O ever homeless Stranger,
Thou dearest Friend to me;
An outcast in a manger,
That Thou might’st with us be!

We cling to Thee in weakness_
The manger and the cross;
We gaze upon Thy meekness,
Through suffering, pain, and loss.

There see the Godhead glory
Shine through that human veil;
And, willing, hear the story
Of Love that’s come to heal!

Midst sin, and all corruption,
Where hatred did abound,
Thy path of true perfection
Was light on all around.

In scorn, neglect, reviling,
Thy patient grace stood fast;
Man’s malice unavailing
To move Thy heart to haste.

O’er all, Thy perfect goodness
Rose blessedly divine;
Poor hearts oppressed with sadness,
Found ever rest in Thine!

I pause_for in Thy vision
The day is hastening now,
When for our lost condition,
Thy holy head shall bow.

O day of mightiest sorrow,
Day of unfathomed grief;
When Thou should’st taste the horror
Of wrath, without relief.

Then, finished all, in meekness
Thou to Thy Father’s hand
(Perfect Thy strength in weakness)

Thy spirit dost commend.

O Lord! Thy wondrous story
My inmost soul doth move;
I ponder o’er Thy glory_
Thy lonely path of love!

It is necessary to distinguish Christ’s sufferings from man from His sufferings from
God. Christ did, we know, suffer from men. He was despised and rejected of men; a
Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. The world hated Him because He bore
witness of it that its works were evil. Christ suffered for righteousness’ sake. The love
which caused the Lord to minister to men in the world and to testify of their evil
brought only more sorrow upon Him. For His love He received hatred in return.

He suffered also from the hand of God upon the cross. "It pleased the Lord to bruise
Him; He hath put Him to grief." He was made sin for us who knew no sin, and then
He was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. There He
suffered, the Just for the unjust; that is, He suffered not because He was righteous, but
because we were sinners, and He was bearing our sins in His own body on the tree. As
regards God’s forsaking Him, He could say, "Why hast Thou forsaken Me?" for in
Him there was no cause. We can give the solemn answer. In grace He suffered, the
Just for the unjust; He had been made sin for us. Thus, He suffered for righteousness,
as a living Man, from men; as a dying Saviour, He suffered from the hand of God for
sin.

Let us consider other types of suffering experienced by our blessed Lord. In the first
place, His heart of love must have suffered greatly from the unbelief of unhappy man,
and from His rejection by the people. He often sighed and groaned in spirit when He
came in contact with the people. He wept and groaned within Himself at the tomb of
Lazarus at seeing the power of death over the spirits of men and their incapacity to
deliver themselves. And He wept also over Jerusalem when He saw the beloved city
about to reject Him in the day of its visitation. All this was the suffering of perfect
love, moving through a scene of ruin, in which self-will and heartlessness shut every
avenue against this love which was so earnestly working in its midst.

A weight of another kind pressed upon the Lord often, I doubt not, through His life.
This was the anticipation of His sufferings on the cross and their true and pressing
character. On His path of life lay death. And for Him death was death_man’s utter
weakness, Satan’s extreme power, and God’s just vengeance. In this death He would be
alone, without one sympathy, forsaken of those whom He had cherished, and the object
of enmity of the rest of the people. The Messiah was to be delivered to the Gentiles and
cast down, the judge washing his hands of condemning innocence, the priests
interceding against the guiltless instead of for the guilty. All was dark, without one ray
of light even from God. Here perfect obedience was needed and (blessed be God!) was
found. What sorrow this must have been for a soul who anticipated these things with
the feelings of a Man made perfect in thought and apprehension by the divine light
which was in Him. He could not fail to fear the forsaking of God and the cup of death
He had to drink.

In Gethsemane, when the cross was yet nearer, and the prince of this world was come,

and His soul was exceeding sorrowful unto death, this character of sorrow and trial, or
temptation, reached its fullness. In Gethsemane all was closing in. The deep agony of
the Lord told itself out in few (yet how mighty!) words and in sweat as it were drops of
blood. Yet when the soldiers came to apprehend Him, He freely offered Himself to
drink that cup which the Father had given Him to drink. Wondrous scene of love and
obedience! Whatever the suffering may have been, it was the free moving of a Man in
grace, but of a Man perfect in obedience to God.

Sin itself must have been a continual source of sorrow to the Lord’s mind. If Lot vexed
his righteous soul with seeing and hearing the evil of Sodom when he was himself so
far from God in his practical Me, what must the Lord have suffered in passing through
the world! He was distressed by sin. He looked on the Pharisees with anger, being
grieved at the hardness of their hearts. He was in a dry and thirsty land where no water
was, and He felt it, even if His soul was filled with marrow and fatness. The holier and
more loving He was, the more dreadful was the sin to Him.

The sorrows, too, of men were in His heart. He bore their sicknesses and carried their
infirmities. Not a sorrow nor an affliction He met that He did not bear on His heart as
His own. "In all their afflictions He was afflicted." Our sins He bore too, and was
made sin for us, but that, as we have seen, was on the cross_obedience, not sympathy.
God made Him, who knew no sin, to be sin for us. All the rest was the sympathy of
love, though it was sorrow. This is a blessed character of the Lord’s sorrow. Love
brought Him to the cross, we well know; but His sorrow there had not the present joy
of a ministration of love. He was not dealing with man, but suffering in his place, in
obedience, from God and for man. Hence, it was unmingled, unmitigated
suffering_the scene, not of active goodness, but of God forsaking. But all His sorrow
in His ways with men was the direct fruit of love, sensibly acting on Him:He felt for
others, about others. That feeling was (oh! how constantly) sorrow in a world of sin;
but that feeling was love. This is sweet to our thought. For His love He might have
hatred, but the present exercise of love has a sweetness and character of its own which
no form of sorrow it may impart ever takes away; and in Him it was perfect.

Another source of sorrow was the violation of every delicacy which a perfectly attuned
mind could feel. They stood staring and looking upon Him. Insult, scorn, deceit, efforts
to catch Him in His words, brutality, and cruel mocking fell upon a not insensible,
though divinely patient, spirit. Reproach broke His heart. He was the song of the
drunkards. No divine perfection saved Him from sorrow. He passed through it with
divine perfection, and by means of it. But I do not believe there was a single human
feeling (and every most delicate feeling of a perfect soul was there) that was not
violated and trodden on in Christ. Doubtless, it was nothing compared with divine
wrath. Men and their ways were forgotten when He was on the cross; but the suffering
was not the less real when it was there. All was sorrow, but the exercise of love, and
that must, at last, make way for obedience in death where the wrath of God closed over
and obliterated the hatred and wickedness of men. Such was Christ. All sorrow
concentrated in His death where the comfort of active love and the communion with

His Father could put no alleviating sweetness with that dreadful cup of wrath. He gave
up everything on the cross, but afterward He received glory anew from His Father’s
hand_glory which He had ever had, but now would enter into as Man.

There is a point of deepest interest presented in verse 11 of Deuteronomy 16 in
connection with the feast of weeks:"And thou shalt rejoice before the Lord thy God."
We have no such word in the passover feast, or in the feast of unleavened bread. It
would not be in moral keeping with either of these solemnities. True it is, the passover
lies at the very foundation of all the joy we can or ever shall realize here or hereafter;
but we must ever think of the death of Christ, His sufferings, His sorrows _ all that He
passed through when the waves and billows of God’s righteous wrath passed over His
soul. It is upon these profound mysteries that our hearts are, or ought to be, mainly
fixed when we surround the Lord’s table and keep that feast by which we show the
Lord’s death until He come.

Now it is plain to the spiritual and thoughtful reader that the feelings proper to such a
holy and solemn institution are not of a jubilant character. We certainly can and do
rejoice that the sorrows and sufferings of our blessed Lord are over, and over
forever_that those terrible hours are passed, never to return; but what we recall in the
feast is not simply their being over, but their being gone through, and that for us. "Ye
do show the Lord’s death." We know that many blessings accrue to us from that
precious death. Yet when we are called to meditate upon it, our joy is chastened by
those profound exercises of soul which the Holy Spirit produces by unfolding to us the
sorrows, the sufferings, the cross, the passion of our blessed Saviour. Our Lord’s
words are, "This do in remembrance of Me," But what we especially remember in the
supper is Christ suffering and dying for us; what we show is His death. And with these
solemn realities before our souls, in the power of the Holy Ghost, there will, there
must be, holy subduedness and seriousness.

We speak, of course, of what becomes the immediate occasion of the celebration of the
supper_the suited feelings and affections of such a moment. But these must be
produced by the powerful ministry of the Holy Spirit. It can be of no possible use to
seek, by any pious efforts of our own, to work ourselves up to a suitable state of mind.
This would be ascending by steps to the altar, a thing most offensive to God. It is only
by the Holy Spirit’s ministry that we can worthily celebrate the holy supper of the
Lord. He alone can enable us to put away all levity, all formality, all mere routine, all
wandering thoughts, and to discern the body and blood of the Lord in those memorials
which, by His Own appointment, are laid on His table.

(From Notes on Deuteronomy, Vol. 2.)

All the types and shadows of the past were only figures of the true, but the Holy Ghost
signified "that the way into the holiest of all was not yet made manifest, while as the
first tabernacle was yet standing" (Heb. 9:8,9). Every claim of truth and justice having,
however, been fully satisfied, there remains no more offering for sin; the veil is rent, a
risen Christ sits at God’s right hand, and an indwelling Spirit is the abiding power for
the purged worshiped to draw near and worship the Father in spirit and in truth, "for
the Father seeketh such to worship Him." The new and living way is open into heaven
itself, and the worshiped is now privileged to enter with a true heart and in full
assurance of faith into the very presence of God. Apart from all the rites and
ordinances of a bygone dispensation, and standing in the unsullied light of the glory of
God that shines from the face of a risen and glorified Saviour, the purged worshiped’s
heart is free to delight itself in all the peerless worth of Him at whose blessed feet all
the heavenly hosts prostrate themselves in ceaseless praise and adoration.

As the countless glories of Him who sits upon the throne pass in spirit before the happy
worshiped, the Spirit strikes the chord of praise to God’s beloved Son, and the
heavenly anthem rings out through heaven’s courts from the whole of the redeemed
family. "Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood, and
hath made us kings and priests unto God and His Father; to Him be glory and dominion
for ever and ever. Amen" (Rev. 1:5,6). Worship ‘must needs flow without an effort
from the heart that is really satisfied with Jesus, and that has found its true rest in sweet
communion with the Father and the Son, by the power of the indwelling Spirit. Just in
proportion as self is forgotten, and the never-ending glories of Christ ravish and
captivate the heart, so is God magnified in His saints, and His heart refreshed and
gladdened. The fragrance of that precious Name that is above all others is as ointment
poured forth, and its sweet savor ever abides before God in the heavenly sanctuary.

(From The Bible Treasury, Vol. 9, New Series, pages 111-112.)

In 1 Peter 2:1-9 we are given the characteristics and duties of the Christian priesthood.
There are three words in this passage which tell us that Christianity is a riving reality.
It is not a set of doctrines, a system of ordinances, or a number of rules and
regulations. It is a heavenly power to be used and felt in every hour and circumstance
of our daily lives. Christianity is the life of Christ communicated to the believer_
dwelling in him and flowing out from him.

The first word is "living" (verses 4 and 5). This is the foundation of Christian
priesthood. Peter was probably referring to Matthew 16:13-20. He had confessed Jesus
to be "the Christ, the Son of the living God." Christ was the Rock on whom the Church
was to be built. God Himself has laid the foundation (verse 6), and that foundation is
Christ; and all who simply believe in Christ, all who give Him the confidence of their
hearts, all who rest satisfied with Him, are made partakers of His resurrection-life and
thus made living stones.

The second word is "holy" (verse 5). All true believers are holy priests. We do not
become priests by offering priestly sacrifices. But being, through grace, made priests,
we are called upon to present the sacrifice. What is the nature of the sacrifice we are
privileged to offer? We are "to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus
Christ." We also read in Heb. 13:15, "By Him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of
praise to God continually, that is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks to His Name."

The true nature of our sacrifice then is praise_"praise to God continually." It is not to
be an occasional thing. It is not merely at some special moment when all looks bright
and happy around us. It is not to be merely amidst the fervor of some specially
powerful public meeting when there is a strong current of worship all around us. The
word is, "praise . . . continually." There is no room for complaining, discontent,
impatience, or irritability, lamenting about our surroundings, complaining about the
weather, or finding fault with those with whom we are associated in the assembly, the
family, or in the business.

Holy priests should have no time for any of these things. They are brought nigh to
God, in holy liberty, peace, and blessing. They breathe the atmosphere and walk in the
sunlight of the divine presence, in the new creation, where there are no materials for a
sour and discontented mind to feed upon. A holy priest should "rejoice in the Lord
always" _ever ready to praise God. True, he may be tried in a thousand ways; but he
brings his trials to God in communion, not to his fellow-man in complaining.

The third and last word in our study is "royal" (verse 9). As holy priests, we draw nigh
to God and present the sacrifice of praise. As royal priests we go forth among our
fellow men, in all the details of daily life, to show forth the virtues of Christ. Every
movement of a royal priest should emit the fragrance of the grace of Christ. To be
occupied with myself, to be taking counsel for my own ease, my own interest, my own

enjoyment, to be seeking my own ends is not the action of a royal priest at all. Christ
never did so; and I am told to show forth His virtues.

The work of a royal priest includes, but is not limited to, giving money. But one need
not be rich to act as a royal priest. What riches are required to speak a kindly word, to
extend true sympathy, to give a friendly smile? Only the unsearchable riches of Christ
which are open to the most obscure member of the Christian priesthood.

Let us look at the example of Paul and Silas to see how these two aspects_holy and
royal_of the Christian priesthood are carried out in real life situations. In Acts 16 we
read that Paul and Silas were thrust into the darkest part of the prison and fastened in
the stocks with their backs sore and bleeding from the beatings they had received. What
were Paul and Silas doing? They "prayed and sang praises to God." Talk of
circumstances! It is little any of us know of trying circumstances. Poor things that we
are, the petty annoyances of daily Hie are often more than enough to cause us to lose
our mental balance. Paul and Silas were really in trying circumstances, but they were
there as living stones and holy priests.

How did they function as royal priests? They showed forth the virtues of Christ in their
words, "Do thyself no harm." They had no thought of retribution or anger for the man
who had contributed to their sufferings. The voices of the holy priests went directly up
to the throne of God and did their work there; and the words of the royal priests went
directly to the jailer’s hard heart and did their work there. God was glorified and the
jailer saved by two men rightly discharging the functions of the Christian priesthood.

(From "The Christian Priesthood" in Miscellaneous Writings, Vol. 3.)

It is the practical experience of the apostle Paul’s heart in connection with Christ that is
so marked in verse 20. The heart of a believer attentive to the Spirit’s teaching must
feel that one cannot read this verse without seeing that Paul had a practical connection
with the Nazarene in heaven, that he believed in a Christ who was not in heaven only,
but in his own soul, so that he could think of nothing but only of this Christ. That
which would not be joy to the heart of Christ, he as a believer in Christ could not joy
in; yet whatever had Christ for its object could not do otherwise than turn to his
salvation, through prayer and the supply of the Spirit. His only thought in everything
was that Christ should be magnified in his body, whether by life or death (verse 20).
This occupied his whole heart; and you and I may realize it as much as he did.

Can you and I say that we have only one simple desire, that is, that through us Christ
should be magnified? To magnify anything is to make it appear larger than it is; that
could not be so in connection with Christ. But Paul wanted all to shine out in him, so
that Christ should be magnified through him; so shine out that all should be able to say,
"What a marvelous thing! there is a man so spending his life for Christ that he does not
care to live if he can but magnify Christ by his death! What a marvelous Person that
Christ must be!"

Paul had the expectation that through him Christ should be glorified now in the
wilderness, that now Christ should be magnified. The love of Christ constrained him,
drew him along in the path after Christ. Oh, what manifestation of Christ it is when the
display of His handiwork is seen in a Saul of Tarsus; the oil of anointing so flowing
down to the servant that it could be said of that servant, "Like Master, like servant!"
What a blessed servant this servant of Christ is in a dungeon, not knowing whether he
was to live or die, occupied only with the one thought of glorifying Christ there, of
being a fellow-helper with Him down here! Whether his feet are in fetters or not, he
could say, "It is Christ I .have for my portion in this dungeon; and whether I am here
for life or death, it is my earnest expectation and hope that Christ shall be magnified in
my body, whether by life or by death."

To what extent have we become fellow-workers with Paul? To what degree are we
maintaining our Nazariteship and living out Christ so that, whatever our circumstances,
the power of the life of Christ in us may be seen as in Paul? How far is seen in us,
from day to day, the mind of Christ? The same mind that led Him down, even to the
death of the cross, is the mind that we ought to have. We are to let the power of the
grace that found us, and gave us life, tell its own tale by the manifestation of that life in
all our circumstances in our wilderness path.