Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you—John 6: 53.


Gladly, dear Lord, we eat (appropriate to our necessities) the merit of Thy pure nature sacrificed for us—for our justification. Gladly, too, we will partake of the cup of suffering with Thee, realizing it to be a blessed privilege to suffer with Thee, that in due time we may also reign with Thee; to be dead with Thee, that in the everlasting future we may live with Thee, and be like Thee and share Thy love and Thy glory as Thy Bride. Oh! that we may be faithful, not only in the performance of the symbol, but also of the reality. Blessed Lord, we hear Thy Word saying, "Ye shall indeed drink of my cup and be baptized with my baptism." Lord, we are not of ourselves able thus to sacrifice; but Thy grace is sufficient for us; for we are wholly Thine, now and forever.


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To eat the flesh of the Son of Man means in part to appropriate by faith His perfect humanity; and to drink His blood means in part to appropriate His perfect life by faith. Thus we appropriate from Christ an exact equivalent of our debt on account of Adam's sin; and this appropriated perfect humanity and life reckon us as being perfect and having perfect life. Without this appropriation we are dead in Adam and cannot have life, but with it we have life. To eat His flesh and to drink His blood, particularly the latter, also mean in part the Church sharing with Him in the sacrificial death.


Parallel passages: Matt. 26: 26-28; 1Cor. 11: 23-29; John 6: 47-58; 1Cor. 10: 16; Rom. 6: 3-10; 8: 10; 1Cor. 15: 29-34; Col. 1: 24; 2Tim. 2: 10-12; Heb. 13: 13-16.


Questions: Did I this week eat His flesh and drink His blood? How? Why? With what results?




"TILL He come!"–Oh, let the words

Linger on the trembling chords;

Let the little while between,

In their golden light be seen;

Let us think how heaven and home

Lie beyond that "Till He come."


When the weary ones we love

Enter on their rest above,

Seems the earth so poor and vast,

 All our life-joy overcast?

Hush! Be every murmur dumb;

It is only "Till He come."


Clouds and conflicts 'round us press;

Would we have one sorrow less?

All the sharpness of the cross,

All that tells the world is loss,

Death and darkness and the tomb

Only whisper, "Till He come."


See, the feast of love is spread.

Drink the wine and break the bread;

Sweet memorials!—till the Lord

Call us 'round His heavenly board;

Some from earth, from heaven some,

Severed only—till He come!


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