"The Master has come, and is 
    calling for you." (John 11:28). 
    These familiar and memorable words were spoken at Bethany 
    on a very different occasion from that of a Communion Season. But they may 
    be warrantably and appropriately adapted as a summons and invitation to the 
    Great Feast of love.
    Jesus at all times is invisibly near to His own people. 
    As doubtless, though unseen, He marked every tear of sorrow in that Bethany 
    home during the mysterious "tarrying days" beyond Jordan—so on His throne in 
    Heaven is He still ever imparting and manifesting, by His grace and Spirit, 
    the comforting sense of His presence. But there are times and seasons when 
    He draws especially near; and at no time nearer, or more graciously, than at 
    this His own blessed Sacrament of Communion. In these memorials of His 
    bleeding love, He is evidently and impressively "set forth crucified and 
    slain." In the preaching of this blessed Gospel I hear of Him. In the 
    Holy Ordinance of the Supper I am privileged emblematically to behold 
    Him. There, as in the case of Mary and Martha, He summons me to His feet, to 
    listen, on that hallowed ground, to utterances of love and promises of 
    glory. He takes me, as He did them, to a Grave—but it is that of no 
    human friend. It is the Sepulcher into which He Himself entered as my Surety 
    and Substitute. It is to see the Grave-stone rolled away forever; and over 
    these symbols of suffering to hear Him proclaiming, as He did to the Bethany 
    sisters, that He is Himself the Resurrection and the Life, and that because 
    He lives, His people shall live also.
    How does the summons sound in my ears? "The Master 
    has come." Do I—can I—respond to the Name? Am I able, experimentally, to 
    rejoice in Him as 'Rabboni, my Master,'—an all-sufficient Savior—whose blood 
    has purchased a full, free, everlasting remission of my sins; and whose 
    intercession is so prevalent at the right hand of God, that I am warranted, 
    as I meet Him at this Bethany-gate of love, to say in the words of Martha's 
    first utterance—"I know that even now whatever You will ask of God, God will 
    give it to You"? Yes! that mourner of Bethany presents me with a divine 
    watchword, a golden key for the Table of Communion. The riches and promises 
    of grace are to be there, in visible emblem, spread out before me—the 
    garnered blessings of Salvation "hidden in Christ," and whatever be my 
    trial, or weakness, or infirmity, I am encouraged to behold the Scepter of 
    the Heavenly King stretched forth, with the challenge and invitation—"What 
    is your petition, and what is your request?"
    "I will hear what God the Lord will speak—He will speak 
    peace unto His people." I will go to His appointed Ordinance, and there 
    unburden and unbosom to Him all my needs and necessities. He will not send 
    me empty away. "Jesus wept."—He wept tears of sorrow as He stood before 
    Martha and Mary in the Bethany graveyard; but this day He is to manifest 
    Himself, in significant symbol, as shedding, not His tears, but His blood. 
    He gives me the blessed pledge and assurance that He will, after the 
    greatest of all boons and blessings—the gift of Himself, freely dower 
    me with every lesser mercy. The Table is about to be spread; the Feast is 
    prepared; the oxen and fatlings are killed, and all things are ready. As, in 
    the name of the rich Provider, I listen in thought to the summons, as if 
    from some herald-angel—"The Master has come, and calls for you," be 
    it mine to respond—"I will go into Your House with burnt offerings, I will 
    pay You my vows." Lord, to whom can I go but unto You, You have the words of 
    eternal life! Bring me to Your Banqueting-house, and let Your banner over me 
    be love! Hide me in this Cleft of the Rock, and let all Your glory pass 
    before me!