The Christian-man's calling: or, A treatise of making religion ones business. Wherein the nature…

but his death wrote his love in the greatest Print, in the largest Character, though all in red letters, for his whole body was the book, his precious blood was the ink, the nails were the pens, the contents of it from the beginning to the end are Love, Love. There is nothing else to be read, but Love, Love in this was manifest the Love of God (saith the Apostle, 1 John 4.9.) His love before was glorious, yet hid as the Sun under a cloud, but at his death it did shine forth in its Meridian Splendour, in ⟨p. 297⟩its noon-day brightness, with such hot beams and refreshing rays, that every one must needs take notice of it. The Jews say of Esdras, that if the Lamp of Love were quite extinct, it might be lighted again at his brain: How true is this of Christ? If Love were quite lost amongst all the Creatures, all might be found in Jesus Christ: His name is love, his nature is love, all his expressions were love, all his actions were love, he brought love, he bought love, he preached love, his lips dropped love; he practised love, he lived in love, he was sick of love, nay he dyed for love; 'twas love that took upon him our natures, 'twas love that walked in our flesh, 'twas love that went up and down doing good, 'twas love that took our infirmities; 'twas love that gave sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, ears to the deaf, life to the dead; 'twas love that was hungry, and thirsty, and weary; 'twas love that was in a bloody agony; 'twas love that was sorrowful unto his own death, and my life; 'twas love that was betrayed, apprehended, derided, scourged, condemned, and crucified; 'twas love that had his head pierced with thorns, his back with cords, his hands and feet with nails, and his side with a spear; 'twas love that cried out, Weep not for me, weep for your selves: Father, forgive them, they know not what they do: Love left a glorious Crown, and love climbed a shameful Cross: O dearest Saviour, whither did thy love carry thee!

but his death wrot his love in the greatest Print, in the largest Character, though all in red letters, for his whole body was the book, his precious blood was the ink, the nails were the pens, the contents of it from the beginning to the end are Love, Love. There is nothing else to be read, but Love, Love in this was manifest the Love of God (saith the Apostle, 1 John 4.9