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DISCOURSE VI.

FRED. WILLIAM KRUMMACHER, D. D.

By common consent the famous author of "Elijah the Tishbite" is considered the most eloquent preacher in Germany, if not indeed in Europe. Certainly there are few men abroad whose names are better known in the Christian world, and more beloved for their "works' sake." The book named above extended widely his popularity, both in Europe and America; and, taken in connection with his "Last Days of Elisha," "The Martyr Lamb," and, more recently, "The Suffering Saviour," it has reared for him a remembrance more enduring than monuments of marble and brass. In some respects, the last-named of the above publications, is superior to any thing else that has come from this great master's pen. The narrative of the last days of our Lord on earth was never given with more thrilling vividness, and pathos, and beauty, by uninspired man.

Dr. Krummacher is now about midway between fifty and sixty years of age. He has the honor of being chaplain to the King of Prussia. His influence with the king is very great, and may go to account for some of the liberal measures which of late reflected honor upon the Prussian court. The sermons of the great preacher in his chaplaincy, are said to be sometimes like earthquakes. Personally, Krummacher is represented as a delightful man. He is thus described as seen by Dr. Abel Stevens, a year or so ago, at the meeting of the Evangelical Alliance, where he took an active part: "His hair is light, but not gray; it is combed sleekly over his ears; his eyes, peering through bright gold spectacles, are blue, and expressive of mildness of character, notwithstanding the roaring ferocity of his voice. He is in good condition, inclining a little to episcopal dimensions. There is a peculiar blandness and youthfulness about him which recalls to you the title of 'the ever youthful,' which was applied to his great countryman, the poet Klopstock."

Some of Krummacher's peculiarities are well brought out in this additional reminiscence of Dr. Stevens: "When I told him, the other night, at a tea-party, the number of some of the editions of his "Elijah" among us, and that it was read in our log-cabins, in California and Oregon, he seemed hardly to believe me, for the extent of the American press is scarcely known in Europe; and when I assured him that if he would come to New York we could place him in sections of the city where for whole squares he could read German 'signs,' and hear the children playing in German; and if he liked 'lager bier,' drown himself in an ocean of it, he laughed as you might suppose a lion would were it in the habit of that noble creature to laugh at all, his mighty voice ringing into the adjacent apartments. But suppose not that there was any thing peculiarly humorous in my remarks, or uncommon in Krummacher's uproarious outbreaks. It is the 'vocal style' of the man. What the

watchman said of George Whitefield can be said of this great German: 'He preaches like a lion!' He not only preaches but prays so, and makes speeches, and even 'says grace' at the table in the same manner. He introduced our public dinner the other day with a 'grace' in German, which was roared out as if addressed to an army half a mile off. Of course this peculiarity surprises every body at first, but you soon get accustomed to it. Whether it arises from good Gothic heartiness or is a vocal defect I know not."

We are happy in being able to present to American readers, now for the first time, a sermon of Dr. Krummacher's, in which appear to advantage so many of his best qualities as a preacher.

THE INTERVIEW AT JACOB'S WELL.

THAT is but a miserable life, my brethren, in which there is not a knowledge of Christ. It is a journey in the night, without guide or star-a voyage by sea, without compass or helm-a traveling into a far country, without aim, object, or acquaintance. However outwardly brilliant such a life may appear, it is but a miserable existence-a wretched rejoicing, a melancholy gladness, a pitiable peace, an empty unrefreshing hope. Alas! thou poor and wretched worldling! thou who art destitute of Christ, who standest in thine own strength-thou, who art left to thyself, thrown upon thyself, O! that thou didst but know how poor and miserable thou art; that thou didst but discern the darkness in which thou art dwelling; the storm of eternal ruin that is brooding o'er thine head. Ah! behold, deep floods are gathering around, and there is no pilot to guide thee o'er; vast yawning chasms, and there is no bridge, nor hast thou wings; blazing flames, and there is no water to quench them; waste howling deserts surround thee, full of hissing serpents and rapacious beasts, and there is no way of escape, no conductor near thee; sandy plains without water, deserts without bread or refreshment. An awful judgment-seat, fearful anathemas, the wrath of the Almighty, and none to intercede-no one to hold up the shield before thee, or have mercy upon thee.

Behold an image of thy life in time and in eternity! A gloomy night-piece certainly; nevertheless such is thy state, and thus thou art encompassed out of Christ. Far better thou hadst ne'er been born, than thus to live without Christ. Canst thou question this? And where are we to look for Christ? "I am the rose of Sharon," said the Lord. Cant., ii. 1. Yea, a precious rose-one which bloomed before the throne of God ere the foundations of the world were laid; and was the joy and desire of angels and seraphim-a rose which deigned to take root in accursed ground, to blossom among thorns and thistles, and gladden, by its fragrance, a sinful world.

A rose, which, while yet a bud, elevated a Simeon with joy to heaven, and bowed the knees of wise men to the dust. A rose, which, at Golgotha was steeped in its own crimson, and there first opened its calyx to exhale the fullness of its perfume through the world. It blossoms in the valley, and he who discovers it finds it not on the tops and heights of his own wisdom and righteousness. Where Christ dwells by his grace, he levels the mountains, and brings down the high hills. "I am the rose of the valley," saith the Lord, and it is in the dark depths of self-annihilation, in the valley of repentance, that the sin-convinced soul finds him.

May our meditation of to-day afford us an opportunity of thus contemplating the Lord Jesus.

“Then cometh he to a city of Samaria, which is called Sychar, near to the parcel of ground that Jacob gave to his son Joseph." "Now Jacob's well was there. Jesus therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well; and it was about the sixth hour." "Then cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus saith unto her, Give me to drink," etc., etc.-JOHN, iv. 5-29. What a history, my brethren! It stands before us as a luxuriant vine, laden with precious grapes. Where shall we commence to draw aside the hiding foliage of words, in order to exhibit the golden fruits concealed beneath them. Truly there is here too much for one meditation, and yet the history can scarcely be divided; for it requires to be considered, weighed, and felt in continuation, without interruption, and in its correction. I feel it thus; therefore be satisfied, my brethren, if, Instead of profound exposition, I give but a few weak and passing remarks. Our history is like all the narratives of the Bible-both matter of fact and example. In a particular truth lies the deepest general sense. It is not alone the conversion of the woman of Samaria that we are here called upon to note, but the process which takes place in the conversion of most sinners.

In this twofold view we will consider our text, dividing it into three parts:-The Preparation, ver. 4-15. The Crisis, ver. 16-27. The Decision.

I. THE PREPARATION.-The narrative carries us to Samaria. There, beside the well of Jacob, which is situated nigh to Sychar, sits a stranger. It is he who came into the world not to find rest, but to bestow it. The world had wearied him by its enmity and malice. Ask not how he, who called himself "the resurrection and the life," could be wearied; but rather ask, my brother, how it was possible that thou, even thou, from thine infancy, could be found wearying, by thy resistance, the most faithful friend of thy soul. "Jesus sat thus on the well; for his disciples were gone away into the city to purchase meat. Then cometh a woman of Samaria from Sychar to draw water." She came at a most appropriate hour, but she came not by accident. The Father

drew the poor sinner to the Son, in order that she might be healed. But she knew it not. She approached with a light spirit; a child of the world like thousands; without thought, without a sense of her necessities; living, but for the present moment, without God in the world, and knowing as little of the solemn responsibilities of life, and the concerns of eternity, as the birds of the air, or the flowers of the fields. She sought to draw water for her household; that was now her sole object; and, doubtless, until this hour, her life had been naught else than the fetching of bread and water to allay the cravings of the flesh. What a state of existence! The woman has arrived at the fountain, and, apparently not heeding the stranger, prepares to replenish her vessel. The Lord now addressed her, "Give me to drink." In these words we may discern the first cast of the gospel-net for this perishing soul. "Give me to drink." This was not simply the desire of having his necessity supplied, but the out-goings of his spirit for the salvation of a soul. He sought to engage the woman in conversation, in order to lead her thoughts from the things of time and sense to those of life and eternity. His meat and drink was to do the will of him that sent him, and to finish his work; this was indeed the drink he desired at the well of Jacob. "Give me to drink." Yes, with such words as these it still pleases him to begin the work of our salvation. And when he urges upon us those great commands, "Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect; be pure of heart; be merciful; love the Lord above all ;" and makes the outward law the law of our hearts; come to the soul with "Thou shalt and thou shalt not ;" lays upon us the command to serve him willingly and in holiness; calls upon us to present our lives a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving in his courts; what is it else but a call of "Give me to drink," to cisterns without water?

But by such "Give me," he seeks to bring us to a knowledge and sense of our own nothingness, that we have nothing, and can do nothing, in order that when, like the woman of Samaria, we are compelled to cry out "Sir, give me of this well," he might give us to drink of his fullness. "Give me to drink." The woman, occupied with earthly things, understood not the meaning of the stranger of Israel. More in jest than in seriousness, she discovers the prejudice of her nation; "How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews," adds the Apostle John, "have no dealings with the Samaritans." She sees in him but a common Jew. How could it be otherwise? for in his light only shall we see the light, for he is himself the light. Jesus now proceeds to direct her attention to spiritual things, and gives her to understand that he is something more than a Jew; and that there was likewise nourishment for the soul as well as food for the body. "If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink, thou wouldst have asked of him; and he would have given thee living water."

Yes; if thou knewest! Truly, all depends upon that: for if thou knewest how to value, how to appreciate him, the great gift of grace to the world, and the waters of his grace, of thy peace-soon wouldst thou have deliverance. But the knowledge of salvation by Christ, the esti mate of its nature and value, are not acquired by study, by the instruction of another, in the way of reflection, or by intellectual measuring or weighing. That knowledge ascends from the inmost soul; it comes with the hunger and thirst of the soul, with the cry of a broken spirit. No one can, in the scriptural sense, know Christ and his salvation, even should he be able to discourse of him with the eloquence of an angel of light, if he have not at the same time been taught to know himself, his own nothingness and misery, as a lost and wretched sinner. "If thou knewest”—but the woman of Samaria did not know. She understood not the words that Jesus spoke concerning himself and the water of his grace. She interpreted him literally, in the flesh, and concluded that by living water, he meant the water of a spring, in opposition to the standing water of the well of Jacob. "Sir," saith she, "thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep;" if even there were a spring at the bottom, thou canst not reach it; from whence then hast thou that living water? And how is it possible to be water from a living spring? She continues, in her blindness, "Art thou greater than our father Jacob, which gave us the well, and drank thereof himself, and his children, and his cattle ?" Yes, yes, woman; he is greater. O, that thou knewest!

The Lord is not wearied; he explains more plainly to her the difference between natural and spiritual water. "Behold," he says, plainly and distinctly, "whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him"-the water of my grace, my light, my peace, and my joy-" shall never thirst;" the same hath that which satisfieth his soul and maketh him happy. Yea, the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life; it shall continue in him, increase and form in him the new life, which never dies-the beginning of that eternal life to be perfected above. The woman could now no longer misunderstand the Lord's meaning. She perceives that he speaks to her heart and addresses himself to her soul. This serious turn was not welcome to her; for as yet, she had no desire for spiritual things. What is the consequence? She turns aside and interrupts the Lord abruptly: "Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not; neither come hither to draw." Thus she speaks, anxious to depart. We might conclude from her ignorant and foolish conduct, that she had not yet understood the words which had been spoken unto her; but we are better informed. At the commencement, she certainly understood not the Lord; but now, when she could not fail to perceive his meaning, she willingly c'oses her eyes, for the love of the world was still strong within.

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