Mary’S Song

Mary'S Song

DELIVERED ON SUNDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 25, 1864, BY C. H. SPURGEON, AT
THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"And Mary said, My soul does magnify the Lord, and my spirit has
rejoiced in God my Savior.'"

Luke 1:46, 47.

MARY was on a visit when she expressed her joy in the language of this
noble song. It were well if all our social communion were as useful to
our hearts as this visit was to Mary. "Iron sharpens iron, so a man
sharpens the countenance of his friend." Mary, full of faith, goes to
see Elizabeth, who is also full of holy confidence and the two are not
long together before their faith mounts to full assurance and their
full assurance bursts forth in a torrent of sacred praise!

This praise aroused their slumbering powers and instead of two ordinary
village women, we see before us two prophetesses and poetesses upon
whom the Spirit of God abundantly rested. When we meet with our
kinsfolk and acquaintance, let it be our prayer to God that our
communion may be not only pleasant, but profitable. Let us pray that we
may not merely pass away time and spend a pleasant hour, but may
advance a day's march nearer Heaven and acquire greater fitness for our
eternal rest!

Observe, this morning, the sacred joy of Mary that you may imitate it.
This is a season when all men expect us to be joyous. We compliment
each other with the desire that we may have a "Merry Christmas." Some
Christians who are a little squeamish do not like the word "merry." It
is a right good old Saxon word, having the joy of childhood and the
mirth of manhood in it. It brings before one's mind the old song of the
midnight peal of bells, the holly and the blazing log.

I love it for its place in that most tender of all parables, where it
is written, that, when the long-lost prodigal returned to his father
safe and sound, "They began to be merry." This is the season when we
are expected to be happy. And my heart's desire is that in the highest
and best sense, you who are Believers may be "merry."

Mary's heart was merry within her–but here was the mark of her joy–it
was all holy merriment, it was every drop of it sacred mirth. It was
not such merriment as worldlings will revel in today and tomorrow, but
such merriment as the angels have around the Throne of God, where they
sing, "Glory to God in the highest," while we sing, "On earth peace,
goodwill towards men." Such merry hearts have a continual feast.

I want you, you children of the bride-chamber, to possess today and
tomorrow, yes, all your days, the high and consecrated bliss of Mary
that you may not only read her words but use them for yourselves, ever
experiencing their meaning–"My soul does magnify the Lord and my
spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior." Observe, first, that she sings.
Secondly, she sings sweetly. Thirdly, shall she sing alone?

I. First observe that MARY SINGS. Her subject is a Savior. She hails
the Incarnate God. The long expected Messiah is about to appear. He for
whom Prophets and princes waited long is now about to come–to be born
of the virgin of Nazareth. Truly there was never a subject of sweeter
song than this–the stooping down of Godhead to the feebleness of
manhood! When God manifested His power in the works of His hands the
morning stars sang together and the sons of God shouted for joy. But
when God manifests Himself, what music shall suffice for the grand
Psalm of adoring wonder?

When wisdom and power are seen, these are but attributes. But in the
Incarnation it is the Divine Person which is revealed wrapped in a veil
of our inferior clay–well might Mary sing when earth and Heaven even
now are wondering at the condescending Grace! Worthy of peerless music
is the fact that "the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us." There is
no longer a great gulf fixed between God and His people. The humanity
of Christ has bridged it over. We can no more think that God sits on
high indifferent to the wants and woes of men–for God has visited us
and come down to the lowliness of our estate.

We no longer need bemoan that we can never participate in the moral
glory and purity of God, for if God in Glory can come down to His
sinful creature, it is certainly less difficult to bear that creature,
blood-washed and purified, up that starry way that the redeemed one may
sit down forever on His Throne. Let us dream no longer in somber
sadness that we cannot draw near to God so that He will really hear our
prayer and pity our necessities seeing that Jesus has become bone of
our bone and flesh of our flesh! He was born a babe as we are born,
living a man as we must live, bearing the same infirmities and sorrows
and bowing His head to the same death.

O, can we not come with boldness by this new and living way and have
access to the Throne of the heavenly Grace, when Jesus meets us as
Immanuel, God with us? Angels sung, they scarcely knew why. Could they
understand why God had become Man? They must have known that here was a
mystery of condescension. But all the loving consequences which the
Incarnation involved, even their acute minds could scarcely have
guessed!

But we see the whole and comprehend the grand design most fully. The
manger of Bethlehem was big with Glory– in the Incarnation was wrapped
up all the blessedness by which a soul, snatched from the depths of
sin, is lifted up to the heights of Glory. Shall not our clearer
knowledge lead us to heights of song which angelic guesses could not
reach? Shall the lips of cherubs move to flaming sonnets and shall we,
who are redeemed by the blood of the Incarnate God, be treacherously
and ungratefully silent?–

"Did archangels sing Your coming?
Did the shepherds learn their ways?
Shame would cover me ungrateful,
Should my tongues refuse to praise."

This, however, was not the full subject of her holy hymn. Her peculiar
delight was not that there was a Savior to be born, but that He was to
be born of her! Blessed among women was she and highly favored of the
Lord. But we can enjoy the same favor–no, we must enjoy it–or the
coming of a Savior will be of no benefit to us. Christ on Calvary, I
know, takes away the sin of His people. But none would have ever known
the virtue of Christ upon the Cross unless they have the Lord Jesus
formed in them as the hope of Glory!

The stress of the virgin's canticle is laid upon God's special Grace to
her. Those little words, the personal pronouns, tell us that it was
truly a personal affair with her. "My soul does magnify the Lord and my
spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior." The Savior was peculiarly and in
a special sense, hers. She sung no "Christ for all," but "Christ for
me," as her glad subject! Beloved, is Christ Jesus in your heart? Once
you looked at Him from a distance and that look cured you of all
spiritual diseases, but are you now living upon Him, receiving Him into
your very vitals as your spiritual meat and drink?

In holy fellowship you have oftentimes fed upon His flesh and been made
to drink of His blood. You have been buried with Him in Baptism unto
death. You have yielded yourselves a sacrifice to Him and you have
taken Him to be a sacrifice for you. You can sing of Him as the spouse
did, "His left hand is under my head and His right hand does embrace
me. . . My beloved is mine and I am His: He feeds among the lilies."

This is a happy style of living and anything short of this poor slavish
work, oh, you can never know the joy of Mary unless Christ becomes
truly and really yours! But oh, when He is yours, yours within,
reigning in your heart! Yours controlling all your passions! Yours
changing your nature, subduing your corruptions, inspiring you with
hallowed emotions! When He is yours within, a joy unspeakable and full
of Glory–oh, then you can sing, you must sing–who can restrain your
tongue? If all the scoffers and mockers upon earth should bid you hold
your peace, you must sing–your spirit must rejoice in God your Savior!

We should miss much instruction if we overlooked the fact that the
choice poem before us is a hymn of faith. As yet there was no Savior
born, nor, as far as we can judge had the virgin any evidence such as
carnal sense required to make her believe that a Savior would be born
of her. How can this thing be, was a question which might very
naturally have suspended her song until it received an answer
convincing to flesh and blood. But no such answer had been given. She
knew that with God all things are possible. She had His promise
delivered by an angel and this was enough for her–on the strength of
the Word which came forth from God her heart leaped with pleasure and
her tongue glorified His name! When I consider what it is which she
believed and how unhesitatingly she received the Word, I am ready to
give her, as a woman, a place almost as high as that which Abraham
occupied as a man!

And if I dare not call her the mother of the faithful, at least let her
have due honor as one of the most excellent of the mothers in Israel.
The benediction of Elizabeth, Mary right well deserved, "Blessed is she
that believes." To her the "sub- stance of things hoped for" was her
faith and that was also her "evidence of things not seen." She knew, by
the Revelation of God, that she was to bear the promised Seed who
should bruise the serpent's head. But other proof she had none.

This day there are those among us who have little or no conscious
enjoyment of the Savior's Presence. They walk in darkness and see no
light. They are groaning over inbred sin and mourning because
corruptions prevail. Let them now trust in the Lord and remember that
if they believe on the Son of God, Christ Jesus is within them. And by
faith they may right gloriously chant the hallelujah of adoring love.
Though the sun gleam not forth today, the clouds and mists have not
quenched his light.

And though the Sun of Righteousness shines not on you at this instant,
yet He keeps His place in yonder skies and knows no variableness,
neither shadow of a turning. If with all your digging the well springs
not up, yet there abides a constant fullness in that deep which
crouches beneath in the heart and purpose of a God of Love. What, if
like David, you are much cast down, yet like he can you say unto your
soul, "Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His
countenance."

Be glad then with Mary's joy–it is the joy of a Savior completely
hers–but evidenced to be so, not by sense, but by faith. Faith has its
music as well as sense, but it is of a more Divine sort–if the food on
the table make men sing and dance, feastings of a more refined and
ethereal nature can fill Believers with a hallowed plenitude of
delight! Still listening to the favored virgin's canticle, let me
observe that her lowliness does not make her stay her song. No, it
imports a sweeter note into it–"For He has regarded the low estate of
His handmaiden."

Beloved Friend, you are feeling more intensely than ever the depth of
your natural depravity. You are humbled under a sense of your many
failings. You are so dead and earth-bound even in this House of Prayer
that you cannot rise to God. You are heavy and sad, even while our
Christmas carols have been ringing in your ears. You feel yourself to
be today so useless to the Church of God, so insignificant, so utterly
unworthy, that your unbelief whispers, "Surely, surely, you have
nothing to sing for."

Come, my Brother, come my Sister, imitate this blessed virgin of
Nazareth and turn that very lowliness and meanness which you so
painfully feel into another reason for unceasing praise! Daughters of
Zion, sweetly say in your hymns of love, "He has regarded the low
estate of His handmaiden." The less worthy I am of His favors, the more
sweetly will I sing of His Grace! What if I am the most insignificant
of all His chosen? Then will I praise Him who with eyes of love has
sought me out and set His love upon me. "I thank You, O Father, Lord of
Heaven and earth, that while You have hid these things from the wise
and prudent, You have revealed them unto babes: even so, Father, for so
it seemed good in Your sight."

I am sure, dear Friends, the remembrance that there is a Savior and
that this Savior is yours, must make you sing. And if you set side by
side with it the thought that you were once sinful, unclean, vile,
hateful and an enemy to God– then your notes will take yet a loftier
flight and mount to the third heavens to teach the golden harps the
praise of God!

It is right well worthy of notice that the greatness of the promised
blessing did not give the sweet songster an argument for suspending her
thankful strain. When I meditate upon the great goodness of God in
loving His people before the earth was, in laying down His life for us,
in pleading our cause before the Eternal Throne, in providing a
paradise of rest for us forever–the black thought has troubled
me–"Surely this is too high a privilege for such an insect of a day as
this poor creature, man."

Mary did not look at this matter unbelievingly–although she
appreciated the greatness of the favor–she did but rejoice the more
heartily on that account. "For He that is mighty has done to me great
things." Come, Soul, it is a great thing to be a child of God, and your
God does great wonders–therefore be not staggered through
unbelief–but triumph in your adoption, great mercy though it is. Oh,
it is a mighty mercy, higher than the mountains, to be chosen of God
from all eternity, but it is true that even so are His redeemed chosen
and therefore sing of it!

It is a deep and unspeakable blessing to be redeemed with the precious
blood of Christ, but you are so redeemed beyond all question. Therefore
doubt not, but shout aloud for gladness of heart! It is a rapturous
thought that you shall dwell above and wear the crown and wave the palm
branch forever. Let no mistrust interrupt the melody of your Psalm of
expectation, but–

"Loud to the praise of love Divine, Bid every string awake.'

What a fullness of the Truth of God is there in these few words–"He
that is mighty has done to me great things." It is a text from which a
glorified spirit in Heaven might preach an endless sermon!

I pray you, lay hold upon the thoughts which I have in this poor way
suggested to you and try to reach where Mary stood in holy exultation.
The Grace is great, but so is its Giver. The love is infinite, but so
is the heart from which it wells up. The blessedness is unspeakable,
but so is the Divine Wisdom which planned it from of old. Let our
hearts take up the Virgin's Magnificat and praise the Lord right
joyously at this hour.

Still further, for we have not exhausted the strain, the holiness of
God has sometimes dampened the ardor of the Believer's joy. But not so
in Mary's case. She exults in it–"And holy is His name." She weaves
even that bright attribute into her song. Holy Lord! When I forget my
Savior, the thought of Your purity makes me shudder! Standing where
Moses stood upon the holy mountain of Your law, I do exceedingly fear
and quake. To me, conscious of my guilt, no thunder could be more
dreadful than the seraph's hymn of, "Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God of
Sabaoth." What is Your holiness but a consuming fire which must utterly
destroy me–a sinner?

If the heavens are not pure in Your sight and You charged your angels
with folly, how much less, then, can You bear with vain, rebellious man
that is born of woman? How can man be pure and how can Your eyes look
upon him without consuming him quickly in Your anger? But, O Holy One
of Israel, when my spirit can stand on Calvary and see Your holiness
vindicate itself in the wounds of the Man who was born at Bethlehem,
then my spirit rejoices in that glorious holiness which was once her
terror!

Did the thrice holy God stoop down to man and take man's flesh? Then
there is hope, indeed! Did a holy God bear the sentence which His own
Law pronounced on man? Does that holy God Incarnate now spread His
wounded hands and plead for me? Then, my Soul, the holiness of God
shall be a consolation to you. Living waters from this sacred well I
draw. And I will add to all my notes of joy this one, "and holy is His
name." He has sworn by His holiness and He will not lie. He will keep
His Covenant with His Anointed and His seed forever.

When we take to ourselves the wings of eagles and mount towards Heaven
in holy praise, the prospect widens beneath us–even so as Mary poises
herself upon the poetic wings, she looks down the long aisles of the
past and beholds the mighty acts of Jehovah in the ages long back. Mark
how her strain gathers majesty. It is rather the sustained flight of
the eagle-winged Ezekiel, than the flutter of the timid dove of
Nazareth.

She sings, "His mercy is on them that fear Him from generation to
generation." She looks beyond the captivity to the days of the
kings–to Solomon, to David–along through the Judges into the
wilderness, across the Red Sea to Jacob, to Isaac, to Abraham and
onward, till, pausing at the gate of Eden, she hears the sound of the
promise, "The Seed of the woman shall bruise the serpent's head." How
magnificently she sums up the book of the wars of the Lord and
rehearses the triumphs of Jehovah, "He has showed strength with His
arm. He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts."

How delightfully is mercy intermingled with judgment in the next canto
of her Psalm–"He has put down the mighty from their seats and exalted
them of low degree. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the
rich He has sent empty away." My Brothers and Sisters, let us, too,
sing of the past, glorious in faithfulness, fearful in judgment,
teeming with wonders! Our own lives shall furnish us with a hymn of
adoration. Let us speak of the things which we have made touching the
King.

We were hungry and He filled us with good things. We crouched upon the
dunghill with the beggar and He has enthroned us among princes. We have
been tossed with tempest, but with the Eternal Pilot at the helm, we
have known no fear of shipwreck. We have been cast into the burning
fiery furnace, but the Presence of the Son of Man has quenched the
violence of the flames. Proclaim to all, O you daughters of music, the
long tale of the mercy of the Lord to His people in the generations
long departed!

Many waters could not quench His love, neither could the floods drown
it! Persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, sword–none of these have
separated the saints from the love of God which is in Christ our Lord.
The saints beneath the wings of the Most High have been ever safe! When
most molested by the enemy they have dwelt in perfect peace–"God is
their refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."

Plowing at times the blood red wave, the ship of the Church has never
swerved from her predestined path of progress. Every tempest has
favored her–the hurricane which sought her ruin has been made to bear
her the more swiftly onward. Her flag has braved, these 1800 years, the
battle and the breeze and she fears not what may yet be before her.
But, lo, she nears the haven! The day is dawning when she shall bid
farewell to storms. The waves already grow calm beneath her. The
long-promised rest is near at hand–her Jesus Himself meets
her–walking upon the waters!

She shall enter into her eternal haven and all who are on board shall,
with their Captain, sing of joy and triumph and victory through Him who
has loved her and been her Deliverer! When Mary thus tuned her heart to
glory in her God for His wonders in the past, she particularly dwelt
upon the note of election. The highest note in the scale of my praise
is reached when my soul sings, "I love Him because He first loved me."
Well does Kent put it–

"A monument of Grace, A sinner saved by blood. The streams of love I
trace, Up to the fountain, God. And in His mighty breast I see, Eternal
thoughts of love to me." We can scarcely fly higher than the source of
love in the mount of God. Mary has the doctrine of election in her
song–"He has put down the mighty from their seats and exalted them of
low degree. He has filled the hungry with good things. And the rich He
has sent empty away." Here is distinguishing Grace, discriminating
regard! Here are some suffered to perish! Here are others, the least
deserving and the most obscure, made the special objects of Divine
affection! Do not be afraid to dwell upon this high doctrine, Beloved
in the Lord. Let me assure you that when your mind is most heavy and
depressed you will find this to be a bottle of richest cordial.

Those who doubt these doctrines, or who cast them into the cold shade,
miss the richest clusters of Eshcol. They lose the wines on the lees
well refined, the fat things full of marrow. But you who by reason of
years have had your senses exercised to discern between good and
evil–you know that there is no honey like this–no sweetness
comparable to it! If the honey in Jonathan's woods when but touched,
enlightened the eyes to see, this is honey that will enlighten your
heart to love and learn the mysteries of the kingdom of God!

Eat and fear not overindulgence! Live upon this choice dainty and fear
not that you shall grow weary of it for the more you know, the more you
will want to know. The more your soul is filled, the more you will
desire to have your mind enlarged that you may comprehend more and more
the eternal, everlasting, discriminating love of God!

But one more remark upon this point. You perceive she does not finish
her song till she has reached the Covenant. When you mount as high as
election, tarry on its sister mount, the Covenant of Grace. In the last
verse of her song, she sings, "As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham
and to his seed forever." To her, that was the Covenant. To us who have
clearer light, the ancient Covenant made in the council chamber of
eternity is the subject of the greatest delight. The Covenant with
Abraham was in its best sense only a minor copy of that gracious
Covenant made with Jesus, the Everlasting Father of the faithful,
before the blue heavens were stretched abroad.

Covenant engagements are the softest pillows for an aching head.
Covenant engagements with the Surety, Christ Jesus, are the best props
for a trembling spirit!–

"His oath, His Covenant, His blood, Support me in the raging flood.
When every earthly prop gives way, This still is all my strength and
stay." If Christ did swear to bring me to Glory and if the Father swore
that He would give me to the Son to be a part of the infinite reward
for the travail of His soul, then, my Soul, till God Himself shall be
unfaithful, till Christ shall cease to be the Truth, till God's eternal
council shall become a lie and the red roll of His election shall be
consumed with fire, you are safe! Rest, then, in perfect peace, come
what will! Take your harp from the willows and never let your fingers
cease to sweep it to strains of richest harmony. O for Grace from first
to last to join the Virgin in her song!

II. Secondly, SHE SINGS SWEETLY. She praises her God right heartily.
Observe how she plunges into the midst of the subject. There is no
preface, but "My soul does magnify the Lord and my spirit has rejoiced
in God my Savior." When some people sing, they appear to be afraid of
being heard. Our poet puts it–

"With all my powers of heart and tongue I'll praise my Maker in my
song.
Angels shall hear the notes I raise,
Approve the song and join the praise."

I am afraid angels frequently do not hear those poor, feeble, dying
whispers which often drop from our lips merely by force of custom.

Mary is all heart! Evidently her soul is on fire! While she muses, the
fire burns. Then she speaks with her tongue. May we, too, call home our
wandering thoughts and wake up our slumbering powers to praise
redeeming love. It is a noble word that she uses here–"My soul does
magnify the Lord." I suppose it means, "My soul does endeavor to make
God great by praising Him." He is as great as He can be in His
Being–my goodness cannot extend to Him. But yet my soul would make God
greater in the thoughts of others and greater in my own heart.

I would give the train of His Glory a wider sweep. The light which He
has given me I would reflect. I would make His enemies His friends. I
would turn hard thoughts of God into thoughts of love. "My soul would
magnify the Lord." Old Trapp says, "My soul would make greater room for
Him." It is as if she wanted to get more of God into her, like
Rutherford, when he says, "Oh, that my heart were as big as Heaven,
that I might hold Christ in it," and then he stops himself–"But Heaven
and earth cannot contain Him. Oh, that I had a heart as big as seven
heavens, that I might hold the whole of Christ within it."

Truly this is a larger desire than we can ever hope to have gratified!
Yet still our lips shall sing, "My soul does magnify the Lord." Oh, if
I could crown Him! If I could lift Him higher! If my burning at the
stake would but add a spark more light to His Glory, happy would I be
to suffer! If my being crushed would lift Jesus an inch higher, happy
were the destruction which should add to His Glory! Such is the hearty
spirit of Mary's song!

Again, her praise is very joyful–"My spirit has rejoiced in God my
Savior." The word in the Greek is a remarkable one. I believe it is the
same word which is used in the passage, "Rejoice you in that day and
leap for joy." We used to have an old word in English which described a
certain exulting dance, "a galliard." That word is supposed to have
come from the Greek word used here. It was a sort of leaping dance. The
old commentators call it a "levalto." Mary, in effect, declares, "My
spirit shall dance like David before the ark, shall leap, shall spring,
shall hound, shall rejoice in God my Savior."

When we praise God it ought not to be with dolorous and doleful notes.
Some of my Brethren praise God always on the minor key, or in the deep,
deep bass–they cannot feel holy till they have the horrors. Why cannot
some men worship God except with a long face? I know them by their very
walk as they come to worship–what a dreary pace it is! How solemnly
proper and funereal, indeed! They do not understand David's Psalm–

"Up to her courts with joys unknown, The sacred tribes repair."

No, they come up to their Father's house as if they were going to jail
and worship God on Sunday as if it were the most doleful day in the
week!

It is said of a certain Highlander, when the Highlanders were very
pious, that he once went to Edinburgh and when he came back again he
said he had seen a dreadful sight on Sunday–he had seen people at
Edinburgh going to Church with happy faces! He thought it wicked to
look happy on Sunday–and that same notion exists in the minds of
certain good people hereabouts. They fancy that when the saints get
together they should sit down and have a little comfortable misery but
little delight.

In truth, moaning and pining is not the appointed way for worshipping
God. We should take Mary as a pattern. All the year round I recommend
her as an example to fainthearted and troubled ones. "My spirit has
rejoiced in God my Savior." Cease from rejoicing in sensual things and
with sinful pleasures have no fellowship–for all such rejoicing is
evil– but you cannot rejoice too much in the Lord! I believe that the
fault with our public worship is that we are too sober, too cold, too
formal. I do not exactly admire the ravings of our Primitive-Methodist
friends when they grow wild. But I should have no objection to hear a
hearty, "Hallelujah! "now and then.

An enthusiastic burst of exultation might warm our hearts. The shout of
"Glory!" might fire our spirits. This I know–I never feel more ready
for true worship than when I am preaching in Wales–when the throughout
whole sermon, the preacher is aided rather than interrupted by shouts
of "Glory to God!" and "Bless His name!" Why, then, one's blood begins
to glow and one's soul is stirred up! This is the true way of serving
God with joy! "Rejoice in the Lord always. And again I say, Rejoice."
"My spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior."

She sings sweetly, in the third place, because she sings confidently.
She does not pause while she sings to questions herself, "Have I any
right to sing?" but no, "My soul does magnify the Lord and my spirit
has rejoiced in God my Savior. For He has regarded the low estate of
His handmaiden." "IF" is a sad enemy to all Christian happiness–"but,"
"perhaps," "doubt," "surmise," "suspicion"–these are a race of
highwaymen who waylay poor timid pilgrims and steal their spending
money! Harps soon get out of tune and when the wind blows from the
doubting quarter, the strings snap by the wholesale.

If the angels of Heaven could have a doubt, it would turn Heaven into
Hell. "If you are the Son of God," was the dastardly weapon wielded by
the old enemy against our Lord in the wilderness. Our great foe knows
well what weapon is the most dangerous. Christian, put up the shield of
faith whenever you see that poisoned dagger about to be used against
you!

I fear that some of you foster your doubts and fears. You might as well
hatch young vipers and foster the cockatrice. You think that it is a
sign of Divine Grace to have doubts, whereas it is a sign of infirmity!
It does not prove that you have no Grace when you doubt God's promise,
but it does prove that you need more–for if you had more Grace, you
would take God's Word as He gives it and it would be said of you as of
Abraham, that, "he staggered not at the promise of God through
unbelief, being fully persuaded that what He had promised He was able
also to perform."

God help you to shake off your doubts! Oh, these are devilish things!
Is that too hard a word? I wish I could find a harder! These are
felons. These are rebels, who seek to rob Christ of His Glory. These
are traitors who cast mire upon the escutcheon of my Lord. Oh, these
are vile traitors–hang them on a gallows, high as Haman's–cast them
to the earth and let them rot like carrion, or bury them with the
burial of an ass. Abhorred of God are doubts–abhorred of men let them
be! They are cruel enemies to your souls! They injure your usefulness,
they despoil you in every way. Smite them with the sword of the Lord
and of Gideon! By faith in the promise seek to drive out these
Canaanites and possess the land. O you men of God, speak with
confidence and sing with sacred joy!

There is something more than confidence in her song. She sings with
great familiarity, "My soul does magnify the Lord and my spirit has
rejoiced in God my Savior. For He that is mighty has done to me great
things. And holy is His name." It is the song of one who draws very
near to her God in loving intimacy. I always have an idea, when I
listen to the reading of the Liturgy, that it is a slave's worship. I
do not find fault with its words or sentences, perhaps of all human
compositions the Liturgical service of the Church of England is, with
some exceptions, the noblest.

But it is only fit for slaves, or at the best for subjects. The whole
service through one feels that there is a boundary set round about the
mountain, just as at Sinai. Its Litany is the wail of a sinner and not
the happy triumph of a saint! The service genders unto bondage and has
nothing in it of the confident spirit of adoption. It views the Lord
afar off, as One to be feared rather than loved and to be dreaded
rather than delighted in. I have no doubt it suits those whose
experience leads them to put the Ten Commandments near the communion
table for they hereby evidence that their dealings with God are still
on the terms of servants and not of sons.

For my own part I want a form of worship in which I may draw near to my
God and come even to His feet, spreading my case before Him and
ordering my cause with arguments–talking with Him as a friend talks
with his friend, or a child with its father–otherwise the worship is
of little worth to me. Our Episcopalian friends, when they come here,
are naturally struck with our service as being irreverent because it is
so much more familiar and bold than theirs. Let us carefully guard
against really deserving such a criticism and then we need not fear it.
A renewed soul yearns after that very communion which the formalist
calls irreverent!

To talk with God as my Father–to deal with Him as with one whose
promises are true to me and to whom I, a sinner washed in blood and
clothed in the perfect righteousness of Christ may come with boldness,
not standing afar off–I say this is a thing which the outer-court
worshipper cannot understand. There are some of our hymns which speak
of Christ with such familiarity that the cold critic says, "I do not
like such expressions, I could not sing them." I quite agree with you,
Sir Critic, that the language would not befit you, a stranger.

But a child may say a thousand things which a servant must not. I
remember a minister altering one of our hymns–

"Let those refuse to sing Who never knew our God. But fa vorites of the
hea venly King
May speak their joys abroad."

He sung it–"But subjects of the heavenly King." Yes. And when he sang
it, I thought, "That is right. You are singing what you feel–you know
nothing of discriminating Grace and special manifestations and
therefore you keep to your native level, "subjects of the heavenly
King." But oh, my heart wants a worship in which I can feel and express
the feeling that I am a favorite of the heavenly king and therefore can
sing His special love, His manifested favor, His sweet relationships,
His mysterious union with my soul!

You never get right till you ask the question, "Lord, how is it that
You will manifest Yourself unto us and not unto the world?" There is a
secret which is revealed to us and not to the outside world–an
understanding which the sheep receive and not the goats. I appeal to
any of you who during the week are in an official position–a judge,
for instance. You have a seat on the bench and you wear no small
dignity when you are there. When you get home there is a little fellow
who has very little fear of Your Judgeship, but much love for your
person! He climbs your knee. He kisses your cheek and says a thousand
things to you which are meet and right enough as they come from
him–but which you would not tolerate in court from any living man.

The parable needs no interpretation. When I read some of the prayers of
Martin Luther they shock me, but I argue with myself thus–"It is true
I cannot talk to God in the same way as Martin, but then perhaps Martin
Luther felt and realized his adoption more than I do and therefore was
not less humble because he was more bold. It may be that he used
expressions which would be out of place in the mouth of any man who had
not known the Lord as he had."

Oh my Friends, sing this day of our Lord Jesus as One near to us! Get
close to Christ! Read His wounds! Thrust your hand into His side! Put
your finger into the print of the nails and then your song shall win a
sacred softness and melody not to be gained elsewhere. I must close by
observing that while her song was all this, yet how very humble it was
and how full of gratitude. The Papist calls her, "Mother of God," but
she never whispers such a thing in her song. No, it is "God my Savior,"
just such words as the sinner who is speaking to you might use, and
such expressions as you sinners who are hearing me can use, too.

She needs a Savior. She feels it. Her soul rejoices because there is a
Savior for her. She does not talk as though she could commend herself
to Him, but she hopes to stand accepted in the Beloved. Let us, then,
take care that our familiarity has always blended with it the lowliest
prostration of spirit when we remember that He is God over all, blessed
forever and we are nothing but dust and ashes! He fills all things and
we are less than nothing and vanity.

III. The last thing was to be SHALL SHE SING ALONE? Yes, she must, if
the only music we can bring is that of carnal delights and worldly
pleasures. There will be much music tomorrow which would not chime in
with hers. There will be much mirth tomorrow and much laughter and I am
afraid the most of it would not accord with Mary's song. It will not
be, "My soul does magnify the Lord and my spirit has rejoiced in God my
Savior."

We would not stop the play of the animal spirits in young or old. We
would not abate one jot of your relish of the mercies of God, so long
as you break not His command by wantonness, or drunkenness, or
excess–but still, when you have had the most of this bodily exercise,
it profits little–it is only the joy of the fleeting hour and not the
happiness of the spirit which abides. And therefore Mary must sing
alone, as far as you are concerned.

The joy of the table is too low for Mary. The joy of the feast and the
family grovels when compared with hers, but shall she sing alone?
Certainly not, if this day any of us by simple trust in Jesus can take
Christ to be our own! Does the Spirit of God this day lead you to say,
"I trust my soul on Jesus?" My dear Friend, then you have conceived
Christ–after the mystical and best sense of that word–Christ Jesus is
conceived in your soul! Do you understand Him as the Sin-Bearer, taking
away transgression? Can you see Him bleeding as the Substitute for men?

Do you accept Him as such? Does your faith put all her dependence upon
what He did, upon what He is, upon what He does? Then Christ is
conceived in you and you may go your way with all the joy that Mary
knew! And I was half ready to say, with something more–for the natural
conception of the Savior's holy body was not one-tenth so meet a theme
for congratulation as the spiritual conception of the holy Jesus within
your heart when He shall be in you the Hope of Glory.

My dear Friend, if Christ is yours, there is no song on earth too high
or too holy for you to sing! No, there is no song which thrills from
angelic lips, no note which thrills Archangel's tongues in which you
may not join! Even this day the holiest, the happiest, the most
glorious of words and thoughts and emotions belong to you. Use them!
God help you to enjoy them. And His be the praise, while yours is the
comfort evermore. Amen.