If the life of a Christian may be compared to a sacrifice, then humility digs the foundation for the altar… prayer brings the unhewn stones and piles them one upon the other… penitence fills the trench around about the altar with water…  obedience lays the wood in order… faith pleads the Jehovah-Jireh, and places the victim upon the altar… but the sacrifice even then is incomplete. Where is the fire? Love, love alone can consummate the sacrifice by supplying the needed fire from heaven.

Whatever we lack in our piety – it is indispensable that we should have faith in Christ – so is it absolutely necessary that we should have love to him. The heart – which is devoid of an earnest love to Jesus is surely still dead in trespasses and sins. And if any man should venture to affirm that he had faith in Christ – but no love to him – we would also venture to affirm that his religion was vain. In that regard, perhaps the great want of the religion of the times is love. Sometimes as I look upon the world at large, and a Church that lies too much at its bosom, I think the Church has light, but lacks fire. She has some degree of true faith… clear knowledge…  and much beside faith and knowledge which is precious, but she greatly lacks that flaming love –  which she once – as a chaste virgin – walked with Christ through the fires of martyrdom. T’was then she showed to him her undefiled… unquenchable love in the catacombs of the city… the caves of the rock. T’was then the purple- stained snows of the Alps testified to the virgin purity of the love of the saints which marked the shedding of blood in defense of our bleeding Lord… blood which had been shed in defense of him… yes – him – whom ‘unceasing they adore,’ though they had not seen his face. 

On looking at my text, I came to the following approach for sharing our thoughts with you: First, we shall listen to the spoken words – imagine the lips of the speaker, “O thou whom my soul loveth.” We shall then consider the reason of the heart, which would justify us to give to Christ such a sermon title – Love to Jesus. Then, finally, we want to describe something – which surpasses even the words spoken or the reason for our title. We want to describe a projection of the daily life; whereby I pray we may be able to prove constantly by our actions that Jesus Christ is He whom our soul loves. 

First, then, the words spoken – the rhetoric of the lips. The text calls Christ, “Thou whom my soul loveth.” Let us take this title and dissect it a little. When we come to look upon our text, one of the first things which will strike us is the reality of the love expressed. Reality, I say; understanding the term “real,” not in contradistinction to that which is lying and fictitious. Rather, “real,” in contrast to that which is shadowy and indistinct – no, not surreal. Do you notice how the spouse speaks of Christ as one she knew actually to exist? No, not as an abstraction, but as a person. She speaks of him as a real person, “Thou whom my soul loveth.” Why, these words seem to come from one who is pressing Christ to her bosom… who sees him with her eyes… who tracks him with her feet… who knows that he is, and that he will reward the lover who diligently seeks him. Brethren and sisters there is often a great deficiency in our love to Jesus. We do not grasp the notion of Christ’s personhood. We think about Christ, and we love the concept that we form of him. But O, how few Christians view their Lord as being a real person as we are real — Jesus, very much a man — a man that could suffer… a man that could die…  substantial flesh and blood — yet, very much real as God though invisible to us today… truly existent as we compass him in our minds.

We want to have a real Christ more fully preached, and more fully loved by the church. We fail in our love, because Christ is not real to us as he was to the early Church. The early Church did not preach much doctrine; they preached Christ – the person. They had little to say of truths about Christ. The truths they held forth was Christ himself… his hands… his feet… his side… his eyes… his head… his crown of thorns… the sponge… the vinegar… the nails. O for the Christ of Mary Magdalene; yes, rather than the Christ of the critical theologian. Yes, please, give me the wounded body of divinity, rather than the soundest system of theology. Let me explain to you what I mean. 

Suppose you foster an infant that was taken away from its mother, but as the infant’s foster parent, you want the child to love its biological mother. So, you begin to present the idea of the infant’s mother to the child… constantly picturing its mother. You want the infant to grasp the idea of its relationship to it biological mother. My friends, I think you would have a difficult task to engender within that child a true and real love for the woman who bore it. However, give that child a mother… let it hang upon that real mother’s breast… let it derive its nourishment from her very heart… let that babe see its mother…  feel her… put its little arms about that mother’s neck…. What then? You would have no hard task to make that child love its mother.

So is it with the Christian. We want Christ — not an abstract, doctrinal, pictured Christ — but a real Christ. I may preach to you many a year, and try to infuse into your souls a love of Christ, but until you can feel that he is a real man and a real person – really present with you – that you may speak to him… talk to him… tell him your wants…  you will not readily attain to a love like that of the text so you can call him, “Thou whom my soul loveth.” I want you to feel, Christian, that your love to Christ is not a mere pious affection. No, no… but with a love as real as you love your wife… your child… your parent. So you should love Christ; even though your love to him is of a finer cast, and a higher mold, yet your love is as real as the more earthly passion.

Let me suggest another illustration. A war is raging in Italy for liberty. The very thought of liberty concerns a soldier. The thought of a hero makes a man a hero. Let me go and stand in the midst of the army and preach to them what heroes should be… what brave men should be who fight for liberty. My dear friends, the most earnest, eloquent speech might have but little power. However, put these men in the midst of Garibaldi — heroism incarnate… place before their eyes that dignified man who seems like some old Roman – newly risen from his tomb? They see before them what liberty means… what daring is… what courage can attempt… what heroism can perform! How is that? For there he is – Garibaldi! Fired by his actual presence… their arms are strong… their swords are sharp… they dash to the battle at once… his presence ensuring victory. Why? Because in his presence they realize the thought that makes men brave and strong. So the Church needs to feel and see a real Christ in her midst. If the Church is ever mighty, it is not the idea of disinterestedness… the idea of devotion… self-consecration to the task. No, our courage and mightiness comes from that incarnate, consolidated, personified idea embedded in the actual existence of a realized Christ in the camp of the Lord’s host. I do pray for you, and pray you for me, that we may each one of us have a love which realizes Christ, and which can address him as “Thou whom my soul loveth.” 

But again, look at the text and you will perceive another thing clearly. The Church – in the expression which she uses concerning Christ –  speaks not only with a realization of his presence, but with a firm assurance of her own love for him! Many of you – who do really love Christ – can seldom say more than, “O thou whom my soul desires to love! O thou whom I hope I love!” But this sentence does not say that – not at all. This title – Love to Jesus – has not a shadow of a doubt or a fear to say, “O thou whom my soul, loveth!” Is it not a happy thing for a child of God to know and can say that he loves Christ ? Yes, when he can speak of his love as a matter of explicit consciousness? — a state of relationship that Satan cannot argue him out of by all his reasonings? — a state  of being that he can put his hand on his heart, and appeal to Jesus and say, “Lord, thou know all things, thou know  that I love thee.” I say, is this not a delightful frame of mind? Or, rather, to reverse the question, is it not a sad, miserable state of heart that we cannot speak of him with assured affection?

Ah, my brethren and sisters, there may be times when the most loving heart may – from the fact that it loves intensely and loves sincerely – our heart may  doubt whether it loves at all. But then such times will be times of distress…  seasons of great soul-searching…  nights of anguish. He who truly loves Christ will never give sleep to his eyes… nor slumber to his eyelids… , when he is in doubt about his heart belonging to Jesus. “No,” he says, “this is a matter too precious for me to question as to whether I am the possessor of love for Christ or not… this is a state of being so vital that I cannot let the question linger with a ‘perhaps,’ or as a matter of hap-hazard hazard. No, I must know whether I love my Lord or not – whether I am his or not.” Now, if I am addressing any this morning who fear they do not love Christ, and yet hope they do, let me beg you, my dear friend, not to rest in contentedly in your present state of mind. Never be satisfied until you know that you are standing on the rock… until you are quite certain that you really do love Christ.

Imagine for a moment one of the apostles telling Christ that he thought he loved him. Fancy for a moment your own spouse telling you that she hoped she loved you. Fancy your child upon your knee saying, “Father, I sometimes only trust that I love you.” What a stinging thing to say to you! You would almost desire to hear them say, “I hate you.” Why? Because, what is uncertainty in a relationship? Shall he – over whom I watch with care – merely think that he loves me? Shall she who lies in my bosom have doubt… make her love a matter of conjecture as to whether her heart is mine or not? O God, forbid that we should ever dream of such a namby-pamby – maudlin – description of our ordinary relations of life! If we would reject such a worldly relation, how is it that we indulge in it in our piety? Is it not also a sickly and maudlin piety? Is it not a diseased state of heart that ever puts us in such a place at all? Is it not even a deadly state of heart that would let us contentedly rest there? No, let us not be satisfied until – by the full work of the Holy Spirit – we are sure and certain, and can say with un-stammering tongue, “O thou whom my soul loveth.” 

Now, notice something else equally worthy of our attention. The Church – the spouse – in speaking of her love for Christ directs our thoughts not merely to her confidence in her love, but to the unity of her affections with regard to Christ. She does not have two lovers, she has one. She does not say, “O ye on whom my heart is set!” but “O thou!” She has but one after whom her heart is panting. She has gathered her affections into one bundle… she has made them one affection…  and then she cast that bundle of myrrh and spices upon the breast of Christ. To her, he is the “Altogether Lovely”– the gathering up of all the loves which once strayed abroad to everyone and everything else. She put a burning-glass before the sun of her heart which brought all of her love to a focus, and concentrated all of its heat and fervor upon Christ Jesus himself. Her heart – which once seemed like a fountain sending forth many streams –  has become a fountain which has but one channel for its waters. She has stopped up all the other issues… cut away the other pipes… and now the whole stream runs toward him in one strong current, and him alone.

The Church – in the text here – is not a worshipper of God and of Baal too. No, no… she is no time-server – one who changes their opinions and manners to the times – one who has a heart for all comers. She is not a harlot – whose door is open for every wayfarer. Rather, she is chaste, and she sees none but Christ. She knows no other whom her soul desires, save her crucified Lord. The wife of a noble Persian was invited to attend the wedding feast of King Cyrus. Upon her return, her husband merrily asked her whether she thought King Cyrus – the bridegroom-monarch – was a most noble man. Her answer was, “I know not whether he is noble or not. My husband was so before my eye that I saw no one beside him; I see no beauty but in him.” So if you ask the Christian whose love is expressed to Christ in our text, “Is not So and so fair and lovely?” “No,” she replies, “my eyes are fully fixed on Christ. My heart is so taken up with him that I cannot tell if there is beauty anywhere else. I know that all beauty and all loveliness is summed up in him.”

Sir Walter Raleigh used to say, “That if all the histories of tyrants… the cruelty… the blood… the lust… the infamy… were all forgotten… all these histories might be re-written out of the life of Henry VIII.” And I may say by way of contrast, “If all the goodness… all the love… all the gentleness… all the faithfulness that ever existed was blotted out… they could all be re-written out of the history of Christ.” To the Christian, Christ is the only one she loves. She has no divided aims – no two adored ones. No, no… she speaks of him as the one to whom she has given her whole heart, and none have her heart besides him. “Oh thou whom my soul loveth.” 

Come, brethren and sisters, do we love Christ in this fashion? Do we love him so that we can say, “Compared with our love to Jesus, all other loves are nothing?” Yes, we have those sweet loves which make earth dear to us. We love our kindred…. according to the flesh. We would be lower than beasts if we did not. But some of us can say, “We do love Christ better than husband or wife, or brother or sister.” Sometimes we think we could say with St. Jerome, “If Christ should bid me go this way, and my mother hung about my neck to draw me another; and my father was in my way – bowing at my knees with tears entreating me not to go. Oh, and my children plucked at my skirts seeking to pull me the other way, I must unclasp my mother… push my father to the very ground… and put aside my children for I must follow Christ.”

We cannot tell who we love the most until we have come to this collision. Indeed, when we come to see that the love of mortals requires us to do one thing, and the love of Christ to do the other – that is when we see who we love the best. Oh, those were hard times with the martyrs. Take that good man – Mr. Nicholas Ferrar. He was the father of some twelve children – all of them little ones. On the road to the stake, his enemies plotted that his wife should meet him with all the little ones. She set them down kneeling in a row by the roadside. His enemies expected him surely to recant. Surely for the sake of those dear babes he would certainly seek to save his own life. But no! no! He had given them all up to God! He could trust them with his heavenly Father.  Even for the felicity of covering these little birds with his wings – cherishing them beneath his feathers, Nicholas Ferrar could not – would not – recant. He took them one by one to his bosom. He looked, and looked again. It pleased God to put into the mouth of his wife and of his children words of encouragement, instead of discouragement. With that, he went from his wife and babes after they bid him to play the man and die boldly for Christ Jesus. Ay, soul, we must have a love like this – one, which cannot be rivalled… which cannot be shared… which is like a flood tide! Oh, other tides may come up very high upon the shore, but when that one comes to the very rocks and beats there – filling our soul to the very brim with anguish, I pray to God that we know what such a love to Christ means as we stand fast against that surge.

Furthermore, I want to pluck one more petal from this flower. If you will look at the title – Love to Jesus – you will learn from its petals the reality… the  assurance… the unity; but you will see a petal marked constancy, “O thou whom my soul loveth’ T’is not, “did love yesterday;” or, “may begin to love tomorrow;” but “ thou whom my soul loveth,”— “thou whom I have loved ever since I knew thee, and in loving, such love is as necessary to me as my vital breath or my native air.” The true Christian is one who loves Christ forevermore. He does not play fast and loose with Jesus… pressing him today to his bosom… then turning aside and seeking after another Delilah who pollutes him with her witchery. No, he feels that he is a Nazarite unto the Lord. He cannot and will not pollute himself with sin at any time or in any place. In the faithful heart, love to Christ is as the love that a dove has for its mate. If her mate should die, she can never be tempted to be married to another, No, she sits still upon her perch and sighs out her mournful soul until she too dies. So should it be with the Christian. If he had no Christ to love, then he must die for his heart has become Christ’s. And so – if Christ was gone, love could not exist. His heart would be gone, too for a man without a heart is dead. Ah, yes, the heart. Is it not the vital principle of the body? and love, is it not the vital principle of the soul? Yet, there are some who profess to love the Master, but only walk with him by fits and starts. Then, when suitable, they go abroad like Dinah into the tents of the Shechemites.

Oh, take heed, you professors, who seek two husbands. My Master will never be a part- husband – husband. He is not such a one as to have half of your heart. My Master, though he is full of compassion and very tender, has too noble a spirit to allow himself to be a half-proprietor of any kingdom. Canute, the Danish king, might divide England with Edmund the Ironside. Why? Because he could not win the whole country. But my Lord will have every inch of you or none. He will reign in you from one end of the isle of man to the other. Either that, or he will not put a foot upon the soil of your heart. He was never part – proprietor in a heart, and he will not stoop to such a thing now. What says the old Puritan? “A heart is so little a thing that it is scarce enough for a kite’s breakfast, and you say it is too great a thing for Christ to have it all.” No, give him the whole. It is but little when you weigh his merit – very small when measured with his loveliness. Give him all. Let your united heart… your undivided affection be constantly – every hour – given up to him. 

 “Can ye cleave to your Lord? can ye cleave to your Lord,
When the many turn aside?
Can ye witness he hath the living Word,
And none upon earth beside?
And can ye endure with the Virgin band,
The lowly and pure in heart,
Who, whithersoever their Lamb doth lead,
From his footsteps ne’er depart?
Do ye answer, ‘We can?’ Do ye answer, ‘We can,
|Through his love’s constraining power?’
But ah remember the flesh is weak,
And will shrink in the trial-hour?
Yet yield to his love, who round you now,
The bands of a man would cast;
The cords of his love, who was given for you,
To the altar binding you fast.” 

May that be your lot –  constant. Still to abide in him who has loved you. 

I will make but one more remark, lest I weary you trying to anatomize the language of love. In our text you will clearly perceive a fervor of affection. The spouse says of Christ, “O thou whom my soul loveth.” She does not mean she loves him a little… that she loves him with an ordinary passion… no, no…  but that she loves him in deepest sense of the word. Oh, Christian men and women, I do fear there are thousands of professors who never knew the meaning of this word “love” as to Christ. They have known it when referred to mortals… they felt its flame… they have seen how every power of the body and of the soul are carried away with its passion; but they have not felt it with regard to Christ. I know you can preach about him, but do you love him? I know you can pray to him, but do you love him? I know you trust him — you think you do — but do you love him? Oh! is there a love to Jesus in your heart like that of the spouse when she could say, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his lips, for his love is better than wine.” “No,” say you, “that is too familiar for me.” Then I fear you do not love him for love is always familiar. Faith may stand at a distance for her look is saving; but Love comes near… she must kiss… she must embrace. Why, beloved, sometimes the Christian so loves his Lord that his language becomes unmeaning to the ears of those who have never been in such a state. Love has a celestial tongue of her own. I have sometimes heard Love speak so that the lips of worldlings mocked, and men have said, “That man rants and raves—he knows not what he says.” Hence it is that Love often becomes a Mystic – speaks in mystic language – into which the stranger cannot intrude. Oh! you should see Love when she has her heart full of her Savior’s presence… when she comes out of her chamber! Indeed, she is like a giant – refreshed with new wine. I have seen her dash down difficulties… tread upon hot irons of affliction and her feet have not been scorched. I have seen Love lift up her spear against ten thousand, and she has slain them in one pass. I have known her to give all she had – even to stripping of herself for Christ – and yet Love seemed to grow richer… decked with ornaments as she un-arrayed herself that she might cast her all upon her Lord, and give up all to him.

Do you know this love, Christian brethren, and sisters? Some of you know for I have seen you prove it by your lives. As for the rest of you, may you presently learn it – enough so as to rise above the low standing of the mass of Christ’s Church. Get up from the bogs… fens… and damp morasses of lukewarm Laodiceanism. Yes, come up… come up higher… up to the mountain top where you shall stand bathing your foreheads in the sunlight… seeing earth beneath you – the earth’s very tempests under your feet… its clouds and darkness rolling down into the valley while you are talking with Christ who speaks to you out of the cloud. And where are you? Almost caught up in the third heaven to dwell there with him.

Thus have I tried to explain the language – words and meanings – of my text, “Thou whom my soul loveth.” 

Now let me come to the reasoning of the heart, which lies at the bottom of the text. My heart, why should you love Christ? With what argument will you justify yourself? Strangers stand and hear me tell of Christ, and they say, “Why should you love your Savior so?” My heart, you cannot answer them to make them see his loveliness for they are blind. Still, you can at least be justified in the ears of those who have understanding. Doubtless the virgins will love him if you tell them why you love him. As for what our hearts give for their reason? First, this: We love him for his infinite loveliness. If there is no other reason – if Christ did not specifically purchase you and me with his blood – sometimes we feel – if we had renewed hearts – we must love him for dying for others. Setting aside the personal benefit I received from the dear cross, I have sometimes felt his most precious passion in my soul. That passion – which I received from him – must be the deepest motive for love. Why? “For we love him because he first loved us!” Yet, setting that aside, there is such beauty in Christ’s character — such loveliness in his passion — such a glory in that self-sacrifice that one must love him.

Can I look into your eyes and not be smitten with your love? Can I gaze upon your thorn-crowned head, and shall not my heart feel the thorn within each ventricle? Can I see you in the fever of death, and shall not my soul be in a passionate fever of love to you? It is impossible to see Christ and not to love him. You cannot be in his company without feeling at once that you are welded to him. Go and kneel by his side in Gethsemane’s garden. Go!  I am persuaded that the drops of gore as they fall upon the ground shall be irresistible reasons why you should love him – each one of those drops! Hear him as he cries “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Remember that he endures this – why? Out of his love to others, and thus, you must love him if only for that!

If you ever read the history of Moses you would believe him to be the grandest of men. You admire him… look up to him as to some huge colossus… some mighty giant of the olden times. But do you ever feel a particle of love in your hearts towards Moses? No, you could not. His is an unlovable character. There is something to admire – yes, but nothing to win attachment to him. When you see Christ, you look up, but you do more! You feel drawn up – you do not admire so much as love… you do not adore so much as embrace. Christ’s character enchants…  subdues… overwhelms… and with the irresistible impulse of Christ’s own sacred attraction — his presence draws your spirit right to him. Well did Dr. Watts say—

“His worth, if all the nations knew,
Sure the whole earth would love him too.” 

But still, love has another argument why she loves Christ, namely, Christ’s love shown to her. Did you love me Jesus – King of heaven… Lord of angels… Master of all worlds? Did you set your heart on me? What, did you love me from of old, and in eternity choose me? Did you continue to love me as the ages rolled on? Did you come from heaven to earth that you might win me to be your spouse? Did you love me so that you do not leave me alone in this poor desert world? Are you this very day preparing a house for me where I shall dwell with you forever? A very wretch, Lord, I would prove to be if I had no love for you. I must love you. It is impossible for me to resist loving you – that thought that you love me has compelled my soul to love you.

Me! me! what was there in me? Could you see beauties in me? I see none in myself. My eyes are red with weeping because of my blackness and deformity. I have even said to the sons of men, “Look not upon me for I am black, because the sun has looked upon me.” And do you see beauties in me? What a quick eye you must have –  nay, rather it must be that you have turned my eyes to your looking-glass, so you see yourself in me! It is your image that you love – surely you could not love me. That ravishing text in the Canticles, where Jesus says to the spouse, “You are all fair my love, there is no spot in thee.” Can you imagine Christ saying that to you; and yet he has said it, “You are all fair my love, there is no spot in thee.” How can he say that? He has put away your blackness, and you stand in his sight as perfect as though you never sinned. You stand before him as full of loveliness as you shall appear when you are made like him that final day. Oh, brothers and sisters – some of you can say with emphasis, “Did he love me, then I must love him.”

I run my eye along your ranks. There sits a brother who loves Christ who not many months ago cursed him. There sits a drunkard — there another who was in prison for crimes; and he loves you, yes, even you – you who abused the wife of your bosom because she loved Christ’s dear name. You were never happier than when you violated his Sabbath… showed your disrespect to his ministers, and your hatred to his cause. Nevertheless, he loved you. And me! even me! — forgetful of a mother’s prayers, regardless of a father’s tears…  having much light, and yet sinning much, he loved me, and has proved his love. I charge thee, oh my heart – by the roes and by the hinds of the field – give yourself wholly up to my Beloved that you spend and be spent for him. Is that your charge to your heart this morning? Oh! it must be your charge if you know Jesus, and then know that Jesus loves you. 

One more reason why love give us a yet more powerful reason still – Love feels that she must give herself to Christ, because of Christ’s suffering for her. 

                   “Can I Gethsemane forget?
                  “When to the cross I turn mine eyes,
                   Or there thy conflict see,
                   And rest on Calvary,
                   Thine agony and bloody sweat,
                   O Lamb of God! my sacrifice!
                   And not remember thee?” 
                   I must remember thee.”      

When my life begins to ebb the waning years may cause me to lose many mental powers. However, memory will love no other name than is recorded there. The agonies of Christ have burnt his name into our hearts. You cannot stand and see him mocked by Herod’s men of war… you cannot behold him made nothing of, and spit upon by menial lips… you cannot see him with the nails pierced through his hands and through his feet… you cannot mark him in the extreme agonies of his awful passion without saying, “And didst thou suffer all this for me, then I must love thee, Jesus. My heart feels that no other person can have such a claim upon my heart as you have – for no others have spent their life for me as you have done. Others may have sought to buy my love with the silver of earthly affection – offering the gold of a zealous and affectionate character. But Christ bought my love with thy precious blood, and you have the richest claim to it, thine shall it be, and that forever.”

This is love’s logic and reasoning. I may well stand here and defend the believer’s love to his Lord. I wish I had more love to defend than I have. Yes, I dare stand here and defend the utmost extravagancies of speech, and the wildest fanaticisms of action when those extravagancies and fanaticism were done for love to Christ. I say again, I only wish I had more to defend in these degenerate times. Has a man given up all for Christ? I will prove him wise if he has given up his life for such a one as Christ is. Has a man died for Christ? I would write over his epitaph that he surely was no fool. He had the wisdom to give up his heart for the one who had his heart pierced for him. Let the Church try to be extravagant for once! Let her break the narrow bounds of her conventional prudence. For once arise and dare to do wonders — let the age of miracles return to us! Let the Church make bare her arm, and roll up her sleeves of her formality. Let her go forth with some mighty thought within her at which the worldling shall laugh and scoff! As for me? I will stand here, and dare to defend her before the bar of a scoffing world. Oh, Church of God, you can do lavish extravagance for Christ! You may bring out your Mary’s – they may break their alabaster boxes, and he well deserves the breaking. You may shed your perfume – give unto him livers of oil – ten thousands of the fat of fed beasts, but he well deserves it.

I see the Church as she was in the first centuries like an army storming a city — a city surrounded by a vast moat. For that army, there was no means of reaching the ramparts except by filling the moat with the dead bodies of the Church’s martyrs and confessors. Do you see them? A bishop has just now fallen in – his head was smitten off with the sword. The next day at the tribunal there are twenty wishing to die that they may follow him. On the next day twenty more. The stream pours on till the huge moat is filled. Then, those who follow after – scale the walls and plant the blood-red standard of the cross. Yes! The trophy of their victory stand aloft the top. Should the world say, “Why this expense of blood?” I answer, he is worthy for whom it was shed. The world says, “Why this waste of suffering? why this pouring out of an energy in a cause that at best is fanatical?” I reply, “He is worthy, he is worthy. Though the whole world were put into the censer, arid all men’s blood the frankincense – he is worthy to have it all sacrificed before him. Though the whole Church should be slaughtered a hecatomb – hundreds slaughtered, he is worthy upon whose altar the hecatomb is sacrificed. Though every one of us should lie and rot in a dungeon… though the moss should grow upon our eyelids… though our bodies should be given to the kites… and the carrion crows… he is worthy to claim the sacrifice; and all of that sacrificed would be all too mean a gift for such a one as he is.” Oh Master, restore unto the Church the strength of love which can hear such language, and feel it to be true. 

Now I come to my last point. I must dwell on it briefly. Language is good, reasoning is better, but a positive demonstration is the best.

I sought to give you the Love language when I expounded the words of the text. Next, I tried to give you the reasoning behind that Love language. Now I want you to give — for I cannot give it — I want you to give – each for himself – a demonstration of your love for Christ in your daily lives. Let the world see that Love for Christ is not a mere label to you — a label for something that does not exist, but that Christ really is to you “him whom your soul loves.” You ask me how you shall do it. I reply this way: I do not ask you brother to shave your head and become a monk – cloister yourself, my sister, and become a nun to live alone. Such a thing might show your love to yourself, not your love to Christ. No, I ask you to go home now, and during the days of the week engage in your ordinary business. Go with the men of the world as you are called to do… take the calling which Christ has given to you… see if you cannot honor him in your calling. As a minister, of course, I must find my work to serve Christ to some degree less honorable than you yours because my calling supplies me with gold. It is small work for me to make a golden image of Christ, though God knows that what I find that I can do in my poor strength could not be done apart from his grace. But for you… yes, you, to work out the image of Christ in the iron… clay… the common metal of ordinary, daily  conversation — Oh, this is glorious indeed! I think you may honor Christ in your sphere as much as I can in mine – perhaps more, for some of you may know more trouble… you may have more poverty… you may have more temptation… more enemies; and therefore you – by loving Christ under all these trials – you may demonstrate more fully than I can how true your love is to Christ, and how soul-inspiring is his love to you!

Away, I say, and look out on the morrow, and the next day, for opportunities of doing something for Christ. If there is any abuse of him, speak up for his dear name. If you find him wounded in his members, be as Eleanor – Queen of England’s king – suck the poison out of his wounds. Be ready to have your name abused rather than Jesus is dishonored. Stand up always for him. Be his champion. Let him not lack a friend for he stood as your friend when you had none. If you meet with any of his poor people, then show them love for his sake – as David did to Mephibosheth out of his love to Saul. If you know any of them to be hungry, set meat before them. Why? For you had as good a dish set before and by Jesus Christ himself when you hungered. If you see them naked, clothe them for you clothe Christ when you clothe his people. Nay, do not seek to do good temporally for his children, but seek evermore to be a Christ to those who are not yet his children. Go among the wicked and among the lost – to the abandoned – tell them the words of him… tell them Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. Go after his lost sheep. Be to them a shepherd as he was a shepherd so you will show them his love. Give what you can to him. When you die, make him heir of some of your estate. I would not think that I loved my friend if I did not sometimes send him a present. I should not think that I love Christ if I did not give him something… some sweet cane with money… some fat of my burnt sacrifices.

I heard the other day a question about an old man who had long professed to be a Christian. They were saying he left so much, and one said, “But did he leave Christ anything in his will?” Someone laughed and thought it ridiculous. Ah! so it would be – because men do not think of Christ as being a person – but if we had this love, such giving would be natural to us… to give to him… to live for him. Perhaps, if we let him have it at last — so in dying we gave our friend a testament and proof that we remembered him – we should do so, even as he remembered us in his last testament and will. Oh, brothers and sisters—what we want more in the Church is a more extravagant love to Christ. I want each of you to show your love to Jesus – yes, sometimes by doing something the like of which you have never done before. I remember saying one Sabbath morning that the Church ought to be the place of invention as much as the world. We do not know what machine is to be discovered yet by the world, but every man who has the wits should work find out something new. So ought the wits of the Church be at work to find some new plan of serving Christ.

Robert Raikes founded our Sabbath-schools. John Pounds the Ragged-school. Are we to be content with carrying on their inventions? No. We want something new. It was in the Surrey Hall – through that sermon – that our brethren first thought of the midnight meetings that were held — yes, an invention suggested by the sermon I preached about the woman with the alabaster box. Still, we have not come to the end yet, have we? Is there no man here that can invent some new deed for Christ? Is there no brother that can do something more for him than has been done to-day…  yesterday… during the last month? Is there no man who will dare to be strange… singular… wild… and in the world’s eye fanatical? For in the eye of man, there is no love to Christ that is not fanatical. Depend upon it – no true love confines itself to propriety. I pray the Lord would put into your heart some thought of giving an unwanted thank-offering to him… doing an unusual service… that Christ might be honored with the best of your lambs, and that the fat of your bullocks might be exceeding glorified by your proof of love to him.

God bless you as a congregation. I can only invoke his blessing. Otherwise, these lips refuse to speak the words of the love which I trust my heart knows… which I desire to feel more and more but cannot articulate. Sinner, trust Christ before you seek to love him, and trusting Christ you are saved. 

Amen