The Meek and Lowly One

The Meek and Lowly One

A Sermon

(No. 265)

Delivered on Sabbath Morning, July 31st, 1859, by the

REV. C.H. SPURGEON

at the Music Hall, Royal Surrey Gardens.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and
lowly in heart; and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is
easy, and my burden is light."–Matthew 11:28-30.

THE single sentence which I have selected for my text consists of these
words:–"I am meek and lowly in heart." These words might be taken to
have three distinct bearings upon the context. They may be regarded as
being the lesson to be taught: "Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in
heart." One great lesson of the gospel is to teach us to be meek–to
put away our high and angry spirits, and to make us lowly in heart.
Peradventure, this is the meaning of the passage– that it we will but
come to Christ's school, he will teach us the hardest of all
lessons,–how to be meek and lowly in heart. Again; other expositors
might consider this sentence to signify, that is the only Spirit in
which a man can learn of Jesus,– the Spirit which is necessary if we
would become Christ's scholars. We can learn nothing, even of Christ
himself, while we hold our heads up with pride, or exalt ourselves with
self-confidence. We must be meek and lowly in heart, otherwise we are
totally unfit to be taught by Christ. Empty vessels may be filled; but
vessels that are full already can receive no more. The man who knows
his own emptiness can receive abundance of knowledge, and wisdom, and
grace, from Christ; but he who glories in himself is not in a fit
condition to receive anything from God. I have no doubt that both of
these interpretations are true, and might be borne out by the
connection. It is the lesson of Christ's school–it is the spirit of
Christ's disciples. But I choose, rather, this morning, to regard these
words as being a commendation of the Teacher himself. "Come unto me and
learn; for I am meek and lowly in heart." As much as to say, "I can
teach, and you will not find it hard to learn of me." In fact, the
subject of this morning's discourse is briefly this: the gentle, lovely
character of Christ should be a high and powerful inducement to sinners
to come to Christ. I intend so to use it: first of all, noticing the
two qualities which Christ here claims for himself. He is "meek;" and
then he is "lowly in heart;" and after we have observed these two
things, I shall come to push the conclusion home. Come unto him, all ye
that are labouring and are heavy laden; come unto him, and take his
yoke upon you; for he is meek and lowly in heart.

I. First, then, I am to consider THE FIRST QUALITY WHICH JESUS CHRIST
CLAIMS. He declares that he is "MEEK."

Christ is no egotist; he takes no praise to himself. If ever he utters
a word in self-commendation, it is not with that object; it is with
another design, namely that he may entice souls to come to him. Here,
in order to exhibit this meekness, I shall have to speak of him in
several ways.

1. First, Christ is meek, as opposed to the ferocity of spirit
manifested by zealots and bigots. Take, for a prominent example of the
opposite of meekness, the false prophet Mahomet. The strength of his
cause lies in the fact, that he is not meek. He presents himself before
those whom he claims as disciples, and says, "Take my yoke upon you,
and learn of me, for I am neither meek, nor lowly in heart; I will have
no patience with you; there is my creed, or there is the scimitar–
death or conversion, whichever you please." The moment the Ma- hometan
religion withdrew that very forcible argument of decapitation or
impalement, it stayed in its work of conversion, and never progressed;
for the very strength of the false prophet lays in the absence of any
meekness. How opposite this is to Christ! Although he hath a right to
demand man's love and man's faith, yet he comes not into the world to
demand it with fire and sword. His might is under persuasion; his
strength is quiet forbearance, and patient endurance; his mightiest
force is the sweet attraction of compassion and love. He knoweth
nothing of the ferocious hosts of Mahomet; he bids none of us draw our
sword to propagate the faith, but saith, "Put up thy sword into its
scabbard; they that take the sword shall perish by the sword." "My
kingdom is not of this world, else might my servants fight." Nay,
Mahomet is not the only instance we can bring; but even good men are
subject to the like mistakes. They imagine that religion is to be
spread by terror and thunder. Look at John himself, the most lovely of
all the disciples: he would call fire from heaven on a village of
Samaritans, because they rejected Christ. Hark to his hot
enquiry,–"Wilt thou that we command fire to come down from heaven and
consume them?" Christ's disciples were to him something like the sons
of Zeruiah to David; or when Shimei mocked David, the sons of Zeruiah
said, "Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king? let me go over,
I pray thee, and take off his head." But David meekly said, "What have
I to do with you, ye sons of Zeruiah? "–and put them aside. He had
something of the spirit of his Master; he knew that his honour was not
then to be defended by sword or spear. O blessed Jesus! thou hast no
fury in thy spirit; when men rejected thee thou didst not draw the
sword to smite, but, on the contrary, thou didst yield thine eyes to
weeping. Behold your Saviour, disciples, and see whether he was not
meek. He had long preached in Jerusalem without effect, and at last he
knew that they were ready to put him to death; but what saith he, as,
standing on the top of the hill, he beheld the city that had rejected
his gospel? Did he invoke a curse upon it? Did he suffer one word of
anger to leap from his burning heart? Ah! no; there were flames, but
they were those of love; there were scalding drops, but they were those
of grief. He beheld the city, and wept over it, and said, "O Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a
hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." And for
a further proof of the absence of all uncharitableness, observe that,
even when they drove the nails into his blessed hands, yet he had no
curse to breathe upon them, but his dying exclamation was, "Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do." O sinners! see what a
Christ it is that we bid you serve. No angry bigot, no fierce warrior,
claiming your unwilling faith: he is a tender Jesus. Your rejection of
him has made his bowels yearn over you; and though you abhor his
gospel, he has pleaded for you, saying, "Let him alone yet another
year, till I dig about him; peradventure he may yet bring forth fruit."
What a patient master is he! Oh! will you not serve him!

2. But the idea is not brought out fully, unless we take another sense.
There is a sternness which cannot be condemned. A Christian man will
often feel him self called to bear most solemn and stern witness
against the error of his times, But Christ's mission, although it
certainly did testify against the sin of his times, yet had a far
greater reference to the salvation of the souls of men. To show the
idea that I have in my own mind, which I have not yet brought out, I
must picture Elijah. What a man was he! His mission was to be the bold
unflinching advocate of the right, and to bear a constant testimony
against the wickedness of his age. And how boldly did he speak! Look at
him: how grand the picture! Can you not conceive him on that memorable
day, when he met Ahab, and Ahab said, "Hast thou found me, O mine
enemy?" Do you mark that mighty answer which Elijah gave him, while the
king trembles at his words. Or, better still, can you picture the scene
when Elijah said, "Take you two bullocks, ye priests, and build an
altar, and see this day, whether God be God or Baal be God." Do you see
him as he mocks the worshippers of Baal, and with a biting irony says
to them, "Cry aloud, for he is a god." And do you see him in the last
grand scene, when the fire has come down from heaven, and consumed the
sacrifice, and licked up the water, and burned the altar? Do you hear
him cry, "Take the prophets of Baal; let not one escape?" Can you see
him in his might hewing them in pieces by the brook, and making their
flesh a feast for the fowls of heaven? Now, you cannot picture Christ
in the same position He had the stern qualities of Elijah, but he kept
them, as it were, behind, hike sleeping thunder, that must not as yet
waken and lift up its voice. There were some rumblings of time tempest,
it is true, when he spoke so sternly to the Sadducees, and Scribes, and
Pharisees; those woes were like murmurings of a distant storm, but it
was a distant storm; whereas, Elijah lived in the midst of the
whirlwind itself, and was no still small voice, but was as the very
fire of God, and hike the chariot in which he mounted to heaven– fit
chariot for such a fiery man! Christ here stands in marked contrast.
Picture him in somewhat a like position to Elijah with Ahab. There is
Jesus left alone with an adulterus woman. She has been taken in the
very fact. Her accusers are present, ready to bear witness against her.
By a simple sentence he emptied the room of every witness; convicted by
their conscience they all retire. And now what does Christ say? The
woman might have lifted her eyes, and have looked at him, and said,
"Hast thou found me O mine enemy? "–for she might have regarded Christ
as the enemy of so base a sin as that which she had committed against
her marriage bed. But instead thereof Jesus said, "Doth no man condemn
thee? Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more." Oh, how different
from the sternness or Elijah! Sinners! if I had to preach Elijah as
your Saviour I should feel that I had a hard task, for you might throw
it in my teeth–"Shall we come to Elijah? He will call fire from heaven
on us, as he did upon the captains and their fifties. Shall we come to
Elijah? Surely he will slay us, for we have been like the prophets of
Baal?" Nay, sinners; but I bid you come to Christ. Come to him, who,
although he hated sin more than Elijah could do, yet nevertheless,
loved the sinner–who, though he would not share iniquity, yet spares
the transgressors, and has no words but those of love and mercy, and
peace and comfort, for those of you who will now come and put your
trust in him.

I must put in a word here by way of caveat. I am very far from
imputing, for a single moment, any blame to Elijah. He was quite right.
None but Elijah could have fulfilled the mission which his Master gave
him. He needed to be all he was, and certainly not less stern; but
Elijah was not sent to be a Saviour; he was quite unfit for that. He
was sent to administer a stern rebuke. He was God's iron tongue of
threatening, not God's silver tongue of mercy. Now, Jesus is the silver
tongue of grace. Sinners! hear the sweet bells ringing, as Jesus now
invites you to come unto him. "Come unto me, all ye that are weary and
heavy laden;' for I am not stern, I am not harsh, I am no fire- killing
Elijah; I am the meek, tender, lowly-hearted Jesus."

3. Christ is meek in heart. To exhibit this quality in another light,
call to your minds Moses. Moses was the meekest of men; and yet Christ
far excels Moses in his meekness. Around Moses there seems to be a
hedge, a ring of fire. The character of Moses is like Mount Sinai; it
hath bounds set about it, so that one cannot draw near unto him. Moses
was not an approachable person, he was quiet and meek, and tender, but
there was a sacred majesty about the King in Jeshurun that hedged his
path, so that we cannot imagine the people making themselves familiar
with him. Whoever read of Moses sitting down upon a well, and talking
to a harlot like the woman of Samaria? Whoever heard a story of a
Magdalene washing the feet of Moses? Can ye conceive Moses eating bread
with a sinner, or passing under a sycamore tree, and calling Zaccheus,
the thievish publican, and bidding him come down? There is a kind of
stately majesty in Moses, no mere affectation of standing alone, but a
loneliness of superior worth. Men looked up to him as to some
cloud-capped mountain, and despaired of being able to enter into the
lofty circle, within which they might have communed with him. Moses
always had in spirit what he once had in visible token; he had a glory
about his brow, and before he could converse with men he must wear a
veil, for they could not bear to look upon the face of Moses. But how
different is Jesus! He is a man among men; wherever he goes no one is
afraid to speak to him. You scarcely meet with any one who dares not
approach him. There is a poor woman, it is true, who hath the flux, and
she fears to come near him, because she is ceremonially unclean; but
even she can come behind him in the press, and touch the hem of his
garment, and virtue goeth Out of him. Nobody was afraid of Jesus. The
mothers brought their little babes to him: whoever heard of their doing
that to Moses? Did ever babe get a blessing of Moses? But Jesus was all
meekness–the approachable man, feasting with the wedding guests,
sitting down with sinners, conversing with the unholy and the unclean,
touching the leper, and making himself at home with all men. Sinners!
this is the one we invite you to–this homely man, Christ. Not to
Moses, for you might say, "He hath horns of light, and how shall I draw
near to his majesty ! He is bright perfection–the very lightnings of
Sinai rest upon his brow." But sinners, ye cannot say that of Christ.
He is as holy as Moses–as great, and far greater, but he is still so
homely that ye may come to him. Little children, ye may put your trust
in him. Ye may say your little prayer,

"Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,

Look on me, a little Child;

Pity my simplicity,

Suffer me to come to thee."

He will not cast you away, or think you have intruded on him. Ye
harlots, ye drunkards, ye feasters, ye wedding guests, ye may all come;
"This man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them." He is "meek and
lowly in heart." That gives, I think, a still fuller and broader sense
to the term, "meek."

4. But yet, to push the term a little further. Christ on earth was a
king; but there as nothing about him of the exclusive pomp of kings,
which excludes the common people from their society. Look at the
Eastern king Ahasuerus, sitting on his throne. He is considered by his
people as a superior being. None may come in unto the king, unless he
is called for. Should he venture to pass the circle, the guards will
slay him, unless the king stretches out the golden sceptre. Even
Esther, his beloved wife, is afraid to draw near, and must put her life
in her hand, if she comes into the presence of the king uncalled.
Christ is a king; but where his pomp? Where the Janitor that keeps his
door, and thrusts away the poor? Where the soldiers that ride on either
side of his chariot to screen the monarch from the gaze of poverty? See
thy King, O Sion! He comes, he comes in royal pomp! Behold, Judah,
behold thy King cometh! But how cometh he? "Meek and lowly, riding upon
an ass, and upon a colt, the foal of an ass." And who are his
attendants? See, the young children, boys and girls! They cry,
"Hosannah! Hosannah! Hosannah!" And who are they that wait upon him?
His poor disciples. They pull the branches from the trees; they cast
their garments in the street, and there he rideth on– Judah's royal
King. His courtiers are the poor; his pomp is that tribute which
grateful hearts delight to offer. O sinners, will you not come to
Christ? There is nothing in him to keep you back. You need not say,
like Esther did of old," I will go in unto the king, if I perish I
perish. Come, and welcome! Come, and welcome! Christ is more ready to
receive you than you are to come to him. Come to the King! "What is thy
petition, and what is thy request? It shall be done unto thee." If thou
stayest away, it is not because he shuts the door, it is because thou
wilt not come. Come, filthy, naked, ragged, poor, lost, ruined, come,
just as thou art. Here he stands, like a fountain freely opened for all
comers. "Whosoever will, let him come and take of the waters of life
freely."

5. I will give you but one more picture to set forth the meekness of
Christ, and I think I shall not have completed the story without it.
The absence of all selfishness from the character of Christ, makes one
ingredient of this precious quality of his meekness. You remember the
history of Jonah. Jonah is sent to prophecy against Nineveh; but he is
selfish. He will not go for he shall get no honour by it. He does not
want to go so long a journey for so small a price. He will not go. He
will take a ship and go to Tarshish. He is thrown out into the sea,
swallowed by a fish, and vomited by it upon dry land. He goes away to
Nineveh, and not wanting courage, he goes through its streets, crying,
"Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown." That one man's
earnest cry moves the city from one end to the other. The king
proclaims a first; the people mourn in sackcloth and confess their
sins. God sends them tidings of mercy, and they are spared. But what
will Jonah do? Oh, tell it not, ye heavens; let none hear it–that ever
a prophet of God could do the like! He sits himself down, and he is
angry with God. And why his anger? Because, says he, "God has not
destroyed that city." If God had destroyed the city he would have
shouted over the ruins, because his reputation would have been safe;
but now that the city is saved, and his own reputation for a prophet
tarnished, he must needs sit down in anger. But Christ is the very
reverse of this. Sinners! Christ does thunder at you sometimes, but it
is always that he may bring you to repentance. He does take Jonah's
cry, and utter it far more mightily than Jonah could; he does warn you
that there is a fire that never can be quenched, and a worm that dieth
not; but if you turn to him, will he sit down and be angry? Oh! no;
methinks I see him. There you come poor prodigals; your father falls
upon your neck and kisses you, and you are accepted, and a feast is
made. Here comes the elder brother, Jesus. What does he say? Is he
angry because you are saved? Ah! no! "My Father," saith he, "my younger
brother have all come home, and I love them; they shall share my
honours; they shall sit upon my throne; they shall share my heaven."
"Where I am, there they shall be also." I will take them into union
with myself, and as they have wasted their inheritance, all that I have
shall be their's for ever. Oh! come home, prodigal, there is no angry
brother and no angry father. Come back, come back, my brother, my
wandering brother, I invite thee; for Jesus is rejoiced to receive
thee. Do you not see, then, that the meekness of Christ is a sweet and
blessed reason why we should come to him?

II. The second virtue which Christ claims for himself, is LOWLINESS OF
HEART.

When I looked this passage out in the original, I half wondered how it
was that Christ found such a sweet word for the expression of his
meaning; for the Greeks, do not know much about humility, and they have
not a very good word to set forth this idea of lowliness of heart. I
find that if this passage stood in another connection, the word might
even be interpreted "degraded, debased," for the Greeks thought that if
a man was humble, he degraded himself–that if he stooped, he debased
himself right out. "Well," says Christ, "if you think so, so be it, and
he takes the word. The word means, "near the ground." So is Christ's
heart. We cannot be so low that he will not stoop to reach us. I would
just set out the lowliness of Christ's heart in this way. Christ is
"lowly in heart;" that is, he is willing to receive the poorest sinner
in the world. The pharisee thought that the keeper of the gate of
heaven would admit only the rich, and not the poor. Mark Christ's
teaching. There were two came to the gate once upon a time; one was
clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day; he
knocked, and thought that full sure he must enter; but "in hell he lift
up his eyes being in torments." There came another, borne on angel's
wings. It was a beggar, whose many sores the dogs had licked and he had
not so much as to knock at the gate, for the angel's carried him
straight away into the very centre of paradise, and laid him in
Abraham's bosom. Jesus Christ is willing to receive beggars into his
bosom. Kings, you know, condescend, when they permit even the rich to
be presented to them, and the kissing of a monarch's hand is something
very wonderful indeed, but to have the kisses of his lips who is the
King of kings, is no uncommon thing for men that are shivering in rags,
or that are sick upon miserable beds, in dingy attics. Christ is "lowly
in heart;" he goes with what men call the vulgar herd; he hath nothing
of affected royalty about him–he hath a nobler royalty than that, the
royalty that is too proud to think anything of a stoop, that can only
measure itself by its own intrinsic excellence, and not by its official
standing. He receiveth the lowest, the meanest, the vilest, for he is
"lowly in heart." If I have among my congregation some of the poorest
of the poor, let them come away to Christ, and let them not imagine
that their poverty need keep them back. I am always delighted when I
see a number of women here from the neighbouring workhouse. I bless God
that there are some in the workhouse that are willing to come; and
though they have sometimes been put to a little inconvenience by so
doing, yet I have known them sooner give up their dinner than give up
coming to hear the Word. God bless the workhouse women, and may they be
led to Christ, for be is meek and lowly in heart, and will not reject
them. I must confess also, I like to see a smock frock here and there
in the midst of the congregation. Oh! what a mercy, that in the palace
of the Great King there shall be found these workmen, these blouses,
They shall be made partakers of the kingdom of God. He makes no
difference between prince and pauper; he takes men to heaven just as
readily from the workhouse, as from the palace.

Further, this lowliness of heart in Christ leads him to receive the
most ignorant as well as the learned to himself. I know that sometimes
poor ignorant people get a notion in their heads that they cannot be
saved, because they cannot read and do not know much. I have sometimes,
especially in country villages, received this answer, when I have been
asking anything about personal religion. "Well, you know, sir, I never
had any learning." Oh! but, ye unlearned, is this a reason why ye
should stay away from him who is lowly in heart? It was said of an old
Greek philosopher, that he wrote over his door, "None but the learned
may enter here." But Christ, on the contrary, writes over his door, "He
that is simple let him turn in hither." There are many great men with
long handles to their names who know little of the gospel, while some
of the poor unlettered ones spell out the whole secret, and become
perfect masters in divinity. If they had degrees who deserve them,
diplomas should often be transferred, and given to those who hold the
plough handle or work at the carpenter's bench; for there is often more
divinity in the little finger of a ploughman than there is in the whole
body of some of our modern divines. "Don't they understand divinity?"
you say. Yes, in the letter of it; but as to the spirit and life of it,
D.D. often means DOUBLY DESTITUTE.

The lowliness of Christ may be clearly seen in yet another point of
view. He is not only willing to receive the poor, and to receive the
ignorant, but he is also ever ready to receive men, despite the
vileness of their characters. Some teachers can stoop, and freely too,
to both poor and ignorant; but they cannot stoop to the wicked. I think
we have all felt a difficulty here. "However poor a man may be, or
however little he knows," you say, "I don't mind talking with him, and
trying to do him good; but I cannot talk with a man who is a rogue or a
vagabond, or with a woman who has lost her character." I know you
cannot; there are a great many things Christ did which we cannot do.
We, who are the servants of Christ, have attempted to draw a line where
duty has its bound. Like the domestic servant in some lordly mansion
who stoops not to menial employment. We are above our work. We are so
fastidious, that we cannot go after the chief of sinners, and the
vilest of the vile. Not so, Christ. "He receiveth sinners and eateth
with them." He, in the days of his flesh, became familiar with the
outcasts. He sought them out that he might save them; he entered their
homes; he found his way into the slums. like some diligent officer of
the police, he was willing to lodge where they lodged, eat at their
table, and associate with their class to find them out. His mission was
to seek as well as to save. Oh, see him stand, with arms wide open!
Will that thief, who is justly executed for his crimes, be recognized
by him? Yes, he will. There, with his arms outstretched, he hangs; the
thief flies as it were to his bosom, and Jesus gives him a most blessed
embrace. "To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise." Christ has
received the thief with open heart and open arms too. And there is
Mary. Do you see her? She is washing the feet of Jesus. Why, she is a
bad character, one of the worst women on the town. What will Christ
say? Say? Why, hear how he speaks to Simon, the pious, reputable
Pharisee. Saith he, after putting the parable concerning the two
debtors, "which of them shall love him most?"–and then he explains
that this woman hath had much forgiven, and therefore she loves him
much. "Thy sins, which are many, are all forgiven," saith he, and she
goes her way in peace. There are many men you and I would not demean
ourselves to notice, that Christ will take to heaven at last; for he is
"lowly in heart." He takes the base, the vilest, the scum, the
offscouring, the filth, the garbage of the world, and out of such stuff
and matter as that, he buildeth up a holy temple, and gathereth to
himself trophies for his honour and praise.

And further, while I speak of the lowliness of Christ's heart, I must
remark another thing. Perhaps one is saying here, "Oh! sir, it is not
what I have been, as to my conduct, that keeps me back from Christ; but
I feel that what I am as to my nature restrains me; I am such a dolt, I
shall never learn in his school I am such a hard-hearted one, he will
never melt me, and if he does save me, I shall never be worth his
having. Yes, but Christ is "lowly in heart." There are some great
goldsmiths that of course can only think of preparing and polishing the
choicest diamonds; but Jesus Christ polishes a common pebble, and makes
a jewel of it. Goldmsiths make their precious treasures out of precious
materials; Christ makes his precious things out of dross. He begins
always with bad material. The palace of our king is not made of cedar
wood, as Solomon's, or if it be made of wood, certainly he has chosen
the knottiest trees and the knottiest planks wherewith to build his
habitation. He has taken those to he his scholars who were the greatest
dunces; so amazing is the lowliness of Christ's heart. He sits down on
the form with us to teach us the A,B,C, of repentance, and if we are
slow to learn it he begins again, and takes us through our alphabet,
and if we forget it he will often teach us our letters over again; for
though he is able to teach the angels, yet he condescends to instruct
babes, and as we go step by step in heavenly literature, Christ is not
above teaching the elements. He teaches not only in the University, and
the Grammar-school, where high attainments are valued, but he teaches
in the day-school, where the elements and first principles are to be
instilled. It is he who teaches the sinner, what sinner means in deep
conviction, and what faith means in holy assurance. It is not only he
who takes us to Pisgah, and bids us view the promised land, but it is
he also who takes us to Calvary, and makes us learn that simplest of
all things, the sacred writing of the cross. He, if I may use such a
phrase, will not only teach us how to write them highly ornamental
writing of the Eden Paradise, the richly gilded, illuminated letters of
communion and fellowship, but he teaches us how to make the pot-hooks
amid hangers of repentance and faith. he begins at the beginning; for
he is "meek and lowly in heart." Come, then, ye dolts, ye fools; come
ye sinners, ye vile ones; come, ye dullest of all scholars, ye poor, ye
illiterate, ye who are rejected and despised of men; come to him who
was rejected and despised as well as you. Come and welcome! Christ bids
you come!

"Let not conscience make you linger;

Nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness he requireth,

Is to feel your need of him:

This he gives you;

'Tis his Spirit's rising beam.

Come, poor sinners! come to a gentle Saviour! and you shall never
regret that you came to him.

III. Having thus spoken on the two marks of our Lord's character, I
propose to conclude, if God shall help me, by knocking home the nail,
by driving in the wedge, and pressing upon you a conclusion from these
arguments. The conclusion of the whole matter is this, since Christ is
"meek and lowly in heart," sinners come to him.

Come to him, then, first, whoever you may be, for he is "meek and lowly
in heart." When a man has done anything wrong, and wants a help through
his difficulty, if about to employ some counsel to plead for him in a
court of law, he might say, "Oh! don't engage Mr. So-and-so for me; I
hear he is a very hard-hearted man; I should not like to tell him what
I have done, and entrust my case in his hands. Send for Mr. So-and-so;
I have heard that he is very kind and gentle; let him come and hear my
case, and let him conduct the pleadings for me:" Sinner! you are
sinful, but Christ is very tender-hearted. Speed thy way to Christ's
private chamber,–your own closet of prayer. Tell him all you have
done; he will not upbraid you: confess all your sins; he will not chide
you. Tell him all your follies; he will not be angry with you. Commit
your case to him, and with a sweet smile he will say, "I have cast thy
sins behind my back; thou hast come to reason with me; I will discover
to thee a matter of faith which excels all reason,–" Though thy sins
be as scarlet, they shall be as wool; though they be red like crimson,
they shall be whiter than snow Come to Christ, then, sinful ones,
because he is "meek and lowly in heart," and he can bear with the
narrative of your offences. "But, sir, I am very timid, and I dare not
go." Ah, but however timid you may be, you need not be afraid of him.
He knows your timidity, and he will meet you with a smile, and say,
"Fear not. Be of good cheer. Tell me thy sin, put thy trust in me, and
thou shalt even yet rejoice to know my power to save. Come now," saith
he, "come to me at once. Linger no longer. I do not strive nor cry, nor
cause my voice to be hearth in the streets. A bruised reed I will not
break, the smoking flax I will not quench; but I will bring forth
judgment unto victory." Come then, ye timid ones to Christ for he is
meek and lowly in heart. "Oh," says one, "but I am despairing; I have
been so long under a sense of sin, I cannot go to Christ." Poor soul!
he is so meek and lowly, that, despairing though thou mayest be, take
courage now; though it be like a forlorn hope to thee, yet go to him.
Say, in the words of the hymn–

"I' ll to the gracious King approach,

Whose sceptre pardon gives;

Perhaps he may command my touch,

And then the suppliant lives.

I can but perish if I go;

I am resolved to try;

For if I stay away, I know

I must for ever die."

And you may add this comfortable reflection–

"But if I die with mercy sought,

When I the King have tried,

This were to die (delightful thought!)

As sinner never died."

Come to him, then, timid and despairing; for he is "meek and lowly in
heart." First, he bids thee confess. What a sweet confessor! Put thy
lip to his ear, and tell him all. He is "meek and lowly in heart." Fear
not. None of thy sins can move him to anger. If thou dost but confess
them. If thou keepest them in thy heart, they shall be like a
slumbering volcano; and a furnace of destruction thou shalt find even
to the uttermost by-and-bye. But confess thy sins; tell them all; he is
meek and lowly in heart." Happy confession! when we have such a
confessor.

Again, he bids thee trust him; and canst thou not trust him? He is
"meek and lowly in heart." Sinner! put confidence in Christ. There
never was such a tender heart as his, never such a compassionate face.
Look him in the face, poor soul, as thou seest him dying on the tree,
and say, is not that a face that any man might trust! Look at him!
Canst thou doubt him? Wilt thou withhold thy cause from such a Redeemer
as this? No, Jesus! thou art so generous, so good, so kind Take thou my
cause in hand. Just as I am, I come to thee. Save me, I beseech thee,
for I put my trust in thee.

And then Jesus not only bids you confess and believe, but he bids you
afterwards serve him. And sure, sinners, this should be a reason why
you should do it. that he is so "meek and lowly in heart." It is said,
"Good masters make good servants." What good servants you and I ought
to be, for what a good Master we have! Never an ill word doth he say to
us. If sometimes he pointeth out anything we have done amiss, it is
only for our good. Not for his profit doth he chasten, but for ours.
Sinner! I ask thee not to serve the god of this world–that foul fiend
who shall destroy thee after all thy service. The devil is thy master
now, and ye have heard the wages he bestows. But come and serve Christ,
the meek and lowly one, who will give thee good cheer while thou art
serving him, and give thee a blessed reward when thy work is done.

And now, best of all, sinners! come to Christ. Come to him in all his
offices, for he is "meek and lowly in heart." Sinner! thou art
sick–Christ is a physician. If men have broken a bone, and they are
about to have a surgeon fetched, they say, "Oh! is he a feeling tender
hearted man?" For there is many an army surgeon that takes off a leg,
and never thinks of the pain he is giving. "Is he a kind man?" says the
poor sufferer, when he is about to be strapped down upon the table."
Ah! poor sufferer, Christ will heal thy broken bones, and he will do it
with downy fingers. Never was there so light a touch as this heavenly
surgeon has. "Tis pleasure even to he wounded by him, much more to be
healed, Oh! what balm is that he gives to the poor bleeding heart! Fear
not; there was never such a physician as this. If he give thee now and
then a bitter pill and a sour draught, yet he will give thee such
honied words and such sweet promises therewith, that thou shalt swallow
it all up without murmuring. Nay, if he be with thee, thou canst even
swallow up death in victory; and never know that thou hast died because
victory hath taken the bitter taste away.

Sinner! thou art not only sick, and therefore bidden to come to him,
but thou art moreover in debt, and he offers now to pay thy debts, and
to discharge them in full. Come, come to him, for he is not harsh. Some
men, when they do mean to let a debtor off, first have him in their
office, and give him as much as they can of the most severe rebukes;–"
You rogue, you! how dare you get in my debt, when you knew you could
not pay? You have brought a deal of trouble on yourself, you have
ruined your family," and so forth; and the good man gives him some very
sound admonition, and very right too; till at length he says, "I'll let
you off this time; come, now, I forgive you, and I hope you will never
do so again." But Christ is even better than this. "There is all your
debt," he says, "I have nailed it to the cross; sinner, I forgive thee
all," and not one accusing word comes from his lips. Come, then, to
him.

I fear I have spoilt my master in the painting; something like the
artist who had to depict some fair damsel, and he so misrepresented her
features, that she lost her reputation for beauty. I have sometimes
feared lest I should do the same, and so distort the face of Christ,
and so fail of giving the true likeness of his character that you would
not love him. Oh! could you see him! If he could stand here for one
moment, and tell you that he was meek and lowly in heart. Oh, methinks
you would run to him and say, "Jesus, we come Thou meek and lowly
Messiah, be thou our all!" Nay, you would not come; I am mistaken. If
sovereign grace draw you not under the sound of the gospel, neither
would you be converted though Christ should appear before you. But hear
now the message of that gospel–"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and
you shall be saved; for he that believeth on him, and is baptized shall
be saved; he that believeth not, must be damned."