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Twenty first Century Truth and Testimony Sermon Archive

THE LONELINESS OF JESUS

BY DR. R. P. (BOB) SHULER

". . . a certain man said unto him, Lord, I will follow thee whither-soever thou goest. And Jesus said unto him, Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." - Luke 9:57, 58

Jesus Christ was a neglected man. He still is. I once heard an old circuit rider say, "The sin of rejection is the sin that is damning the world." Men refuse to have Jesus. They shut the door in His face. They seek comradeship elsewhere. From Bethlehem to the cross and from the open grave until now, Jesus Christ has been a lonely man. 

Our text tells the brief story of a man who made a great decision, announced it and then faded out. Luke says, "A certain man . . . " Matthew says, "A certain scribe . . . " That is all we know. We do know that he was seized upon by a new and demanding enthusiasm. He stepped out of the crowd. He at least made a start. Even if he never went beyond that step, he must be given credit for having acted once. It is also the credit of this "certain man" that he made his offer soon after a city of the Samaritans had rejected Jesus and the disciples were asking permission to call down fire out of Heaven to devour that city. Possibly this "certain man" was moved by the answer of Jesus in which He clearly showed that He had no desire to retaliate or punish His enemies. 

At least it is clear that, moved by a tremendous emotional stress, this "certain man" was momentarily ready to become a disciple. Indeed, he may have become a disciple, though the culmination of this incident is not recorded. Matthew says that "another disciple" asked permission to go bury his father. This might denote that the "certain man" actually made good his offer. But the interesting thing is that Jesus desired him to know clearly what his decision meant. Therefore Jesus said: "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests: but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head."

'If you are genuine in your declaration,' said Jesus to the "certain man," 'I warn you that you are joining yourself to a homeless man, to a man who has nothing, to a man who offers you no more in this world's scale of rewards than privation, persecution and neglect. If you can go along with such a man, knowing the facts, the highway is open.' I wish I knew whether or not this "certain man" marched down the road with Jesus or melted back into the crowd.

Jesus had not been always thus. He clearly tells us He was present with the Father before the worlds were and before Abraham heard His call. I do not know what throngs of celestial creatures surrounded Him in the morning of creation. I do not know what acclaim and adoration were bestowed upon Him as He sat upon His throne, high and lifted up. I did not hear the anthems and paeans of praise that were lifted when it became known that He was to take His long missionary journey earthward for the redemption of a lost world., I am certain that Heaven's hosts massed to do Him honor at His departure. I can easily imagine the two who stood by Him on the mount of transfiguration as standing by His side as He bade the celestial multitudes farewell. He was not lonely there. But this I know: When Jesus Christ, earth's Redeemer and the Saviour of all who believe, came to earth, He was a lonely man.

So lonely was this Prince that as the angels sang their chorus over the hills and the star leaped forth above the manger, there were only the cattle of the stall and the sheep that had been brought into the corral as His companions. His virgin mother, Joseph and He were alone in the stable.

Ah, but you tell me I am wrong on this, for wise men journeyed from afar to welcome this King of kings and Lord of lords. How many wise men? The East was full of wise men, of men who had studied the coming of the Messiah, of men who knew the promise of God that deliverance should come. They had read the Scriptures that spake of Him.
'The seed of a woman shall bruise the serpent's head.'
"There shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel."
"But thou, Bethleham Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet 
out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth
have been from of old, from everlasting."
"Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel."
"The sceptre shall not depart from Judah, nor a lawgiver from between his feet, until
Shiloh come."

And yet only a few wise men came in that little caravan, a crawling speck in the desert, to greet the Deliverer of mankind and lay their gifts at His feet. Tradition says there were three. How few among so many!

"But the shepherds were there," you insist. How many shepherds? The hills of Judaea and Galilee were filled with shepherds and their flocks. A thousand campfires burned that night, marking the sheepfolds of Israel. The song the angels sang rang afar. The proclamation was not whispered, "For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." Yet only one little band of shepherds came down the hill by way of Herod's castle to find and worship their King.

He who was on the throne of His power and present in the creation of the world was lonely in His advent; shut out of the inn; visited by the few and only under shadow of the night; poorer than the foxes and the birds; without a shelter other than the stable or a pillow on which to lay His little head.

And before He is able to toddle about on His baby feet, the great of earth seek His life. They hunt Him as hounds hunt a fox. Mary must hurriedly arise from her bed on the hay and, taking her child against her bosom, must face the winds of an Egyptian desert, fleeing for the life of the promised Messiah. What a procession! The royalty of Heaven attended by one woman and one man, seeking a haven in a land that knew not God.

But at last Herod is dead and they who seek the child's life have already forgotten that He was ever born. It is now safe for Him to go back to the "land of His nativity." No messengers from the Caesars bear the welcoming message to Joseph and Mary., No loyal host of Jewish believers come down into Egypt to escort Him back. He is so surely alone that earth has no messenger to bear glad tidings to Him. An angel of Heaven must needs speak to Joseph and tell him that it is safe to go back. So it is that the three trail back, Joseph bearing what little they have, Mary with her babe in her arms or possibly leading Him by the hand. They alone.

I wish I knew something of the life of this God-man in Nazareth. The record is strangely silent there. I heard a learned bishop say that Joseph was very rich and influential, a great contractor and builder who undoubtedly sent his small Son the masters for His education, as was proved by the fact that when but a little lad He confounded the doctors of the law with His wisdom. That is a wishful statement but lacks all support in fact. It does not fit., "Despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him; he was despised, and we esteemed him not."

I have pictured Him as a little lad on the vacant lots of Nazareth, where the boys played ball. They are "choosing up" in preparation for the game. Little Jesus stands there expectantly. He wants to play. They need another player but one of the leaders says, "No, no, He shall not play. My mother doesn't permit me to play with Him. There's a dirty story going the rounds about Him. His mother ran off down to Bethlehem when He was born., She wasn't even married. He's no good." Anyway, that picture fits. "A tender plant . . . a root out of a dry ground . . . no form nor comeliness . . . no beauty that we should desire him."

The architect of a universe was lonely at the carpenter's bench. No hosts of Heaven acclaimed Him in those hours. No friends of earth surrounded His growing up. The deadly tragic facts of His mission were already congealing. He was alone.

Years later He came back to Nazareth as a young preacher. He had come to His home town to preach. I remember when I went back to Grayson County, Virginia, to a spot twenty-two miles from the nearest railroad town. I had been invited to preach the baccalaureate sermon at Elk Creek Academy. When eight years of age I had taken my father, who had decided to preach, down there every Monday morning and gone after him every Friday afternoon, riding "Old Bet" and leading his horse. It was seven miles from the mountain cabin where I was born. This was my mountain home.

What a reception! People came from all over the mountain country and hundreds drove in from surrounding counties. My kinsfolk were all there. Old men who had known me when I was a child were sitting in the front row. They wept and shouted as I preached. The building would not hold a third of the crowd. They had wired the building for an address system and loud-speakers carried my voice for hundreds of yards. Two thousand people sat on the hill slope about the academy, hearing me preach. What a thrill! I was preaching to my home people.

Jesus, too, came home to preach. But He left with a broken heart. He mounted the platform in the synagogue in "his own country" and taught. There was nothing wrong with the sermon. The people marveled at His wisdom and at His mighty works. But they said, "Is not this the carpenter's son? Is not his mother called Mary? and his brethren, James, and Joses, and Simon, and Judas?" His sermon was compelling but they didn't like Him. They were "offended in Him." And in sorrow He remarked, "A prophet is not without honour, but in his own country." Mark tells us that "he did not many mighty works there." Matthew says the trouble was the "unbelief" of His home folks. Mark says that "he marvelled because of their unbelief." He just couldn't believe that His home folks would be like that.

How tragic the statement that follows this account: 'And he went round about the villages, teaching.' He hung around Nazareth. He couldn't quite give them up. This lonely Man who longed for His home folks to love Him!

Following His baptism by John, the rite having been performed in a wilderness place far removed from stately temples and decorated sanctuaries where the ecclesiastical authorities read their rituals and vested choirs chanted their soft "ahmens," Jesus went alone into the wilderness of temptation. The wild beasts stared at Him from their jungle haunts. For forty days He was hungry. His physical strength had been sapped by His abstinence. And no friendly voice encouraged Him. No handclasp gave Him courage for the ordeal ahead. No smile of comrade cheered Him on. He was there alone. And yet not alone. The Devil was also there.

The story of that battle is the story of two super personalities locked in mortal combat. The Prince of Heaven is arrayed against the satanic dictator of Hell., The Devil is undoubtedly seeking to switch Christ from His eternal purpose. He approaches this lonely Man in a benevolent attitude. He is friendly, gracious, generous. He would assist Jesus. He would make a helpful suggestion as to food. He would inspire Jesus to perform a miracle, that all men might know His heavenly connections. He would bestow tremendous wealth upon this Man who is poorer than the foxes and the birds. All he asks is that Jesus accept a new comradeship. "Fall down and worship me!"

The answer of Jesus, 'Get theee hence Satan; be gone,' caused the angel hosts to leap the parapets of Heaven and come down to minister to Him. For a little while there in the wilderness way He had company. His friends were about Him. It was like old times.

So out into His busy, blessed life and ministry He walked alone., A few surrounded Him. Twelve humble men followed Him upon the greatest enterprise of all time. He had a friendly shelter at Bethany. There were lovely Marys who prayed and helped. But what man in all history ever started forth to revolutionize man's thinking, his directions, his goals, and determine man's destiny, with such a pitiful handful! Here is a King, but His kingdom is not of this world. Not once did He stand upon some royal portico while the throngs acclaimed Him. Through His whole ministry He was the despised and rejected of men.

More than once, those whom He had healed and ministered to, deserted. "But where are the nine?" The most heartrending fact in the life and ministry of Jesus was that "he came unto his own, and his own received him not."

But someone has a happy thought. The triumphant procession! His entrance into Jerusalem amid the acclaim of the multitudes! There they marched with Him. There they shouted in triumph as He rode by. Surely on that day He was not neglected. But have you examined that procession? Was it really a procession or was it a tragedy? 

Jesus planned for that hour. It was to be His hour. He sent His disciples to get a little donkey that He might ride down the streets of the city that was dear to His heart. He had walked so much - up mountain slope, across desert and by the side of the sea. Now He could ride. And He did ride. He rode in the strangest, saddest procession in which human beings ever shouted and sang and threw their flowers along the journey. He sat on the back of the most despised among domestic beasts of burden. He rode bareback, His feet almost dragging the earth. The mayor of Jerusalem did not head that procession. No motorcycle escorts were present. The Caesars were not represented., Royalty and wealth were absent. The King of the Jews was riding into Jerusalem, David's Holy City, but the rabbis and doctors of the law were not there. The scribes and Pharisees had nothing to do with that procession. Here is the One who preached the Sermon on the Mount, the greatest Teacher acknowledgedly who ever lived, the One of whom the prophets wrote, the promised of God, but there is no speech of welcome from the city fathers. He is not given the big key to the city's gate. Strange triumph!

True, there were people there that day, many people. The blind were there. Now they saw. The lame were there, leaping and praising God. The dumb and deaf were there, their mute mouths shouting praise and gratitude, their deaf ears hearing the glad voices of their fellows. The palsied were there, their hands steady. The lepers were there, clean and whole. Devil-possessed victims of sin and despair joined that throng to shout of deliverance. The poor, the outcast, the humble, the unwanted - they were all there. It was truly a great, sad hour.,

For when you sift it to its dregs, the hour of triumph was an hour of agony of heart. Jerusalem had refused her King. Did you ever realize how few the hours that intervened between this "triumphal march" and a night when a pale moon silhouetted a lone figure standing on a hill overlooking Jerusalem? The Man is weeping. His shoulders sag. He is hurt. He looks down upon the dimly-lighted town. He would soon die for the people down there. He had left Heaven for them, for this is the "man of sorrows" whose little beast pressed the palm fronds along the way on the day of His sad "triumph."

Suddenly He voices a cry, half sob, half verdict: "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not! Behold, your house is left unto you desolate." "And ye would not!"

But Jesus did not turn back. It is a lonely way but He must travel it. "He treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God," while on His vesture is written the words, "King of kings, and Lord of lords." What a paradox!

The end is approaching., The loneliness of the journey is not to be compared with the loneliness that is out ahead. He prepares for it., He gathers His disciples together. They have a little supper. He washes their feet. As if loneliness were not enough! One of them goes out into the night on a mission. A mission diabolic! The desertion has begun. Ahead is the garden.

For this terrible ordeal He chooses three of His best. If there are any loyal ones, these three qualify. He takes them with Him out into the shadows. "Watch here," He says. There is a mob gathering. His foes are busy under the shelter of the friendly night., He withdraws to the place of prayer. There under the dim stars He falls upon His face. "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me." "This cup"! What was in that cup?

I heard one of my sons preach on "The Cup" until I thought I would cry out in protest. He pictured all the sins of all the centuries draining into that cup. Murder, treason greed, avarice, filth of every character, all emptying their slimy contents into that cup. The concentrated depravity of the human heart from Adam until Golgotha was in that cup. And all the dirt and corruption and degeneracy of man's sinful nature until the end of time was gathered in that cup. God forgive us! We pressed to the lips of the lonely Son of God that cup!

"And His sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground." In such agony as man had never experienced. He prayed, "Not my will, but thine, be done." And He arose, the red mud of the garden clinging to His knees, and went back to the three. He stood there in the dim light, looking down upon them. They were asleep. He was alone. He was indeed alone. What a cry went forth from His heart that night, "What, could ye not watch with me one hour?" Three times He journeyed to that spot beneath the trees of Gethsemane, crying unto the Father for relief. Three times. He came back to those who were supposed to watch. But "their eyes were heavy." It was His battle, not theirs. 

Then it was that the mob came upon Him, the hooting, howling mob. And lo, it was the chief priests and elders who led the mob. Ecclesiasticism had decided to kill Him. Nor did He resist. This was His hour. Though He could have called to His defense more than twelve legions of angels, He chose to go alone into the presence of Caiaphas, the high priest, though, we are told, Peter followed afar off. Those who had walked with Him in other days were scattered. They fled. About Him was the council of the church. They accused Him. Art thou "the Christ, the Son of God"? questioned Caiaphas, seeking to entrap Him. But Jesus, though He had neither counsellor nor friend to advise Him, did not shrink from that question. "Thou sayest," He answered.

Then came the uproar. The hall where Caiaphas held his inquisition was turned into bedlam. The holy men of the sanctuary rent their clothes., He is a blasphemer! He is guilty of death. They buffeted Him. They smote Him with the palms of their hands. They did spit in His face. They ridiculed Him. They put a blindfold over His eyes and cried, 'You're so smart, tell us who it was that hit you.' They mocked Him. Even the bold Peter denied Him. He cursed and swore and said, "I do not know the man." The lonely Jesus!

When they were satiated with wrath and vengeance and the fires of their passion had died down, they bound Him and led Him to Pilate. Little was left by way of insult and reviling. Now they gave Him over to Pilate's judgment seat. Death must come from Caesar. While the miserable Judas was hanging himself and the priests of the temple were gathering up the thirty pieces of silver which he had flung from him, Jesus stood before Pilate, alone. I have stood before the court, but always with friends packing the chamber and attorneys battling for my rights. Jesus had no attorney. He had no friends in court. Where was John the beloved? Where were the Marys? Where were the people who had thronged Him as He rode into Jerusalem? Where were the thousands He had fed with loaves and fishes? Where were the blind to whom He had given sight, the lame to whom He had given strength, the despairing to whom He had given hope? "Art thou the King of the Jews?" asked Pilate. "Thou sayest," answered Jesus. Where were His subjects?

When Pilate asked, "What shall I do then with Jesus which is called Christ? They all say unto him, Let him be crucified." Was there not one dissenting voice? Did not that courthouse have within it one man who would defend the blessed Savior? "They all say." It is unanimous.

"His blood be on us, and on our children," cried the mob. And from that fearful hour until this tragic day of Jewish persecution, they and all their children and their children's children have known nothing but a trail of avenging blood. They left Him to die alone that day. God help them, He has left them to die alone on every day remaining! "Behold, your house is left unto you desolate"! He said this, not that He loved them less, but that their rejection was final .

So they stripped Him and put upon Him a scarlet robe, as becometh a mock king. Then lest His royalty be not sufficiently ridiculed, they plaited a crown of thorns and put it on His head, "and a reed in his right hand." They lashed Him and smote Him and with spitting and cursing, they led Him forth to be crucified. And now there is another procession. On the hillslope He staggers under a beam of wood. No tender word, no encouraging smile, no act of love or mercy. They curse and rail and heap their insults. Still He goes on, until at length His strength is gone. He falls.

If on the outskirts of the crowd that day His disciples were cringing, surely with their Master flat upon the earth, crushed beneath His load, there would be found enough courage to cause them to come to His relief. There are they, anyway? "Must Jesus bear the cross alone and all the world go free?" But the Roman soldiers discovered in the throng a stranger, said to have been a black man, and thrust him under the beam of wood. He was the only helpful comrade of that fateful journey. And yet Jesus must have sensed the fact that at last someone was walking with Him toward the top of the hill.

The cross! He had company there. A thief cried out for mercy and forgiveness. It so thrilled the heart of Jesus that He said one of the most beautiful things of His entire ministry: "Today shalt thou be with me in paradise." What a thrill the angels had that day: Here comes the Conqueror. He has redeemed mankind. He has made possible eternal life for every man. For undoubtedly there was yet another procession. And riding in the golden chariot, as the royalty of the eternities acclaimed Him, was Jesus, Son of a virgin, Redeemer of mankind; and riding with Him was a ransomed thief! 

No word of man can proclaim, however, the loneliness of that bloody hilltop as the sun hid its face and the earth went into convulsions. His disciples were on the edge of the crowd. The Marys had crept in. There He hanged in such agony as only the world's sin could bring to Him. He cries for a drop of water. They give Him vinaegar mixed with gall. They gambled for His garments at the foot of the cross and left His holy body exposed to the laughter and ridicule of the mob. Some sat down and calmly watched Him die. They wagged their heads and reviled Him. They mocked Him. "He saved others; himself he cannot save." And Pilate alone had something to say about this treatment. Though no mother has ever been found who would name her baby boy Pontius Pilate, yet be it said to his everlasting credit that he not only announced the innocence of Jesus, calling Him a just man, but dared, against the protest of the mob, to set up over the cross on which Jesus died the inscription, "THIS IS JESUS THE KING OF THE JEWS"!

Then came the end. Deserted by His disciples, deserted by those whom He had helped and blessed, deserted by the church of His day, deserted by the women whose tender ministrations He had known in the blessed day of His ministry, He found Himself deserted by God the Father. Heaven turned its back. He must die alone. "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" This was the final cry of His lonely heart.

A picture that belongs to the past, you say. This was Jesus as the first century began. I answer, This is Jesus today. Only a fraction of the humanity He came to redeem acknowledges Him as Saviour and Lord. And even the many with whom He is popular as a Teacher and as a Man have lifted a questijon mark above that holy miracle within a virgin's womb. They who acclaim Him would pull Him down to the human level. His claim to deity when He stood before the council of the church and in the court of Pilate is ridiculed in theological schools of the twentieth century as in the day of His lonely trial. As a man, He may have become popular, but as God, men stand aloof and wag their heads at Him.

In Europe, the land of shrines and holy places, Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, is lonely. They pilgrimage to the land of His nativity and stand where He stood on Carmel and on Olivet, but they no more walk with Him day by day than they did then. Even the council of nations that seek peace will not have the name of the Prince of Peace mentioned in their gatherings. In Christian America, we collect revenues from vices and terrible evils that damn the souls of those He came to redeem. He is no more popular today when He stands in the way of ill-gotten gain than in the days when He cast the devils out of men at the cost of other men's hogs. 

He is indeed the world's lonely Redeemer. And His constant question is, Will ye be My disciple? Wilt thou walk with Me? Will you leave all and follow Me? Will you forsake father and mother and wife and children and sister and brother and houses and lands and friends and popular acclaim and walk with One who is poorer than the foxes and the birds?

When Jesus came to Golgotha
They hanged Him on a tree;
They drove great nails through hands and feet
And made a Calvary;
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns,
Red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days
And human flesh was cheap.

When Jesus came to our town,
They simply passed Him by;
They did not hurt a hair of Him,
They did not watch Him die;
For men had grown more tender,
They would not cast a stone;
They only passed Him on the street
And left Him there alone.

Still Jesus cried, "Forgive them
For they know not what they do"'
He prays that prayer for us tonight, 
For you and you and you;
We pass Him by and leave Him there,
Without an eye to see,
And crucify our Lord afresh,
As He prays for Calvary.

I know I am right when I say that Jesus Christ desires nothing more than that men walk with Him. He does not need your wealth. The cattle upon a thousand hills are His. The wealth of ore and soil and sea belong to Him. He does not need your contributions of culture and wisdom. His is the wisdom of God. He is perfect, and He alone is peerfect. Our only contribution can be in our loyalty., That is all He wants. We were made to be the companions of God. He made man for His comradeship. Christ died on Calvary that men might once again walk with God.

They buried Him in a borrowed grave and He arose on that first Easter morning., Only one woman was there to greet Him, a woman out of whose heart and life He had cast many devils. She became His messenger. He gathered about Him His scattered disciples. He heartened them. He gave them new strength. He told them the story of a coming Pentecost, and then He sent them out.

He sent them out for what? To do what? To build a mighty dynasty? No. To establish a throne and set up a kingdom? No. To build institutions and promote machinery and form organizations? No. To set going a great and invincible ecclesiasticism? No. To build the world all over again? No. He sent them out to make disciples, to invite the lost of earth to walk with their Redeemer and know the personal presence of their Saviour.

The lonely Jesus was determined not to walk alone!

I cannot close this message without saying that Jesus is going on unto the perfection of this comradeship. How crude and bungling His companions as He walked this earth! They made such a poor out at it. They were so timid when He was attacked. They were so helpless when the mob claimed Him. But he was patient, kindly, always helpful. He knew that the day would come when they would measure up more nearly. 'It is I who have chosen you,' said this Man, so hungry for the companionship of His own., 'I want you, I need you. I must have you. And I must have you, not lame and halting and failing. I must have you loyal and worthy and courageous. I must have you so genuine and splendid that I need not be ashamed of you as we walk down the streets of Heaven and the angels say, "There go Jesus and His earch-friends." I must have you so consecrated and true that I can introduce you to the Father and say, "Father, these are My friends. I formed these friendships when I was on that missionary journey to the world. They are our kind. They are our folks. I want you to like them and be proud of them."'

What a gang He starts with! What saints they become under His spell! Filled with His presence, kept by His power, washed in His blood, saved by His grace, sanctified by His infilling. 'I will not be ashamed of you before my Father,' He says. We must help Him there. We must see to it that He has no cause for embarrassment when He escorts us to the throne. We must justify Him when He points our way and says, "Of whom the world was not worthy."

Will it not be a happy hour for this lonely Jesus when He is surrounded by His friends, those who are fit to be His friends? Not that our filthy rags will merit special notice. Our righteousness is too faulty, too spotted, too superficial. But He has a way of infusing part of Himself into us. Suddenly we find ourselves transformed. Our feeble righteousness has been supplanted by the righteousness of God. Then it will be that Jesus, at last content, will be poor no longer. The little foxes and the flitting birds will not be richer than He when that hour comes.

"For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the 
archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then
we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds,
to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord."

They'll come trooping in from the graveyards. They'll shake the water of the great deep from their hair. They'll rise from a thousand battlefields. What a company of His friends! The living will join them. And now, the final procession! He will not be riding a little white donkey, with a dozen frail and faulty disciples following on foot. He will be in the midst of an innumerable multitude "which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues." There will be palm branches there also. And the redeemed will be waving them.

And who are these, His friends?

"These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb."

"And all the angels stood round about the throne." The hosts of Heaven which have been with Him from the beginning will be there. And they will nod to each other while the organ plays the interlude to the anthem, and say, "These are His friends. He went to Bethlehem after them, to Nazareth, to the wilderness, to the hill slope and seaside, to the garden, to Pilate's court, to the slope of the bloody hill, to Mount Golgotha, to a borrowed tomb, and now He is happy., They are all about Him."

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