Meditation for Sunday, January 27.

And she said Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from the

master’s table.” — Matthew 15:27.

A crumb that falls from Christ’s table, hath in it the nature of bread. Some weak ones complain, Oh, I have not the heart of God, like David, nor the strong faith of Abraham, to offer my son to death for Christ;  nor the high esteem of Christ, as Paul did. But what if Christ set the whole loaf before the children? Is it not well, if thou lie but under Christ’s feet, to have the crumbs of mercy that slip through the fingers of Christ? The lowest room in heaven, even behind the door, is heaven.

Christ doth own the bruised reed, and the smoking flax, so far forth, as not to crush the one, nor to quench the other; and can with tender cautiousness of compassion, stoop, and with his arm go between the lamb on the margin and brink of hell, as to save it from falling down headlong over the brow of the mountain. He “healeth the broken in heart,” (Psalm 147:3) and as a surgeon  “bindeth up their wounds,” and puts the broken bones in their native place again. And whereas young ones are easily affrighted, yea, and distracted with fear, when sudden cries and hideous war-shouts surprise them, Christ affrights not weak consciences with shouts, to put poor tender souls out of their wits with the shouts of armies, of the terrors of hell in the conscience; yea, the meek Lord Jesus “shall not cry nor lift up (a shout) nor cause his voice be heard in the street,” (Isaiah 42:2). Oh, what bowels! what stirrings, and boilings, and wrestlings of a pained heart touched with sorrow, are in Christ Jesus!

When he saw the people scattered as sheep having no shepherd, he was moved in heart, his bowels were moved with compassion for them, (Matt. 9:36). Oh, how sweet! that thy sinful weakness should be sorrow and pain to the bowels and heart of Jesus Christ, so as infirmity is your sin, and Christ’s pity and compassion. Can the father see the child sweat, wrestle under an over-load till his back be near broken, and he cry, “I am gone,” and his bowels not be moved to pity, and his hands not stretched out to help? Were not the bowels and heart of that mother made of a piece of the nether mill-stone; who should see her young child drowned, and wrestling with the water, and crying for her help, and yet she should not stir, nor be moved in heart, nor run to help? This is but a shadow of the compassion that is in that heart dwelling in a body personally united to the blessed Godhead in Jesus Christ. Samuel Rutherford

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