Of course, logically and properly, this, and all the others that I am
going to speak about, are included within that to which I have already
directed attention. But still they are dealt with separately in
Scripture, and I follow the guidance. We read in the Epistle to the
Hebrews: 'By Him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise unto God
continually--that is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks unto His
name.' There, then, is another of the regions into which the notion of
sacrifice as the very essence of Christian life is to be carried.
There is nothing more remarkable in Scripture than the solemn importance
that it attaches to what so many people think so little about, and that
is _words_. It even sometimes seems to take them as being more truly the
outcome and revelation of a man's character than his deeds are. And that
is true, in some respects. But at all events there is set forth, ever
running all through the Scripture, that thought, that one of the best
sacrifices that men can make to God is to render up the tribute of
their praise. In the great psalm which lays down with clearness never
surpassed in the New Testament the principles of true Christian worship,
this is declared: 'Whoso offereth praise glorifieth Me.' The true
offering is not the slaying of animals or the presentation of any
material things, but the utterance of hearts welling up thankfulness. In
the ancient ritual there stood within the Holy place, and after the
altar of burnt-offering had been passed, three symbols of the relation
of the redeemed soul to God. There was the great candlestick, which
proclaimed 'Ye are the light of the world.' There was the table on which
the so-called shewbread was laid, and in the midst there was the altar
of incense, on which, day by day, morning and evening, there was kindled
the fragrant offering which curled up in wreaths of blue smoke aspiring
towards the heavens. It lay smouldering all through the day, and was
quickened into flame morning and evening. That is a symbol representing
what the Christian life ought to be--a continual thank-offering of the
incense of prayer and praise.
Nor that only, brethren, but also there is another shape in which our
words should be sacrifices, and that is in the way of direct utterances
to men, as well as of thanksgiving to God. What a shame it is, and what
a confession of imperfect, partial redemption and regeneration on the
part of professing Christians it is, that there are thousands of us who
never, all our lives, have felt the impulse or necessity of giving
utterance to our Christian convictions! You can talk about anything
else; you are tongue-tied about your religion. Why is that? You can make
speeches upon political platforms, or you can discourse on many subjects
that interest you. You never speak a word to anybody about the Master
that you say you serve. Why is that? 'What is bred in the bone comes
out in the flesh.' What is deep in the heart sometimes lies there
unuttered, but more often demands expression. I venture to think that if
your Christianity was deeper, it would not be so dumb. You strengthen
your convictions by speech. A man's belief in anything grows
incalculably by the very fact of proclaiming it. And there is no surer
way to lose moral and spiritual convictions than to huddle them up in
the secret chambers of our hearts. It is like a man carrying a bit of
ice in his palm. He locks his fingers over it, and when he opens them it
has all run out and gone. If you want to deepen your Christianity,
declare it. If you would have your hearts more full of gratitude, speak
your praise. There used to be in certain religious houses a single
figure kneeling on the altar-steps, by day and by night, ever uttering
forth with unremitting voice, the psalm of praise. That perpetual
adoration in spirit, if not in form, ought to be ours. The fruit of the
lips should continually be offered. Literally, of course, there cannot
be that unbroken and exclusive utterance of thanksgiving. There are many
other things that men have to talk about; but through all the utterances
there ought to spread the aroma--like some fragrance diffused through
the else scentless air from some unseen source of sweetness--of that
name to which the life is one long thanksgiving.