THE GOLDEN LAMPSTAND
    
    "Make a lampstand of pure, hammered gold. 
    The entire lampstand and its decorations will be one piece—the base, center 
    stem, lamp cups, buds, and blossoms." Exodus 25:31
    Reader! in holy thought enter the holy Tent. You pass a 
    curtain rich in richest hues. Then what a scene appears! Light in its 
    loveliest softness gleams around. The pure-gold sides, the pure-gold 
    vessels, the sparkling canopy cast back resplendent rays. From where flows 
    this glow of day? The orbs of heaven lent not their aid. No sun-gleam plays, 
    no moon-beam sleeps upon the radiant walls. A Lampstand alone lifts high a 
    seven-crowned head—and night is no more known. Faith looks, and soon 
    discerns the truth of the bright vessel. Glad memory recalls the word, 'The 
    city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it, for the 
    glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.' It 
    sees that this must be an image of that heavenly home in which Christ is 
    the full light. The light, then, here exhibits Him. Christ is the 
    seven-lighted Lampstand. It is so. All is darkness without Him. 
    Let us now pause, and trace with humble prayer the 
    beauties of this Gospel-portrait. Holy Spirit, we desire to see Jesus. Will 
    not You reveal Him? No heart of man can learn, except Your teaching voice go 
    forth. 
    First, what shall be brought to make up a 
    Lampstand which shall prefigure Christ? Our costliest wealth seems mean for 
    such high use. Value is valueless beside Him. But earth can only give her 
    purest substance. It is pure gold. This is the metal, then, which 
    God, the great craftsman, selects. 
    Reader! this choice proclaims that Christ is an 
    all-gold Savior! Yes! There is no dross, no flaw, no blemish in Him. 
    Mark well His blood. Oh! wondrous truth. It is divine. Divinely it weighs 
    down all mountains of vile sin. Divinely it pays all claims of infinite 
    demands. Divinely it sets free the debt-bound of a countless family. 
    Divinely it satisfies, until satisfaction overflows. Gaze on His 
    righteousness. It also is divine. God's eye can never rejoice in it 
    enough. God's throne can scarcely give it worth. This decks the Church in 
    her spotless robe. 'The King's daughter is all glorious within—her clothing 
    is of wrought gold.' 
    Give ear to His unfailing prayer. Its incense is 
    perpetual fragrance. Its power moves the heart of God. It cannot ask in 
    vain. Thus golden blessings bless the ransomed race. 
    Next, the pure gold is BEATEN. Fast-falling blows 
    hammer it to shape. This image leads us to the stricken Jesus. 
    Redemption is an agonizing work. It cost but little to form countless 
    worlds. It costs but little to sustain them. God willed, and they shone 
    forth. He wills, and they still shine. But torments without limit must be 
    borne to free one soul from sin's dues. My soul, often ponder this amazing 
    truth. Your sins are many as all ocean's sands. Each is most justly 
    doomed to all the fury of most righteous wrath. God hates your evil, and is 
    pledged to punish all of it. Truth dies if sin escapes. In person or by 
    proxy you must take its curse. But Jesus is this proxy. He 'suffers, the 
    just for the unjust.' He pleads—"I come to represent a sentenced culprit. 
    Spare him, and pour all punishment on Me." God in His grace consents. Wound 
    follows wound, until in the deepened grave of scars, all guilt is buried 
    from His sight. 
    But O my soul, your case is only one. Salvation's roll 
    has names which baffle number. For each, for all, Christ bears all woe. He 
    flinches not, until the last sin of His last child is fully washed out by 
    His bleeding stripes. Thus Christ is bruised. Thus the pure gold 
    is beaten. The anvil and the hammer of inflicted blows work out a 
    perfect Savior. The gold is beaten into beauteous form. A luxury of 
    ornaments decks every part. The branches shine as clustered trees of fruit 
    and flowers. 
    Reader! we thus are led to mark the full-blown loveliness 
    of Christ. Say, what is beauty? Is it not the union of symmetric 
    charms? Is it not a matchless harmony, in which each part adds grace to 
    each? Is it not a power which rivets gaze, and chains each sense in fetters 
    of delight, and makes the mind a flood of ecstacy? Then what is beauty 
    but Christ Jesus? 
    Survey His PERSON. It is our manhood decked in glorious 
    Deity. It is a luster which outshines the sun. It is a loveliness besides 
    which the heavens look black. It is the statue for which eternal counsels 
    cannot raise a pedestal too high. 
    Survey His WORK. It is exact proportion. All claims of 
    God, all need of man have their just place. It is a city based in eternal 
    love, and crowned with eternal glory. Each stone is a saved soul. Each is 
    the mirror of Jehovah's greatness. 
    They who, through grace, thus see their Lord, never 
    withdraw their love. Their hearts are fixed. The beauties of Christ 
    eclipse all other charms. This is the delight of Scripture. Christ 
    beautifully shines in every page. This is the sweet relish in each 
    Gospel-ordinance. Christ is enjoyed, the savor of the whole. Hence springs 
    the longing to depart. To die is to meet Christ face to face. 
    The central stem of the Lampstand sends forth six 
    branches from its sides. It thus presents the image of a spreading tree. 
    And such is Christ. At Calvary a little seed is cast into the soil. But soon 
    the vigorous sprouts appear. The boughs go forth into all lands and distant 
    nations find luxuriant shade. What though this earth is most uncongenial to 
    the plant! Still it thrives and blossoms and bears fruit—and grateful 
    foliage screens reposing crowds. 
    Reader! is your calm seat beneath this shelter? Is your 
    soul-feast from these soul-feeding tendrils? If it is not so, what is your 
    hope? where your excuse? You cannot say that Christ's arms spread not above 
    your dwelling. Open your eye and behold Him. Stretch out your hand and touch 
    Him. If you refuse, you perish. And it is sad death to die beneath the tree 
    of life. 
    The seven branches support seven lamps. Each 
    summit is a coronet of fire. Little would be the profit of the costly frame, 
    unless light sparkled from it. But it burns brightly. This is its especial 
    purpose. The mystic number and the constant blaze show Christ a perfect 
    and unfailing light. Study this light, this first-born of creation's 
    gifts. It is the life, the joy, the grace of nature's world. And is not 
    Christ the life, the joy, the grace of the poor sinner's soul? Without this 
    Lampstand, where is the Tabernacle's splendor? Its brilliant colors are all 
    colorless. Its golden walls are a dark blank. All form, all shape, all rays 
    are the black sameness of a vault. The eye looks round on undistinguishable 
    night. 
    Without the sun, where are creation's charms? The trees 
    hang down their withered heads; the meadows are a noxious swamp; the melody 
    of groves is hushed; the skies above frown as a pall of adamant; the earth's 
    flowery carpet is an icy rock; death shivers on a frozen throne. Such is 
    man's heart, without the light of Christ. It is a poisoned marsh, a 
    barren desert, a joyless waste, a rayless night, a deathful tomb! It 
    must be so, because God is unknown. The great Jehovah is love and grace and 
    mercy and tender pity and power and wisdom and truth and holiness and 
    justice. But where is this discerned? What is the grand school of such high 
    thought? Nature cannot teach this. It is not written in the page of
    providence. The law shows nothing but angry frowns. 
    Reason's poor candle only cheats. Unaided wisdom, with its 
    strongest wing, can only flutter in the valley of vanity. No earth-born eye 
    can catch a glimpse of God. 
    But let the Sun of Righteousness arise; let 
    Christ send forth His heaven-bright rays. Then the scene changes. Then 
    what floods of glory roll the mists away! The face of Jesus shows the truth 
    of God. Each attribute is seen in Him as the clear blue of heaven. All then 
    appear entwined in harmony's embrace, taking delight in bringing in 
    salvation, and glorifying God in glorifying man. Behold the cross! A halo 
    round about it writes in golden letters—God hates sin, and loves the sinner. 
    He is just, and justifies the ungodly. He is righteous, and passes by 
    unrighteousness. He is holy, and makes fit the unholy for His kingdom. He is 
    free grace, and populates heaven from lost souls. He is glory, and builds 
    His glorious palace from the mire of earth's quarry. Christ, Christ 
    alone, shows this. Christ, then, is Light. 
    Without Christ, also, the affairs of this world are 
    but a puzzled maze. Poor blinded man sees nothing as it really is. He does 
    not know the true end of being. He imagines the tinsel to be gold. He counts 
    the true gold as dross. He treasures up the chaff as wheat. All his view is 
    bounded by time's narrow line! All his heart is fixed on vanity's vain 
    trifles! He chases bubbles on perdition's brink! He profits no one and he 
    ruins himself!
    
     
    The case is different when Christ shines on his heart and 
    mind. The opened eye then clearly sees the purpose and the end of being. The 
    Bible-lamp then shows that man's true object is to win salvation. Wisdom 
    then cries—Seek pardon for transgression, pleas for remission, acquittal at 
    the judgment bar, and hope beyond the grave. The Gospel-torch reveals the 
    mighty fact that time is granted to gain grace. Christ brings man to this 
    clear-day life. Christ, then, is Light. 
    Reader! is He the Lampstand within your soul? Then see 
    that its pure blaze ascends. It was the priest's part to trim and dress it 
    every morning. It had golden implements to remove the dross and to revive 
    the flame. And golden implements are ready for your hand. You know them 
    well. Oh! use them rightly, and with pious zeal. Prayer, meditation, 
    Scripture-ordinances, holy communion, holy labors, are golden tools 
    for this most sacred work. 
    God ordained means to tend these lamps. He provides helps 
    to fan the flame within you. It may be that you sometimes sit in the dark 
    chamber of distress and doubt and fear. Your light is dim. But why? The 
    fault is not with Christ. He is still near, and ready to shine forth. Arise! 
    Apply the oil which the Spirit brings. In prayer before the 
    Gospel-page, stir up the fading embers. Brightness will soon re-appear, and 
    cheering rays make gladness more glad. 
    Is there a reader whose heart is not the tabernacle of 
    these lamps? Ah! Sir, your case indeed is sad. Your eyes have never seen 
    that lovely sight which is the joy of heaven and earth. Gross darkness 
    covers you, but thicker night awaits you. But listen! A wondrous word calls 
    after you. Oh! that it might rise as Bethlehem's star, to guide you to the 
    Savior! Oh! that it might be the first ray of salvation's orb! Listen! it 
    cries, 'Awake, you who sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give 
    you light.' Christ is both the giver and the gift. Christ is the enlightener 
    and the light. May you receive! May you reflect!