The Pilgrim's Progress IV: Christiana at the House of the Interpreter (4) — The Sheep Before the Slaughter

He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter.

The Interpreter led Christiana and her companions into another room. There stood a sheep, quiet and still, while a butcher prepared to kill it.

The travelers watched in silence.

At last Christiana spoke.

"What means this sight, Sir?"

The Interpreter answered,

"Do you see how quietly the sheep stands? It neither struggles nor complains, though it knows what is before it. So should the children of God learn patience when the Lord calls them to suffer."

Mercy looked again at the sheep.

"It is a hard lesson."

"It is," replied the Interpreter, "yet it is the lesson first taught by our Lord Himself."

Then he repeated the words of the prophet:

"He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth: he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter."

Isaiah 53:7

Matthew, the eldest son, asked,

"Was this spoken of Christ?"

"It was," said the Interpreter. "He suffered willingly that sinners might be saved. He did not resist His enemies but committed Himself to His Father's will."

The little company stood quietly for a time.

Then Mercy said,

"If our Master bore such suffering for us, should we complain when He appoints us smaller crosses to bear?"

The Interpreter smiled.

"You have answered well. The disciple must not expect an easier road than his Master. Yet remember this also: the Shepherd never leaves His sheep."

Then he quoted the words of Jesus:

"My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life."

John 10:27-28

Christiana bowed her head.

"I pray that I may learn the meekness of the Lamb."

"So pray," replied the Interpreter, "for those who walk humbly with Christ shall also reign with Him."

The company departed thoughtfully, each carrying away the lesson that true strength is often found in quiet obedience.

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Dying Cre­at­or, slaugh­tered Lamb,

Thou hast poured out Thy blood for me;

O may I, kin­dled by Thy flame,

As free­ly give my­self to Thee!

My heart to Thee I now re­sign,

For, Lord, it cost the blood of Thine!

Augustus Toplady

(1740–1778)

Words: Au­gus­tus M. Top­la­dy, Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems (Lon­don: Da­ni­el Sedg­wick and Ham­il­ton & Ad­ams, 1775)

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