"If any man thirsts—let him come to Me and drink!" John 7:37

"If any man thirsts—let him come to Me and drink!" John 7:37

This was an astonishing announcement. If Plato had uttered it from his Academy, it would have savored of boastful presumption. Yet a Galilean peasant, whose whole "school" of followers scarcely went beyond a dozen fishermen and publicans, makes this proclamation to all human kind: "If anyone is thirsty for pure happiness—I will satisfy him; if any one is suffering from a sense of guilt—I will relieve him; if any one is heart-broken—I will comfort him."

There is no alternative. Either this carpenter's son from Galilee is an insane impostor—or else he is a being clothed with divine power. No madman ever talked for three years without uttering one foolish syllable; no impostor ever pushed himself before the public eye for three years without doing one selfish act. Jesus of Nazareth, then, was what he claimed to be—the Son of God. He does not draw from others, his supplies for human needs; he invites everybody to come and draw from him. He is not a reservoir filled up from some other sources and liable to be exhausted; he is an original, self-supplied fountainhead!

Never had the face of humanity been more parched and dusty and barren, than was that Oriental world when Jesus burst up through it like an artesian well. Even Judaism had become like a desert, and lo! there breaks forth this gushing fountain of crystal waters. He is more than a teacher, giving instruction on all profound and practical questions. He is more than a miracle-worker, giving sight to the blind, ears to the deaf, and healing to the diseased. His supreme gift to man is himself! From himself flows forth the recovering influence; from the inexhaustible depths of his own divine being—a whole thirsty race may draw refreshment!

"The water that I give, shall be in you a well of water springing up into everlasting life." It is not simply profound truths that Jesus offers, or a system of doctrine, or a beautiful model of right living. He offers himself as the Satisfier! Drink me, take me into your souls—and I will relieve your soul-thirst! What a thirsty crowd fills all the thoroughfares of life!

Quacks offer their panaceas on every hand. Ambition sets up its dizzy ladder and proclaims: If any man thirsts for happiness, let him climb up come here! Mammon puts up over the doors to his temples of gold: If any man thirsts, let him come to me and get rich! Pleasure lights her saloons and strings her violins and sets out her flagons of wine, and cries aloud to the passers-by: If any are wretched and thirst for enjoyment, let them turn in here and drink! And all these are but miserable, broken cisterns, which hold no water.

In every human soul is a crying need, a hunger which such husks cannot feed, a thirst that grows the keener the longer it is trifled with. My soul recognizes sin—and thirsts for relief from it. I am so weak that I have been overthrown again and again; I need strength equal to the conflict. My earthly sources of happiness are precarious. Death has already shattered more than one beautiful pitcher at my domestic fountain. God has put within me desires and demands that no uncertain rivulet can satisfy. My soul thirsts for the living Christ! When he opens up the well-spring within me—peace flows like a river. Pure motives well forth, desires after holiness, and love in its satisfying fullness. Conscience is kept clean and sweet by the presence of Christ, the fountain-head.

This fountain never dries up. It is never frozen over. No sediment defiles it. Every good thing that I ever sought for outside of Jesus Christ—has had its defects, and the very best has brought a shade of disappointment. But whenever I got a deep draught of Christ's wonderful words, they were like Jonathan's honeycomb, they "enlightened my eyes." Whenever I have swallowed his promises, they have put new strength into every muscle for the hard climb.

But we must drink from the fountain—if we would receive strength, joy, and life. The proclamation is not, Come to the Bible and read; or Come to the church and listen; or, Come to the altar and pray; or. Come to the font and be baptized; or, Come to the sacramental table and partake. It is, "Come unto ME and drink!

This is a voluntary act, so simple that a babe understands it by instinct. On a hot summer day we dip the vessel into the cool spring, and, as its delicious draught passes into the lips and through the whole system—an exquisite refreshment steals through every nerve and fibre of the frame. So does faith take in Christ, and his grace reaches every faculty and affection of the soul. Coleridge said that the best proof of the inspiration of God's Word was that is the only book in the world, which finds me at every point of my nature. "The best argument for Jesus Christ, is that he alone satisfies me. His grace goes to the right spot. His comfort soothes the sore place; his atoning blood makes me sure of pardon; his love cures my wretched selfishness as nothing else can do! Of almost everyone and everything else we can get tired—but what true child of Christ ever got tired of the water of life? With joy does he ever draw water from this well of salvation.

Yet tens of thousands around us are perishing, not from the lack of the life-giving water—but because their foolish, depraved hearts do not thirst for it. A lady who visited one of the tropical islands for health, wrote home to her friends, "This is a lovely spot. I have every kindness, and abundance of food and fruits and luxuries—but I have no appetite. If I could only get an appetite I would soon recover." Alas, within a month she was gone! She died, not from lack of food—but from lack of hunger; not for lack of refreshing drinks—but from the lack of thirst for them.

It is the worst symptom of sin in the human soul—that it kills the appetite for holiness. We crave other sources of enjoyment than Christ offers. Drugged with the devil's treacherous draughts, we cry constantly for more, and yet refuse to touch the water of everlasting life! Blessed are those who thirst after purity and pardon and peace and power—for in Christ they may be filled.

"Whoever is thirsty, let him come! And whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life!" Revelation 22:17. These words are written for those who are thirsty. You who have a real aspiration for a nobler and purer life, you who have never yet been delivered from the plague and power of sin—listen to that celestial voice: "If any man thirsts—let him come to me and drink!" There is a flock at the fountain now. Go and join them. Draw for yourself. Drink for yourself. Drink, that your joy may be full. In heaven there is a perpetual Thanksgiving Day; for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne is their Shepherd, and he leads them to ever new fountains of waters of life.

This was an astonishing announcement. If Plato had uttered it from his Academy, it would have savored of boastful presumption. Yet a Galilean peasant, whose whole "school" of followers scarcely went beyond a dozen fishermen and publicans, makes this proclamation to all human kind: "If anyone is thirsty for pure happiness—I will satisfy him; if any one is suffering from a sense of guilt—I will relieve him; if any one is heart-broken—I will comfort him."

There is no alternative. Either this carpenter's son from Galilee is an insane impostor—or else he is a being clothed with divine power. No madman ever talked for three years without uttering one foolish syllable; no impostor ever pushed himself before the public eye for three years without doing one selfish act. Jesus of Nazareth, then, was what he claimed to be—the Son of God. He does not draw from others, his supplies for human needs; he invites everybody to come and draw from him. He is not a reservoir filled up from some other sources and liable to be exhausted; he is an original, self-supplied fountainhead!

Never had the face of humanity been more parched and dusty and barren, than was that Oriental world when Jesus burst up through it like an artesian well. Even Judaism had become like a desert, and lo! there breaks forth this gushing fountain of crystal waters. He is more than a teacher, giving instruction on all profound and practical questions. He is more than a miracle-worker, giving sight to the blind, ears to the deaf, and healing to the diseased. His supreme gift to man is himself! From himself flows forth the recovering influence; from the inexhaustible depths of his own divine being—a whole thirsty race may draw refreshment!

"The water that I give, shall be in you a well of water springing up into everlasting life." It is not simply profound truths that Jesus offers, or a system of doctrine, or a beautiful model of right living. He offers himself as the Satisfier! Drink me, take me into your souls—and I will relieve your soul-thirst! What a thirsty crowd fills all the thoroughfares of life!

Quacks offer their panaceas on every hand. Ambition sets up its dizzy ladder and proclaims: If any man thirsts for happiness, let him climb up come here! Mammon puts up over the doors to his temples of gold: If any man thirsts, let him come to me and get rich! Pleasure lights her saloons and strings her violins and sets out her flagons of wine, and cries aloud to the passers-by: If any are wretched and thirst for enjoyment, let them turn in here and drink! And all these are but miserable, broken cisterns, which hold no water.

In every human soul is a crying need, a hunger which such husks cannot feed, a thirst that grows the keener the longer it is trifled with. My soul recognizes sin—and thirsts for relief from it. I am so weak that I have been overthrown again and again; I need strength equal to the conflict. My earthly sources of happiness are precarious. Death has already shattered more than one beautiful pitcher at my domestic fountain. God has put within me desires and demands that no uncertain rivulet can satisfy. My soul thirsts for the living Christ! When he opens up the well-spring within me—peace flows like a river. Pure motives well forth, desires after holiness, and love in its satisfying fullness. Conscience is kept clean and sweet by the presence of Christ, the fountain-head.

This fountain never dries up. It is never frozen over. No sediment defiles it. Every good thing that I ever sought for outside of Jesus Christ—has had its defects, and the very best has brought a shade of disappointment. But whenever I got a deep draught of Christ's wonderful words, they were like Jonathan's honeycomb, they "enlightened my eyes." Whenever I have swallowed his promises, they have put new strength into every muscle for the hard climb.

But we must drink from the fountain—if we would receive strength, joy, and life. The proclamation is not, Come to the Bible and read; or Come to the church and listen; or, Come to the altar and pray; or. Come to the font and be baptized; or, Come to the sacramental table and partake. It is, "Come unto ME and drink!

This is a voluntary act, so simple that a babe understands it by instinct. On a hot summer day we dip the vessel into the cool spring, and, as its delicious draught passes into the lips and through the whole system—an exquisite refreshment steals through every nerve and fibre of the frame. So does faith take in Christ, and his grace reaches every faculty and affection of the soul. Coleridge said that the best proof of the inspiration of God's Word was that is the only book in the world, which finds me at every point of my nature. "The best argument for Jesus Christ, is that he alone satisfies me. His grace goes to the right spot. His comfort soothes the sore place; his atoning blood makes me sure of pardon; his love cures my wretched selfishness as nothing else can do! Of almost everyone and everything else we can get tired—but what true child of Christ ever got tired of the water of life? With joy does he ever draw water from this well of salvation.

Yet tens of thousands around us are perishing, not from the lack of the life-giving water—but because their foolish, depraved hearts do not thirst for it. A lady who visited one of the tropical islands for health, wrote home to her friends, "This is a lovely spot. I have every kindness, and abundance of food and fruits and luxuries—but I have no appetite. If I could only get an appetite I would soon recover." Alas, within a month she was gone! She died, not from lack of food—but from lack of hunger; not for lack of refreshing drinks—but from the lack of thirst for them.

It is the worst symptom of sin in the human soul—that it kills the appetite for holiness. We crave other sources of enjoyment than Christ offers. Drugged with the devil's treacherous draughts, we cry constantly for more, and yet refuse to touch the water of everlasting life! Blessed are those who thirst after purity and pardon and peace and power—for in Christ they may be filled.

"Whoever is thirsty, let him come! And whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life!" Revelation 22:17. These words are written for those who are thirsty. You who have a real aspiration for a nobler and purer life, you who have never yet been delivered from the plague and power of sin—listen to that celestial voice: "If any man thirsts—let him come to me and drink!" There is a flock at the fountain now. Go and join them. Draw for yourself. Drink for yourself. Drink, that your joy may be full. In heaven there is a perpetual Thanksgiving Day; for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne is their Shepherd, and he leads them to ever new fountains of waters of life.