00A.07 CHAPTER IV.—Christ the Man of Sorrows

CHAPTER IV CHRIST, THE MAN OF SORROWS Our Scripture reading for the sermon tonight is Isaiah 53:1-6.

"Who hath believed our message and to whom hath the arm of Jehovah been revealed? For he grew up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised, and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and as one from whom men hide their face he was despised; and we esteemed him not. Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon dm; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah hath laid on him the iniquity of us all."

“He was despised, and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.”

We have all often heard Christ spoken of as a man of sorrows, but some people do not seem to know where he is so designated in the Bible. I once knew a man who read the entire New Testament through looking for that expression, and when he didn’t find it he took delight in calling people down for using it, telling them that it is not in the Bible. But even if it were not in the Bible and our using it would cause many people to read the New Testament through, we ought all to begin using it every time we speak of our Lord.

Isaiah is called the gospel prophet or the Messianic prophet, because he foretold so many things about Christ. We have the example of an inspired man in applying this 53rd chapter to Christ. "Philip opened his mouth, and beginning from this Scripture preached unto him Jesus” (Acts 8:35). There can be no doubt, therefore, about Christ being here called the man of sorrows.

We are studying Christ each night in the first part of these meetings because he is the only Savior of the world and our efforts here are for the salvation of men. We have no desire to perpetuate a part}’, defend a doctrine or extend the interests of a denomination. We are “determined to know nothing save Christ and him crucified”.

Personally, I believe that Christ is not only the Savior of our souls, but I believe that he is the panacea for all earth’s ills. I believe that he is the ideal of the ages; the goal which men are trying to attain; the “holy grail” for which they are seeking. I think all honest scientists, philosophers, legislators and educators are seeking to better the conditions of the earth, to amelioriate human suffering and to bring more joy, happiness and good will to men. But the very things they are seeking to bring about—many of them without Christ—can be found only in Christ. Hence if the scales could only fall from the eyes of men and they could recognize Christ for what he is—and for what he is worth to the world, I believe all men would fall at his feet and crown him Lord of all. This having been said, somebody is perhaps ready to say: “Do you think a man of sorrows is the ideal of the world? Do you think men want to fall at the feet of a sighing, sorrowful, weeping man? That is not man’s nature; we want a strong, fearless, indomitable, iron man for our ideal. We are hero worshipers. The whole race is. Men will not follow a tearful sentimentalist. This age has no time at all for ‘sob stuff’. Give us life; give us action; give us daring and adventure.”

We might appropriately reply with the text, “despised and rejected of men,” but for the fact that we have said that, he is the ideal of all men. We can not deny the claim that men are all hero worshipers. That we are all fascinated and even captivated by men of strength and courage: men who fear nothing but will dare anything. That is why Hannibal and Caesar hold such a large place in the history of ancient nations. That is why Napoleon’s page in the world’s history is so luminous and his name is embalmed in the hearts of the French people. And in our own nation who does not thrill with pride at the mention of such dauntless men as Washington and Jackson and Lee and Grant and Nelson and Forrest and hundreds of others whose names adorn the pages of our history, and whose memory will be preserved by the statues and monuments that stand in our capitol city and in our national cemeteries? And perhaps no man of modern times has had a larger place in the hearts of our people than Theodore Roosevelt. He was a great man in many respects, but who doubts that his dashing, daring, adventurous spirit is what appealed to the fancy and challenged the admiration of the populace:’

We have had one President whose whole claim upon the hearts of his countrymen was his heroism. He was not a great statesman —he w’as no scholar at all, and he was not a military genius like Napoleon. But he was a dare devil. He fought whenever there was an opportunity to fight without waiting for orders from his superiors. Andrew Jackson, known as “Old Plickory,” the seventh President, won fame as a fighter in both public and private battles. His duel with Mr. Charles Dickinson took the prize before a certain New York Athletic Association as the bravest deed ever done on American soil

Jackson and Dickinson both lived at Nashville, Term., but their duel was to be fought at Harrison Mills, Logan County, Kentucky. Mr. Dickinson and his friends preceded Jackson in the journey to the place appointed. Enroule Dickinson entertained his- friends by performing special feats with his pistol, which were told to Jackson as he came along the way. At a certain toll gate one of the Dickinson company put a fifty cent piece upon the gate or pole. Dickinson stepped off thirty steps and shot the coin off the gate. His friend replaced it and he shot it off again. Again he replaced it only to see it drop off at the report of the pistol, Dickinson handed this disfigured coin to the gate-keeper and told him to give it to Mr. Jackson with his compliments. He thought he would give Jaclfton an ague. The gate-keeper gave the coin to Mr. Jackson and told him how Mr. Dickinson had hit it three times out of three shots. Jackson thanked him and put the battered coin into his pocket. When the time came for the duel Mr. Jackson proposed that they shoot alternately and he gave Dickinson the first shot! Stood up before a man—just twenty-four steps away—who could hit a fifty cent piece three times out of three shots and let him shoot at him ! Dickinson hit him, but Jackson did not fall. Instead he took deliberate aim and shot Dickinson, fatally. That deed won a prize for its bravery —the bravest ever done in America. The world loves to hear tales of bravery . There can be no successful denial made of that. And it is equally true that the world wants things that are light and cheerful and amusing, instead of things that are serious and solemn and pathetic. Men want music and laughter instead of sobbing and groans. But after making these admissions I still affirm that Christ, the Man of Sorrows, is the ideal of the ages. That he meets a universal yearning of the human soul.

Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox—who was at this time Miss Ella Wheeler—was once riding upon a train in which there was a woman weeping She was dressed in full mourning and she attracted the attention of all the other passengers by her inconsolable grief; by her outbursts of crying, Ella Wheeler observed that the passengers, after finding they could do nothing for the woman, avoided her and soon no one was sitting near her. After a while some one in the end of the coach furthest from the weeping woman began telling something that provoked laughter and all the passengers strained their ears to hear. And it was not long until they had all gathered around the man who was dispensing laughter. This caused Ella Wheeler to write:

Laugh and the world laughs with you;

Weep and you weep alone. For the sad old earth Must borrow its mirth;

It has troubles enough of its own. That is the explanation; that is the philosophy of the whole situation. The world is so burdened with grief and sorrow that it seeks to borrow all the mirth it can. Every man would like to lay at least a part of his burden off on some one else. We all like to tell our troubles and we expect sympathy from our friends. But we don’t enjoy hearing tales of woe from the other man. We avoid people who are gloomy and pessimistic. But we will seek the company of a man who can make us laugh and who can give us strength and courage by his optimism and buoyant philosophy. A fun-maker can lead men as the Pied Piper of Hamelin led the children The ancient kings always had jesters in their courts. And our humorists, such as Will Rogers, can gain admission where scholars, educators and preachers could not go. And some of them have incomes greater than that of the President. In view of these facts how can we expect the world to fall at the feet of a man of sorrows? Because Christ is not one who dispenses sorrow, but one who dispels it He never sympathized with himself and he had no tear for his own grief. He said to the tender hearted sympathetic women who followed him as he bore the cruel cross—the instrument of torture—“Weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children, for that which is coming upon you.” He always thought of others. “He bore our griefs and carried our sorrows" He is the man of sorrows because he is the one upon whom the sorrow and suffering and sin of the whole world is cast. He is our universal burden bearer. Is there not a universal demand for such a Helper and Friend? Have we not seen already that men in trouble seek sympathy and look to their friends for help? O, yes, we ail admire heroism and we honor Caesar and Napoleon and “Old Hickory” Jackson, but what man would go to a Napoleon for sympathy when his baby is a corpse or his wife is ill? What man would call a Caesar, or a Jackson to his bedside to pray with him when the icy hand of death is on his throat? Whom do men call at such times? Ah, they call the preacher and they want the most humble, pious and Sympathetic preacher they can find. In life they may have admired the fighting preacher, the fiery petrel, but in the hour of sorrow and at the approach of death they want the godly man with tender heart and kind words. The world is weighted down with woe and the voice of the whole suffering human family is crying for a burden bearer and a comforter. From the time when, as children, we ran to mother to kiss away the hurt, until death claims us, we are looking for some one to relieve our heart pangs and soothe our sorrows. Often in times of deep distress we go to our dearest friend on earth and unbosom ourselves and find comfort in his sympathy. But however true, faithful and sympathetic that friend may be, and however heavily we may lean upon him, we sometimes have stings that he can not take away and hurts that he can not heal. There are times when all that earth friends can do avails but little.

Then it is that the human heart protests against the cruelties and tragedies of life and cries out to the Great Unknown and longs for light and relief that this earth can not give. Even the heathen know this longing and this need of the heart, and their desire for this tells them that there is a Power Somewhere that can help them and that there is a life that is Higher and Happier and Holier.

Now in Christ this life is revealed, this ideal is realized. In Christ we find light to dispel the darkness. He is the light of the world. In him is the light of life. He reveals the Father and the Father’s mercy and love. He bears all our burdens and heals our hearts. How tender are the words of promise:

Cast thy burden upon the Lord and he will sustain thee. He will never suffer the righteous to be moved. (Psalms 55:22.) Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you. (1 Peter 5:7.) Be anxious for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God, (Php 4:6.) But seek ye first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these things (all creature comforts) shall be added unto you. (Matthew 6:33.) If ye abide in me and my words abide in you, ask whatsoever ye will and it shall be done unto you. (John 15:7.) And ye are complete in him. (Colossians 2:10.) Let not your hearts be troubled: believe in God, believe also in me. (John 14:1.) And lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. (Matthew 28:20.)

Christ is our “all in all”. In him our weary souls find rest. In him we find a balm for all our ills. He is our refuge and strength. He is our Shadow from the heat and our Rock n the time of storm.

He searches our hearts and knows all our woes. He has been tempted in all “points like as we are” and understands every point of attack. He has run the entire gamut of the human soul and touched every chord that vibrates there. He knows every sigh that heaves our bosoms and understands every emotion that shakes our frames. He knows the bitter, briny Lear and the groan that is too deep for utterance. He knows it all. A good many years ago I preached one night in the Masonic Temple at Chattanooga, Tenn. (We worshiped in that hall regularly then), on a subject similar to this. In the sermon I had made the statement that Christ understands all our emotions, knows all our sorrows, has experienced all our temptations and is therefore able to succor us in every time of need. I had noticed a strange man sitting back near the door. He seemed to be listening to me, but still he had a pre-occupied look and a rather grim expression on his face. When the service was over I was at the door shaking hands with the people and he came up to me and took hold of my hand with a firm grasp. He looked me in the eyes with a straight, sincere gaze and said:

“Young man, that was a wonderful sermon you preached tonight, if it were only true.”

I said: "Sir, the things I told tonight are indeed wonderful and the wonderful thing about them is that they are true.”

He said: “Do you believe that?”

I assured him that I did. Still holding my hand tightly he said: “I can’t believe it. Jesus Christ doesn’t know anything about my sorrow and my temptation.”

I said: “The trouble is you do not know Christ and you are not willing to let him help you. If you do not believe, you can’t expect to enjoy the blessings.”

He replied: “How can I believe,” and then quickly, “I’d like to talk with you. When can I see you ?”

I told him I was ready to talk with him right then and led him apart into a private room. I asked him to sit down and as I was tired, having preached three times that day, I sat down in one of the chairs that were in the room. He did not sit down, but continued to pace to and fro before me. He turned abruptly upon me and said: “And you -believe that Jesus Christ knows my heart, understands my situation and can help me?” I reaffirmed my belief of that truth. He shook his head and continue to walk the floor.

I arose and put my hand upon his shoulder and said: “My brother, there seems to be something troubling you, can you tell me what it is? I shall be glad to help you if there is anything I can do.”

Then he told me his story. He had loved and married a girl who was all the world to him. A baby girt had come to bless his home and his happiness was unalloyed. Then came the Serpent into his Eden. His wife bad eloped with another man and had carried his baby with her. He was then searching for her. And he swore with the vilest oaths that he would murder her and her seducer if he could find them.

He concluded by saying: “Jesus never had any such experience as that! He doesn’t know what I suffer and how I am tempted.” At once my mind began to turn that problem over. I could have replied that Christ knows our hearts by divine power, but for the fact that I had preached that he had lived among men and therefore knew our sorrows. That he was tempted in all points in which we are tempted. I began to think of many experiences that come to men through which our Lord did not pass while here on earth: the death of a babe; a wrecked home, the ruin of a son or a daughter; the loss of bodily strength and many other things. For a minute I was puzzled and then the answer came like a flash.

I said: “My brother, let me tell you that Christ our Lord does know your feelings and your great trial and he alone can bear you up and heal your heart. It is true that Christ never had this identical experience while living among men, but we do not have to have the same experience to know the same emotion. To illustrate: You have laughed and I have laughed. You laughed at one thing and I at something else, but we both know laughter. You have wept and I have wept. One thing caused you to - weep and another caused me to weep, but we both know what it means to weep. We have both been angry Our anger was not provoked by the same experience, but we both know anger.

“Here is a musical instrument. It has all the notes or tones in music and every tone has been made on it: Every chord has vibrated, but we know every piece of music that was ever composed has not been played on this instrument. Many compositions have never been rendered on this keyboard, but every tone that is in them has sounded here."

“Now the human heart is a harp of a thousand strings. It has chords like a musical instrument and Christ our Lord has touched each chord. He knows every emotion."

“He knows sorrow; his soul was once ‘exceeding sorrowful even unto death’. He knows what it means to be betrayed. One of his trusted friends, one who was admitted to the inner circle and knew his plans and hopes and his places of prayer and private resort, betrayed him, sold him for the price of a slave and led the mob to the place of his private devotions and identified him with a kiss! A kiss, the token of affection, prostituted to a signal for murder!"

Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, Who did eat my bread, Hath lifted up hi? heel against me. (Psalms 41:9.)

“He knew what it was to be misunderstood and to have his words misconstrued and perverted. He knew what it was to be falsely accused and to have his claims mocked, ridiculed and blasphemed.

“Oh, yes, brother, he knows it all. If some thorns are found in your path remember he bore them on his brow. He can turn your night into day and bring joy out of your great sorrow if you will submit to him and wait upon the Lord. If you do not ruin things by hate and malice and murder. If you will give your bruised heart to him who never broke a bruised reed or quenched the flickering flax—if you will bow to him in chastened resignation, do his will and ‘wait, meekly wait and murmur not’, you will soon know the peace that passeth understanding.”

I didn’t get the man to surrender to the extent that he obeyed the gospel, but through the help of God I sent him on his way with a different idea of Christ and with kinder feelings in his soul. He promised to give up his murderous search. My friends, I have related this experience in order to impress upon you the truth that Christ knows your hearts and can help you in any time of need. You, too, might some time get the idea that because Christ did not pass through some special experience while here in his earthly sojourn that he could not sympathize with you in such a trial. But he can, as we have seen, and that is the excuse now for the story just told.

Christ is a wonderful friend if we will only recognize our own weakness, dependence and utter helplessness and say, “The will of the Lord be done” and then stop worrying and fearing and foreboding and scheming. VVe have not learned the lesson of the grass of the field, the lilies and the .sparrows. We claim to be trusting the Lord, but we carry our own burdens—often useless burdens.

There is a story of an Irish peddler who was going down a dusty road on a hot summer day with a very heavy pack upon his back. A man in a light spring wagon overtook him and seeing that he was under a great burden and seemed tired, he asked the peddler to get in and ride. The peddler accepted the kind invitation and climbed into the back part of the wagon. The man drove on for a mile or two and then looked back and saw Pat down on his knees sweating under his burden which was still on his back.

“Why don’t you take your pack off and rest as you ride,” asked the man.

Said Pat: “Faith, and I didn’t know that you meant to haul me and me pack, too.”

Most of us are just that foolish in the matter of allowing the Lord to “bear our griefs and carry our sorrows.”

Many things in the life of our Lord showed His tenderness and sympathy, but the story of His weeping with the heart-broken sisters who had lost a brother is to me the most touching.

Lazarus and his two sisters, Martha and Mary, lived at Bethany. Jesus was often in this home. He seemed to make it his home when He was in that region. He taught at Jerusalem during the day and spent the night at Bethany with these friends. The Book expressly says that Jesus loved Mary and Martha and Lazarus.

Jesus had left Judea, because the Jews were planning to kill him, and had gone up into Galilee. And Lazarus became very ill after the Lord’s departure. Death seemed near and the sisters sent at once and called for Jesus, believing that he could save their brother. “Lord, he whom thou lovest is sick,” was their message. But the Lord purposely delayed to go. He remained where he was for two days. Then Jesus knew that Lazarus was dead and he announced to his disciples that he was going to Bethany to awake Lazarus. The disciples felt rather that he was going to his own death, but resolved to go with him. When they had reached the vicinity they learned that Lazarus had been in the tomb four days. No doubt everybody was ready to tell Jesus of the death of his friend and of the sorrow of the sisters. Many Jews had come out from Jerusalem to console the sisters and I have no doubt that their sympathy was genuine. Our hearts always go out to our fellow men when we see them in great sorrow, and unless we have passed through such a sadness ourselves, we do not know how much the sympathy of friends means. Just to know that they think of us and that they weep with us is worth worlds. Their words do not count for much, for words are very feeble and empty things in the presence of death: at the time of a loss irreparable. But just the presence of a friend, just the touch of a hand, or the sight of a tear means much. We all recognize our helplessness at such a time and we all feel a sense of equality in suffering—we know we are heirs to the same sorrow and it helps us all to weep together.

It seems that the people not only talked to Jesus about the death, but the news of his arrival spread and some one told Martha that he was coming. She arose and left Mary weeping and went out to meet the Lord. Her words of greeting were: “Lord, if thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.” That is an expression of faith. She believed the Lord could have healed her brother, but there seems to be a note of disappointment also. She had sent for the Lord and he had not come. O, don’t you know she and Mary had counted the hours and looked anxiously for him and hoped to the last that he would yet reach there in time? But, no, the hours grew darker, the patient grew weaker and at last death came and hope was gone.

Perhaps you, too, have passed through a similar experience. You prayed earnestly and you /expected each moment to see a change come. You repeated the Lord’s promise and you claimed them and watched for the fulfillment. But you were disappointed. The thing you prayed for was not granted and you may have felt hurt and found it hard to be resigned.

Martha and Mary seemed to feel that way, too, and had they known that the Lord had purposely stayed away, what would have been their feeling? But the Lord had a wise and benevolent purpose in this delay. He knew he would take away the sting, he would turn their mourning into laughter, and would demonstrate a power that would produce faith and save souls. Just so it is in your case or mine. The Lord knows best and he will do what is right, whether we see it or not. After a while when the mists have cleared away and the clouds are gone, we shall see his wise purpose, and, like Mary and Martha, we shall know both his sympathy and his power.

Jesus assured Martha at once that his arrival was not too late, that Lazarus would rise again. But Martha didn’t understand him. After talking with her for a few moments, Jesus called for Mary.

Ah, I can hear him say: “Where is Mary, Martha? May I not see her now?” He knew Mary was brokenhearted. He knew she was somewhere sobbing out her grief and he wanted to console her.

All gospel preachers have gone to homes where death had come and seeing some members of the bereaved family they inquire for the others. They want to see them all.

“Where is Mary ?” Martha went into the room where Mary sat weeping and whispered to her: “The Master has come, and he calleth for thee.” He has come at last, Mary, and he wants to see you.

Mary arose and went out quickly and the friends who were there trying to console her supposed she was going to the grave to weep there.

How natural! How often we go again and again to the spot where, we had laid the body of a loved one! We decorate the grave and raise monuments and do all we can to hide the ugliness of death and to relieve our hearts of the sorrow. But Mary came to Jesus and fell down at his feet convulsed with grief and wailed: “Lord, if thou hadst been here my brother had not died.” She used the same words Martha had used, showing they had talked it over and had waited together for the Lord to come.

Jesus did not try to reason with Mary as he had with Martha—Martha the practical. Mary was broken up. No words would mean anything to her. See her there at the feet of Jesus, shaken by her grief, convulsed and sobbing! Her grief was so great and so touching that the Jews wept as they stood by and beheld her.

Jesus saw all this helpless weeping. He saw this broken, sobbing woman at his feet, he said no word to her, but the record says; “Jesus wept!”

Ah, what a scene! The Maker of worlds and the Lord of all life, weeps! You have heard it flippantly said that “Jesus wept” is the shortest verse in the Bible. And you have heard men say the only scripture they can quote is, "Jesus wept.*’ But, my friends, such people can not quote that at all. They do not see the meaning of those words. They have not touched the hem of the garment. Why did the Apostle John put that information in two words? Why did he not say, “Just at this juncture it was observed that Jesus himself was shedding tears?” Or, “The disciples noticed that Jesus was weeping also?” How insipid! There is no effort to explain, to elaborate or to garnish this fact. The abrupt statement shows the wonder with which this struck the apostles. They knew he had come to raise Lazarus. The Jews thought he wept because he had lost a friend, but that was not it. The disciples knew better than that. Why should he, the Master of death, weep? He will make everything right in a few minutes. Mary will soon be shouting, then why is he weeping?

There is only one answer, my friends, and that is sympathy! Pure human sympathy! He felt Mary’s grief, his heart was touched by her weeping and he wept with her! How sublimely sweet and touching is that picture!

Then the Lord said: “Where have you laid him?” And Martha said: “Lord, come and see.” She no doubt thought they would go to the grave and stand there and all weep together. She would tell the Lord all about his sickness and how she and Mary had anxiously looked and hoped for the Lord to come. She would tell of Lazarus’ last words. And she would tell of the funeral and how good the friends had all been. They would talk it all over and let their tears flow unrestrained. The Lord would hear the story sympathetically and they would all find relief in weeping. But there was a great surprise awaiting Martha! She believed in Christ and loved him, but she did not know his power or understand his purpose. But you know the story. The cave was opened and Lazarus was restored to life and given back to his astonished sisters. In this story we have a marvelous demonstration of divine power and human sympathy. Here we see Jesus bearing the sorrow of others and then removing it entirely. But the fact that he meant to take away the sorrow did not keep him from sharing the viewpoint of the grief- stricken sisters and entering into their sorrow. He wept with them and then dried their tears! And the sweetest thought of all, for us, is, that he is the same today. He does this for us. now if we are his friends. What a wonderful Saviour is Jesus! What a Friend we have in him! He bears our griefs and carries our sorrows and takes away our sins. “Him who knew no sin, was made to be sin for us; that we might.be made the righteousness of God in him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). Do you know Jesus? Have you given your life in service to him in order that you may claim him as your Friend? He said: “Ye are my friends, if ye do the things which I command you” (John 15:14). And, “If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love” (John 15:10). “If a man love me, he will keep my word: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him” (John 14:23). Do you want all these great blessings? Do you want God and Christ in your life to order your steps and to uphold you? Then you must obey the Lord and be guided by his Holy Word. You must not ignore his will and rebel against his authority and refuse to obey his commands. You must not make void his commands by heeding the creeds and traditions of men. All spiritual blessings are in Christ. They are not in some human organization or society or club or denomination.

We are not asking you tonight to join some religious order or denomination or to put yourself under the control of some council, conference, synod or some other body" of ecclesiastical officials, No. We are telling you of a friend divine, who can save your soul and make you unspeakably happy forever and ever. We want you to come into him. How do you get into him? You must believe upon him with all your heart; you must sincerely repent of all your sins—abhor them—-turn from them. Having thus died to sin, you must then be buried with the Lord in baptism according to his Word, and then come forth to walk in newness of life. “If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature ; old things are passed away, and all things are become new” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

“For we are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus: For as many of you as were baptized into Christ did put on Christ” (Galatians 3:26-27). Will you enter in while yet there is room? When as of old in her sadness, Mary sat weeping alone.

Softly the voice of her sister Whispered the Master has come.

So, in the depth of thy sorrow, Gall tho’ its fountain may be, List, for there cometh a whisper, Jesus is calling for thee.

0, when thy pleasures are dewing, Fading thy hope and thy trust, When cf the dearest earth’s treasures, Dust shall return unto dust.

Then, tho’ the world may invite thee, Vain will its offering be, List, for there cometh a whisper* Jesus is calling for thee.

Down by the shore of death’s river, Sometime thy footsteps shall stray, Where waits an angel to bear thee Over to infinite day.

What then tho’ dark be his shadow, If when his coming thou see, Cometh there softly a whisper, Jesus is calling for thee.