man has died at the door of a granary. Some of us are starving, though
beside us there is 'the Bread of God that came down from heaven.'
Brethren, you must eat, and I venture to put the question to
you--_not_ Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the world's Saviour?
_not_ Do you believe in an Incarnation? _not_ Do you believe in an
Atonement? but Have you claimed your portion in the Bread? Have you
taken it into your own lips? _Crede et manducasti_, said Augustine,
'believe'--or, rather, _trust_--'and thou hast eaten.' Have _you_?

Further, let me remind you that under this eating is included not only
some initial act of faith, but a continuous course of partaking. The
dinner you ate this day last year is of no use for to-day's hunger.
The act of faith done long ago will not bring the Bread to nourish you
now. You must repeat the meal. And very strikingly and beautifully in
the last part of this conversation our Lord varies the word for
eating, and substitutes--as if He were speaking to those who had
fulfilled the previous condition--another one which implies the
ruminant action of certain animals. And that is what Christian men
have to do, to feed over and over and over again on the 'Bread of God
which came down from heaven.' Christ, and especially in and through
His death for us, can nourish and sustain our wills, giving them the
pattern of what they should desire, and the motive for which they
should desire it. Christ, and especially through His death, can feed
our consciences, and take away from them all the painful sense of
guilt, while He sharpens them to a far keener sensitiveness to evil.
Christ, and especially through His death, can feed our understandings,
and unveil therein the deepest truths concerning God and man,
concerning man's destiny and God's mercy. Christ, and especially in
His death, can feed our affections, and minister to love and desire
and submission and hope their celestial nourishment. He is 'the Bread