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  ​ We, too, must enter into the Saviour's sorrow. For us, if we believe in Him, He breaks the bread, and pours the wine; and when we eat and drink, we do show the Lord's death until He come. His death, not His life, though that was lustrous with a holiness without the shadow of a stain. His death, not His teaching, though that embodied the fullness of a wisdom that was Divine. His death, not His miracles, though His course was a march of mercy, and in His track of blessing the world rejoiced and was glad. His death! His body not glorious, but broken; His blood, not coursing through the veins of a conqueror, but shed, poured out for man. His death! Still His death! Grandest and most consecrating memory both for earth and heaven!

Wm. M. Punshon

Quelldatensatz: Three Thousand Selected Quotations from Brilliant Writers — Wikisource

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