And Mary said, My soul doth magnify the Lord,
No wonder that Mary sang that day. At the shut gate of the garden of Eden there was a promise given of a Saviour, a Saviour — who should be “the seed of the woman.” Ever after that, all along the line of the covenant, each woman hoped that she might be the mother of this Saviour. Centuries passed, and generations of disappointed hearts saw their hopes fade. At length one day a heavenly messenger came to this lowly Nazarite maiden, and announced to her that she should be the mother of this long-expected Messiah. What a glorious honour! No wonder she rejoiced. One strain of her song was, “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” We cannot make God any greater; He needs nothing from us. Can the candle add to the glory of the sun’s noon-day splendour? Yet we can so tell others of God that He will seem greater to them. It was said in praise of a distinguished preacher that in his sermons he made God appear very great. We can declare God’s goodness and grace. Then we can so live ourselves as to honour Him, and thus magnify His name.
Retzsch, a German sculptor, made a wonderful statue of the Redeemer. For eight years it was his dream by night, his thought by day. He first made a clay model, and set it before a child five or six years old. There were none of the usual emblematical marks about the figure, no cross, no crown, nothing by which to identify it. Yet, when the child saw it he said, “The Redeemer! the Redeemer!” This was a wonderful triumph of art. We should exhibit in our life and character such a reproduction of the nobleness and beauty of Christ that everyone who looks upon us may instinctively recognize the features, and say, “Behold the image of our Redeemer!” There is no other way of magnifying the Lord that so impresses the world.