The murderers of Christ

[Blueridge Believer]

Spurgeon, "Ephraim Bemoaning Himself"

A sight of Christ on the cross
will cause us to hate our sins.

If you ever, by the eye of faith, see
Jesus Christ dying for you, sin will
never be sweet to you again.

What was it slew our blessed Lord?
It was our sin!
"It was you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear."

When we discover that our iniquities
put our dearest and best friend to
death, we vow revenge against our
iniquities, and henceforth hate them
with a perfect hatred.

Let me illustrate this very simply-
Here is a knife, with a richly carved ivory
handle, a knife of excellent workmanship.
Yonder woman, we will suppose, has had
a dear child murdered by a cruel enemy.
This knife is hers, she is pleased with it,
and prizes it much. How can I make her
throw that knife away? I can do it easily,
for that is the knife with which her child
was killed. Look at it; there is blood still
upon the handle. She drops it as though
it were a scorpion; she cannot bear it.
"Put it away," says she, "it killed my child!
Oh, hateful thing!"

Now, sin is such a thing- we play with it
until we are told it was sin that killed the
Lord Jesus, who died out of love to us- pure,
self sacrificing love. Then we say, "Hateful
thing, get you gone! How can I endure you?"

See there the wounds of the Son of God;
behold the crimson stains which mark his
blessed body; mark the thorn-crown; gaze
upon the pierced hands; weep over the
nailed feet; see the deep gash which the
lance made in his side!

Sin did this cruel work, this bloody deed!

Down with our sins!
Drag them to the cross!
Slay them at Calvary!
Let not one of them escape, for they
are the murderers of Christ!

 

[Kim G]

Thanks for posting.

It reminds me of the third verse of this hymn by Thomas Kelly:

Stricken, smitten, and afflicted,
See Him dying on the tree!
’Tis the Christ by man rejected;
Yes, my soul, ’tis He, ’tis He!
’Tis the long expected prophet,
David’s Son, yet David’s Lord;
Proofs I see sufficient of it:
’Tis a true and faithful Word.

Tell me, ye who hear Him groaning,
Was there ever grief like His?
Friends through fear His cause disowning,
Foes insulting his distress:
Many hands were raised to wound Him,
None would interpose to save;
But the deepest stroke that pierced Him
Was the stroke that Justice gave.

Ye who think of sin but lightly,
Nor suppose the evil great,
Here may view its nature rightly,
Here its guilt may estimate.
Mark the Sacrifice appointed!
See Who bears the awful load!
’Tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed,
Son of Man, and Son of God.

Here we have a firm foundation,
Here the refuge of the lost.
Christ the Rock of our salvation,
Christ the Name of which we boast.
Lamb of God for sinners wounded!
Sacrifice to cancel guilt!
None shall ever be confounded
Who on Him their hope have built.