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

It is observed, the myrrh which is let out by the incision of the tree, is precious; but that which floweth of its own accord, is most choice and precious. Christs veins were indeed opened by others incision, when Pilate scourged his back, and the nails his hands and feet; but one drop of this blood ⟨p. 300⟩is more worth then millions of World; for even at these times he bled voluntarily, as well as in the Garden, when the myrrh of his blood dropped of its own accord: O, of what infinite value is his blood! O, how much did he love his, when the very oil which consecrated him to those unknown sorrows, was the oil of gladness to him! Remember this love more then wine:

It is observed, the myrrhe which is let out by the incision of the tree, is precious; but that which floweth of its own accord, is most choice and precious. Christs veins were indeed opened by others incision, when Pilat scourged his back, and the nails his hands and feet; but one drop of this blood ⟨p. 300⟩is more worth then millions of World; for even at these times he bled voluntarily, as well as in the Garden, when the myrrhe of his blood dropt of its own accord: O, of vvhat infinite value is his blood! O, hovv much did he love his, vvhen the very oyl vvhich consecrated him to those unknovvn sorrovvs, vvas the oyl of gladness to him! Remember this love more then vvine:

Thirdly, Meditate on thy corruptions: As his love was the inward moving cause; so thy sins were the outward procuring cause of his sufferings: He was wounded for thy transgressions, he was bruised for thine iniquities, the chastisement of thy peace was upon him, Isa. 53.5. When thou art at the Sacrament, which fitly representeth Christs sufferings, consider with thy self, What was that which brought the blessed Saviour into such a bleeding condition! It was my sin, I was the Judas which betrayed him, the Jew which apprehended him, the Pilate that condemned him, and the Gentile which crucified him: My sins were the thorns which pierced his head, the nails which pierced his hands, and the spear which pierced his heart: 'Twas! that put to death the Lord of life: He dyed for my sins; He was made sin for me, who knew no sin; his blood, is my balm; his Golgatha, is my Gilead. O what a subject is here for meditation! He suffered in my stead, he bore my sins in his body on the tree, he took that loathsome purging physic for the diseases of my soul: When he was in the Garden in his bloody agony, grovelling on the ground, there was no Judas, no Pilate, no Jew, no Gentile there,