A Sermon by the Rev. Charles H. Spurgeon
Do You Know Him? -
Philippians 3:10
(Preached at the Metropolitan Tabernacle,
London, January 31st, 1864)
“That I may know him” (Phil. 3:10, KJV)
The
objective
of
the
apostle’s
life—that
for
which
he
sacrificed
everything—country,
kindred,
honor,
comfort,
liberty,
and
life
itself,
was
that
he
might
know
Christ!
Observe
that
this
is
not
Paul’s
prayer
as
an
unconverted
man—that
he
may
know
Christ,
and
so
be
saved—for
it
follows
upon
the
previous
supplication
that
he
might
win
Christ,
and
be
found
in
Him.
This
is
the
desire
of
one
who
has
been
saved,
who
enjoys
the
full
conviction
that
his
sins
are
pardoned,
and
that
he
is
in
Christ.
It
is
only
the
regenerated
and
saved
man
who
can
feel
the
desire,
“That
I
may
know
Him.”
Are
you
astonished
that
a
saved
man
should
have
such
a
desire
as
this?
A
moment’s
reflection
will
remove
your
astonishment.
Imagine
for
a
moment
that
you
are
living
in
the
age
of
the
Roman
emperors.
You
have
been
captured
by
Roman
soldiers,
and
dragged
from
your
native
country;
you
have
been
sold
for
a
slave,
stripped,
whipped,
branded,
imprisoned,
and
treated
with
shameful
cruelty.
At
last
you
are
appointed
to
die
in
the
amphitheatre,
to
make
holiday
for
a
tyrant.
The
populace
assembles
with
delight;
there
they
are,
tens
of
thousands
of
them,
gazing
down
from
the
living
sides
of
the
spacious
Coliseum.
You
stand
alone
and
naked,
armed
only
with
a
single
dagger—a
poor
defense
against
gigantic
beasts.
A
ponderous
door
is
drawn
up
by
machinery,
and
there
rushes
forth
the
monarch
of
the
forest—a
huge
lion!
You
must
slay
him
or
be
torn
to
pieces;
you
are
absolutely
certain
that
the
conflict
is
too
stern
for
you,
and
that
the
sure
result
must
and
will
be
that
those
terrible
teeth
will
grind
your
bones
and
drip
with
your
blood.
You
tremble;
your
joints
are
loosed;
you
are
paralyzed
with
fear,
like
the
timid
deer
when
the
lion
has
dashed
it
to
the
ground.
But
what
is
this?
O
wonder
of
mercy!—a
deliverer
appears!
A
great
unknown
leaps
from
among
the
gazing
multitude,
and
confronts
the
savage
monster!
He
quails
not
at
the
roaring
of
the
devourer,
but
dashes
upon
him
with
terrible
fury,
till,
like
a
whipped
cur,
the
lion
slinks
towards
his
den,
dragging
himself
along
in
pain
and
fear.
The
hero
lifts
you
up,
smiles
into
your
bloodless
face,
whispers
comfort
in
your
ear,
and
bids
you
be of good courage, for you are free!
Do
you
not
think
that
there
would
arise
at
once
in
your
heart
a
desire
to
know
your
deliverer?
As
the
guards
conducted
you
into
the
open
street,
and
you
breathed
the
cool,
fresh
air,
would
not
the
first
question
be,
“Who
was
my
deliverer,
that
I
may
fall
at
his
feet
and
bless
him?”
You
are
not,
however,
informed,
but
instead
of
it,
you
are
gently
led
away
to
a
noble
mansion,
where
your
many
wounds
are
washed
and
healed
with
salve
of
rarest
power.
You
are
clothed
in
sumptuous
apparel;
you
are
made
to
sit
down
at
a
feast;
you
eat
and
are
satisfied;
you
rest
upon
the
softest
down.
The
next
morning
you
are
attended
by
servants
who
guard
you
from
evil
and
minister
to
your
good.
Day
after
day,
week
after
week,
your
needs
are
supplied.
You
live
like
a
courtier.
There
is
nothing
that
you
can
ask
which
you
do
not
receive.
I
am
sure
that
your
curiosity
would
grow
more
and
more
intense
till
it
would
ripen
into
an
insatiable
craving!
You
would
scarcely
neglect
an
opportunity
of
asking
the
servants,
“Tell
me,
who
does
all
this;
who
is
my
noble
benefactor,
for
I
must
know
him?”
“Well,
but,”
they
would
say,
“is
it
not
enough
for
you
that
you
are
delivered
from
the
lion?”
“No,”
you
say,
“it
is
for
that
very
reason
that
I
long
to
know
him.”
“Your
needs
are
richly
supplied—why
are
you
vexed
by
curiosity
as
to
the
hand
which
gave
you
the
gift?
If
your
garment
is
worn
out,
there
is
another;
long
before
hunger
oppresses
you,
the
table
is
well
loaded.
What
more
do
you
need?”
But
your
reply
is,
“It
is
because
I
have
no
needs,
that,
therefore,
my
soul
longs
and
yearns,
even
to
hungering
and
to
thirsting,
that
I
may
know
my
generous loving friend.”
Suppose
that
as
you
wake
up
one
morning,
you
find
lying
on
your
pillow
a
precious
love-token
from
your
unknown
friend,
a
ring
sparkling
with
jewels,
and
engraved
with
a
tender
inscription,
a
bouquet
of
flowers
bound
about
with
a
love-
motto?
Your
curiosity
now
knows
no
bounds!
But,
you
are
informed
that
this
wondrous
being
has
not
only
done
for
you
what
you
have
seen,
but
a
thousand
deeds
of
love
which
you
did
not
see,
which
were
still
higher
and
greater
proofs
of
his
affection.
You
are
told
that
he
was
wounded,
and
imprisoned,
and
scourged
for
your
sake,
for
he
had
a
love
to
you
so
great
that
death
itself
could
not
overcome
it—you
are
informed
that
he
is
every
moment
occupied
in
your
interests,
because
he
has
sworn
by
himself
that
where
he
is,
there
you
shall
be;
his
honors
you
shall
share,
and
of
his
happiness
you
shall
be
the
crown.
Why,
I
think
you
would
say,
“Tell
me,
men
and
women,
any
of
you
who
know
him,
tell
me
who
he
is,
and
what
he
is.”
And
if
they
said,
“But
isn’t
it
enough
for
you
to
know
that
he
loves
you,
and
to
have
daily
proofs
of
his
goodness,”
you
would
say,
“No,
these
love-tokens
increase
my
thirst!
If
you
see
him,
tell
him
I
am
sick
with
love.
The
flagons
which
he
sends
me,
and
the
love-tokens
which
he
gives
me,
they
stay
me
for
a
while,
with
the
assurance
of
his
affection,
but
they
only
impel
me
onward
with
the
more
unconquerable
desire
that
I
may
know
him.
I
must
know
him!
I
cannot
live
without
knowing
him;
his
goodness
makes
me
thirst
and
pant,
and
faint,
and
even
die,
that
I
may know him.”
Have
I
imagined
emotions
which
would
not
be
natural?
I
think
not.
The
most
cool
and
calculating
would
be
warmed
with
desires
like
these.
I
think
what
I
have
now
pictured
before
you,
will
wake
the
echoes
in
your
breasts,
and
you
will
say,
“Ah,
it
is
even
so!
It
is
because
Christ
loved
me,
and
gave
Himself
for
me
that
I
want
to
know
Him;
it
is
because
He
has
shed
His
blood
for
me,
and
has
chosen
me
that
I
may be one with Him forever, that my soul desires a fuller acquaintance with Him.
Now
may
God,
the
Holy
Spirit,
very
graciously
lead
me
onward
that
I
may
also
quicken in you the desire to know HIM.
I.
Beloved,
let
us
pass
by
that
crowd
of
outer-court
worshippers
who
are
content
to
live
without
knowing
Christ
.
I
do
not
mean
the
ungodly
and
profane;
we
will
not
consider
them
just
now—they
are
altogether
strangers
and
foreigners
to
Him—I
mean
children
of
God—the
visible
saints.
How
many
there
are
of
these
whom
I
must
call
outer-court
worshippers,
for
they
are
strangers
to
this
panting
to
know
Him.
They
can
say
with
Paul,
“That
I
may
win
Him
and
be
found
in
Him”—that
they
do
want;
but
this
higher
wish,
“That
I
may
know
Him,”
has
not
stirred
their
hearts!
How
many
brethren
we
know
who
are
content
to
know
Christ’s
historic
life!
They
read
the
Evangelists,
and
they
are
charmed
with
the
perfect
beauty
of
the
Savior’s
history.
“Never
man
spoke
like
this
Man,”
they
say,
and
they
confess
that
never
man
acted
with
such
love
as
He
did.
They
know
all
the
incidents
of
His
life,
from
His
manger
to
His
cross,
but
they
do
not
know
HIM
.
They
are
as
men
who
have
read
“Caesar’s
Commentaries,”
but
who
have
never
seen
Caesar.
They
know
the
battles
which
Caesar
fought;
they
can
even
recognize
the
mantle
which
Caesar
wore
“that
day
he
overcame
the
Nervii,”
but
they
do
not
know
Caesar
himself.
The
person
of
the
Lord
Jesus
is
as
much
hidden
from
their
eyes,
as
the
golden
pot
of
manna
when
concealed
in
the
Ark.
They
know
the
life
of
Christ,
but
not
Christ
the
Life; they admire His way among men, but they see Him not as the way.
Others
there
are
who
know
Christ’s
doctrine
and
prize
it,
too,
but
they
know
not
HIM.
All
which
He
taught
is
dear
to
them;
orthodoxy—for
this
they
would
burn
at
Smithfield,
or
lay
down
their
necks
at
Tower
Hill!
Many
of
them
are
well-instructed
and
divinely-illuminated
in
the
doctrine
of
Christ,
and
the
wonder
is
that
they
should
stop
there,
because,
beloved,
it
seems
to
me
when
I
begin
to
know
a
man’s
teaching,
that
the
next
thing
is
the
desire
to
know
his
person.
Addison,
in
one
of
the
“Spectators,”
tells
us
that
the
reason
why
so
many
books
are
printed
with
the
portraits
of
the
authors
is
just
this—that
as
a
man
reads
a
book,
he
feels
a
desire
to
know
what
sort
of
appearance
the
author
had.
This,
indeed,
is
very
natural.
If
you
have
ever
been
refreshed
under
a
minister’s
printed
sermons;
if
you
have
at
any
time
received
any
benefit
from
his
words,
I
know
you
have
said,
“I
would
like
to
see
that
man;
I
would
like
to
hear
the
truth
of
God
flow
hot
and
fresh
from
his
living
lips;
I
would
like
to
know
just
how
he
said
that
sentence,
and
how
that
passage
sounded
as
it
came
from
his
earnest
heart.”
My
beloved,
surely
if
you
know
the
doctrine
of
Jesus,
if
you
have
so
been
with
Christ
as
to
sit
at
His
feet,
and
hear
what
He
has
to
say,
you
must,
I
hope,
have
had
some
longings
to
know
Him—to
know
His
person;
and
if
you
have,
you
will
have
had
to
pass
by
multitudes
of
followers
of
Jesus
who
rest
satisfied
with
His
words,
but
forget
that
He is, Himself, “THE WORD.”
Beloved,
there
are
others—and
against
them
I
bring
no
complaint;
they
go
as
far
as
they
can—who
are
delighted
with
Christ’s
example
.
Christ’s
character
is
in
their
esteem
the
mirror
of
all
perfection.
They
desire
to
walk
in
His
footsteps;
they
listen
to
His
sermon
upon
the
mount;
they
are
enchanted
with
it—as
well
they
may
be;
they
pray
to
be
obedient
in
all
things
to
Christ,
as
their
Master
and
their
Lord.
They
do
well.
Mark,
I
am
finding
no
fault
with
any
of
these
who
prize
the
history,
or
who
value
the
doctrine,
or
who
admire
the
precept;
but
I
want
more.
I
do
want,
beloved,
that
you
and
I
should
“know
HIM.”
I
love
His
precepts,
but
I
love
HIM
better!
Sweet
is
the
water
from
Bethlehem’s
well,
and
well
worth
the
struggle
of
the
armed
men
to
win
but
a
bucket
from
it;
but
the
well
itself
is
better,
and
deserves
all
Israel’s
valor
to
defend
it.
As
the
source
is
always
more
valuable
than
the
stream,
so
is
Christ
always
better
than
the
best
words
of
His
lips,
or
the
best
deeds
of
His
hands.
I
want
to
know
Him
.
I
do
care
for
His
actions—my
soul
would
sit
down
and
admire
those
masterly
works
of
holy
art—His
miracles
of
humiliation,
of
suffering,
of
patience,
and
of
holy
charity—but
better
far,
I
love
the
hands
which
worked
these
master-works,
the
lips
which
spoke
these
goodly
words,
and
the
heart
which
heaved
with
that
matchless
love
which
was
the
cause
of
all!
Yes,
beloved,
we
must
get
farther
than
Immanuel’s
achievements,
however
glorious—we
must
come
to
“KNOW HIM.”
Most
believers
rest
perfectly
at
ease
with
knowing
Christ’s
Sacrifice
.
They
see
Jesus
as
the
great
High
Priest,
laying
a
great
sacrifice
upon
the
altar
for
their
sins,
and
with
their
whole
heart
they
accept
His
atonement.
By
faith
they
know
that
all
their
sins
are
taken
away
by
precious
blood.
This
is
a
most
blessed
and
hallowed
attainment,
I
will
grant
you,
but
it
is
not
every
Christian
who
perceives
that
Christ
was
not
only
the
offerer
of
a
sacrifice,
but
was
Himself
the
sacrifice,
and,
therefore,
loves
Him
as
such.
Priest,
altar,
victim—Christ
was
everything!
He
gathers
up
all
in
Himself,
and
when
I
see
that
He
loved
me,
and
gave
Himself
for
me,
it
is
not
enough
to
know
this
fact—I
want
to
know
Him,
the
glorious
person
who
does
and
is
all
this.
I
want
to
know
the
Man
who
thus
gave
Himself
for
me;
I
want
to
behold
the
Lamb
once
slain
for
me;
I
want
to
rest
upon
the
bosom
which
covers
the
heart,
which
was
pierced
with
the
spear;
I
pray
Him
to
kiss
me
with
the
kisses
of
that
mouth
which
cried,
“
Eloi,
Eloi,
Lama
Sabachthani
?”
I
love
Calvary,
the
scene
of
woe,
but
I
love
Christ
better,
the
great
object
of
that
agony;
and
even
His
cross
and
all
His
sufferings,
dear
though
these
must
always
be
to
the
Christian
mind,
only
occupy
a
second place—the first seat is for Himself—His person, His deity, and humanity!
Thus,
you
see,
we
have
to
leave
a
great
many
believers
behind;
nor
have
we
enumerated
all,
for
I
believe
that
even
some
of
those
saints
who
have
received
grace
to
look
for
the
coming
of
Christ,
yet
in
their
vision
of
His
coming
too
much
forget
Him!
Is
it
not
possible,
for
men
to
pant
for
the
second
advent
as
to
lose
sight
of
Him
who
is
to
make
that
advent?
So
to
long
for
a
millennium,
that
I
may
forget
Him,
who
is
to
reign
King
of
kings?
So
to
pant
after
that
glory
of
Israel,
that
I
may
forget
Him
who
is
Israel’s
glory?
Anywhere
short
of
knowing
Him,
I
would
not
have
you
stop,
beloved;
and
even
when
you
know
Him,
I
would
urge
you
to
still
be
impelled
with
the
same
desire,
and
to
press
forward,
crying
with
the
apostle,
“That
I
may
know Him.”
Beloved,
how
many
there
are
who
have
heard
of
Christ
and
read
about
Christ,
and
that
is
enough
for
them!
But
it
is
not
enough
for
me,
and
it
should
not
be
enough
for
you.
The
apostle
Paul
did
not
say,
“I
have
heard
of
Him,
on
whom
I
have
believed,”
but,
“I
know
whom
I
have
believed.”
To
hear
about
Christ
may
damn
you—it
may
be
a
savor
of
death
unto
death
to
you.
You
have
heard
of
Him
with
the
ear—but
it
is
essential
that
you
know
Him
in
order
that
you
may
be
partakers
of
eternal
life!
My
dear
hearers,
be
not
content
unless
you
have
this
as
your
soul’s
present portion.
Others
there
are
who
have
been
persuaded
by
the
judgment
and
encouragement
of
others,
that
they
know
something
about
the
Great
Redeemer.
They
do
not
know
Him,
but
still
they
are
persuaded
by
others
that
they
have
an
interest
in
Him.
Let
me
warn
you
of
second-hand
spirituality!
It
is
a
rotten,
soul-deceiving
deception!
Beware
of
all
esteeming
of
yourself
according
to
the
thoughts
of
others,
or
you
will
be
ruined.
Another
man’s
opinion
of
me
may
have
great
influence
over
me—I
have
heard
of
a
man
in
perfectly
good
health
killed
by
the
opinion
of
others.
Several
of
his
friends
had
foolishly
agreed
to
play
a
practical
trick
on
him,
whereupon
one
of
them
met
him
and
said,
“How
ill
you
look
this
morning.”
He
did
not
feel
so;
he
was
very
much
surprised
at
the
remark.
When
he
met
the
next,
who
said
to
him,
“Oh,
dear,
how
bad
you
look,”
he
began
to
think
there
might
be
something
in
it.
And
as
he
turned
round
the
corner,
a
third
person
said
to
him,
“What
a
sight
you
are!
How
altered
from
what
you
used
to
be!”
He
went
home
ill;
he
took
to
his
bed
and
died.
So
goes
the
story
and
I
should
not
marvel
if
it
really
did
occur.
Now,
if
such
might
be
the
effect
of
persuasion
and
supposed
belief
in
the
sickness
of
a
man,
how
much
more
readily
may
men
be
persuaded
into
the
idea
of
spiritual
health!
A
believer
meets
you,
and
by
his
treatment
seems
to
say,
“I
welcome
you
as
a
dear
brother”—and
he
means
it,
too.
You
are
baptized,
and
received
into
church
fellowship,
and
so
everybody
thinks
that
you
must
be
a
follower
of
Christ;
and
yet
you
may
not
know
Him
.
Oh,
I
pray
you
do
not
be
satisfied
with
being
persuaded
into
something
like
an
assurance
that
you
are
in
Him,
but
do
not
know
Him
—
know
Him for yourself.
There
are
many
who
I
hope
will
be
saved
before
long;
but
I
am
in
great
doubt
of
them,
because
they
can
only
say
they
half
think
they
know
Christ;
they
do
not
quite
believe
in
Him,
but
they
do
not
disbelieve
in
Him;
they
halt
between
two
opinions.
Ah,
dear
hearer,
that
is
a
very
dangerous
place
to
stand!
The
borderland
is
the
devil’s
hunting
ground.
Undecided
souls
are
fair
game
for
the
great
fowler.
God
give
you,
once
and
for
all,
the
true
decision
by
which,
through
grace,
you
shall
know
Him!
Do
not
be
satisfied
with
thinking
you
know
Him;
hoping
you
know
Him,
but
know
Him!
Oh,
it
is
nothing
to
have
heard
about
Him,
to
have
talked
about
Him,
to
have
eaten,
and
to
have
drank
with
Him,
to
have
preached
Him,
or
even
to
have
worked
miracles
in
His
name,
to
have
been
charmed
by
His
eloquence,
to
have
been
stirred
with
the
story
of
His
love,
to
have
been
moved
to
imitate
Him—this
shall
gain
you
nothing
unless
you
win
Him,
and
are
found
in
Him!
Seek
with
the
apostle,
to
give
up
everything
of
your
own
righteousness,
and
all
other
objectives
and
aims
in
life
and
say,
“This
I
seek
after,
that
I
may
know
Him.”
Thus
much,
then,
on
the
first point. Leaving those behind who do not know Him, let us make an advance.
II.
Secondly,
let
us
draw
curtain
after
curtain
which
shall
admit
us
to
know
more
of Christ
.
Did
you
ever
visit
the
manufactory
of
splendid
porcelain
at
Sevres?
I
have
done
so.
If
anybody
should
say
to
me,
“Do
you
know
the
manufactory
at
Sevres?”
I
would
say,
“Yes,
I
do
and
no,
I
do
not.
I
know
it,
for
I
have
seen
the
building;
I
have
seen
the
rooms
in
which
the
articles
are
exhibited
for
sale,
and
I
have
seen
the
museum,
and
model
room;
but
I
do
not
know
the
factory
as
I
would
like
to
know
it,
for
I
have
not
seen
the
process
of
manufacture,
and
have
not
been
admitted
into
the
workshops,
as
some
are.”
Suppose
I
had
seen,
however,
the
process
of
the
molding
of
the
clay,
and
the
laying
on
of
the
rich
designs?
If
anybody
should
still
say
to
me,
“Do
you
know
how
they
manufacture
those
wonderful
articles?”
I
would
very
likely
still
be
compelled
to
say,
“No,
I
do
not,
because
there
are
certain
secrets,
certain
private
rooms
into
which
neither
friend
nor
foe
can
be
admitted,
lest
the
process
should
be
open
to
the
world.”
So,
you
see,
I
might
say
I
knew,
and
yet
might
not
half
know!
And
when
I
half
knew,
still
there
would
be
so
much
left,
that
I
might
be
compelled
to
say,
“I
do
not
know.”
How
many
different
ways
there
are
of
knowing
a
person—and
even
so
there
are
all
these
different
ways
of
knowing
Christ,
so
that
you
may
keep
on
all
your
lifetime,
still
wishing
to
get
into
another
room,
and
another
room,
nearer
and
nearer
to
the
great
secret,
still
panting
to
“know
Him.”
Good
Rutherford
says,
“I
urge
upon
you
a
nearer
communion
with
Christ,
and
a
growing
communion.
There
are
curtains
to
be
drawn
by,
in
Christ,
that
we
never
shut,
and
new
foldings
in
love
with
Him.
I
despair
that
I
shall
ever
win
to
the
far
end
of
that
love;
there
are
so
many
plies
in
it.
Therefore,
dig
deep,
and set by as much time in the day for Him as you can—He will be won by labor.”
To
begin
with,
we
know
a
person
when
we
recognize
him
.
You
know
the
Queen.
Well,
I
do.
I
recollect
seeing
her,
and
if
I
were
to
see
any
quantity
of
ladies,
I
think
I
would
know
which
was
the
Queen,
and
which
was
not.
You
may
say
honestly
that
you
know
her
to
that
extent.
Beloved,
every
Christian
must
in
this
sense
know
Christ!
You
must
know
Him
by
a
divine
illumination
so
as
to
know
who
He
is,
and
what
He
is.
When
Jesus
said
to
Simon
Peter,
“Whom
do
you
say
that
I
am,”
he
said,
“You
are
the
Christ,
the
Son
of
the
living
God.”
And
the
Lord
replied,
“Blessed
are
you,
Simon
Barjona,
for
flesh
and
blood
has
not
revealed
this
unto
you.”
It
is
an
early
step
in
this
knowledge
of
Christ,
to
know
and
to
believe
that
Jesus
Christ
is
Lord;
to
know
that
Christ
is
God,
divine
to
me;
that
Christ
is
Man,
brother
to
me—bone
of
my
bone,
and
flesh
of
my
flesh—and
that
as
such
He
is
a
sin-subduing
Savior;
that
He
is
for
me
an
intercessor,
pleading
before
the
throne;
that
He
is
my
prophet,
priest
and
King—in
this
sense
I
trust
that
most
of
you
know
Him.
If
you
do
not,
breathe
the
silent
prayer
now,
“Lord,
help
me
that
I
may
know
Him.”
But
this
knowledge
of
recognition
is
comparatively
a
low
attainment,
one
of
the
lowest
rungs on the ladder of light.
In
the
second
place,
a
believer
knows
Christ
to
a
higher
degree,
when
he
knows
Him
by
practical
experiential
acquaintance
with
what
He
does
.
For
instance,
I
know
Christ
as
a
cleanser.
They
tell
me
He
is
a
refiner,
that
He
cleanses
from
spots;
He
has
washed
me
in
His
precious
blood,
and
to
that
extent
I
know
Him.
They
tell
me
that
He
clothes
the
naked—He
has
covered
me
with
a
garment
of
righteousness,
and
to
that
extent
I
know
Him.
They
tell
me
that
He
is
a
breaker,
and
that
He
breaks
chains—He
has
set
my
soul
at
liberty,
and,
therefore,
I
know
Him.
They
tell
me
that
He
is
a
King,
and
that
He
reigns
over
sin—He
has
subdued
my
enemies
beneath
His
feet,
and
I
know
Him
in
that
character.
They
tell
me
He
is
a
shepherd—I
know
Him,
for
I
am
His
sheep.
They
say
He
is
a
door—I
have
entered
in
through
Him,
and
I
know
Him
as
a
door.
They
say
He
is
food—my
spirit
feeds
on
Him
as
on
the
bread
of
heaven
and,
therefore,
I
know
Him
as
such.
You
know
if
anyone
says,
“Do
you
know
Doctor
So-and-So?”
it
is
a
very
satisfactory
answer
if
you
can
reply,
“Oh,
yes,
I
know
him,
for
he
attended
me
the
last
time
that
I
was
ill.”
There
is
more
knowledge
in
that,
than
if
one
could
only
say,
“Oh,
yes,
I
know
him—he
wears
such-and-such
a
hat,”
or
“He
is
a
man
of
such-and-such
an
appearance.”
So,
Christian,
there
is
a
second
and
higher
step
to
know
Christ—when
you
have
experienced in your own soul that He is just what God has revealed Him to be!
But,
we
know
a
man
in
a
better
sense
than
this,
when
we
are
on
speaking
terms
with
him.
“Do
you
know
So-and-So?”
“Yes,”
you
say,
“I
not
only
know
him
by
name,
so
as
to
recognize
him;
I
not
only
know
him
as
a
tradesman
having
dealt
with
him,
but
I
know
him
because
when
we
pass
each
other
in
the
morning,
we
exchange
a
word
or
two;
and
if
I
had
anything
to
say
upon
matters—any
request
to
make—
I
would
feel
no
difficulty
about
asking
him.”
Well
now,
the
Christian
knows
his
Lord
in
this
sense,
too.
He
has,
every
day,
official
communication
with
Christ;
he
is
on
speaking
terms
with
Him.
There
may
be
persons
here,
perhaps,
who
know
the
Queen
in
a
sense
in
which
I
do
not
know
her—perhaps
they
speak
to
her.
They
have
so
done;
I
have
never
done
that;
they
go
beyond
me
there.
But
you
see,
dear
friends,
this
is
not
a
very
great
thing
because
you
may
be
on
speaking
terms
with
a
man—you
may
not
know
much
of
him
for
all
that!
So
you
may
be
in
the
habit
of
daily
prayer,
and
you
may
talk
with
Christ
every
morning
and
every
evening—but
you
may
know
exceedingly
little
of
Him.
You
are
on
speaking
terms
with
Him;
but
there
is
something
beyond
this,
very
far
beyond
this!
I
might
say
that
I
know
a
man
merely
because
I
meet
him
every
day,
and
ask
him
for
what
I
need,
and
understand
that
he
is
kind
and
generous.
But
how
shallow
is
such
an
acquaintance,
for
I
do
not
know
his
private
character,
nor
his
inward
heart.
Even
so
a
believer
may
have
constant
dealings
with
Christ
in
his
prayers
and
in
his
praises
and
yet,
for
all
that,
he
may
have
only
gone
a
certain
distance,
and
may
still
have
need
to
pray,
“That
I
may
know Him.”
But,
you
are
said
to
know
a
person
better
still,
when
he
invites
you
to
his
house
.
At
Christmas
time
there
is
a
family
party
and
a
romp—and
he
asks
you
there,
and
you
are
like
one
of
his
children,
and
enter
into
all
their
sports
around
the
fireside.
And
you
indulge,
as
they
do,
in
the
genialities
of
social
life.
You
are
asked
again;
you
go
there
pretty
often.
In
fact,
if
there
is
a
happy
evening
in
that
house,
they
generally
expect
to
see
friend
So-and-So
there.
Well,
now,
that
is
better.
We
are
getting
now
into
something
like
knowing
a
man,
and
I
trust
there
are
many
of
you,
beloved,
who
have
got
as
far
as
this
with
regard
to
your
divine
Lord!
Christ
has
entertained
you
with
some
rare
visits
from
His
gracious
presence.
He
brought
you
into
His
banqueting
house,
and
His
banner
over
you
was
love.
When
He
manifested
Himself,
He
did
it
unto
you
as
He
did
not
unto
the
world;
He
was
pleased
in
the
majesty
of
His
condescension,
to
take
you
aside
and
show
you
His
hands,
and
His
side.
He
called
you,
“Friend.”
He
treated
you
as
such,
and
permitted
you
to
enjoy
your sweets of being one of the family.
Ah,
but
you
may
go
into
a
man’s
house
as
a
constant
visitor
and
yet
you
may
not
know
him—that
is
to
say,
not
in
the
highest
sense.
You
speak
to
the
man’s
wife
and
say,
“Your
husband
is
a
marvelously
charming
man;
what
a
cheerful,
joyful,
spirited
man
he
is!
He
never
seems
to
have
any
depressions
of
spirit,
and
experiences
no
changes
whatever.”
She
shakes
her
head,
and
she
says,
“Ah,
you
do
not
know
him,
you
do
not
know
him
as
I
do.”
Because
she
sees
him
at
all
times,
and
at
all
hours,
she
can
read
the
very
heart
of
the
man.
That
Christian
has
grown
much
in
grace,
who
has
advanced
not
only
to
be
the
friend
of
Christ,
having
occasional
fellowship
with
Him,
but
who
comes
to
recognize
his
marriage
union
with
the
person
of
his
Lord,
and
of
whom
it
can
be
said,
“The
secret
of
the
Lord
is
with
them
who
fear
Him;
and
He
will
show
them
His
covenant.”
Now
we
have
the
intimacy
of
love
with
its
perfect
frankness,
nearness,
sweetness,
joyousness,
delight!
The
rending
away
of
every
separating
veil
makes
the
communion
to
be
as
near
as
it
well
can
be
this side of the black river; but a Christian may get farther than this!
Even
the
spouse
may
not
know
her
husband.
The
most
loving
wife,
who
ever
entered
into
the
cares
of
her
husband,
must
have
discovered
that
there
is
a
something
which
separates
his
experience
from
her
powers
of
comprehension.
Luther’s
wife,
Katharina,
was,
of
all
women,
the
wife
for
Luther.
But,
there
were
times
in
Luther’s
gigantic
tribulations,
when
he
must
leave
Kate
behind;
there
were
extraordinary
times
within
him—times
both
of
ecstatic
joy—when,
like
a
great
angel,
he
stretched
his
mighty
wings
and
flew
right
up
to
heaven!
And,
there
were
times
of
awful
misery,
when
he
seemed
to
sink
down
to
the
very
depths
of
hell;
and
in
either
case,
no
other
heart
could
keep
pace
with
him.
Then
it
was
himself
alone
who
had
communion
with
himself.
And
a
Christian
may
so
grow
in
grace,
as
to
become
identified
with
Christ,
a
member
of
His
body—not
so
much
married
to
Him
as
a
part
of
Him,
a
member
of
the
great
body
of
Christ,
so
that
he
suffers
with
Christ,
sympathizes
with
Jesus,
his
heart
beating
to
the
same
sorrowful
tune,
his
veins
swollen
with
the
same
floods
of
grief—or
else
his
eyes
sparkle
with
that
same
gleam
of
joy,
according
to
the
Master’s
Word—“That
My
joy
might
remain
in
you,
and that your joy might be full.”
Well,
have
you
not
waded
out
of
your
depth,
some
of
you?
I
have
certainly
got
out
of
my
own!
I
feel
as
if
the
Master
might
come
on
this
platform,
look
round
on
many
of
us,
and
say,
“Have
I
been
so
long
a
time
with
you,
and
yet
have
you
not
known
Me,
Philip?”
For
truly,
even
in
the
minor
sense,
though
I
trust
we
are
saved;
though
we
have
believed
in
Jesus,
yet
we
have
not
reached
the
height
of
this
great
text—“That I may know Him.”
III.
Having
taken
you
so
far,
let
us
sit
down
a
few
minutes
and
consider
what
sort of knowledge this knowledge of Christ is
—“That I may know Him.”
Then
it
is
clear,
if
I
know
Him
I
shall
have
a
very
vivid
sense
of
His
personality
.
“That
I
may
know
Him.”
He
will
not
be
to
me
a
myth,
a
vision,
a
spirit,
but
a
person,
a
real,
solid
person,
as
much
real
as
I
am
myself,
or
as
my
dearest
friend
can
be
to
me.
My
soul,
never
be
satisfied
with
a
shadowy
Christ!
My
heart,
never
be
content
until
He
has
embraced
your
soul,
and
proved
to
you
that
He
is
the
Lover
of
His
people.
This
knowledge,
then,
must
be
a
knowledge
of
Him
in
His
personality.
Then,
beloved,
it
must
be
a
personal
knowledge
on
our
part.
I
cannot
know
Christ
through
another
person’s
brains.
I
cannot
love
Him
with
another
man’s
heart,
and
I
cannot
see
Him
with
another
man’s
eyes.
Heaven’s
delight
is,
“My
eyes
shall
see
Him
and
not
another.”
These
eyes
shall
behold
the
King
in
His
beauty.
Well,
beloved,
if
this
is
heaven,
we
certainly
cannot
do
without
a
personal
sight
of
Christ
here.
I
am
so
afraid
of
living
in
a
second-hand
religion.
God
forbid
that
I
should
get
a
biographical
experience.
Lord,
save
us
from
having
borrowed
communion.
No,
I
must
know
Him
myself!
O
God,
let
me
not
be
deceived
in
this!
I
must
know
Him
without fancy or proxy; I must know Him on my own account.
Then
these
few
thoughts
upon
what
sort
of
knowledge
we
must
have.
It
must
be
an
intelligent
knowledge—I
must
know
Him
.
I
must
know
His
natures,
divine
and
human.
I
must
know
His
offices—I
must
know
His
attributes—I
must
know
His
works—I
must
know
His
shame—I
must
know
His
glory;
for
I
do
not
know
Him
if
He
is
merely
a
subject
of
passion
and
not
of
intellect.
I
must
let
my
head
consciously
meditate
upon
Him
until
I
have
something
like
an
idea
of
Him,
that
I
may,
“Comprehend
with
all
saints
what
is
the
breadth,
and
length,
and
depth,
and
height; and to know the love of Christ, which passes knowledge.”
Then
I
must
have
an
affectionate
knowledge
of
Him;
and,
indeed,
if
I
know
Him
at
all,
I
must
love
Him.
As
it
is
said
of
some
men,
that
there
is
such
a
charm
about
them,
that
if
you
once
get
into
their
company
you
cannot
criticize
any
longer,
but
must
admire—so
you
feel
with
Christ.
It
is
said
of
Garibaldi,
that
if
you
are
in
his
society
he
charms
all,
so
that
even
malice
and
slander
must
be
silent
in
his
presence.
Infinitely,
supremely,
so
is
it
with
Christ!
Being
near
Him,
His
love
warms
our
hearts till we glow with intense love to Him!
Then
I
shall
find,
if
I
know
Christ,
that
this
is
a
satisfying
knowledge.
When
I
know
Christ,
my
mind
will
be
full
to
the
brim—I
shall
feel
that
I
have
found
that
which
my
spirit
panted
after.
“This
is
that
bread
whereof
if
a
man
eats
he
shall
never
hunger.”
At
the
same
time
it
is
an
exciting
knowledge.
The
more
I
know
of
Christ,
the
more
I
shall
want
to
know.
The
deeper
I
plunge,
the
greater
the
deeps
which
will
be
revealed.
The
higher
I
climb,
the
loftier
will
be
the
summits
which
invite
my
eager
footsteps.
I
shall
want
more
as
I
get
more.
My
spiritual
thirst
will
increase,
though
in another sense it will be entirely quenched.
And
this
knowledge
of
Christ
will
be
a
most
happy
one!
In
fact,
so
happy
that
sometimes
it
will
completely
bear
me
up
above
all
trials,
doubts,
and
sorrows;
And
it
will,
while
I
enjoy
it,
make
me
something
more
than,
“Man
who
is
born
of
a
woman
who
is
of
few
days,
and
full
of
trouble,”
for
it
will
fling
about
me
the
immortality
of
the
ever-living
Savior,
and
gird
me
with
the
golden
belt
of
His
eternal
happiness.
To
be
near
to
Christ
is
to
be
near
to
the
pearly
gates
of
the
golden-streeted
city.
Say
not,
“Jerusalem,
my
happy
home,
my
labors
have
an
end
in
you,”
but
say,
“Jesus,
You
are
my
rest,
and
when
I
have
You,
my
spirit
is
at
peace.” I might thus keep on speaking in praise of this knowledge, but I will not.
Only
permit
me
to
say
what
a
refreshing,
what
a
sanctifying
knowledge
is
this,
to
know
Him!
When
the
Laodicean
Church
was
neither
hot
nor
cold,
but
lukewarm,
how
did
Christ
seek
her
revival?
Did
He
send
her
precious
doctrines?
Did
He
send
her
excellent
precepts?
Mark
you,
He
came
Himself,
for
thus
it
is
said,
“Behold,
I
stand
at
the
door
and
knock:
if
any
man
hears
My
voice,
and
opens
the
door,
I
will
come
into
him,
and
will
sup
with
him,
and
he
with
Me.”
That
is
a
cure
for
it
all,
you
see.
No
matter
how
lukewarm,
though
God
may
say,
“I
will
spew
you
out
of
My
mouth,”
yet,
if
Christ
comes,
that
is
the
cure!
The
presence
of
Christ
with
His
Church
puts
away
all
her
sicknesses.
When
the
disciples
of
Christ
were
at
sea
in
a
storm,
do
you
remember
how
He
comforted
them?
Did
He
send
them
an
angel?
No.
“It
is
I,
do
not
be
afraid.”
And
when
they
knew
Him,
they
had
no
more
fears.
They
were
assembled
one
night,
“the
doors
being
shut
for
fear
of
the
Jews.”
How
did
He
comfort
them?
Jesus
Himself
stood
in
the
midst
of
them
and
said,
“Peace
be
unto
you.”
There
was
Thomas,
full
of
doubts
and
fears.
How
did
Jesus
Christ
take
away
his
doubts?
“Reach
here
your
finger,
and
behold
My
hands;
and
reach
here
your
hand
and
thrust
it
into
My
side.”
Oh,
it
is
Christ,
it
is
Christ
who
cures
all!
The
company
of
Christ
is
the
only
thing
which
a
Christian
needs.
I
will
undertake
that
if
his
heart
is
like
an
iceberg,
as
soon
as
Jesus
comes,
it
shall
flame
like
Vesuvius.
His
spirit
shall
be
dead
and
like
a
rotten
corpse;
but
if
Jesus
comes,
he
shall
leap
like
a
hart,
and
become
strong
as
a
young
unicorn!
Your
presence
makes
me
like
the
chariots of Amminadib!
Now,
do
not
think
I
am
talking
what
I
do
not
know.
Do
not
imagine
that
I
am
talking
mere
fanatical
slip-slop
which
I
cannot
prove.
I
do
assert
(and
God
who
searches
all
hearts
knows
how
true
this
is)—I
do
assert
that
from
the
depths
of
doubt,
of
dullness,
of
worldliness,
I
have
leaped
in
one
moment
into
love,
and
life,
and
holy
enthusiasm
when
Jesus
Christ
has
manifested
Himself
to
me.
I
cannot
describe
the
difference
between
my
spirit,
water-logged,
worm-eaten,
ready
to
sink
to
the
bottom
without
Christ—and
that
same
spirit
like
a
strong
staunch
ship,
with
sails
full,
with
favorable
wind,
speeding
into
harbor
with
a
golden
freight.
Like
yon
poor
little
bird
which
some
cruel
boy
has
torn
from
the
nest
and
almost
killed—it
is
not
fledged
yet,
and
cannot
fly,
and
it
lies
down
to
die,
trampled
in
the
mire
in
the
streets—that
is
my
heart
without
Christ.
But
see
that
other
bird!
The
cage
door
is
opened,
its
wings
vibrate,
it
sings
with
all
its
might,
and
flies
up
to
talk
with
the
sun—that
is
my
heart
when
I
have
the
conscious
presence
of
my
Lord
Jesus
Christ!
I
only
bring
in
my
own
consciousness
because
I
do
not
know
yours;
but
I
think
I
will
now venture to say that every believer here will admit it is the same with him—
“Midst darkest shades, if He appears
My dawning is begun!
He is my soul’s bright morning star,
And He my rising sun!”
IV.
I
shall
close
by
urging
you,
dearly
beloved,
who
know
the
Lord,
to
take
this
desire
of
the
apostle,
and
by
exhorting
you,
make
it
your
own,
“That
I
may
know
Him.”
I
wish
I
had
time
this
morning—time
will
fly—I
wish
I
had
time
to
urge
and
press
you
believers
onward
to
seek
to
know
Him.
Paul,
you
see,
gave
up
everything
for
this—you
will
be
seeking
what
is
worth
having.
There
can
be
no
mistake
about
this.
If
Paul
will
renounce
all,
there
must
be
a
reward
which
is
worthy
of
the
sacrifice.
If
you
have
any
fears—if
you
seek
Christ
and
find
Him—they
will
be
removed.
You
complain
that
you
do
not
feel
the
guilt
of
sin,
that
you
cannot
humble
yourself
enough.
The
sight
of
Christ
is
the
very
best
means
of
setting
sin
in
its
true
colors.
There
is
no
repenting
like
that
which
comes
from
a
look
from
Christ’s
eyes—
the
Lord
turned
and
looked
upon
Peter,
and
he
went
out
and
wept
bitterly.
So
it
is
not
a
sight
of
the
law—it
is
the
sight
of
Christ
looking
upon
us
which
will
break
our
hearts!
There
is
nothing
like
this
to
fill
you
with
courage.
When
Dr.
Andrew
Reed
found
some
difficulties
in
the
founding
of
one
of
his
orphan
asylums,
he
sat
down
and
drew
upon
a
little
piece
of
paper
the
cross,
and
then
he
said
to
himself,
“What?
Despair
in
the
face
of
the
cross?”
And
then,
he
drew
a
ring
round
the
cross,
and
wrote
in
it,
“
Nil
desperandum!”
and
took
it
for
his
coat
of
arms.
Oh,
there
cannot
be
any
despair
in
the
presence
of
the
cross!
Dying
Lamb,
did
You
endure
the
cross,
despising
the
shame—and
shall
I
talk
of
difficulties
when
Your
glory
is
in
the
way?
God
forbid!
O
holy
face
bedewed
with
bloody
sweat,
I
pledge
myself
in
Your
solemn
and
awful
presence,
that
though
this
face
of
mine
should
be
bedewed
with
sweat
of
the
like
sort
to
accomplish
any
labor
upon
which
You
shall
put
me;
by
Your
will
and
in
Your
strength,
I
will
not
shrink
from
the
task!
A
sight
of
Christ,
brethren,
will
keep
you
from
despondency,
and
doubts,
and
despair.
A
sight
of
Christ!
How
shall
I
stir
you
to
it?
It
will
fire
you
to
duty;
it
will
deliver
you
from
temptation;
it
will,
in
fact,
make
you
like
He.
A
man
is
known
by
his
company;
and
if
you
have
become
acquainted
with
Christ,
and
know
Him,
you
will
be
sure
to
reflect
His
light!
It
is
because
the
moon
has
converse
with
the
sun,
that
she
has
any
light
for
this
dark
world’s
night;
and
if
you
talk
with
Christ,
the
Sun,
He
will
shine
on
you
so
gloriously,
that
you,
like
the
moon,
shall
reflect
His
light,
and
the
dark
night
of
this
world
shall
be
enlightened
by
your
radiance.
The
Lord
help
us
to
know
Him!
But
I
do
seem,
this
morning,
to
have
been
talking
to
you
about
Him,
and
not
to
have
brought
Him
forward.
O
that
I
knew
how
to
introduce
you
to
Him!
You
who
do
not
love
Him—O,
that
I
could
make
you
seek
after
Him!
But
you
who
do
love
Him,
and
have
trusted
in
Him—O
that
I
could
make
you
hunger
and
thirst
until
you
were
filled
with
Him!
There
He
is,
nailed
to
His
cross—suffering—oh
how
much
He
suffers
for
you!
There
He
is,
risen,
ascended,
pleading
before
the
throne
of
God
for
you.
Here
He
is—“Lo,
I
am
with
you
always,
even
unto
the
end
of
the
world.”
Here
He
is,
waiting
to
be
comforted
with
your
company,