their joy could be nothing compared
with that of Christ as he rides along in triumph. How the multitudes
delight him; the ten thousand times ten thousand–who shall tell how
many Christ has redeemed? Their number is beyond all human count; so
many are they that, as they clap their hands and shout to his name, I
hear a voice like many waters, or like great thunders, while they cry
"Hallelujah, Sweet Prince! ride on triumphantly! and reign for ever and
ever!" There is one thing Christ feels as he looks upon the crowd
around him, which our Prince could not feel yesterday. He knows that
everyone of these would lay down their lives for him. Of all those whom
Jesus bought with blood; among those who are renewed in heart; there is
not one who would not bleed for him. To the stake they walk, and sing
amidst the flames. To the dungeon they go, and praise him while they
rot in darkness. They are dragged at the heels of horses, they are
stoned, they are sawn in sunder, they wander about in sheep-skins and
in goat-skins, and they glory in all these things that they may show
their love to Christ. Every eye in the vast throng which gathers about
the triumphal chariot of Christ beams with intense love to him; and
when they shout, each one shouts louder than his fellow; each one in
the whole throng feels he owes more to the great King than anyone else;
there is something special about each face the King looks on, and as he
remembers the special circumstances, he perceives the reason for that
special love. Either it is much forgiven, or else it is much trial
averted, or much strength conferred by which to perform labor. I am
sure that when you and I are in that throng loolking upon him, we may
truly say–
"Then loudest of the crowd I'll sing,
While heaven's resounding mansions ring
With shouts of sovereign grace."
Ye did well to applaud your Prince yesterday, but what had he ever done
for you? What debt did you owe to him? Owed he not far more to you? But
our King as he rides along in the midst of the joyful hosts of the
blood-bought, has this upon his mind–"I bought all these souls with my
blood." He recollects, as he looks upon them, where they would have
been but for his grace, and the very pangs of hell must add joy to his
soul, when he remembers that he saved them from passing into the pit.
He recollects, too, what they once were–how full of sin, what enemies
to God, how they crucified him, how they trampled on his precious
blood, and now he sees them bowing, before him, too glad to catch but a
glimpse of him as he rides by, too happy to be as the dust of his feet
if he will but honor them by treading upon them that he might be lifted
the higher. O my brethren, we love the Lord Jesus Christ, and our
hearts give him a reception such as never was accorded to earthly
Prince. Pile the arches! pile the arches! Let hearts pour forth their
life-blood, if in no other way the banners can be dyed red! Strew the
streets; strip off your garments if in no other way the pageant can be
made illustrious! bring forth the royal diadem, and let every saint
renounce wealth and comfort if by no other means Jesus can be crowned!
Empty heaven, if by no other way Jesus can be attended with guards of
honor. Come, all ye sons and daughters of his great family, and offer
yourselves a living sacrifice, if there can be no other incense! We are
all prepared–I speak for the sacramental host of God's elect–we are
all prepared by his grace to follow him through floods and through
flames! We are prepared to give him all the honor that heart can
conceive. We are prepared to kiss his feet as well as to crown his
head. Bring forth the royal diadem to-day and crown him Lord of all;
and each day as he rides along, till he shall deliver up the kingdom to
God, even the Father, let him be crowned King of kings and Lord of
lords.
III. Now for another text, but not another sermon. It is in the fourth
verse of the first chapter of the Song of Solomon:–"WE WILL BE GLAD
AND REJOICE IN THEE."
God has made the king glad, and his saints make him glad; let us be
glad too. But let us mind that our gladness is of the right sort. "We
will rejoice and be glad in thee." That man is glad in his farm; that
other in his merchandise; that one yonder in his wealth; that woman in
her jewels; that other in her beauty; "We will rejoice and be glad in
thee." But in what? We will rejoice, more especially, in his love to
us. You remember Jesus Christ said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of
Jonas, lovest thou me more than these?" Interpreters read that two
ways. Some think he meant, "Lovest thou me more that thou lovest these
nets, and this fishery, and this thine earthly calling and these thy
friends?" I think I hear Jesus Christ speaking this morning, and he
says, "My people, I love you more than these." He points to spirits
that once stood around his throne, angels that have sinned; they fell
like lightning from heaven, and there they lie in flames, and Christ
says, "I loved you more than these; I let these perish, but I saved
you." Pointing to the kings and princes of this world, the great, the
mighty, and the learned men, and to all the nations that sit in
darkness, he says, "I love you more than these; I gave Ethiopia and
Seba for you." Then taking a higher range he joints to heaven. There
sit the angels before the throne, and he says, "I loved you more than
these; I left their company for yours." He bids you listen to their
harps and to their songs, and he says, "I loved you more than these; I
left all these melodies that I might be able to meet your groans." Yea,
he points to his own throne, so bright with glory that mortal eyes
scarce dare to rest upon it, and he says, "I loved you more than these,
for I left the glory of my throne that I might redeem you with my
blood." Saint, will you not join with me? Shall we not both say,
"Savior, blessed be thine unexampled love! We rill rejoice and be glad
in thee!"
But some interpreters read the text–"Lovest thou me more than
these?"–"Lovest thou me more than these others love me?" Jesus speaks
to-day to us, "I have loved thee more than these; thy mother loved
thee; strong were her pangs when thou wast born, and anxious her cares
when she nursed thee at her bosom; but I have loved thee more than
these, and thy brethren loved thee, and thy sisters; born of the same
parents they watched over thee with delight, and they have been ready
to help thee in thy time of need, but I have loved thee more than
these: and thy husband loved thee, loved thee as his own soul, he has
cherished thee, and has been ready to lay down his life to give thee
back health when thou hast been sick; but I have loved thee more than
these: thy children, too, have loved thee; they have climbed thy knee
and smiled upon thee for all thy kindness to them, and they have
strengthened thine old age, and thou hast leaned upon them, as upon a
staff, when thou hast been tottering with weakness; but I have loved
thee more than these: and thou hast had a joyous companion, a dear
friend who has been with thee from thy youth up, and has never lifted
his heel against thee; and thou hast had thine intimates and thy
familars who went up to the house of God with thee, and talked
cheerfully by the way, but I have loved thee more than these," I think
I hear him say to me–"There are some in this congregation who would
pluck out their own eyes to give them to thee; they love thee, for thou
art their spiritual father, but I have loved thee more than theses."
And he points to all the good men that have ever tried to teach you, to
all the comforters who have given you joy, to all the helpers that have
aided you on the road to immortality; and he says, "I have loved you
more than these." Well, if his love be matchless like this, we will
rejoice and be glad in him. I have nothing, else to rejoice in, the
Lord knoweth. I cannot rejoice in myself, there are so many sins and so
many doubts; but I will rejoice and be glad in him if he loves me like
this. He has finished the work for me, given me a perfect
righteousness, washed me in his blood, taken off his robe to clothe me,
given his life that he may make me live, entered the grave to bring me
out of it, and said that I shall shortly be enthroned with him above
the sky. I will rejoice and be glad in him. When King Solomon was
crowned, all the people rejoiced; and shall we be mourners when Christ
sits upon his throne? Let the heaviest heart begin to leap; and if you
have to bear your burdens to-morrow, yet do throw them off to-day. "We
will rejoice and be glad in thee." I should not like one Christian to
go down these aisles this morning without some light of heaven's
brightness on his cheek–without some note of heaven's music in his
ear. "Oh!" says the Christian, "Yes. I will; the cross is heavy, but I
will hope beneath it; the furnace is hot, but I will sing in it; the
way is rough, but I will tread it with light footsteps, for I will
rejoice and be glad in him who has loved me and given himself for me."
Well, you see, there is a glad Christ in heaven, and here is a glad
Church on earth; there is Christ anointed by his Father, here are his
people sharing that anointing; here is Christ giving you joy, and you
giving Christ joy. Belt the world with happiness; fire zodiac with joy.
Lift up the ladder of your songs; while the bottom rests on earth, let
the top reach to heaven; and ye angels of God, hold fellowship to-day
with God and with us through the joy and peace which God the Father
gives us, while we rejoice and are glad in him.
I would you all understood this subject, but some of you are strangers
to it altogether! Remember, there is no joy anywhere but in Christ. It
is all poor mockery which you get elsewhere. Jesus Christ is to be had,
and whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting
life.
The Lord give you his benediction, for Jesus' sake. Amen.