A week usually holds much of difficulty and trial and temptation, and some of the dust of the world will settle on even a soul that has acquitted itself creditably during that space. In a week a man can become proud and independent. In a week a man can get discouraged even unto death. In a week a man may lose faith, hope, and love.

It was the Lord’s special object in giving us the bread and cup for a keepsake, that each time we partake of it we might remember him-his gentle forbearance; the unfailing care; the deep, true affection; and, above all, the fact that he gave his all for us and to us. Therein lies not only grateful remembrance of his deed; but it is, when rightly observed, the antidote for the world’s poison, and all our sin, grief, and discouragement. It reassures us of that unchanging love that shrank from no extent of sacrifice. It bears to our souls the inevitable conclusion that having done us such supreme kindness at such tremendous cost when we were yet in sin and rebellion, he will much more now care and work for us and do all a true Savior can do, that he may save us from the wrath to come.

We are prone to forget it. We are always ready to measure God’s love and good will by our own-than which man never did a poorer thing. But before this memorial feast the false doubts and fears and distrusts that trouble and ruin our souls must flee as the returning sunlight chases the evil birds of the night.


Gospel Advocate, Jan 27. 1910