If the faith of God’s people is to be marked, so also is the fruit of it.
We have seen the principle. We have now to see the practice which
followed from it.
I. Let me notice however that the word “conversation” does not mean
merely “speech” or “talk.” It refers to the whole character, life, and
walk: to the ‘ins’ and ‘outs;’ the turnings and windings of the life. So
that in these words we are called upon to act as if we had to survey a
country from a height—to trace a line of coast, and to mark it until it
passes off, and is lost to sight in the distance.
Now I am bold to say that, through God’s abounding grace and power, the
conversation we are this day called to consider is a fair prospect
indeed.
Taking a rapid general view of his character, I would say, that _to him
to live was Christ_. Christ was the principle, the power, the pattern,
of his life.
Entering more into detail, I would say that the character has been
sketched out for us by a master-hand. If you look at the epistle for the
day (Romans xii., 6–16) you will see what I mean.
Look where you will, you can but say that God did all things well in
him—the Holy Ghost filled him with His fruit.
You know full well what his purpose and manner of life was. As a
representative—a magistrate—a landlord—a master—a neighbour—there was
always the same Christian consistency—the same unworldliness of spirit.
Well did he carry out the injunction of a dying father—“See, my son, that
you render unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s, and unto God the
things that are God’s.”
Of his more private life I will only say that he was taught of God to
fill up every relationship, and in each one to show whose beauty and
comeliness were put upon him.
If however, I am still to select those features of character which were
most prominently marked—the jutting headlands (so to speak) of that fair
line of coast, his life—I would name these two: 1, _Meekness of
humility_; 2, _Tenderness __of unselfish love_. As to both of these, he
had drunk deeply into the spirit of his Master.
1. Well was the mind of the meek and lowly Jesus reflected in the life
of His meekly humble servant.
Humility was his clothing—no mere ornament on him—he was clothed with it,
and oh how real and deep it was! To the eye of others there was much in
which he might have gloried. Glory he did, but only as a Christian—only
in the Lord—only in the Lord’s Cross.
Throughout life there was the most utter self-abasement. Never was he
unwilling to be nothing that Christ might be all. Never was he unmindful
of the Rock from which he had been hewn. Never could any complain of him
that they could not see Christ over his head.
But most strikingly did his deep self-abasement come out at the close of
life.
When asked if prayer should be offered for him, his words were: “Say
nothing in my praise, all to the grace of God.” “People may say that I
have been a good man. I have been but a poor sinner. I have left undone
much that I ought to have done. O Lord! my goodness extendeth not to
Thee. Even if I could say, ‘I have walked in my integrity,’ nothing but
free redemption _has_ saved me, and _could_ save me.” “I’m a poor
sinner, and nothing at all; Jesus Christ is my all in all.” “A poor
sinner in myself, but pardoned and accepted in the Beloved Son of God.
Amen. Amen.”
Truly brethren, here was the humility which, whilst it disowns and
discrowns self, puts the crown fully on the head which is worthy to wear
it. There is no affection. Nothing but the outpouring of the sincerest
convictions of the soul, telling us on the one hand that no flesh shall
glory in His presence—on the other that the soul shall make her boast in
the Lord.
2. Nor was the _tender unselfish love_ less remarkable than the
humility.
He realised in an uncommon degree the love shown in the coming and death
of the Lord Jesus. The thought of it would often melt his soul and
overpower him for the time.
Now, _such_ love, _so_ realised, will always produce the reality of love.
No doubt there was much of tender feeling and deep affection in the
natural character. But these were increased a thousand fold by Grace.
You could not look at him without being struck by this. His heart looked
out at his eyes, and that look was a whole sermon upon love.
Nor was it a mere sentiment. Love, to be love, must act, and you know
the forms which that action took in his case.
He loved and cared much for the bodies of men. Many of you now present
can testify to this. Many hereafter will rise up and call him blessed.
But he loved and cared for _souls_ more. Nothing could exceed the
affectionate desirousness or the overflowing tenderness of his love for
sinners. By every means in his power he would labour to bring Christ to
them, or them to Christ. I cannot dwell upon all the means he used. His
care to appoint godly ministers over the churches for which he was a
trustee—his open-handed support of every society which put Christ in His
right place—these are as well known to you as to me.
I would rather recall his personal efforts to make known the Gospel which
was his own life.
Many of you, brethren, can bear me witness that by the space of many
years he did not shun to declare by lip and life, by word and walk, the
whole counsel of God.
He was emphatically one of that class who, to use the words of a poor man
in London, “carry their religion to other people’s houses.” You know how
he exhorted, and comforted, and taught; and that nothing made him an
happy as the telling out the story of the Cross, or seeing the change
which it could work upon the soul.
What a striking instance of the activity of his love was given in one of
his dying testimonies:—“Whilst I have power to speak it must be of
Salvation for ever and ever!”
And this life was as unselfish as it was active. As Christ pleaded not
Himself, so did His servant strive to act. There was no living to self.
As Jesus was the spring, so Jesus was the aim of the whole life. It was
ever, “Lord, what wilt _thou_ have me to do?”—ever—“Lord, not my will but
_thine_ be done!”
Brethren, _consider this conversation_—so humble, so loving, to
unselfish. Look at it. Lay your own lives down by the side of it. Test
them—not by what there was of the man, but by what there was of the
Master. See what the testing says; and then rise up, sadder possibly by
the comparison, yet wiser—humbled, but yet hopeful. For He who wrought
here, works still, and loves to work, for all who seek it at His hand.