“Whatsoever man there be of the house of Israel, or of the strangers, that sojourn among you, that eateth any manner of Blood; I will even set my face against that soul, that eateth blood, and will cut him off from among his people. For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the Altar to make an atonement for your souls.” Lev. 17:10, 11
How solemn is this ordinance’s voice! It speaks a stern command. It sets a rigid fence around all blood. No common use may touch. No lips may taste. It is laid up among God’s holiest things. All reverence enshrines it. An awful sanctity excepts it from the food of man.
My soul, this is a consecrated spot. Approach it meekly and in prayer.
What, if offence occur? What, if the appetite profanely take? What, if rash hands shall bring it to the board? Then penalty frowns terribly. God’s smile withdraws. His favour ceases. Wrath darkens. Excluding judgments follow. The rebel is cut off from among the people.
My soul, terrors frequent this spot. Approach it meekly and in prayer.
But why is blood thus sanctified? No slight design can frame a law so strict. There must be purport — wise as the author — great as the originating mind. It is so. For is not blood the Altar’s food? Yes. There is its constant flow. It is the stream from the expiring victim. It reminds of death, as the desert of sin; and it bears witness, that remission is prepared. Thus it is linked with expiating grace. No eye should see it, without thought of the tremendous curse, and of a substituted sufferer.
Blood then is sanctified, because it points to Calvary’s cross. Its instant language proclaims Christ. It shadows forth the wrath-sustaining death of God’s co-equal Son. It introduces Jesus bleeding, that souls may live. It is full symbol of the redemption’s price. It is clear emblem of the one atoning Lamb.
Thus the grand purport of its sanctity appears. When an enlarged decree gave animals for food, the prohibition was annexed, “Flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat.” Gen. 9:4. So soon as flesh was granted for the board, this sign of expiation was reserved. From age to age, till the expected Jesus came, the same forbidding voice was heard, Touch not, taste not, the blood. It is devoted unto God. It is most holy unto Him. It pictures out redeeming suffering. It is atonement for the soul.
Reader, the elders of faith’s family were thus constrained to note this mark. No day could pass without remembrance of its hallowed end. We live in Gospel-day. The wondrous death is no more veiled in mystic types. We gaze with open eye upon the blood-stained cross. We can approach the fountain opened in a Saviour’s side. We may sit down beneath the trickling drops. We may there wash our every sin away. Shall we, thus privileged, fall short in reverence? Forbid it faith, forbid it love, forbid it every throb of every new-born heart.
Come, think for a few moments of the grand antitype — Christ’s blood. Ponder its worth — its use — its mighty power — its unspeakable results. And may the Spirit reveal its glories in their fullest light.
Revere it, for He is great, who sheds.
Enter the garden. Stand beside the cross. The sufferer seems a lowly man. Scorn and affliction mark Him, as their own. Man verily He is. If it were otherwise, He could possess no human blood. But is He only man? Oh! no. In that poor body Deity is cased. He is the mighty God. He is the grand Creator, sovereign Ruler of all worlds. Jehovah’s plenitude of power is in His hand. Jehovah’s every glory is His right. Jehovah’s everlasting being is His age. Godhead is His property. Divinity is linked to all His sufferings in flesh, to all His doings in our stead. That blood, then, is the blood of God. Acts 20:28.
If it were less, O sinner, what could it avail for you? Your soul is justly sentenced to infinity of woe; because your sins have trampled on infinity of claims. If all the angels in man’s form could die a myriad deaths, the pains would fall short of what you owe. Nothing but boundless substitution can release. Jesus is God, and He brings blood, which is essentially divine. Therefore it is enough.
Turn not your eyes from the grand dignity of Calvary’s Lamb. This is the marrow of all Gospel-hope. This brings in merit. God cannot ask, or find, a greater or a worthier price. Oh! bless the Father for this appointed help. Bless Jesus for this all-sufficient aid. Here is an able Saviour, for the blood flows in the channel of omnipotence.
From its grand worth turn to its efficacious work.
But here all tongues of men and angels fail. It is a theme, which endless ages of incessant praise must leave untold. It is the ransom-price of all the saved. This multitude is vast. Their number baffles number. Each entered life the slave of Satan. Each was defiled with darkest stains of guilt. Each owed a countless debt to every attribute of God. But now behold them. Their robes are white. Not one speck spoils. Their penalties are paid. Not one claims can be found. Their chains have dropped. Each adversary’s lips are mute. Whence is their freedom? Whence is their uttermost deliverance? Whence is their open passage to eternal bliss? Whence their loud song — their happy praise — their mansions in God’s court? The blood has washed, and they are clean. The blood has saved, and they are saved.
It is the peace of all the sons of peace.
There was a day when the awakened conscience tossed on the billows of acutest pain. The misery, and filth, and woe of sin were deeply felt. The thundering law denounced its curse. The wrath of God displayed avenging strength. Tormenting flames glared fierce and near. All heaven frowned. All hell seemed gaping at the feet. To live was piercing fear. To die was agony of despair.
But all these clouds have vanished. A bright and lovely morn has dawned. Whence issued forth these cheering rays? They all spring joyously from Jesu’s blood. The Spirit led the trembler to the cross. He opened an enraptured eye to see the cleansing stream. He showed its reconciling worth. He gave a living power to the truth, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” Isaiah 1:18. Faith heard, and washed, and left accusing guilt behind. Faith looked, and entered on the pastures of repose.
It is the fruitful source of sanctifying grace.
He is the holiest man, whose tent is fixed beside this well of life. He most flees sin, whose eye is riveted upon the blood. Can he love that, which gave those wounds to Christ? Can he embrace the monster, which pierced Jesu’s heart? It cannot be. The sight of Calvary slays the love of sin. The cross unmasks the hideous form, and kindles righteous hate.
O child of God, make this your study.
For first, for last, for every thought, here is food. Let morning call you to this view — let mid-day find it your delight — let evening’s hours close round it. Here is a depth, which you can never probe — a height, which you can never reach — a length and breadth, which you can never grasp. Angels here fix a prying gaze. They wonder. They adore. But they glean no advantage from it. To you it is Salvation’s price. To you it is the gate of heaven. Then study it with intensest thought.
Need I add, love it.
Heart’s every fibre should here twine. It is the proof, that God loves you, as His own Son — that Jesus loves you better than Himself. He is not spared that you may be redeemed. Let then this blood sit high on your affection’s throne. Hold it tightly in your soul’s embrace. Your warmest feelings should here cluster. That mind is rock, which is not melted by such flame.
Need I add, praise it?
All lips commend the charms of beauty and heroic deeds. But what is beauteous as grace leading Jesus to the Cross? Where is a noble act, like His surrender of Himself for you? It is the bright display of God-like glory. It shows Jehovah on His highest throne. It has done that for you, which nothing but itself could do. My soul, my soul, praise Jesu’s blood.
Need I add, use it?
Use it, when? In every hour: for every hour may be hallowed by it. Use it, when temptation’s darts are flying round. It is a sure defence. No hell-sent arrow ever pierced the blood-anointed shield.
Use it, when you seek light from Scripture’s page. Those lines are brightest, in which the blood is seen. Use it in prayer. It is the plea of pleas. It goes directly to the heart of God, and wins a blessing smile. Use it in sanctuary-rites. That service is cast out, which is not perfumed from this fragrant field. Use it in all your holy work for God. It consecrates the motive, way, and end. Seed, sown in Jesu’s blood, brings harvests to heaven’s garner. Use it, when death draws near. The chilling waters then recede, and a bright passage opens to God’s home. Use it, when seated upon glory’s throne. You then need noble theme. This theme is nobly fit for God.
Ye ministers of Christ, if any read, lift high your voices to set forth this blood.
Your office is to show Christ’s saving power. But can Christ save, apart from His atoning blood? Christ and no cross, is an unmeaning tale. You doubtless long to win souls to salvation. Here is the magnet of attraction. Cast wide this net, and large will be your gain. You strive to lead a righteous flock in holy ways. But flames unkindled will not blaze. Motives must be supplied. The mightiest motive is grateful love resulting from Christ’s dying love.
You cannot prosper, without the Spirit’s aid. It is His province to apply the blood. If this be cast behind, your helper will depart. Here is safe teaching, which cannot mislead. Here is a truth, with triumph in its hands. If then you would add jewels to the Saviour’s crown — use this grand instrument. It can uplift from nature’s filth. It can upraise to God’s own throne.
Parents and teachers, you have anxious charge.
The young drink earliest lessons by your side. You occupy the heart’s first ground. The seed sown by you takes deep root. The colour of your words will tinge the life. Your precepts perish not, when things earthly die. Think, shall your training be a link in glory’s, or in perdition’s, chain! It will be so, according as the blood is shown or hid. All knowledge, without this, is splendid folly. He only, who knows this, is wisdom’s son.
Reader, pause now, and look within.
The blood is precious in God’s sight. Its type profaned brought woe. What is their case, who scorn the grand reality? Think, then, what is its value to your heart? Can you reply, I prize it above price. It is my all. Ah! perhaps you hesitate. Its blessed sprinklings are not on your soul. Remember Israel’s dwellings. The door-posts without blood were no exclusion to the messenger of wrath. The absent sign gave passage to destruction. But your destruction has not yet arrived. Awake! Awake! Flee to this only remedy for sin. How blessed will this hour be, if it see you blood-marked — blood-washed — blood-saved! Almighty Father, grant it, for Christ’s sake! Compassionate Redeemer, plead till hearts yield! Resistless Spirit, conquer by these feeble words!