e of Christ, we might now
find His pretensions to be well founded? He professes to bestow what is
worth our immediate acceptance, His friendship, His Spirit. What if it
should be now that He seeks to come to _our_ heart with these words, "If
_thou_ knewest who it is that speaketh." Yes, if but for one hour we saw
God's gift, and Him through whom He offers it, _we_ should become the
suppliants. Christ would no longer need to knock at our door; we should
wait and knock at His.

For in truth it is always the same request He urges to all. In His words
to the woman, "Give Me to drink," there was more than the mere request
that He would lift her pitcher to His lips. Driven from Judaea, wearied
as much with the blindness of men as with His journey, He sat on the
well. Everything He saw had that day some spiritual meaning for Him. The
bread His disciples brought reminded Him of His true support, the
consciousness that He was doing His Father's will; the fields whitening
for harvest suggested to Him the nations unconsciously ripening for the
great Christian ingathering. And when He said to the woman, "Give Me to
drink," He thought of the intenser satisfaction she could give Him by
confiding in Him and accepting His help. In her person there stands
before Him a new, untried race. Oh that she may prove more accessible
than the Jews, and may allay His thirst for the salvation of men! His
parched tongue seems forgotten in the interest of His talk with her. And
to which of us has He not in this sense said, "Give Me to drink"? Is it
cruelty to refuse a cup of cold water to a thirsting child, and none to
refuse to quench the thirst of Him who hung upon the cross for us? Ought
we to feel no shame that the Lord is still in want of what we can give?
This woman knew it was a real thirst which could induce a Jew to ask
drink from her. Has He not sufficiently shown the reality of His thirst
for our friendship and trust? Could it be a feigned desire that led Him
to do all He has done? Are we never to have the joy of appropriating His
love as spent upon us; are we never with humble ecstasy to exclaim:--

"Weary satst Thou seeking _me_,
Diedst redeeming on the tree.
Can in vain such labour be"?

FOOTNOTES:

[11] Some good authorities hold that John reckoned the hours of the day
from midnight, not from sunrise. It is, however, probable that John
adopted the Roman reckoning, and counted noon the sixth hour.

X.

_JESUS