Do All for Christ by Cuyler

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 19, 1863

Do All for Christ.

By Cuyler

THE celebrated Charles Simeon of Cambridge kept a portrait of Henry Martyn hanging over his fire-place. It was always in sight. Looking up at it he used to say, "There; see that blessed man! What an expression of countenance! No one looks at me as he does. He seems always to be saying, Be serious; be in earnest; don't trifle." Then smiling and bowing toward the sweet, thoughtful face, Simeon would add, "and I won't—I won't trifle."

So fellow-Christian, there is hung up, by the divine Spirit, a picture before our eyes. It is the heavenly countenance of our blessed Saviour. The traces of the sorrow in the garden, of the agony on the cross, are yet written on that visage, "marred more than any of the sons of men." The serenest patience sits on that face; and it yearns with a love stronger than death. Holiness dwells there, which cannot look upon sin save with abhorrence.

And that face of Jesus seems ever to be saying to us "Live for me. Whatever ye do, do it unto me." When we sit alone and dejected, the countenance comes up near to us, and says, "Let not your heart be troubled. Lo! I am with you always." When we are tempted to sin, the face rebukes us with the words, "Wound me not in the house of my friends." And when we have come back ashamed and disgraced from a cowardly desertion of his cause in the hour of trial, oh! how that look upbraids us as he seems to say, "Could ye not watch with me one hour?" Sometimes a poor, needy servant of God comes to us for a word or deed of sympathy or for a gift to his necessities. Selfishness begins to mutter about interruptions, and the "many calls," and the "no end to cases of charity." But the down-looking Jesus says, "Do it unto me. He is one of my poor children; give him for my sake." There is not a struggling church that knocks at our heart, or a hungry beggar that knocks at our door for relief; there is not a lone widow who asks a pittance to warm her shivering frame, or a neglected child running in rags and recklessness through the broken Sabbath, but ever the same voice says to us, Help them for my sake; inasmuch as ye do it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.

An incident in John Falk's German Charity-School illustrates this idea beautifully. When one of the boys at the table had said the pious grace, "Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest and bless the food thou hast provided," a little fellow looked up and said, "Do tell me why the Lord Jesus never comes!" "Dear child, only believe, and you may be sure he will come, for he always hears our invitations." "I shall set a chair for him, then," said the little fellow; and he did so. Presently there was a knock at the door. A poor frozen apprentice entered, begging a night's lodging. He was made welcome to the empty seat the boy had set. The little fellow was thinking hard for some time. "Ah," chirped he, "Jesus could not come to-night, and so he sent this poor man in his place; is that it?" "Yes, child, that is just it. Every cup of water or piece of bread that we give to the poor or hungry, for Jesus' sake, we give to him; inasmuch as ye do it to one of the least of these, my brethren, ye do it unto Christ."

What a sacredness this imparts to every work of Christian love! What a glory it throws around the humblest object of Christian charity! And then, too, what a stupendous crime against Christ is any wrong done to those in whom he dwells, and whom he makes his representatives! Methinks, when I hear of the patient, God-fearing drudge of the plantation, beaten with many stripes, I am ready to say, Ye are scourging the blessed Jesus in the person of his poor, helpless child. When I read of a pious slave-girl profaned to the vilest uses of lechery to gratify the lust of her profligate owner, I am ready to cry out; Ye are outraging Christ, who redeemed that helpless victim of your lust, and who will visit her wrongs upon your guilty head. Know ye not that the body of one of his disciples, however lowly, is the habitation of God through the Spirit!

When the poet Whittier read the narrative of a sale of human beings in New Orleans, and that the auctioneer had recommended a fair-complexioned bondswoman on the stand as a "good Christian," the indignant Quaker exclaims,

"A Christian! going—gone! Who bids for God's own image? for his grace! Which this poor victim of the market-place Hath in her suffering won? My God! can such things be? Hast Thou not said that whateo'er is done Unto Thy weakest and Thy humblest one, Is even done to Thee? In that sad victim, then, Saviour of pitying love! I see Thee stand Once more the jest-word of a mocking band— Bound, sold, and scourged again!"

The poet was right. Christ's own words warranted his righteous outburst of indignation. Jesus and his members are one. A cup of cold water given to them in his name fails not of its reward. A wrong done to them is an insult to the Lord of glory.

In the light of this truth we are contemplating, the work of every pastor, every Sabbath-school teacher, and every philanthropist, catches a new beauty and luster. As I sit in this study, this morning, I seem to see a face of divine loveliness looking down on me from the walls and saying—Write all these truths for me.

Feed my lambs. Save those souls committed to thee by my gospel and for my glory. As the Sabbath-school teacher lays down this paper and hurries off to his class, he will meet the blessed Saviour beside his seat and hear him say, Whatsoever ye do for the least of these souls, ye do for me.

Yea more. When a Christian leaves the sanctuary or the communion-table, and goes to his counting-room shall he be less a Christian there than he was in the house of God, or at the family altar? No! For there is an invisible Saviour beside him there, saying, "Provide things honest in the sight of all men"—"Let not your good be evil spoken of;" you are my representative. Do Christian men of business always remember this? Do they always so keep their ledgers that they would be willing to have their Master audit the accounts? When a church-member wrings out the last dime from an unfortunate debtor, does he do it for Christ? When he rents his property for dram-shops or brothels or haunts of vice—when he drives a sharp bargain with misfortune or inexperience, does he do it for the honor or for the shame of his Sabbath professions? Ah! my friends; it is not only from the study-walls of pastors, but from the walls of every shop, every counting-room, and every hall of justice and legislation, that the countenance of the all-holy Jesus is looking down and saying—Do all for me.

Whether ye eat or drink, whether ye buy or sell, Whether ye labor or pray, whether ye rejoice or suffer, do all for my glory!—Cuyler.