It pictures the end as well as the means; that is to say, when I take that bread, and eat it, and take that cup, and drink from it, I bring to remembrance, – to my own remembrance, and the remembrance of those round about me, – not merely the fact that Christ suffered, but that He suffered for me, and that I had an interest in him. Believe me, beloved, this truth is so simple, that, while I speak, I can half fancy some of you saying, ‘Why does he not tell us something new?’ But let me say to you, it is always a new truth, and there is no truth which the Christian heart more readily forgets.
Oh, that I could always feel that He loved me, and gave Himself for me! I know He did; is is long since I had a doubt about it, but I do not always remember it. Going abroad into the world, how apt we are to let the remembrance of the Saviour’s love slip! The love of wife and husband follows us like our own shadow; the love of our dear child seems to encompass us like the atmosphere in which we live; but Jesus Christ is not visibly here, and therefore the remembrance of him requires spirituality of mind, and we are carnal – too often but babes in grace, and so we forget His sufferings; and, worse still, we forget our interest in them.
Oh, that I could have the cross painted on my eyeballs, that I could not see anything except through the medium of my Saviour’s passion! O Jesus, set thyself as a seal upon my hand, and as a signet on mine arm, and let me wear the pledge for ever where it is conspicuous before my soul’s eye! Happy is that Christian who can say, ‘I scarcely need that memorial.’ But I am not such an one; and I fear me, my brethren, that the most of us need to be reminded by that bread and wine that Jesus died; and need to be reminded, by the eating and drinking of the same, that He died for us.