as often as you come--as would to God all would come--to the altar of the
Lord, and the Holy Communion of His body and blood. For there, indeed,
you render to God that which is God's--namely, yourselves; there you
offer to God the true sacrifice, which is the sacrifice of yourselves--
the sacrifice of repentance, the sacrifice of thanksgiving, the sacrifice
of righteousness, or at least of hunger and thirst after righteousness;
and there you receive in return your share of God's sacrifice, the
sacrifice which you did not make for Him, but which He made for you, when
He spared not His only-begotten Son but freely gave Him for us.

That is the sacrifice of all sacrifices, the wonder of all wonders, the
mystery of all mysteries; and it is also the righteousness of all
righteousness, the generosity of all generosity, the nobleness of all
nobleness, the beauty of all beauty, the love of all love. Thinking of
that, beholding in that bread and wine the tokens of the boundless love
of God, then surely, surely, our repentance for past follies, our
thankfulness for present blessings, our longing to be good, pure, useful,
humane, generous, high-minded--in one word, to be holy--ought to rise up
in us, into a passion, as it were, of noble shame at our own selfishness,
and admiration of God's unselfishness, a longing to follow His divine
example, and to live, not for ourselves, but for our fellow-men. If we
could but once understand the full meaning of those awful yet glorious
words, "He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all,
how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?" then, indeed,
we should understand that the one overpowering reason for being unselfish
and doing good is this--that we are God's children, and that God our
Father is utterly unselfish, and utterly does good, even at the sacrifice
of Himself; and that therefore when we are unselfish, and do good, even
at the sacrifice of ourselves, we do indeed, in spirit and in truth,
"render unto God the things that are God's."