THE GREAT FESTAL GATHERING AND SONG OF HEAVEN
Then I looked again, and I heard the singing of thousands
and millions of angels around the throne and the living beings and the
elders. And they sang in a mighty chorus—
"The Lamb is worthy—the Lamb who was killed. He is worthy
to receive power and riches and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and
blessing!" Revelation 5:11-12
What an anthem is this!
We have, today, been assembled at Christ's Sacramental
Table, contemplating the memorials of His dying ever-living love. The
sublime passage just read contains also a superb description of a Communion.
But the place of convocation is not a Temple on earth, but Heaven—the
fellow-guests, not a few perishable mortals, but a glorified multitude which
no man can number. It may form no unbefitting theme, surely, for this
evening's service, to connect our sacrament below with the Supper of the
Lamb above—The eternal festal Sabbath; no mock kiss of pretended friendship
to mar—no anticipated hour and power of darkness to ruffle the deep rapture
of its joy. How profoundly interesting the thought that we have here
depicted what is now transacting in the Upper Sanctuary. How
delightful to reflect, that in ourselves ascending the Mount of Ordinances,
we have been identified with the redeemed around the Throne; that the Church
militant and the Church triumphant are associated in the same grand
commemorative rite. Lo! as faith catches up the echoes of the Heavenly
minstrelsy, it tells that our theme and our song are one—"The Lamb is
worthy—the Lamb who was killed. He is worthy to receive power and riches and
wisdom and strength and honor and glory and blessing!" In their connection
with the previous and succeeding context, let me advert to a few consolatory
truths with which the passage is replete. We may learn—
(1.) The delight with which Christ looks back on His own
Atoning work and sufferings. It was
predicted, "He shall see of the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied,"
and it would appear from the text, as if this were to be a perpetual sight
and ever new satisfaction. If, even on earth, when the appalling prospect
was before Him of treading the winepress of the wrath of God; when, at hand,
was the gleam of the midnight torch, the assassin-band, Gethsemane's hour
and power of darkness, and other deepening shadows beyond—if, even then,
anticipating the results of Redemption, He could say, as if longing for the
final triumph—"I have a Baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened
until it be accomplished!"—now, when His work is completed, the vision
informs us with what holier satisfaction He regards the retrospect of His
agony and endurance. Rejoicing still to talk with His redeemed, as He did of
old on the Mount of Transfiguration, of "the decease accomplished at
Jerusalem," beholding on every side the evidences of His conquest—living
trophies in their robes of light and with palms of triumph—contemplating the
influence His death has exercised, not on the family of earth only, but on
the varied orders of intelligence throughout the universe; what an
attestation to God's immaculate holiness, His unimpeachable rectitude, His
burning purity, His boundless mercy!
Shall the record be allowed to perish, or be henceforth
an unknown and unpondered theme in Heaven? No—exceptional as it is, there
shall still be one everlasting memorial there of anguish and suffering, in a
place where pain never enters and suffering is unknown. Accordingly, when
the Redeemer puts the coronation anthem into the lips of His worshipers, He
reveals Himself, not in the glories of Godhead, but as a slain Lamb,
wearing the marks of humiliation. He tells them to make Calvary still their
meditation, and His Cross and Passion the great Sacrament of eternity. The
print of the nails in His hands, and the spear-mark in His side, are not the
mementoes of shame but of victory—remembrancers of a love whose depths the
ages cannot fathom.
The vision of the text thus becomes the mightiest of
preachers, replete to the hosts above with the Story of grace. There is a
tongue in every wound of the glorified Sufferer, silently but expressively
proclaiming, "Great is the mystery of godliness, God manifest in the flesh!"
(2.) The Vision of the slain Lamb would seem symbolically
to point to the perpetual efficacy of the Savior's sacrifice.
"Christ was once offered to bear the sin of many." "By one
offering He has perfected forever those who are sanctified." By that one
oblation He has made the bestowment of love and mercy compatible with every
demand of justice and every requirement of righteous law. Nearly nineteen
centuries have rolled by, since those wounds were opened and that blood
shed. But the power and sufficiency of the Atonement are undiminished—still
is He "able to save to the uttermost." And what is His plea when, as the
ever-living Intercessor, He bears the names of His covenant people on His
heart in every approach to the Throne? It is the plea of His own precious
blood-shedding. He appears as "the slain Lamb." He points to the mute but
expressive traces and symbols in His own adorable Body, as the grounds of
His Advocacy. The live coals in the censer of the true Aaron (the fire of
suffering) give the odor-breathing incense of His merits all its fragrancy.
By His death He wrought out atonement; by intercession He perpetuates it and
renders it forever efficacious; so that in the noblest of senses it may be
said of Him, "He being dead, yet speaks." When on earth He poured out His
soul in strong crying and tears to Him who was able to save Him from death,
"He was heard in that He feared." In heaven He pleads in silence. He is
heard in that He suffered.
(3.) The Vision informs us of the continued identity of
Christ's Person as God-man Mediator.
It assures His people that He is the same Savior now that He was on earth.
"Behold the Lamb of God!" said John, when pointing out the Man of sorrows in
this valley of tears. "Behold the Lamb of God!" exclaim myriads in the
Heavenly Sanctuary, when gazing on the exalted Savior. It is indeed a
glorified humanity He now wears; but it is humanity still—His risen Body a
human Temple enshrining the Shekinah of Godhead. As the slain Lamb He
proclaims that the same heart which throbbed in anguish on the Cross
still beats on the Throne—that He is still the elder Brother, "the
living Kinsman," the Almighty Friend; still feelingly alive, exquisitely
sensitive to every pang which rends the human soul. What were the comforting
words which the angels, on the Mount of Ascension, addressed to the
disciples as they saw the bright cloud hearing their Lord to Heaven? "This
same Jesus." Precious assurance! Jesus unchanged and unchangeable—"this same
Jesus"—of Bethlehem and Nazareth, of Jerusalem and Galilee—"this same
Jesus," who mingled His tears with the widow at the gate of Nain; who wept
over the memory of a cherished friendship, and was melted in a flood of
tenderest compassion over a fated city and an apostate land—"this same
Jesus," who breathed balm-words of comfort on the very eve of His own agony,
and in the midst of it welcomed a dying felon to Paradise—is now, with a
heart of unaltered love and sympathy, wielding the scepter of universal
empire!
And He will continue "this same Jesus" until these clouds
be once more parted, and the celestial gates once more opened, that He may
"come again and receive us unto Himself." This is, and ever shall be, His
name and memorial, "I am He who lives and was dead." "Jesus Christ,
the same yesterday, today, and forever."
(4.) We may yet further infer from the Vision, that
Redemption is the grand theme of adoration for unredeemed angels, as well as
for the redeemed family of God. It is
a mighty throng of worshipers the text discloses. It is not one company
alone. We have angels, "living ones," and elders—redeemed and unredeemed. No
harp is unstrung, no voice silent. One strain thrills on every
tongue—"Worthy is the Lamb, the Lamb who was slain!" It is only one of the
many ranks who may be said to be personally interested in the subject-matter
of the anthem; and yet the whole celestial hierarchy would seem to dwell
with devout and delighted amazement on the marvel of marvels. We may picture
them exclaiming in turns, as they gaze on the significant symbol of
sufferings, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty!" How spotless His
righteousness! How inexorable His justice! How unsearchable His wisdom! How
infinite His love! How He hated sin, yet loved the sinner! How He magnified
the law by showing He could by no means clear, and yet how He has
'cleared, the guilty!'
Dear Friends, it is surely an elevating thought, that you
have been this day associated in your Sacramental feast, not with the Church
triumphant alone, ransomed sinners who have exchanged the pilgrim warfare
for the pilgrim rest, but with the whole Family of God, from the archangel
nearest the throne to the least in the kingdom. Though requiring not, as we
do, the personal application of the blood of sprinkling, they love to
assemble as spectators at the Great commemorative rite, and make it the
theme of devoutest contemplation; for, we read, "unto the principalities and
powers in heavenly places is made known, by the Church, the manifold wisdom
of God." When they search for the richest displays of the Divine character,
where is it, we are told, they direct their gaze—with what do they task
their immortal energies? With folded wings they bend over Gethsemane and
Calvary, and exclaim, "The whole EARTH is full of His glory!"
(5.) The Vision of the text informs us, of the preeminent
dignity and bliss of the ransomed saints.
The Evangelist heard the voice of many Angels round about the
throne, and round about the living ones, and round about the elders. What
does this unfold, but a succession (so to speak) of concentric circles
encompassing the all-glorious and glorified CENTER; and that the innermost
circle—those standing nearest the slain Lamb, permitted the nearest glimpse
of His Presence—are "Elders," that is, the Redeemed from the earth.
It was the white-robed multitude, with crowns and palms, who in a subsequent
vision were beheld "before the Throne," God sitting on the Throne and
dwelling among them. They would seem (to use the language of the old
divines,) as if reckoned the blood-royal of Heaven—"Kings and priests unto
God," "sitting with Christ on His throne." Wondrous spectacle! the ranks of
cherubim and seraphim, angel and archangel, making way, that redeemed
sinners may take the station nearest "the excellent Glory," and pour in
their own special chorus, in which no unredeemed tongue can join—"He was
slain for us!"
(6.) We learn further from the Vision, the unity
which pervades the heavenly ranks.
"Angels," "Living ones," and "Elders." No discordant voice to disturb the
symphony. Not only so, but among the elders themselves (the ransomed from
earth) there is blessed harmony. We read of the whole aggregate Church
triumphant, "the four-and-twenty," symbolizing the varied churches of Christ
gathered from "every kindred and tongue and people and nation," singing in
sweet concert the new song, and falling down in blissful accord at the feet
of Him who lives forever and ever. However different on earth, there, at
least, variance ceases. No jarring sound—no party or separating shibboleth.
The trumpet of discord mute. All seeing eye to eye and heart to heart. Then
(alas! for the first time) that which is often spoken of as so beautiful in
theory in the Church militant, will be realized in the Church glorified,
"Behold how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in
unity."
The only ambition amid the mighty convocation will be,
what harp will yield the richest melody, what tongue the loftiest tribute of
grateful and adoring homage to "the Lamb—the Lamb that was slain!"
(7.) Finally, let us draw
one other concluding lesson.
The vision seems intended to prepare the Church on earth for her own
sufferings, and reconcile her to her approaching tribulation.
The scene is placed near the beginning of the Apocalypse; a preliminary
to the pouring out of a succession of vials on the nations. But, before the
thunders awake, the Church receives a wondrous vision of consolation. What
is that? It is the sight of an Almighty Fellow-Sufferer! What can
better reconcile her to have her own vestments dipped in blood, than looking
up to the crimsoned vesture of her Adorable Head? How can she repine, when
she looks to heaven and beholds the once Crucified Savior—reminding her that
in her struggles she can fare no worse than her Master and Lord—that if
persecutions be appointed, what are they, when she sees on the Throne the
visible memorials of suffering, in comparison with which all her experiences
of scenes and ages of agony would be but as dust in the balance?
We know nothing more consolatory for the child of God, in
the midst of sorrows too deep for utterance and tears, than to take the
vision of the text and dwell on its profound teachings. Afflicted believer!
trial upon trial, like wave after wave, may have been rolling over you—deep
calling unto deep. But is there not a voice from that Slain Lamb
proclaiming—"I am a Fellow-Sufferer," and may you not well be mute under the
unanswerable challenge—"Was there ever sorrow like unto My sorrow?" Precious
vision! it tells me, when my heart is overwhelmed and in perplexity, that
there is One at the right hand of God who can say, from identity of
experience, "I know your sorrows," for as the Slain Lamb, the Man of
sorrows, He has felt them all Himself. Ah! it is a Lamb too, the
token and emblem of innocence. Can I, a guilty sinner, repine at my
afflictions, when this spotless, sinless, innocent Lamb of God was mute
before His shearers? Is there not a voice stealing from that glorious and
glorified One, addressing every child of tribulation, 'O bleeding heart,
look at My wounds, and then say, can you murmur?'
Men and brethren, we have celebrated another high
festival on earth; and as we descend the Mount, let us do so with the
anthems of glory we have now been considering sounding in our ears. Lo! the
immortal ranks (to repeat our opening sentence)—are busied with the same
festive rite as ourselves. They echo back the motto and watchword as their
own, which has ascended from not a few spirits among us today—"God forbid
that we should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ." O Lamb of
God, who did so freely shed Your blood; we entreat that that blood may plead
mightily for us!—that when we bid farewell to Communions here, and rise to
the everlasting festal Sabbath in Heaven, it may be to prolong and
perpetuate words which have been now uppermost in our hearts; which form our
rejoicing while pilgrims on earth; which will compose our death-song and
smooth our death-pillow; which will be our passport at Judgment and our
triumphant anthem through Eternity—"Worthy, worthy, worthy is the Lamb,
the Lamb who was slain!"