"Ye Have Done It unto Me"

“Without a recognition

You passed Him yesterday — Jostled aside, unhelped, his mute petition — And calmly went your way.

“Oh, dreamers, dreaming that your faith is keeping

All service free from blot,

Christ daily walks your streets, sick, suffering, weeping, And ye perceive him not.”

MARGARET J. PRESTON.

fTlHOSE certainly seem strange words which our Lord says he will speak on the judgment-day to the multitudes before him. We are taught else where that faith in Christ is the vital thing in determining one’s eternity, yet Christ himself, in portraying the judgment, says not a word about believing on him or confessing him. Those who are welcomed to the kingdom prepared for them from the foundation of the world are those who have fed the hungry, given drink to the thirsty, covered the shivering and cold, visited the sick and cared for the prisoner. Are we, then, to reverse our cherished evangelical belief that men are saved by faith, and not by works? May we not say that the good deeds here described are the fruit of grace in the heart? We are not saved by our own ministries of love; but if we are saved, these are the acts we will perform.

Our Lord’s words show us the kind of Christian life we should live in this world. We say we love Christ, and he tells us that we must show our affection for him in kindnesses to his friends. Then he goes farther and puts himself before us, to be served and helped as if personally in every needy and suffering one who comes to us: “I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat. ... I was sick, and ye visited me.” — “When saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee?... When saw we thee sick... and came unto thee?” — “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

There is something inexpressibly beautiful in the revelation which these words of our Lord bring to our hearts. Christ himself is ever standing before us, appealing to us for love, for sympathy, for ministry. How all human lives about us are transfigured by this word which tells us that in the lowliest Jesus himself waits! No wonder this sweet truth has wrought itself into numberless legends beautiful telling how abject forms, when served in the Master’s name in time of need, suddenly changed into radiant loveliness, revealing themselves as Jesus the glorious One. There is the legend of St. Christopher, who in carrying the little child over the wild stream in the darkness and the storm found that he was bearing the Christ himself. There is the story of Elizabeth of Hun gary, whose kindness to the sick and the poor was so great. Once she brought a leprous child to her palace and laid it in her own bed, because there was no other place to lay it. Her husband heard of it, and came in some displeasure and drew down the cover of the bed to see if the object concealed there was really so loathsome as he had heard, and, lo! instead of the festering and leprous body, he saw the Saviour radiant with glory, and turned awestricken, and yet glad. Then the legend of the Holy Grail is familiar to all. The Holy Grail was the cup from which Jesus drank at the Last Supper. According to the tradition, this cup was lost, and it was a favorite enterprise of the knights of Arthur’s court to go in quest of it. One of the most delightful of these stories is that which Mr. Lowell tells in his “Sir Launfal.” Far away over cold mountains and through fierce storms rode the brave young knight till youth turned to ag*. and his hair was gray. At last, after a vain search, he turned homeward, an old man, bent, worn out and frail, with garments thin and spare. As he drew on there lay a leper, lank and wan, cowering before him. “For Christ’s sweet sake, I beg an alms,” the leper said. Sir Launfal saw in the beggar an image of Jesus.

“He parted in twain his single crust, He broke the ice on the streamlet’s brink, And gave the leper to eat and drink.”...

Suddenly a light shone round about the place.

“The leper no longer crouched at his side, But stood before him glorified, Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate.”

Sweetly now he spoke as the knight listened:

“In many climes, without avail, Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail; Behold, it is here — this cup which thou Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now; This crust is my body broken for thee, This water His blood that died on the tree; The Holy Supper is kept indeed In whatso we share with another’s need —

Not what we give, but what we share,
For the gift without the giver is bare:
Who gives himself with his alms feeds three —
Himself, his hungering neighbor and me.”

A popular author has written a tender little story showing how these opportunities for serving Christ fill the plain, common days of the lowliest life. A poor man whose heart God had touched dreamt one night that one called him by name. As he listened he heard also these words: “Look to morrow on the street. I am coming.” He knew not the meaning of his singular dream, yet his heart was strangely warm all the day. He wrought in his little shop and watched the people as they went by. By and by came an old soldier with a shovel, and began to clear away the snow from the sidewalk. The shoemaker saw him, and observed, at length, that the soldier was very weary. Going to the door, he invited him to come in and have some warm tea. The exhausted man gratefully accepted the invitation, and, greatly refreshed by the kindness, at length went his way.

Later a woman in poor garb and carrying a child stopped before the window. Both mother and child were thinly clad, and the child was crying. Again the shoemaker opened his door, called to the woman and bade her come into his shop, where it was warm. The astonished mother obeyed, and, sitting by the stove, told her story of hunger and want. Soon the old man brought food for her and her child, sending them forth warmed and fed, and with some money to provide for further need.

Next it was an old apple- woman who drew the shoemaker’s attention. A rude boy was annoying her. Again the kind-hearted man went out of his shop and acted as peacemaker and friend.

Thus the day passed. At his work Martuin remembered continually the vision of the night before, and watched all the hours for the appearing of Him who had promised to come. He saw no bright presence, but a number of poor people he helped and comforted.

Night came, and the shoemaker took down his New Testament to read. Again he seemed to hear some one stepping behind him, and there was a voice in his ear: “Martuin, did you not recognize me?” — Whom?” asked the old man. — “Me,” repeated the voice. “It is I;” and the old soldier Martuin had fed and warmed stepped from the shadows, smiled and vanished. — “And this is I,” said the voice again, while from the darkness the woman and her child appeared, smiled and vanished. — “And this is I,” again spoke the voice, and the poor apple-woman stepped forwsrd, beamed a kindly look and passed out of sight.

The old shoemaker put on his glasses and began to read where his New Testament chanced to open. At the top of the page he read: “For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in.” Then a little farther down he read again: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

“Then Martuin understood,” says the little book, “that his dream did not deceive him — that the Sa viour really called on him that day, and that he really received him.”

The other side of this truth we must also notice: “I was an huugred, and ye gave me no meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink.... Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.” The Lord Jesus is always standing before us and always coming up to us in the persons of his poor and needy ones. And what if we pay no heed to him? What if we coldly turn him away?

There is another legend which illustrates this side of the lesson. Once an angel whispered to a good woman in the morning that her Lord was coming to her house that day. She made ready for him with loving care, and eagerly watched all day for his coming. At twilight a poor little child came to her door and craved shelter for the night, but the woman was thinking so much of her Lord that she only gave the child a little money and sent him on into the gathering darkness. But as he turned away the child grew fair and beautiful, and as he vanished in a flood of glory the good woman heard the words, “Adine, behold thy Lord!” He had come, had not been recognized, had been treated coldly, and had passed beyond recall, vanishing as he revealed himself.

The lesson is intensely practical; it touches all our common daily life. If we neglect one of Christ’s little ones, we shall hear on judgment-day, “I was hungry, and you gave me no bread. I was shivering in the cold, and you clothed me not. I was a homeless stranger at your door, and you showed me no pity.” It seems a little thing to treat with neglect, or even with unkinclness, some needy one. We cannot see how it matters to us, what claim the person has on us, why we need turn aside from our own way to do anything.

This picture of the final judgment helps us to see why it does matter, that the person really has a claim on us, that it is indeed the same as if it were Jesus himself who was in need.

It must be noticed that it will be the things men have failed to do which shall turn the scales on the great trial-day. We must meet in judgment our neglects as well as our sinful acts. Those who are sent to the left hand are not described as great sinners. They have not been cruel, inhuman or unjust. They are not charged with having wronged or injured one of Christ’s little ones. Only neglects are in the indictment. They have seen little ones hungry, and have not fed them; thirsty, and have not given them the cup of cold water; shivering in the cold, and have not clothed them; sick, and have not visited them. They have merely “passed by on the other side” when they have seen human need in their way which they might have relieved or sorrow which they might have comforted.

We need to walk reverently and thoughtfully through life, not jostling roughly against the meanest person we meet, not looking coldly on the poorest that comes to our doors, lest in the judgment we may find that we have neglected to show kindness to our blessed Lord.