T HE K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S meek and lowly In heart.” It is the yoke of service—-a linking of Himself with His people in the yoke of service. I once heard Dr. Buckley say to Ira D. Sankey in a great audience in New York at the memorial service to D. L. Moody, “ Mr. Sankey, Moody was the humblest man before God that I ever knew, do not you agree with me?” and Sankey responded at once in confirma tion. “ The humblest before God,” re peated Dr. Buckley. “ He was not hum ble before you, was he?” “No,” said Sankey, “ he was not humble before me, he would tell me frankly what he thought I ought to do. He was some times a little bit severe, I thought, but he was humble before God.” That is true, a humility that bows before God, and in its' relation to men, stands erect for liberty, for truth, for righteousness, and for everything that is good. Jesus was a manly Man, though the humblest that ever walked this earth. Again, He was altogether lovely in His griefs. You cannot see' Him in the home at Bethany entertained and min istered to by loving hearts and hands, and then follow Him out to the sepul chre and watch and listen to Him, without admiring the beauty of His sorrow. “ Jesus wept.” He wept with the weeping, with the broken in heart, and as He wept He was moved with in dignation (that is the Greek word) when He saw the devastation that sin had made, the wreck that death had produced, and as He caught the vision of the ruin that sin had wrought upon earth and the sorrow that comes in its train, He wept, but there flashed out through His tears the lightning of righteous wrath. Sometimes we forget to weep while the lightning flashes. We can denounce sin and denounce the sinner without a tear in our eyes or our hearts. We see the wreck and we burn with indignation, and we call it “ holy fire,” and it is, but it is not assuaged
157 by the falling tear. The Lord Jesus wept while He was angry with what brought the devastation. I confess that my admiration rises as I see Him pass ing the brow of Olivet and coming in sight of His beloved city, and while the company about Him are shouting, He weeps; the Greek word is “ wails.” His voice was heard. There was a pang of sorrow too deep for tears when He looked out upon the city and saw what men could not see from that position,— the sin, the sorrow, the degradation, and the pain, and looking forward to the future, He could hear the tramp of the Roman army and the battering of the rams at the gate. When He saw what was coming there came a wail from His breaking heart. The city did not care for Him. The city would not hear Him. The city was hard against Him. It is easy to weep with Mary and Martha at the sepulchre of their brother, and He still does that. Praise God for the loving sympathetic Saviour that weeps with His children, but that is comparatively easy. It is harder to weep over the city that does not care for Him. It is harder for you to weep over the men and women that despise you for your weeping, and scorn you for your wailing and have contempt for you because of your broken heart on their account. The Lord Jesus was al together lovely in His grief, weeping with them that wept, and weeping over people that despised Him for His tears. He was altogether lovely in His prayer life. We can trace it, beginning at His baptism when He prayed between privacy and publicity and set us an ex ample: when He prayed between His ministry and His message, between His testing and triumph. Follow Him in His prayer life and you will find that He is lovely at prayer. But as I listen I hear what He prays for. He is pray ing for me. He is not praying for Him self, but for His people, and the beauty
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