There He is, going yonder to Calvary. As He's moving up the hill, and His poor, little shoulder rubbing, the old bee of death humming around Him, "It ain't going to be long till I'll get Him." Buzzing all around and around, and after while it had to sting Him. But, friend, you know, if a bee ever stings anybody deeply, he can't sting no more. He pulls his stinger out. So he hasn't got no more stinger. And I tell you, that's the reason God was made flesh, here on earth, in order to hold the stinger of death. And now the--death has no more sting. The bee can swarm and buzz, but he can't sting. "O death, where is thy sting? Grave, where is thy victory?" But Christ, the kinsman Redeemer has made a way of escape for every believer on this earth today. The bee might hum; the bee might buzz; the bee might try to make you afraid. But I can point yonder to Calvary, where God Himself was made flesh, when He held the stinger of death, and took my place as a sinner, and paid the price.
Job - 55-0223 - William Branham
No comments:
Post a Comment