The Good Samaritan

DELIVERED ON LORD'S-DAY MORNING, JUNE 17, 1877,

BY C. H. SPURGEON,

AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON.

"And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted Him, saying,
Master, whiat shiall I do to inhierit eternal life? He said unto Aim,
Whiat is written in he Law? How Do you read it? And hie, answering,
said, You shiall love the Lord your God with all your hieart, and with
all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and
your neighbor as yourself And He said unto hiim, You have answered
right; do this, and you shiall live. But hie, willing to justify
himself said unto Jesus, And who is my neighbor? And Jesus, answering,
said, A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among
thieves, which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and
departed, leavinghim half dead. And by chance there came down a certain
priest that way; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.
And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came and looked on
him, and passed by on the other side. But a certain Samaritan, as he
journeyed, came where he was; and when he saw him, he had compassion on
him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine,
and sethim on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care
of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and
gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and
whatever you spend more, when I come again, I will repay you. Which now
of these three, do you think, was neighbor unto him that fell among the
thieves? And he said, he that showed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto
him, Go, and do you likewise." Luke 10:25-37.

[On behalf of the Hospitals of London.]

OUR text is the whole story of the Samaritan, but as that is very long,
let us, for our memories' sake, consider the exhortation in the 37th
verse to be our text. "Go, and do you likewise." There are certain
persons in the world who will not allow the preacher to speak upon
anything but those doctrinal statements concerning the way of salvation
which are known as "the Gospel." If the preacher shall insist upon some
virtue or practical Grace, they straightway say that he is not
preaching the Gospel, that he has become legal and is a mere moral
teacher. We do not stand in any awe of such criticism, for we clearly
perceive that our Lord Jesus Christ, Himself, would very frequently
have come under it.

Read the Sermon on the Mount and judge whether certain people would be
content to hear the likes of it preached to them on the Sabbath. They
would condemn it as containing very little Gospel and too much about
good works. Our Lord was a great practical Preacher. He frequently
delivered addresses in which He made answer to questioners, or gave
direction to seekers, or upbraided offenders–and He gave a prominence
to practical truth such as some of His ministers dare not imitate!
Jesus tells us over and over again the manner in which we are to live
towards our fellow men and He lays great stress upon the love which
should shine throughout the Christian character.

The story of the good Samaritan, which is now before us, is a case in
point, for our Lord is explaining, there, a point which arose out of
the question, "What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" The question
is legal and the answer is to the point. But let it never be forgotten
that what the Law demands of us, the Gospel produces in us. The Law
tells us what we ought to be and it is one objective of the Gospel to
raise us to that condition. Therefore our Savior's teaching, though it
is eminently practical, is always evangelical. Even in expounding the
Law He has always a Gospel design. Two ends are

served by His setting up a high standard of duty. On the one He slays
the self-righteousness which claims to have kept the Law by making men
feel the impossibility of salvation by their own works.

And, on the other hand, He calls Believers away from all content with
the mere decencies of life and the routine of outward religion and
stimulates them to seek after the highest degree of holiness–indeed,
after that excellence of character which only His Grace can give! This
morning I trust that though I keep very much to practical points, I
shall be guided by the Spirit of Holiness and shall not be guilty of
legality, nor will any of you be led into it. I shall not hold up the
love of our neighbor as a condition of salvation, but as a fruit of it.
I shall not speak of obedience to the Law as the road to Heaven, but I
shall show you the pathway which is to be followed by the faith which
works by love. Let us proceed to the parable at once.

I. Our first observation will be that THE WORLD IS FULL OF AFFLICTION.
This story is but one among a thousand based upon an unhappy
occurrence. "A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and
fell among thieves." He went upon a short journey and almost lost his
life on the road. We are never secure from trouble–it meets us around
the family hearth and causes us to suffer in our own persons or in
those of the dearest relatives. It walks into our shops and
counting-houses and tries us–and when we leave home it becomes our
fellow traveler and communes with us on the road.

"Although affliction comes not forth of the dust, neither does trouble
spring out of the ground; yet man is born unto trouble, as the sparks
fly upward." Frequently the greater afflictions are not occasioned by
the fault of the sufferer. Nobody could blame the poor Jew, that when
he was going down to Jericho about his business, the thieves beset him
and demanded his money, and that when he made some little resistance
they wounded him, stripped him and left him half dead. How could he be
blamed? It was to him a pure misfortune. Believe me, there is a great
deal of sorrow in the world which does not arise out of the vice or
folly of the persons enduring it–it comes from the hand of God upon
the sufferer, not because he is a sinner above others–but for wise
ends unknown to us.

Now, this is the kind of distress which, above all others, demands
Christian sympathy and the very kind which abounds in our hospitals.
The man is not to blame for lying there beaten and bruised–those
gaping wounds from which his life is oozing are not of his own
inflicting, nor received in a drunken brawl or through attempting a
foolhardy feat. He suffers from no fault of his own and, therefore, he
has a pressing claim upon the benevolence of his fellow men. Still,
very much distress is caused by the wickedness of others. The poor Jew
on the road to Jericho was the victim of the thieves who wounded him
and left him half dead. Man is man's worst enemy!

If man were but tamed to peace, the wildest beast in the world would be
subdued. And if evil were purged from men's hearts, the major part of
the ills of life would cease at once! The drunk's wastefulness and
brutality, the proud man's scorn, the oppressor's cruelty, the
slanderer's lie, the trickster's cheat, the heartless man's grinding of
the faces of the poor–these, all put together, are the roots of almost
all the poisonous weeds which multiply upon the face of the earth to
our shame and sorrow. If dominant sins could be taken away, as blessed
be God they shall when Christ has triumphed through the world, much of
human sorrow would be relieved.

When we see innocent persons suffering as the result of the sin of
others, our pity should be awakened. How many there are of little
children starving and pining into chronic disease through a father's
drunkenness which keeps the table bare! Wives, too, who work hard, are
brought down to pining sickness and painful disease by the laziness and
cruelty of those who should have cherished them. Laborers, too, are
often sorely oppressed in their wages and have to work themselves to
death's door to earn a pittance. Those are the people who ought to have
our sympathy when accident or disease bring them to the hospital gates,
"wounded and half dead."

The man in the parable was quite helpless. He could do nothing for
himself. There he must lie and die–those huge wounds must bleed his
very soul away unless a generous hand shall interfere. It is as much as
he can do to groan. He cannot even dress his wounds, much less arise
and seek shelter! He is bleeding to death among the pitiless rocks on
the descent to Jericho and he must leave his body to be fed upon by
hawks and crows unless some friend shall come to his help. When a man
can help himself and does not, he deserves to suffer. When a man flings
away opportunities by his idleness or self-indulgence, a measure of
suffering ought to be permitted to him as a cure for his vices.

But when persons are sick or injured and are unable to pay for the aid
of the nurse and the physician, then is the time when true-hearted
philanthropy should promptly step in and do its best. So our Savior
teaches us here. Certain paths of

life are peculiarly subject to affliction. The way which led from
Jerusalem to Jericho was always infested by robbers. Jerome tells us
that it was called the "bloody way" on account of the frequent highway
robberies and murders which were committed there. And it is not so long
ago as to be beyond the memory of man that an English traveler met his
death on that road, while even very recent travelers tell us that they
have been either threatened or actually attacked in that particularly
gloomy region–the desert which goes down to the city of palm trees.

So, also, in the world around us there are paths of life which are
highly dangerous and fearfully haunted by disease and accident. Years
ago there were many trades in which, from lack of precaution, death
slew its thousands. I thank God that sanitary and precautionary laws
are better regarded and men's lives are thought to be somewhat more
precious. Yet there are still ways of life which may each be called
"the bloody way"–pursuits which are necessary to the community, but
highly dangerous to those who follow them. Our mines, our railways and
our seas show a terrible roll of suffering and death. Long hours in
ill-ventilated workrooms are accountable for thousands of lives and so
are stinted wages, which prevent a sufficiency of food from being
procured. Many a needlewoman's way of life is truly a path of blood!

When I think of the multitudes of our working people in this city who
have to live in close, unhealthy rooms, crowded together in lanes and
courts where the air is stagnant, I do not hesitate to say that much of
the road which has to be trod by the poor of London is as much
deserving of the name of the way of blood as the road from Jerusalem to
Jericho. If they do not lose their money it is because they never have
it! If they do not fall among thieves, they fall among diseases which
practically wound them and leave them half dead.

Now, if you have not to engage in such avocations. If your pathway does
not lead you from Jerusalem to Jericho, but takes you, perhaps, full
often from Jerusalem to Bethany where you can enjoy the sweetnesses of
domestic love and the delights of Christian fellowship, you ought to be
very thankful and be all the more ready to assist those who, for your
sakes, or for the benefit of society at large, have to follow the more
dangerous roads of life. Do you not agree with me that such persons
ought to be among the first to receive our Christian kindness? Such
abound in our hospitals and elsewhere. Let that stand. It is clear that
there is a great deal of affliction in the world and much of it is of
the sort which deserves to be relieved at once!

II. Secondly, THERE ARE MANY WHO NEVER RELIEVE AFFLICTION. Our Savior
tells us of two, at least, who "passed by on the other side" and I
suppose He might have prolonged the parable so as to have mentioned two
dozen if He had chosen to do so–and even then He might have been
content to mention but one good Samaritan, for I hardly think that
there is one good Samaritan to two heartless persons. I wish there
were, but I fear the good Samaritans are very few in proportion to the
number who act the part of the priest and the Levite.

Now, notice who the persons were that refused to render aid to the man
in distress. First, they were brought to the spot by God's Providence
on purpose to do so. What better thing could the Lord, Himself, do for
the poor half-dead man than to bring some man to help him? An angel
could not well have met the case. How could an angel, never wounded,
understand binding up wounds and pouring in wine and oil? No, a man was
needed who would know what was necessary! Someone was needed who would,
with brotherly sympathy, cheer the mind while doctoring the body. In
our English version we read, "By chance there came down a certain
priest that way," but learned Greek scholars read it, "By a
coincidence."

It was in the order of Divine Providence that a priest should come
first to this afflicted person, so that he might go and examine the
case as a man of education and skill. And then when the Levite came
afterwards, he would be able to carry on what the priest started–and
if one could not carry the poor man–the two might, between them, be
able to carry him to the inn, or one might remain to guard him while
the other ran for help. God brought them to this position, but they
willfully refused the sacred duty which Providence and humanity
demanded of them! Now, you that are wealthy are sent into our city on
purpose that you may have compassion upon the sick, the wounded, the
poor and the needy. God's intent in endowing any person with more
substance than he needs is that he may have the pleasurable office, or
rather let me say, the delightful privilege, of relieving need and woe!

Alas, how many there are who consider that store which God has put into
their hands on purpose for the poor and needy to be only so much
provision for their excessive luxury–a luxury which pampers them but
yields them neither benefit nor pleasure! Others dream that wealth is
given them that they may keep it under lock and key, cankering and
corroding, breeding covetousness and care. Who dares roll a stone over
the well's mouth when thirst is raging all

around? Who dares keep the bread from the women and the children who
are ready to gnaw their own arms for hunger? Above all, who dares allow
the sufferer to writhe in agony uncared for, and the sick to pine into
their graves unnursed?

This is no small sin! It is a crime to be answered to the Judge when He
shall come to judge the quick and dead! Those people who neglected the
poor man were brought there on purpose to relieve him, even as you are,
and yet they passed by on the other side. They were both of them
people, too, who ought to have relieved him, because they were very
familiar with things which should have softened their hearts. If I
understand the passage, the priest was coming down from Jerusalem. I
have often wondered which way he was going–whether he was going up to
the Temple and was in a hurry to be in time for fear of keeping the
congregation waiting–or whether he had fulfilled his duty and had
finished his month's course at the temple and was going home.

I conclude that he was going from Jerusalem to Jericho, because it
says, "By chance there came down a certain priest that way." Now to the
metropolis it is always, "going up"–going up to London, or up to
Jerusalem–and as this priest was coming down, he was going to Jericho.
It was quite literally going down, for Jericho lies very low. I
conclude that he was going home to Jericho, after having fulfilled his
month's engagements in the Temple where he had been familiar with the
worship of the Most High. He had been, in that month, as near to God as
man could be, serving amidst sacrifices and holy Psalms and solemn
prayers! And yet he had not learned how to make a sacrifice, himself!
He had heard those prophetic words which say, "I will have mercy, and
not sacrifice," but he was entirely forgetful of such teaching! He had
often read that Law, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself," but he
regarded it not.

The Levite had not been quite so closely engaged in the sanctuary as
the priest, but he had taken his share in holy work and yet he came
away from it with a hard heart. This is a sad fact. Both men had been
near to God, but were not like He. Dear people, you may spend Sabbath
after Sabbath in the worship of God, or what you think to be so, and
you may behold Christ Jesus set forth visibly crucified among you–and
themes which ought to turn a heart of stone to flesh may pass before
your minds and, nevertheless, you may return into the world to be as
miserly as ever–and to have as little feeling towards your fellow men
as before! It ought not to be so. I beseech you suffer it not to be so
in any case again.

These two persons, moreover, were bound by their profession to have
helped this man, for though it was originally said of the high priest,
yet I think it could be said of any priest, that he was taken from
among men that he might have compassion. If anywhere there should be
compassion towards men, it should be in the heart of the priest who is
chosen to speak for God to men and for men to God. No stone should ever
be found in his bosom. He should be gentle, generous-hearted kindly,
full of sympathy and tenderness. But this priest was not so, nor was
the Levite who ought to have followed in his wake.

And oh, you Christian ministers and all of you who teach in schools, or
who undertake any service of Christian ministry–and you ought all to
do so for the Lord has made all His people to be priests unto
Him–there ought to be in you from your very profession, a readiness of
heart towards kind actions for those who need them! And there is one
thing to be mentioned, also, against this priest and Levite–they were
very well aware of the man's condition. They came close to him and saw
his state. It is a narrow track way down to Jericho and they were
obliged to go almost over his wounded body. The first comer looked at
him, but he hurried on. The second appears to have made a further
investigation, to have had sufficient curiosity, at any rate, to begin
to examine the state of the case. But his curiosity being satisfied,
his compassion was not awakened and he hurried away.

Half the neglect of the sick poor arises from not knowing that there
are such cases, but many remain willfully in ignorance and such
ignorance is no available excuse! In the case of the hospitals for
which we plead today, you know that there are persons in them at this
moment suffering–persons suffering grievously for no fault of their
own–and you know that these need your aid. As I rode, the other
evening, by that noble building on our side of the water, St. Thomas'
Hospital, I could not help meditating upon what a mass of pain and
suffering was gathered within those walls. But then I thanked God that
it was within those walls where succor would be most surely rendered to
it to the best of human ability. So you know that there is poverty and
sickness around you. And if you pass by on the other side you will have
looked at it, you will have known about it–and on your heads will be
the criminality of having left the wounded man unhelped!

Yet the pair had capital excuses! Both the priest and the Levite had
excellent reasons for neglecting the bleeding man. I never knew a man
refuse to help the poor who failed to give at least one admirable
excuse! I believe there is no man on earth, who wickedly rejects the
plea of need, who is not furnished with arguments that he is right.
They are arguments eminently satisfactory to himself and such as he
thinks should silence those who press the case. For instance, the
priest and Levite were both in a hurry. The priest had been away for a
month at Jerusalem from his wife and dear children–he naturally wanted
to get home. If he lingered, the sun might go down–it was an awkward
place to be after sundown and you could not expect him to be so
imprudent as to stay in such a with darkness coming on.

Had he not spent a very laborious month in the temple? You do not know
how exhausting he had found it to act as a priest for a whole month!
And if you did, you would not blame him for wanting to get home to
enjoy a little rest! Besides, he had promised to be home at a certain
hour and he was a man of punctuality–he would, by no means, cause
anxiety to his wife and children who would be looking from the housetop
for him. A very excellent excuse was this! But he also felt that he
really could not do much good. He did not understand surgery and could
not bind up a wound to save his life! He shrank from it–the very sight
of blood turned his stomach! He could not bring himself to go near a
person who was so frightfully mangled.

If he did try to bind up a wound, he is sure he would make a muddle of
it. If his wife had been with him, she could have done it, or if he had
brought some plaster, liniment, or strapping, he would have tried his
best–but as it was, he could do nothing. The poor man, moreover, was
evidently half dead and would be quite dead in an hour or two and,
therefore, it was a pity to waste time on a hopeless case. Then the
priest was only one person and could not be expected to carry a
bleeding man–and yet it would be idle to begin with the case and leave
him there all night. True, He could almost hear the sound of the
Levite's feet–indeed, he hoped he was coming up behind, for he felt
very nervous at being alone with such a case. But then that was all the
more reason for leaving the matter, since the Levite would be sure to
attend to it.

Better still was the following line of excuse–you would not have a
person stop in a place where another man had been half killed by
thieves! The thieves might be back again–they were scarcely out of
hearing, even then–and a priest, after a month's service, ought to
have some fees in his purse! And it was important not to run the risk
of losing the support of his family by stopping in a place which was
evidently swarming with highwaymen. He might be wounded, too, and then
there would be two people half dead and one of them a valuable
clergyman! Really, philanthropy would suggest that you take care of
yourself, as you could not possibly do any good to this poor man.

And then the man might die and the person found near the body might be
charged with the murder. It is always awkward to be found alone in a
dark spot with the corpse of one who has evidently suffered from foul
play. The priest might be taken up upon suspicion–did not all the
principles of prudence suggest that the very best thing that he could
do was to get out of the way as quickly as possible? Moreover, he could
pray for the man, you know, and he was glad to find that he had a tract
with him which he would leave near him–and what with the tract and the
prayer, what more could a good man be expected to do?

With this pious reflection he hastened on his way. It is just possible,
also, that he did not wish to be defiled. A priest was too holy a
person to meddle with wounds and bruises. Who would propose such a
thing? He had come from Jerusalem in all the odor of sanctity! He felt
himself to be as holy as he could conveniently be and, therefore, he
would not expose such rare excellence to worldly influences by touching
a sinner. All these powerful reasons put together made him content to
avoid trouble and leave the doing of kindness to others.

Now, this morning, I shall leave you to make all the excuses you like
about not helping the poor and aiding the hospitals. And when you have
made them, they will be as good as those which I have set before you.
You have smiled over what the priest might have said, but if you make
any excuses for yourselves whenever real need comes before you and you
are able to relieve it, you need not smile over your excuses–the devil
will do that–you had better cry over them, for there is the gravest
reason for lamenting that your heart is hard toward your fellow
creatures when they are sick and, perhaps, even sick unto death.

III. In the third place THE SAMARITAN IS A MODEL FOR THOSE WHO HELP THE
AFFLICTED. He is a

model, first, if we notice who the person was that he helped. The
parable does not say so, but it implies that the wounded man was a Jew,
and, therefore, the Samaritan was not of the same faith and order. The
Apostle says, "As we have

opportunity, let us do good unto all men, especially unto them who are
of the household of faith." This man was not of the household of faith,
as far as the Samaritan's judgment went, but he was one of the "all
men." The Jew and he were as much apart in religious sympathy as they
well could be.

Yes, but he was a man–whether he was a Jew or not, he was a man–a
wounded, bleeding, dying man. And the Samaritan was another man and so
one man felt for another man and came to his aid. Do not ask whether a
sick man believes in the 39 Articles, or the Westminster Assembly's
Catechism. Let us hope that he is sound in the faith, but if he is not,
his bleeding needs stopping just as much as if he held a perfect creed.
You need not enquire whether he is a sound Calvinist, for an Arminian
smarts when he is wounded, too! A Churchman feels as much pain as a
Dissenter when his leg is broken and an infidel needs nursing when he
is crushed in an accident. It is as bad for a man to die with a
heterodox creed as with the orthodox faith. Indeed, in some respects it
is far worse and, therefore, we should be doubly anxious for his cure.

We are to relieve real distress irrespective of creed, as the Samaritan
did. Moreover, the Jews were great haters of the Samaritans and, no
doubt, this Samaritan might have thought, "If I were in that man's
case, he would not help me. He would pass me by and say, 'It is a
Samaritan dog, let him be accursed.'" The Jews were accustomed to curse
the Samaritans, but it did not occur to the good man to remember what
the Jew would have said. He saw him bleeding and he bound up his
wounds. Our Savior has not given us, for a golden rule, "Do you to
others as others would do to you," but "as you would they should do to
you." The Samaritan went by that rule and though he knew of the enmity
in the Jewish mind, he felt that he must heap coals of fire upon the
wounded man by loving help–therefore he went straight away to his
relief.

Perhaps at another time the Jew would have put off the Samaritan and
refused even to be touched by him, but the tender-hearted sympathizer
does not think of that. The poor man is too sick to hold any crotchets
or prejudices and when the Samaritan bends over him and pours in the
oil and wine, he wins a grateful glance from the son of Abraham. That
poor wounded man was one who could not repay him. He had been stripped
of all that he had, even his garments were taken from him. But charity
does not look for payment, otherwise it were not charity! The man was a
total stranger, too. The Samaritan had never seen him before. What did
that matter? He was a man and all men are kin. "God has made of one
blood all nations that dwell upon the face of the earth."

The Samaritan felt that touch of Nature which makes all men kin and he
bent over the stranger and relieved his pains. He might have said, "Why
should I help? He has been rejected by his own people–the priest and
the Levite have left him–his first claim is upon his own countrymen."
So have I known some say, "These persons have no claim! They ought to
go to their own people." Well, suppose they have gone and failed? Now
comes your turn! And what the Jew would not do for the Jew, let the
Samaritan do and he shall be blessed in the deed. He had been neglected
by the officials and neglected by the saints–the best, or those who
ought to be the best, the priest and the Levite–had deserted him and
left him to die. The Samaritan is neither saint nor official, but yet
he steps in to do the deed! Oh, Christian Brothers and Sisters, take
care that you are not put to shame by this Samaritan!

He is a model to us, next, in the spirit in which he did his work. He
did it without asking questions. The man was in need. He was sure of
that and he helped him at once. He did so without hesitation and made
no compact nor agreement with him, but at once proceeding to pour in
the oil and wine. He did it without attempting to shift the labor from
himself to others. Charity, nowadays, means that A asks B to help him
and B, in his wonderful charity, does him the great favor of sending
him on to C. That is to say, the common run of benevolent persons,
nowadays, put their hands but seldom into their own purses, but send
people on to a few individuals who find cash for all. It seems to me to
be a very mean way of getting rid of a case by saving your own pocket
and passing the applicant on to another who is no better off than
yourself, but far more generous.

The Samaritan was personally benevolent and therein he is a mirror and
model to us all. He did it without any selfish fear. The thieves might
have been upon him, but he cared nothing for thieves when a life was in
danger. Here is a man in need and the man must be relieved–thieves or
no thieves–and so he does it. He does it with self-denial, for he
finds oil and wine and money at the inn–and everything, though he was
by no means a rich man, for he gave two pence–a larger sum than it
looks, but still a small sum. He did not fling his alms about because
he was rich. He is not said to have

given a handful of pence, but two, for he had to count his pence as he
expended them. It was a poor Samaritan who did this rich and noble act!

The poorest can help the poor–even those who feel distress,
themselves, may manifest a generous Christian spirit and give their
services. Let them do so as they have opportunity. This man helped his
poor neighbor with great tenderness and care. He was like a mother to
him. Everything was done with loving thought and with whatever skill he
possessed. He did the best he could. Brothers and Sisters, let what we
do for others always be done in the noblest style! Let us not treat the
poor like dogs to whom we fling a bone, nor visit the sick like
superior beings who feel that they are stooping down to inferiors when
they enter their rooms. But in the sweet tenderness of real love,
learned at Jesus' feet, let us imitate this good Samaritan!

And what did he do? Well, first, he came to where the sufferer was and
put himself into his position. Then he put forth all his skill for him
and bound up his wounds, no doubt tearing his own garments to get the
bands with which to bind up the wounds. He poured in oil and wine, the
best healing mixture that he knew of, and one which he happened to have
with him. He then set the sick man on his mule and, of course, he had
to walk, but this he did right cheerfully, supporting his poor patient
as the mule proceeded. He took him to an inn, but he did not leave him
there and say, "Someone else will take care of him now." No, he went to
the manager of the establishment, gave him money and said, "Take care
of him."

I admire that little sentence, because it is first written, "He took
care of him," and next he said, "Take care of him." What you do,
yourself, you may exhort other people to do. He said, "I leave this
poor man with you, pray do not neglect him. There are a great many
people in the inn, but take care of him." "Is he a brother of yours?"
"No, I never saw him before." "Well, are you at all under obligation to
him?" "No!–Yes, yes, I feel under obligation to everybody that is a
man. If he needs help, I am obliged to help him." "Is that all?" "Yes,
but do take care of him. I feel a great interest in him." The Samaritan
did not cease till he had gone through with his kindness. He said,
"This money may not be sufficient, for it may be a long time before he
is able to move. That leg may not soon heal. That broken rib may need
long rest. Do not hurry him away. Let him stay here and if he incurs
additional expense, I will be sure to pay it when I come back from
Jerusalem."

There is nothing like the charity which endures even to the end! I wish
I had time to enlarge on all these things, but I cannot do so. Exhibit
them in your lives and you will best know what they mean. Go and do
likewise, each one of you, and thus reproduce the good Samaritan.

IV. But now, fourthly, WE HAVE A HIGHER MODEL than even the
Samaritan–our Lord Jesus Christ. I do not think that our Divine Lord
intended to teach anything about Himself in this parable, except so far
as He is the great Exemplar of all goodness. He was answering the
question, "Who is my neighbor?" and He was not preaching about Himself
at all. There has been a great deal of straining of this parable to
bring the Lord Jesus and everything about Him into it, but this I dare
not imitate. Yet by analogy we may illustrate our Lord's goodness by
it.

This is a picture of a generous-hearted man who cares for the needy.
But the most generous-hearted man that ever lived was the Man of
Nazareth and none ever cared for sick and suffering souls as He has
done. Therefore, if we praise the good Samaritan, we should much more
extol the blessed Savior whom His enemies called a Samaritan and who
never denied the charge, for what cared He if all the prejudice and
scorn of men should vent itself on Him? Now, Brothers and Sisters, our
Lord Jesus Christ has done better than the good Samaritan because our
case was worse. As I have already said, the wounded man could not blame
himself for his sad estate–it was his misfortune, not his fault.

But you and I are not only half dead, but altogether dead in trespasses
and sins! And we have brought many of our ills upon ourselves. The
thieves that have stripped us are our own iniquities! The wounds which
we bear have been inflicted by our own suicidal hands! We are not in
opposition to Jesus Christ as the poor Jew was to the Samaritan from
the mere force of prejudice, but we have been opposed to the blessed
Redeemer by nature–we have, from the first, turned away from Him.
Alas, we have resisted and rejected Him! The poor man did not ignore
his Samaritan friend, but we have done so to our Lord.

How many times have we refused Almighty Love! How often, by unbelief,
have we pulled open the wounds which Christ has bound up! We have
rejected the oil and wine which in the Gospel He presents to us. We
have spoken evil of Him to His face and have lived, even for years, in
utter rejection of Him! And yet in His infinite love He has not given
us

up, but He has brought some of us into His Church where we rest as in
an inn, feeding on what His bounty has provided! It was wondrous love
which moved the Savior's heart when He found us in all our misery and
bent over us to lift us out of it though He knew that we were His
enemies!

The Samaritan was akin to the Jew because he was a man, but our Lord
Jesus was not originally akin to us by nature. He is God, infinitely
above us, and if He were "found in fashion as a man" it was because He
chose to be so. If He journeyed this way, via Bethlehem's manger, down
to the place of our sin and misery, it was because His infinite
compassion brought Him here. The Samaritan came to the wounded one
because, in the course of business, he was led there and, being there,
he helped the man. But Jesus came to earth on no business but that of
saving us and He was found in our flesh that He might have sympathy
with us. In the very existence of the Man, Christ Jesus, you see
manifested the noblest form of pity!

And being here, where we had fallen among robbers, He did not merely
run risks of being attacked by thieves Himself, but He was attacked by
them–He was wounded, He was stripped–and He was not half dead, but
altogether dead, for He was laid in the grave! He was slain for our
sakes, for it was not possible for Him to deliver us from the mischief
which the thieves of sin had worked upon us except by suffering that
mischief in His own Person–and He suffered it that He might deliver
us. What the Samaritan gave to the poor man was generous, but it is not
comparable to what the Lord Jesus has given to us! He gave him wine and
oil, but Jesus has given His heart's blood to heal our wounds! "He
loved us and gave Himself for us."

The Samaritan lent himself with all his care and thoughtfulness, but
Christ gave Himself even to the death for us. The Samaritan gave two
pence, a large amount out of his slender store–and I do not depreciate
the gift–but, "He that was rich for our sakes became poor that we,
through His poverty might be rich." Oh, the marvelous gifts which
Christ has bestowed upon us! Who is he that can reckon them! Heaven is
among those blessings, but His own self is the chief gift! The
Samaritan's compassion did but show itself for a short time. If he had
to walk by the side of his mule it would not be for many miles. But
Christ walked by the side of us, dismounted from His Glory, all through
His life! The Samaritan did not stop long at the inn, for he had his
business to attend to and he very rightly went about it.

But our Lord remained with us for a lifetime, even till He rose to
Heaven–yes, He is with us even now–always blessing the sons of men.
When the Samaritan went away, he said, "Whatever you spend more I will
repay you." Jesus has gone up to Heaven and He has left behind Him
blessed promises of something to be done when He shall come again. He
never forgets us! The good Samaritan, I dare say, thought very little
of the Jew in later years. Indeed, it is the mark of a generous spirit
not to think much of what it has done. He went back to Samaria and
minded his business and never told anybody, "I helped a poor Jew on the
road." Not he.

But of necessity our Lord Jesus acts differently, for because we have a
constant need, He continues to care for us and His deed of love is
being done, and done, and done again upon multitudes of cases–and will
always be repeated so long as there are men to be saved, a Hell from
which to escape and a Heaven to win! I have thus set before you the
highest example and I shall conclude when I have said two things. Judge
yourselves, all of you, my Hearers, if you are hoping for salvation by
your own works.

Look to what you must be throughout an entire life if your works are to
save you. You must love God with all your heart and soul and strength,
and your neighbor, in this Samaritan's fashion, even as yourself. And
both of these without a single failure! Have you done this? Can you
hope to do it perfectly? If not, why do you risk your souls in this
frail skiff–this leaky, sinking craft of your poor works–for you will
never get to Heaven in it. Lastly, you who are Christ's people are
saved, already, and you are not going to do these things in order to
save yourselves. The greater Samaritan has saved you–Jesus has
redeemed you, brought you into His Church, put you under the care of
His ministers, bid us take care of you–and promised to reward us if we
do so in the day when He comes.

Seek, then, to be true followers of your Lord by practical deeds of
kindness and if you have been backward in your gifts to help either the
temporal or the spiritual needs of men, begin, from this morning, with
generous hearts, and God will bless you. O Divine Spirit, help us all
to be like Jesus! Amen.
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