TWENTY-SEVENTH WEEK THE MAN OF SORROWS
“A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” Isaiah 53:3
O Lord! Thy wondrous story
My inmost soul doth move;
I ponder o’er Thy glory—
Thy lonely path of love!
But, O divine Sojourner,
’Midst man’s unfathomed ill,
Love, that made Thee a mourner,
It is not man’s to tell.
“Jesus therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well.” … Oh! to think of the Lord Himself, whom none of the princes of this world knew, but who was the Lord of glory, sitting weary on the well, thirsty, and dependent upon this world for a drink of water—the world that was made by Him, and knew Him not!
He was the display, at all cost to Himself, of divine love to man.
I adore the love that led Him to be made sin for me. There was the full testing of the love that carried Him through all. It is deeply instructive, though very dreadful to see there what man is. What do I expect of my friends if I am on trial? At least that they will not forsake me. They all forsook Him, and fled! In a judge? I expect him to protect innocence. Pilate washes his hands of His blood, and gives Him over to the people! In a priest, what do I expect? That he will intercede for the ignorant and for them that are out of the way. They urge the people, who cry, “Away with him, away with him!” Every man was the opposite of what was right, and that one Man was not only right, but in divine love He was going trough it all!
His sorrows must ever be a depth into which we look over on the edge with solemn awe. … It exalts His grace to the soul to look into that depth, and makes one feel that none but a divine Person (and one perfect in every way) could have been there.
He looked for some to take pity, but there was none, and for comforters, but found none. … He was tested and tried to the last degree of human suffering and sorrow, standing alone in this, praying in an agony and alone … none to sympathise with Him; Mary of Bethany was the only one, but for the rest never one had sympathy with Him; never one that wanted it that He had not sympathy with.
None of us can fathom what it was to One who had dwelt in the bosom of the Father to find His soul as a man forsaken of Him.
In the measure in which He knew what it was to be holy, He felt what it was to be made sin before God. In the measure in which He knew the love of God, He felt what it was to be forsaken of God.
He is the resurrection and the life. Wonderful that He, such in this world, Master of death, steps then into death Himself for us!
He has purchased us too dearly to give us up.
The traits of that face, Lord,
Once marred through Thy grace, Lord,
Our joy’ll be to trace
At Thy coming again.
With Thee evermore, Lord,
Our hearts will adore, Lord;
Our sorrow’ll be o’er
At Thy coming again.