which are before, how eagerly he presses toward the mark for the prize
of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus! With our apostle this is a
favorite illustration of the Christian life--its steady aim, its
strenuous action, its habitual self-denial, and patient endurance to
the end. "Know ye not," he writes to the Corinthians, "that they who
run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run that ye may
obtain.... They do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an
incorruptible." And in the Epistle to the Hebrews we read: "Seeing we
are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay
aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and run
with patience the race that is set before us." So all Christians must
run, never pausing in their progress, nor for a moment relaxing their
energies, till from the goal they can look back and say--"I have
finished my course."
"I have kept the faith." Here seems to be a reference to the strict
rules and rigid discipline to be observed in both these methods of
competition. In the arena and on the _stadium_ every thing was
duly ordered and prescribed, nothing left to chance or choice, and he
that strove for the mastery was not crowned except he strove lawfully.
In the race, there must be no deviation from the line marked out for
the runner; in the combat, no unfairness nor violation of the rules. "I
therefore so run, not as uncertainly," saith the apostle; "so fight I,
not as one that beateth the air; but I keep under my body, and bring it
into subjection, lest after having preached to others I myself should
be rejected." "Would you obtain a prize in the Olympic games?" said a
pagan philosopher. "A noble design! But consider the requirements and
the consequences. You must live by rule; you must eat when you are not
hungry; you must abstain from agreeable food; you must habituate
yourself to suffer cold and heat; in one word, you must surrender
yourself in all things to the guidance of a physician." "The just shall
live by his faith." Without adherence to this rule, there is no reward.
"The life which I live in the flesh," saith St. Paul, "I live by the
faith of the Son of God." It is faith that strengthens the Christian
_agonisti_ with might in the inner man. It is faith that unites
the soul to Christ, and overcomes the world. The shipwreck of faith is
the shipwreck also of a good conscience. Keep the faith, and it will
keep you. St. Paul kept it, and triumphed in martyrdom.
The third thing here to be noted is the apostle's joyful foresight of
his glorious coronation: "Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at
that day; and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his
appearing."
The object of the apostle's hope is no garland of withering leaves or
fading flowers, such as honored the victor in the Grecian games; nor a
diadem of gems and gold, such as glorified imperial brows at Rome. He
had sowed righteousness, and righteousness he hoped to reap. He had
wrought righteousness, and righteousness was to be his reward. The
principle of the competition was the chief jewel of the expected crown.
The victor's award must show the character of the conflict. And what,
to such a prize, are all the splendors of royalty, with all the
magnificent pageantry and subsequent privileges of an Olympian triumph?
Imperishable, it is called "a crown of life," and "a crown of glory
that fadeth not away." In the Convent of Sant Onofrio, I have seen the
wreath intended for the living Tasso, but delayed too long, and placed
by the _fratti_ upon the brow of the dead; and, though very
carefully preserved, it was all sear, and crisp, and falling to decay;
but upon your heads, O ye righteous! shall your crowns flourish, when
this earth and these heavens are no more.
The judge who awarded the prize to the victor at the Grecian games
might decide unjustly, either through culpable partiality, or from
involuntary error; but "the Lord, the righteous judge," who is to
decide the fate of the Christian _agonisti_, is no respecter of
persons, and his perfect knowledge and infallible wisdom render
mistakes with him impossible. St. Paul's imperial judge was the very
incarnation of iniquity; but Christ "shall judge the world in
righteousness," and "reward every man according to his works."
The crown was not conferred as soon as the racer reached the goal or
the gladiator gave the fatal thrust, but was reserved till the contests
were all over and ended, and the claims of the several candidates were
carefully canvassed and adjudicated. So the "crown of righteousness" is
"laid up" to be given "at that day," when the Lord Jesus shall come to
be glorified in his saints. One says, "we must die first;" St. Paul
tells us we must rise first. Blessed, indeed, are the dead in Christ;
but their blessedness cannot be consummated till their Lord return from
heaven and they appear with him in glory.
And to whom, or how many, is the crown to be given? "To all them that
love his appearing." All the contestants shall then be collected, and
every victor crowned. Christ hath crowns enough for the whole assembly
of his saints, and the most illustrious of his apostles would not wish
to wear them all. The humblest and obscurest Christian shall have his
portion in the royal inheritance. There is only one condition--that we
"love his appearing." This was the chief mark of his first followers.
Through all their bitter conflicts, their hope clung to the Master's
promise. Have we such hope? Rejoice then, and be exceeding glad! Fight
on; stretch forward; hold fast your precious faith. In the crown that
glitters in the hand of your Judge, is there not sufficient indemnity
for all the agony of the conflict?
To this prospect, alas! there is an appalling contrast. Some are
fighting an evil fight, running a ruinous race, repudiating the only
faith that can save the soul. Think you by unrighteousness to win the
crown of righteousness? "Be not deceived; God is not mocked; whatsoever
a man soweth, that shall he also reap." Even in the Grecian contests,
the unsuccessful candidate found all his toil and struggle utterly
unprofitable at the end. And you who never enter the lists, who take no
part in the competition, who are mere spectators of the earnestness and
the agony of others--will you dare, when the Judge cometh, to stand
forth and claim the crown for which you have never striven? "Awake to
righteousness!" Condemned already, dead in trespasses and sins, aliens
from the Church and strangers to the covenant--what hope is there for
you, but in God's regenerating grace, a thorough change of heart and
life, a moral transformation of character which shall make you new
creatures in Christ Jesus? Not yet is it all too late. Come and offer
yourselves as candidates for the heavenly competition. Grace will
accept your late repentance, and you will have nothing to regret but
your long delay. We challenge you to the contest. All heaven awaits
your decision. How long halt you? It is high time you were determined.
Step forward, take your position, and struggle for the crown of
righteousness which the righteous Judge shall give that day to all who
love his appearing!
[1] Preached at Brighton, Eng., 1866.
XIV.
CALVARY TOKEN.[1]
As often as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's
death till he come.--1 Cor. xi. 26.
Between Chattanooga and Atlanta occurred some of the severest conflicts
of the American Civil War. For more than a hundred miles the fields are
covered with battle-scars, and every hill-top bears traces of
fortifications. Near one of the most memorable places may now be seen a
cemetery, where Northern and Southern soldiers, side by side, await the
resurrection. Visiting it a year after the struggle was over and ended,
I found an East-Tennessee farmer sitting by a grave at the head of
which he had just erected a handsome marble. To my question--"Was the
soldier lying here your son?" he answered: "No, sir; he was my
neighbor. I was drafted for the army; my family were all sick; I knew
not how to leave them; I was sadly perplexed and troubled. A young man
came to me, and said: 'You shall not go; I will go for you; I have no
family to care for.' Glad to remain with those who needed me so much, I
accepted his generous offer. He went, but never returned. I have
brought this stone more than a hundred miles, to set it at the head of
his grave. Look there, stranger!" I followed with my eyes the direction
of his finger, and read under the name of the noble dead: "He died for
me!" And we both bowed the head, and wept.
My dear brethren, there is One far nobler who died for you and me. With
a disinterestedness unparalleled in the annals of war, he took our
place in a fiercer conflict than was ever waged for freedom or for
empire. Fighting our battle, he fell; but falling, conquered all our
foes. Triumphant he rose from the dead, and ascended on high, leading
our captivity captive. At the right hand of the throne of God, in our
nature redeemed and glorified, "he ever liveth to make intercession for
us." All that we have or hope of good we owe to his dying love. But in
an upper chamber at Jerusalem, with a few chosen witnesses present,
just before he went forth to the final engagement, he instituted for us
a perpetual memorial of his unexampled charity. Taking bread, he
blessed, and brake, and gave to his disciples, saying: "Take, eat; this
is my body, which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of me."
Then, taking the cup, he gave to them, saying: "Drink ye all of this;
for this is my blood of the new covenant, shed for you, and for many,
for the remission of sins; do this in remembrance of me." This
finished, he chanted part of the Great Hallel with the beloved twelve,
as if the victory were already won; then gave them his valedictory
address, and went out to die. And some twenty-four years later, the
great Apostle Paul, in a letter to the Christians of Corinth, having
narrated the facts just as they are recorded by the evangelists, adds
these solemn words for the benefit of his brethren in all subsequent
ages: "As often as ye eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the
Lord's death till he come."
Here, then, is the precious Calvary token bequeathed by the dear
Saviour to his redeemed Church. While we contemplate it, hear we not a
voice from the excellent glory bidding us take off the shoes from our
feet? Approaching the altar to gaze upon the great sacrificial
memorial, the ground we tread is holier than that on which Moses stood
before the bush that burned in Horeb. There is more of God seen here
than in all the fires of Sinai. There he made known his law; here he
reveals his love. There we read his will; here we behold his heart. No
other ordinance, even of the new and everlasting covenant, contains so
much of majesty, so much of mystery, so much of sanctity, and at the
same time so much of mercy, as the eucharistic feast; in which the
Messiah stands forth to our faith at once the sacrifice and the
sacrificer, in the same sacred solemnity instituting an everlasting
memorial and a perpetual priesthood.
To us, more than eighteen centuries after the fact, if we have any
right feeling and clear perception, the solemn transaction in the upper
room,
"On that sad memorable night,"
must wear an aspect far more interesting than it wore at the moment
even to the apostles themselves. For we are able to view the matter
more deliberately and more dispassionately than they could, and with
many additional side-lights to aid our apprehension of the divine
truths involved. Certainly no act of the Saviour has laid his Church
under greater obligation, none has exhibited in more attractive colors
the relations he sustains to his redeemed people. Taking the bread and
the cup, does he not remind us of his having taken our flesh and blood?
Presenting them with solemn benediction to the Father, does he not
intimate to us the offering of his humanity to Heaven as a sacrifice
for our sins? Giving them to his disciples with the command to eat and
drink, does he not assure us that he is ours with all the infinite
benefits of his incarnation and atonement forever? Ordering the
apostles and their apostolical successors as his priests to do what
they have just seen him do as their Lord, does he not furnish us a
perpetual commemoration of his redeeming love, and a perpetual
demonstration of his quickening power, till his return in glorious
majesty from heaven to rule the world he ransomed with his blood?
Under both the Hebrew and the heathen rituals, the meat-offering and
the drink-offering were inseparable from every piacular sacrifice; and
without the conjunctive offering of bread and wine, it is difficult to
see how either Hebrew or heathen could have regarded the death of
Christ as an expiation for sin. As the death of a martyr, indeed, they
might well enough have taken it; but as a sacrifice for human
transgression, how could they have received it, unaccompanied by the
Holy Supper? Were the bread and wine the body and blood of Christ in
the physical sense maintained by the Church of Rome, their perpetual
presentation by personal intercession before the Father's throne would
be superfluous and even impossible, while the voluntary death of our
dear Lord upon the cross would be unnecessary and suicidal. Were they
the body and blood of Christ in the merely emblematical sense
maintained by the ultra-Protestant sects, they would constitute for us
no sufficient assurance of his ever-living mediation in heaven, nor to
God any effectual remembrancer of his suffering in the flesh for the
expiation of our guilt. Therefore those denominations who deny the
propitiatory character of his passion have little care or scruple about
the due observance of this most sacred festival--
"Rich banquet of his flesh and blood."
"This do," said the divine Author of the institution, "in remembrance
of me"--strictly, "for my memorial;" not merely remembering
me--reminding yourselves and others of me; but memorializing God the
Father--reminding him of the self-presentation of his well-beloved Son
as an offering and a sacrifice of a sweet-smelling savor for our
salvation. In doing this, we do not repeat the once offered and forever
accepted propitiation for our guilt--a thing which, indeed, we cannot
do, and which no word of Holy Scripture warrants us in attempting; but
we present a spiritual memorial of that propitiation, setting forth in
the sight of God the perfect work and infinite merit of our personal
Redeemer; we present the consecrated bread and wine, and with them we
present ourselves and the whole catholic Church, to him who delivered
up his own Son for us all, and accepted that Son's unknown sorrows and
sufferings as a sufficient satisfaction for all human sin. This is the
essence of the eucharistic oblation, the anti-typical peace-offering,
the great sacrifice of the faithful. How unworthy are we of so sublime
a service! and how should we cleanse ourselves to appear with such a
gift at the portals of the heavenly sanctuary!
In the presence of the chosen twelve presenting to the Father the
meat-offering and drink-offering of the true Paschal Lamb, the
appointed High-Priest of our profession solemnly attested to heaven and
earth the sacrificial character of his ensuing sufferings, and pledged
himself to the speedy accomplishment of the great sin-offering once for
all. Enjoining upon his apostles the perpetual continuance of the same
ministration by an unfailing succession of consecrated men, he provided
the Church with a proof and the world with a token of the everlasting
endurance and efficacy of that sacrifice, once offered, often
commemorated, and eternally acceptable to God. Instituting a memorial
for all subsequent ages of the completeness and perpetuity of his
personal sacrifice, he instituted also the means of appropriating its
benefits; and the Christian meat-offering and drink-offering being so
intimately associated with the Christian sacrifice, the partaker in
faith of the one is partaker in fact of the other, truly eating the
flesh and drinking the blood of God's incarnate Son. Hear the Saviour's
memorable words in the Capernaum synagogue: "Verily, verily, I say unto
you, except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, ye
have no life in you; whoso eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood hath
eternal life, and I will raise him up in the last day; for my flesh is
meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed; he that eateth my flesh and
drinketh my blood dwelleth in me and I in him."
Hard sayings were these to some who heard them, and hard they still are
to all self-blinded unbelievers; but, as St. Augustine says, they are
hard only to the hardened, and incredible only to the incredulous. To
us who believe, though mysterious, they are very precious. We apprehend
their spiritual meaning, and rejoice in the privilege which they open
to our faith. Eating and drinking at the Lord's table, we become
partakers of his life, his holiness, and his immortality. Here we
participate with the Eternal Father in his joy over the accomplished
work of his Beloved Son, and with that Beloved Son himself in his joy
over the redeemed Church--his treasure and his bride; while heaven and
earth unite in the glad festival of faith--the hidden manna and the new
wine of the kingdom. And if the living Christ be thus in you, dear
brethren! what outward enemy is too strong for you--what duty too
arduous--what ordeal too severe? Away with your doubts and fears, O ye
faint-hearted disciples! Can you not trust him who, in the power of an
endless life, has established his throne in your hearts? With Christ,
all things are yours, and no agency of earth or hell can rob you of
your regal inheritance!
Contingent upon the sacrifice of the cross, and from that sacrifice
deriving all its meaning and its merit, the eucharistic sacrament
itself becomes relatively sacrificial. As beforehand there was a
continual sacrificial anticipation of Immanuel's atoning death, so
after the event is there a continual sacramental commemoration of the
accomplished purpose and prophecy. Both the Jewish passover which
foreshadowed the future fact, and the Christian eucharist which to-day
commemorates the fact historical, are sacrificial on the same principle
and by the same rule--their relation to the cross of Calvary which
gives them all their virtue and their value. The agony is over, and
Christ dieth no more; the atonement once made without the walls of
Jerusalem is still presented by our divine High-Priest before the
mercy-seat within the vail. To all who believe, it is efficacious
forever, needing no annual or even millennial repetition. But in the
eucharistic sacrament, with prayers and thanksgivings, we lift up the
reeking cross before the Eternal Father, and plead the sufferings of
his Well-Beloved for our salvation. We say to God: "Behold this broken
bread; it is the mangled flesh of thy Christ! Behold this purple cup;
it is the blood which he shed for our sins! Behold at thy right hand
our slaughtered Paschal Lamb, and for his sake have mercy upon us and
save us!"
Thus we say the holy eucharist is relatively sacrificial--sacrificial
from its inseparable connection with the Redeemer's sacrifice. But even
in this sense--the only one admissible to a true faith--the holy
eucharist could not be sacrificial, were not its ministers in a
corresponding sense sacerdotal. As the sacrament becomes relatively
sacrificial by representing the Saviour's sacrifice, so its ministers
become relatively sacerdotal by representing his person and functions.
Commencing in the paschal chamber an ever-during sacrifice by
ministering in person its accompanying meat-offering and
drink-offering, he commenced there also the order of an ever-during
priesthood by empowering his apostolic ministry to perpetuate that
meat-offering and drink-offering forever. And, conferring sacerdotal
functions upon the apostolic ministry, he conferred them upon that
ministry alone. If he did not intend to limit to the twelve and their
consecrated followers the power of consecrating and dispensing the
sacramental bread and wine, why were not the whole five hundred
brethren, or all the vast concourse of followers from Galilee, admitted
to the original celebration? The selection of the few proves the
exclusion of the many, and restricts the perpetual prerogative to the
ministry of apostolical succession.
The sacerdotal oblation being essential, the sacerdotal celebration is
equally essential. The priest must consecrate; the priest must
administer; or there is no divinely authorized memorial of the one
everlasting sacrifice. No such memorial, where is the recognized bond,
connecting the body on earth to its glorified Head in heaven? No such
bond, what becomes of the Church, and what assurance has she of an
eternal inheritance? That bond secure, the Church is invincible and
immortal; the city of God stands upon a rock which no shock of
colliding worlds can shake; all her happy people, instinct with the
life of their Lord, walking in white robes her streets of gold. And the
apostolic series of sacerdotal ministers continuing to the end of time,
the conjoined memorial of consecrated bread and wine shall still bind
the successive generations of the faithful to the sacrificial cross,
till he who for our great and endless comfort instituted the holy
mystery nearly two thousand years ago shall return with all his flaming
cohorts from the skies to take us to himself forever. "As often as ye
eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's death till he
come."
[1] Preached at Porto Bello, Edinburgh, Scot., 1866. For much
of the thought contained in this discourse the author is indebted to
the <sc>Christology of the Old Testament</sc>, by the honored rector of
his childhood, the Rev. Joseph Stephenson, A.M., late of Lympsham,
Somersetshire, Eng.
XV.
HEROISM TRIUMPHANT.[1]
Now thanks be unto God, which always causeth us to triumph in Christ,
and maketh manifest the savor of his knowledge by us in every
place.--2 Cor. ii. 14.
The grandest of all human pageants was a Roman triumph. This honor was
conferred only upon the emperor or the general who had conquered a
province, or achieved some signal victory. The conqueror was arrayed in
rich purple robes, embroidered with flowers and figures of gold. His
buskins were adorned with pearls and costly gems, and a wreath of
laurel or a crown of gold was set upon his head. In one hand he held a
laurel branch, the emblem of victory; and in the other his truncheon,
the symbol of authority and power. He was borne in a magnificent
chariot, drawn generally by white horses, but sometimes by other
animals. Pompey had elephants; Mark Antony, lions; Heliogabalus,
tigers; Marcus Aurelius, reindeer. Musicians led the procession,
playing triumphal marches; and heralds, proclaiming the achievements of
the victorious hero. These were followed by young men, leading the
victims, with gilded horns and garlanded heads, intended for
sacrifice. Next came the wagons, loaded with the spoils and trophies of
the conquered foe; succeeded by the captured horses, camels, elephants,
and gayly decorated carriages; and after these, the captive kings,
queens, princes, and generals, loaded with chains. Then was seen the
triumphal chariot, outdoing all other magnificence; before which boys
swung censers and maidens strewed flowers; while the people, as it
passed, prostrated themselves and shouted, "_Io triumphe!_"
Immediately behind marched the sentries; and the procession was closed
by the priests and their attendants, with the various sacrificial
utensils, and a white ox destined for the chief victim. Entering the
city by the Porta Capaena, passing through the triumphal arch, and
proceeding along the Via Sacra, the splendid _cortege_ moved on
toward the Capitol; at the foot of which the captives divided, some led
to the Mammertine and Tullian dungeons on the right, while the others
went straight forward to the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus; the former
doomed to death, the latter made tributaries if not even allies of
imperial Rome. Meanwhile, the temples all being open, every altar
smoked with sacrificial fires, and clouds of incense filled the city
and sweetened all the air.