"Jgu Bodks
. far., the founding cf a Collegi In ihi\ ColonyiA

Gift of
JOHN WHITNEY AVERY, Y '93
1927

THE ORIENTAL CHRIST

P. C. MOZOOMDAR

BOSTON
GEO. H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET
1883

COPYRIGHT,
BY GEORGE H. BLLIS,

iesjxrcb Cfpmirer %>m,

THE BELOVED COMPANION OF MY EARLY BOYHOOD, THE
GUIDE OF MY YOUTH, THE FRIEND AND LEADER OF
MY MANHOOD, TO WHOM MY SOUL HAS CLUNG
AMID MANY TRANSITIONS AND TRIALS,
&be foUofeing pages art iracriku,
WITH THE SERVICE OF SIMPLE AFFECTION, AND FAITHFUL LOYALTY.

CONTENTS
Preface  7
Introduction,  15
I. The Bathing Christ,  47
II. The Fasting Christ,  57
III. The Praying Christ,  74
IV. The Teaching Christ,  86
V. The Rebuking Christ,  98
VI. The Weeping Christ  in
VII. The Pilgriming Christ,  126
VIII. The Trusting Christ,  137
IX. The Healing Christ,  146
X. The Feasting Christ,  155
XI. The Parting Christ,  170
XII. The Dying Christ  181
XIII. The Reigning Christ,  188

PREFACE
T HAVE often asked myself what right I have to
handle the life of Christ. The answer has been
uniform. My spirit craves to utter itself on that
endless theme. I anticipate the disapproval of
authoritative ecclesiastics. I foresee the surprise
of one-sided theists. I have a clear prevision of
the sarcasm and reproach of clear-headed combative
scholars. But my line of speculation scarcely coin
cides with theirs. Mine are but human prayerful
endeavors to realize the character and spirit of the
Son of God. Mine are but attempts to accept,
assimilate, and embody ideal humanity. The Bible
has been my guide ; and devout thinkers, both living
and dead, have been my companions. I pretend not
to criticise, far less to teach ! In my long wander
ings and solitudes, in my dark isolations and seasons
of spiritual exile, I have labored to seek, and rejoiced
to find, pure, simple, glorious manhood in the Son of

8 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
Man. And I feel constrained to speak on the sub
ject to the spirit of the living, and the dead, and the
unborn. If I stand before the tribunal of the times,
it is not as a man assuming superiority, teachership,
or wisdom over any, but simply as one uttering
aloud his own thoughts.
Nearly twenty years ago, my troubles, studies,
and circumstances forced upon me the question of
personal relationship to Christ. Though for a short
time taught in a government college in Calcutta,
where no moral or religious instruction is ever
given, and where, on the contrary, a good deal of the
opposite influence is directly and indirectly imbibed,
I was early awakened to a sense of deep inner un-
worthiness. Placed in youth by the side of a very
pure and powerful character, whose external condi
tions were similar to my own, I was helped to feel
— in the freshness of my susceptibilities, by the law
of contrast — that I was painfully imperfect, and
needed very much the grace of a saving God. In
the Brahmo Somaj, this consciousness of imperfec
tion soon developed into a strong sense of sin. The
doctrine of original corruption never preoccupied

PREFACE 9
my boyhood or youth, the fear of eternal punishment
never biassed my thought or aspiration. I was
never taught to feel any undue leaning toward the
Christian Scriptures, or the Christian religion. Mine
was a strong unforced consciousness of natural
and acquired unworthiness. Keshub Chunder Sen's
early melancholy had, perhaps, an effect on me.
No doubt, his severe morality affected and partly
moulded my character. The influence of Christian
doctrines might perhaps be diffused in the moral
atmosphere of the land of my birth. Definite recol
lection, or conscious analysis does not give me any
clue into how or why it was. But this I do very
clearly remember that as the sense of sin grew
on me, and with it a deep miserable restlessness,.
a necessity of reconciliation between aspiration and!
practice, I was mysteriously led to feel a personali
affinity to the spirit of Christ. The whole subject
of the life and death of Christ had for me a marvel
lous sweetness and fascination. I repeat, I can
never account for this. Untaught by any one, not
sympathized with even by the very best of my
friends, often discouraged and ridiculed, I persisted

IO THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
in according to Christ a tenderness of honor which
arose in my heart unbidden. I prayed, I fasted at
Christmas and Easter times. I secretly hunted the
book-shops of Calcutta to gather the so-called like
nesses of Christ. I did not know, I cared not to
think, whither all this would lead.
About the year 1867, a very painful period of
spiritual isolation overtook me. I have repeatedly
during such seasons lost the sympathy of friends,
and sought my God alone. But one of the severest
trials was at the time to which I make allusion. I
was almost alone in Calcutta. My inward trials and
travails had really reached a crisis. It was a week
day evening, I forget the date now. The gloomy and
haunted shades of the summer evening had suddenly
thickened into darkness; and all things, both far and
near, had assumed an unearthly mysteriousness. I
sat near the large lake in the Hindu College com
pound. Above me rose in a sombre mass the giant,
grim, old seesum tree, under the far-spreading foliage
of which I have played so often, and my father
played before me. A sobbing, gusty wind swam over
the water's surface, the ripples sounded on the

PREFACE I I
grassy bank, the breeze rustled in the highest regions
of the great tree. My eyes, nearly closed, were yet
dreamily conscious of the gloomy calmness of the
scenery. I was meditating on the state of my soul,
on the cure of all spiritual wretchedness, the bright
ness and peace unknown to' me, which was the lot of
God's children. I prayed and besought heaven. I
cried, and shed hot tears. It might be said I was
almost in a state of trance. Suddenly, it seemed to
me, let me own it was revealed to me, that close to
me there was a holier, more blessed, most loving
personality upon which I might repose my troubled
head. Jesus lay discovered in my heart as a strange,
human, kindred love, as a repose, a sympathetic con
solation, an unpurchased treasure to which I was
freely invited. The response of my nature was
unhesitating and immediate. Jesus, from that day,
to me became a reality whereon I might lean. It
was an impulse then, a flood of light, love, and con
solation. It is no longer an impulse now. It is a
faith and principle ; it is an experience verified by a
thousand trials. It was not a bodily Christ then ; it
is much less a bodily emanation now. A character,

12 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
a spirit, a holy, sacrificed, exalted self, whom I recog
nize as the true Son of God. According to my
humble light, I have always tried to be faithful to this
inspiration. I have been aided, confirmed, encour
aged by many, and most of all by one. My aspira
tion has been not to speculate on Christ, but to be
what Jesus tells us all to be. That labor, I know,
will not end in this life ; and the goal as well as the
prize is elsewhere. But it is still a great privilege
and a great reward to be able to say something on
what so many look up to with longing and fond aspi
ration. I can, with perfect truth, declare that it is
the grace and activity of the indwelling presence of
God alone whereto I am indebted for these experi
ences. But, such as they are, I set them down.
I shall be content, if what I say in these pages
at all tend to give completeness to any man's ideas
of the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. I have set
down these views without any pretension to schol
arship. They are but the meditations of a heart
which, without any human stimulus or guidance,
long ago recognized its personal relationship to the
soul and sympathy of Christ. In the midst of these

PREFACE 13
crumbling systems of Hindu error and superstition,
in the midst of this self-righteous dogmatism and
acrimonious controversy, in the midst of these cold,
spectral, shadows of transition, secularism, and agnos
tic doubt, to me Christ has been like the meat and
drink of my soul. His influences have woven round
me for the last twenty years or more, and, outside
the fold of Christianity as I am, have formed a new
fold, wherein I find many besides myself. I repeat
that what I say of Christ is only derived from my
own humble experiences, fanned by the guardian
spirit of a beloved teacher. And this is my sole
justification in venturing to publish anything on the
subject. If my sentiments be found to correspond
with those of others more advanced in the heavenly
kingdom ; if they strengthen and help any yet behind
on the forward way ; if they call forth more thought,
higher aspiration, clearer faith, and purer character
in any man, I shall consider that as a grace and
blessing of God upon this my work of many long
and anxious days.
Boston, October, 1883.

INTRODUCTION
'TVHE estimates of character vary, if viewed from
different stand-points. Particularly when the
singularity of a nature happens to lie in its many-
sidedness, representations of it may be conflicting,
but quite genuine and correct. It never formed part
of the principles of the Brahmo Somaj to maintain
that its ideas respecting the life and teachings of
great prophets admitted of no correction or improve
ment. In fact its absolute teachableness on such
subjects is its only spiritual peculiarity. The Brah-
mos have therefore, in a uniform spirit of humility,
criticised other men's notions, trusting that, like
themselves, their neighbors will not be ashamed to
learn from them. The utterances of the Brahmo
Somaj of India at different times on the founder of
Christianity, and some of its doctrines have created
a good deal of agitation in the Christian communities
of other countries. A principal point of difference
between the Christians and the Brahmos on such
matters is this. The latter maintain that the life
and teachings of Jesus have been presented by

l6 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
Christian missionaries through the colored medium
¦of European ideals and European theology, and have
therefore failed to attract those spiritual instincts
and national sympathies for which the Hindus, as
a primitive Eastern race, are distinguished. It is
held that the celestial figure of the sweet Prophet
of Nazareth is illumined with strange and unknown
radiance, when the light of oriental faith and mystic
devotion is allowed to fall upon it. It is a fact that
the greatest religions of the world have sprung from
Asia. It has, with some accuracy, been said, there
fore, that it is an Asiatic only who can teach religion
to Asiatics. Not that Europeans are of no use here.
On the contrary, Christian missionaries, Christian
men, and Christian literature, above all, have roused
the dormant nature of Eastern people, — pre-emi
nently of our own people, — suggested inquiries and
stimulated thought, the natural results of which show
themselves in that religious activity which more or
less characterizes every part of India. But the
efforts of European agencies, suggestive and helpful
as they are, do not go far enough, do not go deep
enough, but still float on the surface, and affect the
merest externals of human life. It is a national
ideal only that can touch the undercurrents of na
tional trust and aspiration. And let us assure our

INTRODUCTION 17
European friends that, in religion at least, Hindus
have a powerful national life, which remains all but
utterly uninfluenced by foreign preaching. What
we say is tantamount to a criticism of evangelical
conceptions of Christ's character, and is therefore
likely to provoke controversy. Nay, it has already
done so. What truth there is in such controversy
it behoves all faithful Christians to try to find out.
And for non-Christians, too, the discussion has a
practical importance ; because, the greater the depth
and variety of spiritual estimate which an indepen
dent and enlightened appreciation of Christ's exist
ence may indicate, the greater the gain to humanity.
And, even if any unintentional misconception on the
part of foreign propagandists, perfectly sincere and
natural, has to be exposed and admitted, is it not
much better that the misrepresentation be at once
acknowledged, rather than that Christ should fail to
find wide acceptance among the children of men ?
Be it a Hindu, or a Mohammedan, or a Christian,
who undertakes to offer higher and correcter inter
pretations of the Messiah's being and ministry, it
only concerns us to examine whether the interpre
tation be really high and correct ; and, if so, we
feel bound to accept it. Let Christ's character and
dominion increase, let him be made recognizable and

1 8 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
acceptable to all ; and if, in consequence, his wit
nesses and servants should suffer a decrease in their
reputation for wisdom and insight, that decline itself
is an honor, and that decrease a glory.
The argument generally put forward in vindica
tion of the evangelical views of Christ's life —
namely, that Christ is universal — does require a
moment's consideration. No doubt every great
religious genius is universal. Human nature is very
much the same everywhere ; and the greatest repre
sentatives of it are sure to be recognized by man
kind, wherever born and however brought up. This
applies certainly more to Christ than to any other
prophet. But, nevertheless, each prophet has his
personal surroundings, his peculiarities of time and
circumstance. These give a peculiar significance to
his life and ministry. There is about him the local,
the personal, the historical, as well as the universal.
There are the conditions of birth, climate, national
ity, education, and the thousand transmitted pecu
liarities of the age. Those who leave these out of
consideration can never understand the true char
acter of the man whom they view as their exemplar.
But men are often apt to forget this truth. Some
times, it is impossible to act up to this truth. We
shall give one familiar instance. For modern Eng-

INTRODUCTION 19
lishmen, whose education and dispositions might be
said to be almost the very opposite of what we ori
entals are, who, after staying in our country for
scores of years together, at last declare that it is
impossible for them to understand the native char
acter, it is all but hopeless to enter into the in
stinctive and hidden peculiarities of Eastern life and
feeling. So much truth there is in this statement
that the reader will at once bear out the statement
that, with many Europeans, the expression "oriental
character" means a mental organization essentially
and generically different from anything that goes
by the name of character in the Western world.
But there are exceptions to this rule. For in
stance, the estimate of Brahmo views of the mission
and character of Jesus Christ by such men as the
late Dean Stanley, is most sympathetic and appre
ciative. It shows that there are at least some influ
ential Christian men, who do not necessarily construe
difference of opinion into personal hostility.
We shall try to point out here the main views
of Christ's mission and character, as laid down by
Keshub Chunder Sen, the Brahmo leader. He has
made three public and authoritative statements of
his principles on this subject. The first time he
spoke was in his lecture on "Jesus Christ, Europe

20 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
and Asia," in March, 1866, immediately after his
secession from the Adi Brahmo Somaj at Jorasanko,
Calcutta. With all the light of his genius and elo
quence, he held forth Christ as the great man and
the mighty reformer. Christ's influence, "but a
small rivulet at first,- increased in depth and breadth
as it flowed along, and swept away in its irresistible
tide the impregnable strongholds of ancient error
and superstition and the accumulated corruptions of
centuries." He described Christ's mission thus :
"Sent by Providence to reform and regenerate man
kind, he received from Providence power and wisdom
for that great work." But Keshub gave utterance
to views which, in their capability of development,
produced intense expectancy among all classes. Set
ting forth in glowing sentences the moral greatness
of Christ, " his tenderness and humility, lamb-like
meekness and simplicity, his heart full of mercy
and forgiving kindness, and set on the other hand
his firm, resolute, unyielding adherence to truth,"
Keshub declared, in a breathless climax, "Verily,
Jesus was above ordinary humanity." Well-mean
ing Trinitarian missionaries at once concluded that
the Brahmo Somaj was now " not far from the king
dom of heaven." But few at that time took suffi
cient heed of a line of sentiment which the Brahmo

INTRODUCTION 21
leader struck out for himself, while expatiating on
the more than human excellences of the character
and precepts of Jesus. " Was not Jesus Christ," he
asked, "an Asiatic ? I rejoice — yea, I am proud —
that I am an Asiatic. He and his disciples were
Asiatics, and all the agencies primarily employed for
the propagation of the gospel were Asiatic. In fact,
Christianity was founded and developed by Asiatics
in Asia. When I reflect on this, my love for Jesus
becomes a hundred-fold intensified. I feel him nearer
my heart and deeper in my national sympathies.
Shall I not rather say he is more congenial and
akin to my oriental nature, more agreeable to my
oriental habits of thought and feeling ? And is it
not true that an Asiatic can read the imageries and
allegories of the gospel and its descriptions of nat
ural sceneries, of customs and manners, with greater
interest and a fuller perception of their force and
beauty than Europeans ? In Christ, we see not
only the exaltedness of humanity, but also the grand
eur of which Asiatic nature is susceptible. To us
Asiatics, therefore, Christ is doubly interesting; and
his religion is entitled to our peculiar regard as an
altogether oriental affair. The more this great fact
is pondered, the less I Tiope will be the antipathy
and hatred of European Christians against oriental

22 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
nationalities, and the greater the interest of the
Asiatics in the teachings of Christ."
The long interval of apparent silence which
Keshub preserved on this subject, and the diverse
channels of thought and development into which he
proceeded during that time, allayed the premature
anticipations of his speedy conversion to evangelical
Christianity. Many of his quondam admirers were
so far discouraged as to circulate the report that
he had recanted his previously expressed views.
Keshub's lectures and orations in England, in 1870,
sufficiently showed that he had recanted nothing,
withdrawn nothing, but that, on the contrary, his
ideas and principles with regard to Christ and Chris
tianity had, during the last four years, greatly gained
in maturity and soundness. The high encomiums
bestowed upon him by such men as Dr. Pusey,
Dean Stanley, Lord Lawrence, and bodies of clergy
men in different parts of England, amply testified
that the position of the Brahmo Somaj, in regard to
Christ and Christianity, had not receded, but ad
vanced considerably. The extent of this advance,
however, no one had any means or opportunity to
measure until nine years later. In April, 1879,
Keshub delivered his lecture on " India asks who is
Christ ? " It was exactly thirteen years after his

INTRODUCTION 23
preliminary utterances on "Jesus Christ, Europe,
and Asia." The line of original thought indicated
in his last great public enunciation had now led him
to form a perfectly unique estimate of the character
and mission of Jesus Christ. " England," said he,
after a few opening sentences, " has sent to us, after
all, a Western Christ."
It seems that the Christ that has come to us is an English
man, with English manners and customs about him, and with the
temper and spirit of an Englishman in him. Hence is it that
the Hindu people shrink back and say, Who is this revolu
tionary reformer who is trying to sap the very foundations of
native society, and bring about an outlandish faith and civili
zation quite incompatible with oriental instincts and ideas?
Why must we submit to one who is of a different nationality?
Why must we bow before a foreign prophet ? It is a fact
which cannot be gainsaid that hundreds upon hundreds, thou
sands upon thousands, even among the most intelligent in the
land, stand back in moral recoil from this picture of a foreign
Christianity trying to invade and subvert Hindu society ; and
this repugnance unquestionably hinders the progress of the
true spirit of Christianity in this country. When they feel
that Christ means nothing but denationalization, the whole
nation must certainly, as one man, stand up to repudiate and
banish this acknowledged evil. But why should you Hindus
go to England to learn Jesus Christ ? Is not Christ's native
land nearer to India than England ? Are not Jesus and his
apostles and immediate followers more akin to Indian nation-

24 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
ality than Englishmen ? Are not the scenes enacted in the
drama of the Christian dispensation altogether homely to us
Indians ? When we hear of the lily, and the sparrow, and the
well, and a hundred other things of Eastern countries, do we
not feel we are quite at home in the Holy Land ? Why should
we, then, travel to a distant country like England, in order to
gather truths which are to be found much nearer our homes ?
Go to the rising sun in the East, not to the setting sun in the
West, if you wish to see Christ in the plenitude of his glory
and in the fulness and freshness of the primitive dispensation.
Why do I speak of Christ in England and Europe as the
setting sun? Because there we find apostolical Christianity
almost gone ; there we find the life of Christ formulated
into lifeless forms and antiquated symbols. But, if you go
to the true Christ in the East and his apostles, you are seized
with inspiration. You find the truths of Christianity all fresh
and resplendent.
So much for the moral and spiritual advantages
which our oriental nature confers upon us by ena
bling us to gain a full and clear insight into the
nature of Christ. In 1866, Keshub had asked, "Is
not Christ above ordinary humanity ? " and he had
answered his own query with the exclamation,
"Verily, Jesus is above ordinary humanity." The
recurrence of the same adjective both in the ques
tion and the answer suggests the thought that
Christ's humanity then was extraordinary. Keshub

INTRODUCTION 25
substitutes the word "divine" for "extraordinary,"
after a decade of meditation and culture. His state
ment in the year 1879 he commences with these
words, "I desire to discourse on the great subject
of the divinity of Jesus." He asks : " Is Christ
altogether human ? Are we satisfied that there is
nothing but earthly humanity in him ? " It appears
that Christ believed earnestly and consistently in
what should be called the doctrine of divine hu
manity. Christ is said to have struck the key-note
of this doctrine in the formula, " I and my Father
are one." This was an announcement of "identity
with the godhead." In analyzing this announce
ment, Keshub says he finds "nothing but the philo
sophical principle underlying the popular doctrine
of self-abnegation in a very lofty spiritual sense.
Christ destroyed self. And, as self ebbed away,
heaven came pouring into the soul. For nature
abhors a vacuum ; and hence, as soon as nature is
emptied of self, divinity fills the void. The nature-
of the Lord filled him, and everything was divine
in him."
He always felt that the root of his being was God him
self, — a fact of which we are not always conscious. He had
his life rooted in divinity. He felt always that the Lord was
underlying his whole existence. And, therefore, without

26 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
equivocation, and with all the boldness and candor of con
scious simplicity, he proclaimed unto the world the fact that
he was one with God.
According to oriental custom, Jesus had renounced
friends and family, home, country, and possession,
and had nothing in or about him that could indicate
an individuality. The foxes have their holes, and
the birds of the air their places of shelter, but the
Son of Man hath not where to lay his head. Who
was his mother, and who were his brethren ? Who
soever doetb the will of his Father in heaven, the
same shall be his brother, sister, and mother. " This
unique character of self-surrender is the most strik
ing miracle in the world's history." The Brahmo
Somaj has been represented as holding the personal
extinction of Christ in this doctrine. But the self-
surrender of Christ did not, in any sense, annihilate
his personality : it simply brought an all-pervading
influx of heavenly life into his soul. The divine
attributes of holiness, love, and wisdom, were mani
fested in him as much as created character can
contain. But, certainly, it was never meant to be held that
the infinite perfections of the absolute Godhead had
ever descended into Jesus or any other man. Yet
the possibilities of Christ's character were immensely

INTRODUCTION 27
vaster than the actual achievement. Yet Christ was
created for a definite purpose ; namely, that of repre
senting perfect humanity and absolute sonship on
earth as an exemplar of a model man, a complete
piece of God's workmanship, showing what the
human soul should be in this life. And that pur
pose Jesus Christ had fully answered. Genuine,
deep-souled, perfectly pure-minded humanity, that
wholly sacrifices itself to the love and holiness of
God, is truly divine. And to Jesus belongs that
divinity. It was not personal extinction, it was
utter personal subjection, it was the personality of
man at one with the personality of God. It was
the absolute reconciliation of Father and Son. This
was the life of Christ.
"The pre-existence of Christ," as explained by
the Brahmo leader, is apt to be interpreted into a
mystical conception. But, carefully viewed, it is a
very different idea. Christ is said to have existed
before his birth as a part of the divine plan for the
future good of mankind. The omniscience of God
knew from the beginning the destinies of men. His
perfect knowledge saw, in their fullest relations, the
causes and consequences of human sin and salva
tion. His all-comprehending, far-beholding provi
dence grasped all the measure and magnitude of

28 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
evil in man's nature, and grasped also all the ways
and means, all the opportunities and occasions, which
might be utilized as a dispensation by the power of
which the children of men might be delivered from
the evil which encompassed them. Both the evil, and
the dispensation for deliverance from its power were
present in the divine consciousness from the begin
ning of the world. The future Christ, as God had
meant to create him, the potential energy of the as
yet unborn Christ, existed in the eternal depths, in
the dispensation which was to come in the fulness of
time. In that stage, Christ certainly had no person
ality. He was the thought and energy of God. He
was the plan of God. He was the light of divine
reason and love, as yet involved within the great
impenetrable. In that sense, the whole universe was
at one time merely the thought of the Infinite Being.
And every one of us has sprung from the formless
ocean of divinity that spread through all. But,
Keshub sufficiently explains his meaning, when he
speaks thus : " Christ pre-existed as an idea, as a
plan of life, as a pre-determined dispensation yet to
be realized, as a purity of character, not concrete, but
abstract." There may be equal misapprehension in regard to
Brahmo views respecting Christ's immortality. The

INTRODUCTION 29
resurrection of the Son of Man does not, in the re
motest sense, mean his absorption in the Spirit of the
Father. . It is but the raising of the spirit of Jesus
before the throne of the righteousness and love of
God. Jesus lives in heaven, not as an impersonal and
absorbed essence of the divine consciousness which
he was before he came to the world, nor as a mate
rial form with which popular imagination clothes
him, but as a separate, personified soul in its own
sphere of blessedness, achieving a higher and still
holier standard of perfection than was ever known
in his life on earth. His perfection on earth was
relative, his perfection in heaven ever tending to
the Absolute. But, among us to-day, he lives as a
great leaven. "He lives," says Keshub, "in all
Christian lives and in all Christian influences at
work around us. You may deny his doctrine, you
may even hate his name, but you cannot resist his
influence. Christ exists throughout Christendom
like an all-pervading leaven, mysteriously and im
perceptibly leavening the bias of millions of men
and women."
The next time that we hear the Brahmo leader
speaking of Christ is in 1882, in his lecture on
"That Marvellous Mystery, the Trinity." This sets
forth his most mature views on the nature and

30 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
mission of Jesus Christ. Beginning to receive the
founder of Christianity as a great man and a reformer
in ¦1869, proceeding to recognize him as divine or
ideal humanity in 1879, the recognition and develop
ment culminated in 1882 by rehabilitating Jesus as
the second person in the mysterious doctrine of the
Trinity. In this last and newest statement, it is
Keshub's object to trace "the continued evolution
of the Logos, and its graduated development through
everlasting stages of life." The Hindu avatar rises
from the lowest scale of life through the fish, the
tortoise, and the hog, up to the perfection of human
ity. Such, precisely, is the modern theory of evo
lution. How from the lowest forms of gross matter is evolved the
vitality of the vegetable world in all its fulness and luxuriance !
And, then, from the mos"t perfect and vital types of vegetable
life springs the least in the animal kingdom, which again rises,
through endless and growing varieties, to the very highest in
intelligence and sagacity. But creation stops not here. From
animal life, it ascends to humanity, and finds its full develop
ment in man. In the evolution of man, however, creation is
not exhausted. It goes farther and farther still along the
course of progressive humanity. In the earliest phase of his
life, whether in the little infant or in the primitive barbarian
man, with all his highly finished organism, is but a creature of
God. Through culture and education, he rises in the scale of

INTRODUCTION 3 1
humanity till he becomes the son of God. You see how the
Lord asserted his power and established his dominion in the
material and the animal kingdom, and then in the lower world
of humanity. When that was done, the volume of the Old
Testament was closed. The New Testament commenced with
the birth of the Son of God.
But the process of evolution does not terminate
here. The development of sonship in a solitary
individual does not fulfil the purposes of creation.
The great, ultimate object of Christ's sonship is to
develop it in all humanity. Christ is only the way,
but what force is it that can lead mankind through
the way to the end ? This is the Holy Spirit.
Keshub thus enunciates his doctrine of Trinity : —
Here, you have the complete triangular figure of the Trinity,
three profound truths, — the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost, — making up the harmonious whole of the economy of
creation. Gentlemen, look at this clear triangular figure with
the eye of faith, and study its deep mathematics. The apex is
the very God Jehovah, the Supreme Brahma of the Vedas.
Alone, in his own eternal glory, he dwells. From him comes
down the Son in a direct line, an emanation from Divinity.
Thus, God descends and touches one end of the base of hu
manity, then, running all along the base, permeates the world,
and then by the power of the Holy Ghost drags up regenerated
humanity to himself. Divinity coming down to humanity is
the Son : Divinity carrying up humanity to heaven is the Holy

32 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
Ghost. This is the whole philosophy of salvation. Such is
the short story of human redemption. How beautiful ! How
soul-satisfying! The Father continually manifests his wisdom
and mercy in creation, till they take the form of pure sonship
in Christ; and then out of one little seed-Christ is evolved a
whole harvest of endless and ever-multiplying Christs. God
coming down and going up, — this is creation, this is salvation.
In this plain figure of three lines, you have the solution of a
vast problem. The Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost; the
Creator, the Exampler, and the Sanctifier ; I am, I love, I
save ; the Still God, the Journeying God, the Returning God;
Force, Wisdom, Holiness ; the True, the Good, the Beautiful ;
Sat, Chit, Ananda, " Truth, Intelligence, and Joy."
But Keshub strongly sets his face against worship
ping Christ as Man-God. " A Man-God is not intel
ligible. It is untrue and absurd. It is a lie and a
fiction. A God-Man is quite intelligible, a possi
bility in the nature of things. Here, man remains
man, and God is only superadded to his nature.
Humanity continues to be humanity, but divinity
is engrafted upon it. Christ is not, never was,
never will be God, the Father. He is humanity
pure and simple, in which divinity dwells. In him,
we see human nature perfected by true affiliation to
divine nature. And in this affiliation we realize
fully the purpose of Christ's life and ministry. He
shows us not how God can become man, nor how

INTRODUCTION 33
man can become God, but how we can exalt our
humanity by making it more and more divine, how,
while retaining our humanity, we may still partake
more and more of the divine character." To be
Christlike is always a process of transformation,
bringing us nearer and nearer to God. The achieve
ment of divine humanity has taken thousands of
years, and will take many thousands more. The
leader of the Brahmo Somaj thus idealizes Christ as
universal humanity :
As the sleeping Logos, did Christ live potentially, in the
Father's bosom, long, long before he came into this world of
ours. As the Lord spoke, the Logos or Reason came forth,
and was lodged in creation, not in human beings alone, but
even in animals. Wherever there is intelligence, in all stages
of life, where there is the least spark of instinct, there dwells
Christ, if Christ is the Logos. In this right and rational
view, do not the Fathers all agree ? Do they not speak of an
all-pervading Christ ? Do they not bear unequivocal testimony
to Christ in Socrates ? Even in barbarian philosophy and in
all Hellenic literature, they saw and adored their Logos-Christ.
In the midst of this large assembly, I deny and repudiate the
little Christ of popular theology, and stand up for a greater
Christ, a fuller Christ, a more eternal Christ, a more universal
Christ. I plead for the eternal Logos of the Fathers, and I
challenge the world's assent. This is the Christ who was in
Greece and Rome, in Egypt and India. In the bards and the
poets of the Rig-Veda was he. He dwelt in Confucius and in

34 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
Sakya Muni. This is the true Christ whom I can see every
where, in all lands and in all times, in Europe and in Asia, in
Africa, in America, in ancient and modern times. He is not
the monopoly of any nation or creed. All literature, all science,
all philosophy, every doctrine that is true, every form of right
eousness, every virtue that belongs to the Son, is the true
subjective Christ whom all ages glorify. Begotten by the
"volition" of Almighty God, as Tertullian says, the Spirit-
Christ spread forth in the universe as an emanation from the
Divine Reason, and you can see him with the eye of faith
underlying the endless varieties of truth and goodness in
ancient and modern times. He is the Chit-Christ, pure intelli
gence, the Word of God, mighty Logos. Scattered in all
schools of philosophy and in all religious sects, scattered in
all men and women of the East and the West, are multitudi
nous Christ-principles and fragments of Christ-life, one vast
and identical Sonship diversely manifested.
Keshub speaks of Christ as the prince of idealists.
And his religion is spoken of as supreme idealism.
And it is in this idealism that India has a hold on
the real nature of Christ and Christianity. The
East has always been the home of idealism. The
prophets and seers of Asia penetrated the veil of
phenomena, and saw behind it the life and mean
ing of all things. Exuberant nature, making slender
calls upon physical energy, invited the mind to
communion and contemplation. Zoroaster on the

INTRODUCTION 35
mountain tops, the old Aryan sages of India in the
deep wood or romantic river banks, found the whole
world idealized before them into the purposes and
perfections of the Great Spirit. The hymns of the
Rig-Veda, the mystic utterances of the Upanishads,
the Gathas of Zend, the Psalms of David and the
songs of Solomon, the wild strains of Jeremiah, and
the ecstatic visions of Isaiah, — all, all were inspired
by a strange idealism that pervaded the world of
matter and the world of man. The raptures of
mystic devotion and the traditions of an unspeak
able faith were handed down from race to race,
from realm to realm, till the whole atmosphere of
the Eastern world was suffused with an everlasting
glow of spiritual relations and prophetic vision that
found their counterpart nowhere else on earth. In
that luminous atmosphere, the spirit of Jesus has.
been the brightest star. Before him and around
him there was a great galaxy of enraptured idealists
who foretold him, saw him in their dreams, and
centred their expectations in him. And, when he
came in the fulness of time, his glory overshadowed
the glory of others : while he increased, they de
creased. Born thus in the hemisphere and home
of a sublime prophetic fervor, he inherited the devo
tion, the self-immersion, the faith, the fasts, and the

36 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
night-watchings, the deep sorrow and the continued
meditation, the poverty, asceticism, and the meek
ness of all those who had gone before him. The
fragments of primitive prophecy and enraptured
poetry, the ancient lights of goodness and self-
sacrifice, were concentrated in him as in a focus.
John had announced the kingdom of heaven. Jesus
pointed to it. Pointed where, — to the groves and
pastures, the hills and lakes of his native land?
No : he pointed to the kingdom of heaven in his
own heart. He pointed to the inner sphere where
his disembodied spirit communed with the eternal
Spirit of life ; and, beholding God in him and himself
in God, he exclaimed, " I and my Father are one."
But, if he beheld his Father in his soul, he also
beheld his brethren in him, and cried, "Abide in me,
and I in you."
This is pure idealism. The idealism of Christ is
an exalting theme. He lived in a material body, it
is true ; but his mind lived in its idealized home, the
kingdom of the Spirit. He was not intent upon
what he would eat or what he would wear, but lived
on the bosom of the Paternal Spirit, partaking of
meat that we know not of, and drinking of a foun
tain which was the very word of God. The soul of
righteousness and love he saw in all material nature.

INTRODUCTION 37
It was always a present miracle to him, it was always
a present providence upon which he could depend for
everything. He looked upon the gardens, the vines,
the fields, lambs, and shepherds, with an idealizing
gaze. He saw in them meanings, analogies, and
sentiments which nobody else could see. He looked
upon the clear sky, and with a mystic sight beheld
Moses and Elias and all the hosts of heaven, — beheld
himself in their midst, in the wonderful originality of
a glorious idea. Nay, he idealized even his flesh and
blood, and administered them to his disciples as a
sacrament whose sublime beauty touches and softens
even the hard materialism of the present day. The
invisible he made visible in himself while he lived ;
and, now that he is invisible, and we would fain be
hold his face once more, but cannot, he has left be
hind him the reality of idealism, which is the only
solid world of truth, goodness, and love amid this
vain outward world of show, change, and death.
In that goodness and righteousness alone, the duties
and labors of this life have earnest truth in them.
In the reality of that love alone, the deep wounds
and sufferings of this world have anything like con
solation. But in the midst of this hard material
world, there is a hidden world of God's righteous
ness and peace, where prayer brings its response,

38 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
and faith its reward. In that world which he called
the kingdom of heaven he lived. It is the world of
idea, the world of spirit. In this ideal world, he was
"a king. Was his throne a throne of gold and sap
phire ? Were his ministers the emissaries of wealth
and worldliness ? His throne was made up of meek
ness and righteous peace, and his ministers were
men who had forsaken all to serve their God in suf
fering and death. What purer idealism can there
be than that the ministers and judges of a kingdom
should be without name and influence, without purse
and scrip, without friends and home, sent out like
lambs before wolves ? And, above all, what sadder
and sublimer idealism can there be than that a king,
adored in life and death, more adored when dead
than when living, should be made to die in company
with thieves and malefactors, with dishonor, deser
tion, foul indignities, with poverty and desolation for
his only reward ? His sceptre was a reed, and his
crown was made of thorns. He was naked and
thirsty, he was bleeding and pierced, he was hooted
and jeered. Thus died the King of the Jews ! What
more bitter contradiction could there be between
reality and faith than at this spectacle of wonderful
death ? What greater inconsistency could there be
between this outward meanness and inward royalty ?

INTRODUCTION 39
But let us not forget that the death disguised an
idealized and eternal life, and the suffering was the
price and the future standard of immortal glory.
Christ then was an idealist. He lived in the
midst of an idea. He reigned and ruled in an ideal
community. He wanted to establish an ideal king
dom. He tried to inculcate an ideal brotherhood.
The relations which he sought to lay down between
the soul and God still constitute the ideal piety of
the world. These ideals were so deeply opposed by
the realities that surrounded him that the opposition
cost him his life. None understood him, not even
his dearest disciples ; but only the Father knew the
Son, as the Son knew the Father. Their mutual
knowledge was above this earth : it was ideal knowl
edge, or, to use a more familiar word, it was spir
itual. It was divine. The spiritual and ideal were
one in Christ, because the spirit of divinity was in
him ; but the spirit of Christ's idealism never for a
single moment led him to destroy or ignore' his own
personality. His self-surrender meant self-subjec
tion. His personal sacrifice meant the utter conse
cration of his own will and life to the will of the
Father. Happiness, honor, and royalty he forsook,
because his Father gave these not to him. Dis
honor, humiliation, and death he preferred, because

40 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
his Father willed to fill up his cup with them. By
his self-surrender, we have learned to subject our
rebellious selves to the will of God. His marvel
lous patience in suffering sweetens our cup of woe.
His faith in the support of the mercy of his Father
brings the strong arm of infinite love to hold us,
when we tremble in weakness ; and the sublime
beauty of his death has taken away from our eyes
the darkness and desolation of the grave. No :
Christ did not destroy his personality. Christ did
not come to teach us to destroy our personality.
Christ did not teach the miserable doctrine of absorp
tion and annihilation : on the contrary, Christ has
perpetuated and glorified his own personality and
that of his followers, by establishing between God
and man the- eternal relation of filial progress.
Man's personality is then truly human and complete
when it is not opposed to God, and, being one with
the Father, is our genuine freedom.
To accuse the Brahmo Somaj, therefore, of a
pantheism which is soul-destroying and annihilates
human personality is to do them very great injus
tice. On the contrary, a too prominent insistence
on man's personality is the distinguishing feature of
modern theism. But it should always be borne in
mind that the Brahmo Somaj is not frightened by

INTRODUCTION 4 1
the name of pantheism, as evidently it is not fright
ened by the name of Christianity. That pantheism
which identifies the universe with its Maker, and
man with God, the Brahmo Somaj repudiates. That
pantheism which takes away from the sinner's view
the painful spectacle of his own sins, and leaves no
field for repentance, progress, salvation, and a per
sonal sense of God's grace; that pantheism which
ignores the infinite difference between man and God,
the Brahmo Somaj repudiates. But the Brahmo
Somaj was never afraid of recognizing the spirit of
a presiding Providence in all things. And it is not
backward to recognize the inspiration of the world's
masters and prophets. Glad to discover the glory
and wisdom of the Supreme Spirit on the resplen
dent face of nature ; glad to behold his beauty and
peace in the breezy twilight of morning and evening;
glad to hear his whispers in the events of human
life and history, shall we not rejoice to mark and
adore his workings in the impulses and spiritual
heroism of such men as Jesus Christ ? Yes : Christ
lived in God, loved in God, taught in God, suffered
in God, that we, too, might live and love, suffer and
teach, as he did. Christ's whole nature was swimming
in the ocean of Divinity, as this visible universe of
ours swims in the might and majesty of God.

42 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
The Divine Spirit permeates every pore of matter
and of humanity, and yet is absolutely different from
both. There is no flight of fowls to their evening
home that is not directed by the unerring hand of
Divine Love. There is no lily in the field and no
rose in the valley whose bloom and fragrance do not
come from the breath of Infinite Beauty. There is
no beauty, no wisdom, no faithfulness, no purity, no
piety and self-sacrifice that is not inspired by him.
The goodness of all the good is a ray of reflection
from him, the greatness of all the great points
to his throne on high. If this be pantheism, the
Brahmo Somaj is not ashamed of it, because it has
been the faith of all the most religious and of all the
highest teachers of mankind. If this be mysticism,
the Brahmo Somaj is proud of it. It is eminently
the spiritual instinct of India.
From such a stand-point only it has been attempted
to view the important attitudes of the career of Jesus.
I have tried to orientalize him as much as possible.
To be able to illustrate more fully the distinctions
which may be said to exist between Eastern and
Western conceptions of Christ, let us place side by
side two strongly marked characters. One of them
is an elaborately learned man, versed in all the
principles of theology. His doctrine is historical,

INTRODUCTION 43
exclusive, arbitrary, opposed to the ordinary instincts
and natural common sense of mankind. He insists
upon plenary inspiration, becomes stern over forms,
continually descants on miracles, imports institu
tions foreign to the genius of the continent, and in
case of non-compliance with whatever he lays down
condemns men to eternal darkness and death. He
continually talks of blood and fire and hell. He
considers innocent babes as the progeny of deadly
sin: he hurls invectives at other men's faith, how
ever truly and conscientiously held. No sacred
notions are sacred to him, unless he has taught
them. All self-sacrifice, which he does not under
stand, is delusion to him. All scriptures are false
which have grown up outside of his dispensation,
climate, and nationality. He will revolutionize,
denationalize, and alienate men from their kith and
kin. Wherever he goes, men learn to beware of
him. He is a Mlecha to Hindus, a Kaffir to Mo
hammedans, a rock of offence to everybody. He is
tolerated only because he carries with him the im
perial prestige of a conquering race. Can this be
the Christ that will save India ?
By his side place another figure. He is simple,
natural. He is a stranger to the learning of books.
Out of the profound, untaught impulses of his divine

44 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
soul, he speaks ; and, when he speaks, nations bow
their heads. His voice is a song of glory : his sen
timents are the visions of a heaven in which all men
are united by love. His doctrines are the simple
utterances about a fatherhood which embosoms all
the children of men, and a brotherhood which makes
all the races of the world one great family. The
sinful and the sorrow-stricken, the ignorant and the
unwise, the publicans and harlots, the very dregs
and refuse of mankind, he draws around him. What
he touches he purifies, but the touch of no impurity
can taint the light of holiness in him. The fount
ains of righteousness he drinks as they flow from
heaven. The profoundest wisdom and holiness come
to him as comes natural breath to us. The unspeak
able peace of God descends upon his soul as showers
descend upon the thirsty soil. What is invisible to
others is seen as daylight by him. The music that
no mortal ear can hear, the celestial music of the
union' of spirit with spirit, filleth the expanse of his
nature. His every word is a revelation, and he
beholdeth revelation among all nations and amid all
faiths. His love invites men to rest and reward.
His presence is the presence of all that is good
and loving: his memory is a benediction unto all.
Babes and children he calls unto him, but the

INTRODUCTION 45
wise and self-righteous he puts away. His institu
tions are the simplest forms of instinctive love and
remembrance, and his service is the affectionate
labor of self-devoted faith. All lands echo his
teaching : all nations respond to his mystical utter
ances about heaven and earth. Wherever he treads
flowers spring under his feet : wherever he stands
all sorrow and self-complaint are hushed. His long,
uncut locks of hair, in which the pure zephyr of
the mountains plays ; his trailing garments of seam
less white, whose touch the diseased and sinful
eagerly long for; his beautiful feet, washed with
precious ointments and wiped with women's hair;
his self-immersed air, absent eyes, brightened fore
head, which show that his spirit is far, far away,
communing with beings whom we do not see, — point
him out to be the prophet of the East, the sweet
Jesus of the Galilean lake, whom we still see in our
hearts. The testimony of his life and death makes
heavenly realities tenfold more real to us. His
patience and meekness in suffering are like an ever
lasting rock, which we may hold by when tossed in
the tempest of life. His poverty has sanctified the
home of the poor : his love of healing fills the earth
with innumerable works of benevolence and sympa
thy, and fills with wonderful hope the bedside of the

46 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
sick and dying. His death and resurrection call us
to the mansions where he has gone to wait for us.
Throughout the whole Eastern world the perfume
of his faith and devotion has spread. The wild
genius of Mohammed knew and adored him amid the
sands of Arabia. The tender love-intoxicated soul
of Hafiz revelled in the sweetness of Christ's piety
amid the rosebuds and nightingales of Persia. And
here, too, in India, though latest and most back
ward, we Hindu Aryans have learned to enshrine
him in the heart of our philosophy, in the core of
our exuberant love. Look at this picture and that.
This is the Christ of the East, and that of the West.
Very true that the pictures are extreme. And
there are men in the West with an Eastern imag
ination, as there are orientals who have inherited
the coldness and hardness of Europe. But when we
speak of an Eastern Christ, we speak of the incarna
tion of unbounded love and grace ; and when we
speak of the Western Christ, we speak of the incar
nation of theology, formalism, ethical and physical
force. Christ, we know, is neither of the East nor
of the West ; but men have localized what God
meant to make universal.

CHAPTER I.
THE BATHING CHRIST.
T F any one wishes to see innocence washed into
holiness, natural piety changed into inspired,
godlike spirituality, a pure-minded, tranquil youth-
fulness consecrated to untaught service, unknown
sufferings, and unexampled death, let him turn to
the bathing Christ. Why did Jesus bathe ? Water
to the oriental means perpetual blessedness. The
rain which fertilizes is God's grace. The stream
that rustles on is a running source of divine inspi
ration. We in India, at various times, have wor
shipped the God of rain. The confluences of our
rivers, the mountainous solitudes where they take
their rise, and the white, illimitable expanse where
they mingle with the sea, are more sacred than we
can tell. There is a transcendental sense of the
divine in them, — the origin, the flow, the end of all
things. Power, speed, fruitfulness, beauty, purity,
come from the river. We Hindus, like our far-off
ancestors, make offerings to the sea, the emblem

48 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
of all-investing eternity. There is no pilgrimage
without immersion in water. The Brahmin's most
pious exercises consist of ablutions. With him, it
is a daily baptism. Bathing is ever holy. Over and
above the morning bath, which renews the body,
and is an invariable prelude to the daily devotions,
we immerse ourselves in water at special times.
Whenever an oriental has to purify himself from
a personal impurity, from a social contamination,
from a death in the household ; whenever he has
to rise from one stage of religious life into another ;
whenever he requires an initiation into higher spir
itual life and precept, — he must bathe. Hence,
Jesus bathed.
John, in preaching his baptism, preached a change
of life. It was a forsaking of gross sin, of heartless
worldliness, of mean selfishness, which then charac
terized the people of Jerusalem and the neighbor
hood. It was a remission of sins through repent
ance. It was washing out the palpable carnalities of
a common life by a tacit confession, by a solemn vow,
by an imposing ceremony. Life to us in the East
is like the feverish, fitful day, with its heats, excite
ments, and enervating fatigues. The coolness of air
and water is like a regeneration. Water washes and
purifies, water cools and comforts, water beautifies

THE BATHING CHRIST 49
and refreshes. Throughout our part of the world,
therefore, bathing typifies the cleansing and refresh
ing of the spirit by a cleansing and refreshing of the
body. It is so hot in our burning, mid-day sun, —
so dry, dusty, weary, cheerless is the day for the
greater part of the year, — so oppressive with thirst,
perspiration, a growing sense of bodily discomfort
and impurity, that, with a strong, silent longing, we
look to water, washing, and immersion. The anal
ogy between the outer and inner in the imaginative
Asiatic is most natural. And, hence, Jesus bathed.
But did Jesus bathe as others bathed ? Was it
in his case the remission of sins by repentance?
Ah, no ! In the midst of the awe-struck crowd that
gathered to listen to the violent words of the wild
man there was Jesus also. Unknown and unknow
ing, there he stood, a sweet, mysterious youth,
known perhaps to the Baptist only, who recognized
him among the listening hundreds, and spoke of him
as he had spoken of no other man. Others washed
themselves of their sins in water, in the flowing
tears of repentance, " the fruitful river in the eye."
But Jesus washed himself in the Spirit Divine.
Ceremonial water cannot wash mere flesh into the
spirit. It is sinlessness that can be washed into
true spirituality. In divine blessedness, in the rush-

50 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
ing river of perpetual inspiration, the sinless Jesus
immersed himself. The all-investing eternity of
truth, holiness, and love, — the Spirit, — changed him
into a spirit. His baptism was a birth into the land
of spirits. Henceforth, Jesus was no longer flesh
and blood. He was spiritualized humanity, he was
the son of God. He sought the baptism which
thousands sought. The Baptist would not suffer
him. John knew who it was that looked up to him
for the initiatory rite. " I have need to be baptized
of thee," said he. But the type of meekness did
not want any distinctive recognition. He levelled
himself to the surrounding humanity. The purifi
catory rite which sanctified the publican and the
sinner sufficed for him. Yet what a difference there
was in the kind and character of the purification!
That was a strange purification, diffusive and ever
lasting. Untold thousands have been washed and
blessed by his baptism, and raised from earth to
heaven. We men of the New Dispensation are
enjoined to bathe daily in the baptism of Jesus.
We have united together the sanctity of Christian
baptism and Hindu ablutions. When Jesus bathed,
whole humanity bathed in him, and became clean.
Hence, Jesus bathed.
It was far away from the clamorous, the distract-

THE BATHING CHRIST 51
ing scenes of the town. The barren, beetling rocks,
the wide waste of wilderness, the solitude and silence
of the desert, the overarching calmness of the infi
nite blue above, the perpetual course of the clear,
crystal waters, the mystery of their rise and dis
appearance, their tranquil, sound depth, coolness, —
all these, and the feelings in the mind of a young
devotee they inspire, might very well suggest a new
life, a different life, — a higher, holier, strange, unfa
miliar life. And, amid all this, the gaunt, weird
figure of the Baptist, his mysterious meat and drink,
his shaggy garment and girdle, the fierce, scathing
eloquence of his cry, made the thoughts and sugges
tions of that new life more impressive still. John
had come to prepare the way of the Lord. How
were men to walk in that unknown way ? The
external washes externals. And when, in India, the
mere clothing gets soiled, we wash it well. But,,
when a metal becomes impure, the uncleanness, it
is thought, pierces the very grain whereof the vessel.
is made. Then, no washing can cleanse it ; fire,
blazing fire, alone can make it clean. Who was,
to teach them that ? Their sins might be out
wardly renounced, and the garments of their char
acter washed by the water of John's repentance.
But, to purge, change, and renew the very substance

52 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
of that character, was not some other baptism nec
essary, — the baptism of fire and the spirit, the bap
tism of suffering and blood ? Who was to give them
that? The object was fitting, the occasion was
fitting, the place was fitting ; and Jesus determined
to bathe. He bathed himself into a new life and
new work, the life and mission for which he came
to the world. A fresh, youthful life of meditation,
prayer, faith, purity ; a warm, loving, aspiring, mod
est, sweet life, was going to be devoted forever as
a sacrifice, that by the giving of it men might be
called to sonship, sainthood, and salvation. Oh, how
awful was that devotedness ! How much did it in
volve ! How different was his resolution from that
of other men !
The secret thirty years, veiled in an inviting mys
tery, were only a prelude to his baptism. His bap
tism was the end of the beginning, and the begin
ning of the end. It was the first of the two great
human sacraments. It was the crisis of all previous
faith and aspiration. It was the fateful, pregnant
juncture between the life of the Messiah and the
mere devotee. Well may it be commemorated and
made perpetual in the spiritual crisis of every sin
cere seeker of the kingdom of the Spirit. Well may
it be an everlasting covenant in that holy church

THE BATHING CHRIST 53
which is compared to his body. The eventful future
was involved in that simple act of initiation. Every
thing else — life, pleasure, prosperity, honor, domes
ticity, hope — melted away in the water of baptism.
Everything — habit, home, friendship, relationship,
safety, and comfort — was renounced in that blessed
bathing. The water entered into the very pores
of his being, and washed away all else from there.
The water entered into the most profound recesses
of his being, and bathed it in a consciousness of
divine presence, divine calling, divine devotedness,
divine absorption. All earth faded away before him.
It all seemed to be a new world. The whole heart
was new. The whole future was new. Heaven and
earth looked as they had never looked before. Was
it not the kingdom of God that appeared within and
without ? He prayed to enter into that kingdom.
That prayer was immediately responded to. It was
not the remission of sin, but the re-entering of Para
dise. It was the reconciliation of God and man. It
was the second Adam reviving the world, the re-
establishment of highest relations between life and
eternity. " And, lo ! the heavens opened unto him,
and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a
dove, and lighting upon him ; and, lo ! a voice from
heaven, saying, This is my beloved son, in whom I

54 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
am well pleased." Who would not wish to bathe in
his baptism, and hear such a voice from the heavens
above ; that is, in the deep places of their own
hearts ? THE HOLY SPIRIT AS DOVE.
In the great Upanishads, the divine as well as the
human spirit is likened unto the bird. The bird is
a mystic poetic being, half-celestial, half-earthly,
flying over ocean and mountain heights, across con
tinents, in all latitudes. Who has not heard of the
Garuda and the Shuka of Hindu mythology ? And
there is no bird like the dove. The dove is the bird
of gentleness, quiet and sweet, singing in low calm
notes in the morning and evening tide. Its round,
mild, beautiful eyes shed the light of benignant soft
ness. Among birds or animals, no creature can ap
proach to the dignified gentleness of the dove. The
dove is the bird of innocence. It avoids every scene
and place where harm is possible : it disturbs no one,
brings loss or hurt to no one, costs no one anything.
It lives in desert places and leafy shades in seclu
sion, giving every one who sees it the idea of simple
unobtrusive innocence that pleases by its quietness.
The dove is the bird of love. It has always been
said that the tenderness of this sweet bird for its

THE BATHING CHRIST 55
mate is most romantic. The simple song it sings is
filled with an affectionate ring, always responded to
by the fellow-singer from a neighboring bush. The
bird lives retired in strange solitudes, its only enjoy
ment being the tender love which it gives and re
ceives. The dove is the bird of melancholy. There
is a vague sadness in its low long note. In our
simple villages there is quite a superstition that, if
the dove settles in any neighborhood, there will be
sorrow, and before long, death. The dove is the
bird of holiness wanted in sacrificial offerings among
the Hebrews. It is the bird of the poor who used
to present it before the altar to wash away their
sins, and propitiate the God of the temple. It was
the holy bird of hope that, during the universal
deluge and the destruction of the world, appeared
to Noah with the green olive branch in its mouth
to announce the good news that there was yet the
prospect of life for God's fair creation. The spirit
of gentleness, melancholy, innocence, love, holiness,
and hope is symbolized by the dove, and hence in
the shape of a dove the grace of God lighted on the
head of the baptized Messiah in the holy stream of
Jordan. In that spirit did Jesus preach and act as
long as he lived among men. Meek, gentle, inno
cent, loving, sorrowing, retired, pure, and self-sacri-

56 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
ficing, Jesus showed that he had truly received in
his heart the Spirit which descended upon his head,
in the form of the holy dove, at the baptism of
John.

CHAPTER II.
THE FASTING CHRIST.
JESUS has idealized the temptations of spiritual
life. He met them once, he conquered them
forever. We meet them often, and conquer them
seldom. But the great consolation and greater
faith which we hold is that all the insidious im
pulses to which a child of the Spirit may be prone,
were involved in the trials to which the fasting
Christ was exposed, when he was driven to the wil
derness to be tempted of the devil. He fulfilled
the conditions of fasting laid down by himself.
Washed in the Jordan, anointed with spiritual unc
tion, he was led up to the mountain to fast.
What is it to fast? It is a universal Eastern
usage. Hindus, Hebrews, Mohammedans, all fast.
To struggle with the animal in man, to deny and dis
cipline the gross carnal self, is ordinary fasting. It is
good for every man to practise it at times. But fast
ing may mean more. It may mean shutting out the
universe of sense altogether, and living in the in-

58 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
finite impulses of the spirit within ; to forsake and
ignore the gravitating flesh, to get free from the
life and mind that always point beneath, and soar
on the wings of the soul in its ascending flight
to the boundless azure of God. In toiling up the
stony wilderness, Jesus ascended to the solitary
presence of the Supreme. The divine approval in
his baptism led to the seeking of the divine purpose.
Whenever the heart is immersed in the overflow of
eternal grace, it immediately retires within itself, to
have an insight into the eternal will. The question
"What must I do to serve thee ?" reiterates itself in
the great void wilderness of soul, and there is no
quiet until the response come. This is a secret
of the inner life, to which whoso that has experience
there must testify. And the significance of this
secret is of unearthly value unto every one who
is about to consecrate himself to the service of God
forever. The spirit of the regenerate bathes, and
then waits, watches, communes, fasts, and prays.
We all know this in the East. In such holy
moments, the calling of the called is declared unto
them, the command of God is heard, the mission
of life pointed out. In the marvellous sense of self-
consecration which Jesus felt, how overpowering was
the impulse to fast and seek solitude !

THE FASTING CHRIST 59
Fasting is easy and helpful, so long as the she-
kinah of the unspeakable presence overshadows the
devotee. Hunger, weakness, desire, the claims and
cruelties of the world, are soon forgotten. But, even
in the most exalted mood, the Spirit forsakes hu
manity for intervals, and leaves it, with such faith
and resolution as it has, to fight with its inherent
weaknesses. Then comes the real danger of fasting.
It was so in the case of the Hebrew David and Job,
of the Hindu Narada, of the great ascetic Gautama,
of every one, in fact, who tries to fulfil the great
purposes of God. Struggle, earnest, deadly strug
gle, is the universal, indispensable law of the
soul's advancement. He who has never labored
at the all but hopeless difficulty of self-conquest,
knows and cares naught about the mortal pangs
of human weakness. To try in sincere, absolute
earnest, to surrender one's all to God is to know
the fatal feebleness of self, the pitiful incompetence
of personal endeavor. The weaknesses of the carnal
self, the animal man, are by far stronger than the
strength of ordinary religious motive. Those in
whom the spirit has been mightier than the flesh,
in whom the flesh has been truly sacrificed to the
spirit, are exceedingly few. To renounce the world
is to be conscious of its temptations. To turn one's

60 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
back to carnal joys in view of the spiritual kingdom,
is often to find it dark both before and behind. If
fasting is an opportunity given to the spirit, it is
also an opportunity given to the devil. It is when
the flesh is weakened that the devil finds his time.
Who or what is the devil of the Christian concep
tion, and the Ashura of the Hindu ? The devil is
the carnal propensity in man, the devil is the arro
gance and exaltation of self, the devil is the fond
ness for worldly vanities and triumphs, the fondness
for wealth and dominion. The devil is therefore the
tempter. All that tempts the spiritual man to act
in opposition to the laws of the Spirit is the devil.
And again, on the other hand, it is only when the
flesh is weakened and subjected that the spiritual
man finds his true manhood. It is then only that
he receives the strength to subdue Satan, and keep
him in perpetual bondage. The fasting Christ ex
emplifies both the weakness and strength of human,
nature, the inherent weakness of the material and
animal self-conquered by the ever-growing power of
the spirit. THE BREAD OF LIFE.
The temptations of Christ are peculiarly those of
absolute self-consecration to faith and divine ser
vice. They may throw occasional light on the

THE FASTING CHRIST 6l
trying incidents of worldly life, but no ordinary
experience, thought, or research can adequately con
strue those typical temptations. He that struggles
to renounce all, and throw himself headlong into the
sea of unexplored impulses, such as unreserved self-
surrender must bring, can get a true insight into the
strange trials that preceded the ministry. Hunger
typifies the primal, the universal want of the whole
animal kingdom. The energies and efforts of by
far the greater part of mankind are stimulated by
the direct or indirect promptings of that powerful
instinct. As soon as a man determines to throw in
his whole being into a great, unprecedented, unre-
munerative cause, the first uncertainty with which
he is confronted is the uncertainty of bodily sup
port. In the opening spring-tide of youthful excite
ment, the, question of bread does not occur. But,
after the stony wilderness of the world has been
partly traversed, and the forty days' fasting has
exhausted the powers of endurance and hope, the
craving necessity for food becomes an earnest, fear
ful fact ; and the devoted enthusiast has to awake,
and ask himself where bread is to be had.
Jesus was conscious of his vocation. He knew
whom he had been called to serve.' He knew the
infinite wealth and munificence of his Father. He

62 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
was conscious of the wonderful efficacy of prayer.
The experience in him had fully dawned that faith
could remove mountains. Jesus felt he was the Son
of God. That the Son should starve at the thresh
old of his great Father's bounty, might naturally
prompt the suggestion, " Son of God, command that
these stones be turned into bread." It was the
spontaneous appeal of the afflicted, hungering flesh.
He evidently felt so. It seems as if for a moment
he reasoned between physical and spiritual needs.
But the decision is speedy and clear, — " Man does
not live by bread alone, but by every word which
proceedeth out of the mouth of God." The supreme
necessity of life is misrepresented. It is not the
perfect security of physical support. It is strict
conformity to the highest, purest impulses of the
spirit within. That is the supreme and all-important
secret of human worth and success.
One may perhaps urge that the spirits of differ
ent men yield to widely different impulses. Be it
so. Let each one obey what is deepest, highest,
and purest in him. That is the word, the revelation,
the Adesh of God. He that allows the considera
tion of carnal comfort, even of carnal necessity, to
stand in the way, runs the risk of losing the highest
self in him. The struggle for existence in a truly

THE FASTING CHRIST 6$
spiritual man points to absolute fidelity to the ideal,
while hunger and fatigue stare him in the face.
The whole question of worldliness and asceticism
centres here. The bread which man eats is a small
matter, and the sure accompaniment of what he
holds as his highest pursuit. But he that sacrifices
his ideal to his bread finds, when it is too late, that
"man does not live by bread alone." No man who
was truly faithful in heart and conscience to his
God ever died in want of bread. But thousands.
who spent their lives in earning and storing up the
wherewithal of this world died in hunger and thirst
which no gold could quench. The spiritual guid
ance, which, the Providence that pervades all things,
vouchsafes to the discerning mind of the man of
faith, is the true means of earning bread both for
the body and the spirit. That is the inaudible word
which proceeds from the mouth of the living God.
Blessed is that man who knoweth how to live upon
it. Here lies the whole philosophy of spiritual
dependence, faith, and renunciation. Here lies the
meaning of the prayer, " Lord, give unto us this
day our daily bread." God can verily turn earth
and iron into genial sustenance for the body of his
sons. But blessed is the. son who can say, "I do-
not want thee to work any miracle to feed my flesh ;.
but feed me, O Lord, with thy living word."

64 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
All true self-sacrifice commences with the repudia
tion of physical wants in the absorbed pursuit of
the perfection of the spirit. Christ was the prin
ciple of self-sacrifice incarnate. He not only sacri
ficed his bread, which is but a symbol of the flesh,
but his bodily life itself, to the word of God. The
height of self-denial may be fitly called asceticism.
Could there be higher self-denial, a truer control
over the strongest instincts of nature, than to cast
away as evil the suggestion of invoking divine help
to feed him at the point of starvation ? Let those
who pray for plentiful harvests, recoveries of royal
patents, and victories in battles, reflect well on this.
But let it be borne in mind that Christ accepted the
most ascetic self-denial only when it came in the
path of divine command and divine service. He
forsook the bread of the body for the food of the
soul. He was not anxious where to lay his head,
the wherewithal to feed his mouth, because he was
well aware of the infinite bountifulness which en
vironed him. His mendicancy was that of the
fowls of the air and the lilies of the field, which are
fed and clothed by the unseen Arm above and
underneath the earth. His poverty was the bound
less affluence which has ever fed the humble and
poor in spirit. Fed with the Messianic flesh and

THE FASTING CHRIST 65
blood, Christendom's inner wealth and strength
scatter truth, while other religions have apparently
dwindled down. For the evanescent bread of the
flesh that perisheth, Christ could not be turned from
the living word of God, upon which humanity
eternally feeds. "Man does not live by bread
alone." TEMPTING GOD.
Self-sacrifice may sometimes mean mortification
of the flesh. But mortification of the flesh does not
always mean self-sacrifice. Religious men in the
East have a tendency to become heroes. If the
aspirations to become pious once seize us in that
part of the world, we hate reason and calculation
in every form. Fear of desperate deeds becomes
almost synonymous with infidelity. Rashness, reck
lessness, becomes a positive passion. Daring courage
takes the form of a strong love for physical suffer
ing. A disregard, nay, not seldom, the hatred of
domestic and personal relations, becomes meritorious.
The characteristics of the devotee are austerity, self-
torture, and universal causticity. This is asceticism
on its abnormal, misused, exaggerated side. It is
most difficult to separate arrogance from self-sacri
fice. Pride creeps into the holiest and humblest
exercises of self-discipline. It is the supremest

66 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
natures only that escape the taint. The practice of
asceticism therefore is always attended with great
danger. Instead of abasing self, in many cases it
serves the opposite end. Fasting produces the con
ceited consciousness of imposing a sort of indebted
ness upon heaven. The anchorite believes himself,
and is believed by others, to be able to work miracles.
There is an incipient wish to thrust upon God the
claims of man's self-sacrificing piety. There is a
semi-sceptical desire to draw largely upon the omnip-
otency and all-mercifulness of Providence, and thus
put its sufficiency to a severe test. The devotee
instinctively wishes to produce an effect upon the
world by the startling nature of his self-imperilment.
Dangers and miseries are courted, formidable risks
are run, and hair-breadth escapes are made. The
world beholds these signs, and applauds. Here is
the source of all that miserable vanity which makes
a parade of spiritual mysteries, and tries to make
God the tool of man's own glorification. Where is
that sweet, modest reasonableness of true piety
which shrinks from incurring every unsanctioned
risk, but readily pours out its life-blood like water,
when called upon so to do in the service of the
heavenly Father? If the rash enterprises into which
zealots launch with a view to their own distinction

THE FASTING CHRIST 6j
were analyzed by the scrutiny of spiritual insight,
three-fourths thereof would resolve themselves into
an impulse to hurl themselves from mountain-tops,
in the vain hope that angels would minister unto-
their safety. Every form of self-invited suffering
is not acceptable sacrifice before the Lord, every
form of self-invited death is not martyrdom. It is
often nothing more than a foolish desire to place
Divine Providence under a trial and obligation, and
to achieve a cheap victory over the laws of nature.
Not a few sincere men, who would otherwise become
models of spirituality, thus present spectacles of con
fusion, disease, uncleanliness, and abnormal trouble.
To establish a sound, sweet harmony between strict
self-denial, true, unworldly spirituality, and a wise,
humble obedience to the laws of nature, to reconcile
asceticism with a wholesome fear of God's ways, is
the problem that lies before the religious reformer..
But so wayward is our nature that, when we are
blessed with joy, our desire for increased joy becomes
insatiable, and we begin to loathe suffering in every
form. Contrariwise, when a share of ordinary suf
fering is measured out to us, we would willingly
court more suffering, and indulge our innate arro
gance by figuring as great sufferers. When, there
fore, the hungering Christ found the stones were

68 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
not converted into loaves, and that man must some
times feed himself internally by the travails of the
spirit, the natural temptation was to invite more
travail, nay, death itself, by throwing himself from
the top of the pinnacle where he is taken. The
pinnacle, in the case of every ordinary man, is the
height of his own self-consciousness. Let him not
hurl himself, when thus standing, into any self-
sought achievement, lest, in splitting himself on a
rock, he prove that he, too, is made of the common
vulgar clay. As for the fasting Christ, he weighed
well the iniquitous importance of the evil sugges
tion. Scriptural passages, promises, and prophe
cies came crowding into recollection, that supported
the plausible temptation : " It is written, He shall
give his angels charge concerning thee ; and in their
hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou
dash thy foot against a stone." Doubly strong as
the vainglorious impulse thus became, the genius of
Jesus rose above its power. He could distinguish
between the impiety of self -sought danger and the
dignity of God-appointed crucifixion. He "had the
power of discerning between sanctioned and un
sanctioned suffering. And he cried out from the
depth of his faith and wisdom, "Thou shalt not
tempt the Lord, thy God." Why should we hurl

THE FASTING CHRIST 69
ourselves from mountain-tops to tickle men's fancy ?
Why seek to gratify the spirit of arrogance in us,
which dares to impose trials upon the all-sufficiency
of the Infinite ? He that tempts God easily steps
from folly to infidelity. Rather let the spirit of
humility and submission lead us to face every cir
cumstance of woe and peril in which it may please
our Father to place us for the maturity of our faith
and the accomplishment of his purpose. That con
stitutes the privilege of sonship and faithful service,
wherein unseen angels minister and watch around
us. He who can overcome the natural temptations
which beset him, in whatever sphere of life he has
chosen for himself, can safely reckon upon the help
and unfailing grace of Heaven.
HIM ONLY SHALT THOU SERVE.
The world worships the supremely gifted. They
do not worship the world : they hold it in slavery.
But, before they enslave it fully, the world tries to
enslave them. The test of true genius is the temp
tation of worldly dominion. Hundreds yield them
selves to it, and are lost. Hundreds seek it in vain,
and, in the absence of success, pine and despond,
and disappear. Nothing chills the mind so much as
apparent failure : nothing exalts and encourages all
performance like success.

70 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
Is it possible that genius can be unconscious of
the immense results producible by the co-operation
of spiritual and earthly influences ? The practical
form which such a consciousness is apt to take con
stitutes a strong and universal temptation. Worldly
ascendency and rule, severed from his holy calling,
never tempted Christ. His nature, glowing with
divinity, would be impervious to the love of wealth
and power as such. But the kingdom of the earth,
as supplementing the kingdom of heaven, tried his
spirit. To the sweet soul of Jesus never belonged
that gloomy type of locust-eating, leather-girdled
asceticism which abode alone in desert solitudes, and
denounced sin, sinners, and society alike. His was
the asceticism of a loving service to God and man,
that gathered all, and picked out the good points in
each. He was mightily conscious of his powers to
lead, found, conquer, command, and rule. He knew
that the world waited but for his word, to recognize
him as its king, if he would recognize it in his future
course of action. The angels and evil spirits seemed
willing to do him equal homage : heaven and earth
seemed to abide his election. The world worships
power, and only expects to be led by the competent
leader, when he arises. Divinity, on the other hand,
chooses to be served by the holiest and best. Not

THE FASTING CHRIST 7 1
that the unworthy and the humble have their offer
ings rejected ; but service, whether it comes from
the strong or the weak, must come from the whole
heart. In the ever-shifting scenes of life, however,
there are so many upper and lower spheres of saintly
activity, so many aims and ambitions that revolve
round the central ideal, that whole-hearted service
to God grows difficult to distinguish, and still more
to carry out as a practical reality.
I have already said that earthly success often
seems to accelerate spiritual success. The san
guine, the adventurous, the intelligent, the forcible
characters of the world cannot but sometimes see
their chance and opportunity. A comparison be
tween the service of God with and without worldly
resources is inevitable at critical moments in the life
of him who is going to devote himself forever, as
Christ was, in the forty days of the fast. For a brief
period, the devotee is apt to be unsettled in the
course of his future action, considering the worldly
prospects he could master, the fair realms of univer
sal sovereignty spread invitingly before the dazzled
view. The world claims but a tacit submission, a
little mental compromise, a mere attitude of defer
ence, and the joys of this world chime in with the
joys of the next, to make the prospect of happiness

72 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
complete. Not a few of the predecessors of Jesus
were carried away by this view, preaching religion,
seeking power. The most ancient writings and
sacred traditions of the land held out promises to
that effect. The tendencies, wants, and beliefs of
the age were ripe for their fulfilment ; and, mount
ing the summit of his powers and self-consciousness,
Jesus saw the outstretched kingdom of the earth at
his feet. For a moment, he was staggered ; but it
was only for a moment. He instantly perceived, in
the illumination of his resplendent genius, the eternal
distinction between worldly and spiritual kingdom.
The equilibrium of the spirit returned with tenfold
strength. He instinctively saw it was Satan, in
the garb of worldly power, persuading him to divide
his loyalty to his God. He was pierced with pain at
the thought of serving any one but his Father. He
burned with indignation at the thought of sharing
his life's work between heaven and earth. He
clearly ascribed this thought to the inspiration of
the genius of evil, and uttered those fiery words of
scorn, " Get thee behind me, Satan ; for it is written,
Thou shalt worship the Lord, thy God, and him only
shalt thou serve." These words derive their full
meaning when their utterance emanates from a tow
ering genius like that of Jesus, who, if he chose,

THE FASTING CHRIST 73
could seize the mastery of the whole world. In
forming and uttering this resolution, he was thrown
upon the resources of his unaided will. Neither the
voice of God, nor the service of angels helped him.
His selection of absolute devotedness was his alone.
He devoted the undivided loyalty and the undivided
service of his whole being and character to his God ,-,
and, when he scorned to make the least compromise,
even to gain the sovereignty of the whole world,
then divine grace encircled him in its infinite em
brace, evil and delusion of that kind left him for
ever, his trials ended, and " angels ministered unto
him."

CHAPTER III.
THE PRAYING CHRIST. .
/^'HRIST prayed. He prayed often. He prayed
always. Did he not pray the whole night
long ? For days together ? My soul longs to realize
the state of mind in which Christ prayed. What
were the thoughts, what were the words, he addressed
to the Father, when he went to those mountain tops ?
Has man ever spoken as he spoke to heaven?
They watched him from a distance as he prayed,
and so strange did he seem while praying that, when
he ceased, they approached him in humble awe, and
said, "Lord, teach us to pray." Christ not only
prayed, but he was prayer. Prayer was incarnated
in him. They saw prayer, when they beheld Jesus
praying ; for, " as he prayed, the fashion of his coun
tenance was altered, and his raiment became white
and glittering." The mystic devotional syllable is
said in the Veda to have invested the face and beard
of the primeval utterer with a golden glory. The
true word of prayer is changed from glory to glory,

THE PRAYING CHRIST 75
from the inner to the outer glory. The countenance
of the Christlike man while praying is the counte
nance of God. The light of the ages and the calm
ness of the spheres sit upon his brow. Prayer be
comes the fashion of the eye, and the expression
of the countenance. Prayer becomes the pure lus
trous drapery of the body and mind. Hidden spirit
uality is revealed. It is not the words so much as
the attitude that reveals the secret spirituality of
prayer. And thus Christ revealed prayer. Christ
revealed the laws of prayer. His was the revelation
of the true attitude of prayer. It matters little if
his actual words have not come down to us. It
matters not if such as have come down do not sat
isfy us, so that we wish to know more. He has
bequeathed to us the spirit of prayer. And that
spirit fructifies according to the endless variety and
potency of human nature. These fruits abound in
the lives of all the children of Christ. He prayed
without ceasing. From the moment of his baptism
to the awful moment when he committed his soul
into the hands of the Father on the cross, did he
not continually look up ? He looked up to heaven
for light, strength, and guidance. And what is
prayer but looking up ? But his continued prayer-
fulness did not prevent him from approaching the

76 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
presence of the Father at all special seasons. He
prayed at his baptism while in the flowing streams
of Jordan. Praying, "the heavens opened, and the
Spirit descended upon him." And from that day,
whenever the Christlike man prays, the heavens
open and the Spirit descends. And then, after his
baptism, the Spirit led him to the wilderness, there
to fast and pray and prepare himself for his minis
try. Can there be true preparation for the sol
emn work of life and death without prayer ? And
when, by his severe, long-continued prayer of forty
days, he was blessed with the approbation of God
and the angels as to his future mission, he came
down to the field of work. But he could not work
alone. Who were to be his fellow-laborers ? And
"so he went out to a mountain to pray, and con
tinued all night in prayer to God. And, when it was
day, he called- unto him his disciples; and of them
he chose twelve, whom he also named apostles."
His apostles, predestined like himself in the eternal
purposes of God, called and elected, were pointed
out to him in long solitary prayer ; and he had only
to name and adopt them. While about to engage
himself in the arduous responsibilities of his ministry,
whether it was to heal the sin-struck and sorrowful,
or to feed the multitude with the bread of life, or

THE PRAYING CHRIST TJ
to raise the dead and inert from the grave of spiritual
ruin, did he not go " into the wilderness and pray " ?
Did he not "lift up his eyes to heaven," "sigh to
God," and " give thanks " ?
Aye, his great miracles of cure, precept, and
reform, were first wrought in himself through the
holy mystery of sympathy and prayer, and then
manifested by him to the world as testimonies of
the grace and power which the Father had com
mitted into his hands. And, with the generous, self-
humiliating impulse of his strange love, he promised
that " greater works than these shall ye do, because
I go to my Father." Thus praying, laboring, and
teaching, when the three short years expired, and
the last melancholy evening of his public ministry
came, after he had performed the sad ceremony
of offering unto his apostles the last sacrament,
washed their feet with his own hands, taught them,
warned them, consoled them, — once more "he lifted
up his eyes to heaven, and said, Father, the hour is
come, glorify thy son." That is a long, marvellous
prayer, — the seventeenth chapter of John ; and
deeply does it describe the relations which in all
previous prayers he had laid down between himself
and his God on the one hand, between himself and
his apostles on the other. If prayer means unity

78 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
with the spirit of God and the power over all flesh,
if prayer means unity with the kindred spirits of
God's children, to whom we are brought to fulfil his
purposes, surely this was the prayer of prayers.
And I need only refer to his marvellous prayers of
forgiveness and self-consecration on the cross, to
prove that Jesus lived and died in prayer. Whether
healing or teaching, walking, meditating, or suffering,
speaking or silent, he continually moved in the
atmosphere of prayer. Those who approached him
while he was alive, and those who approach him in
spirit now, breathe that holy, healthful atmosphere.
In breathing that atmosphere, I have, like others,
often meditated on the law which combines its dif
ferent elements. His unspeakable faith and depend
ence, which made him look up to heaven so often ;
his love and obedience, which made the purpose of
God an invisible law unto him, his perpetual seek
ing of divine strength, light, and guidance, — made
up for him that heaven of prayerfulness in which
his soul lived night and day. The unity of will with
will, deepened by faith, love, and obedience, made his
prayers natural and incessant. Such prayer made
his activity instantaneous, and that activity was
crowned with the miracles of success. His whole
character was composed of these elements, every one

THE PRAYING CHRIST 79
of which is a law in prayer. Faith, dependence,
love, obedience, self-surrender, and the unity and
activity of will, — these constitute the laws and spirit
of prayer. Some men pray for what they feel no
need, and a great many pray for what they have no
belief in. They are very few who have real confi
dence in the efficacy of their supplications. Yet,
without implicit, absolute trust in the healing power
of God, how can the ailments of the soul be cured ?
Faith is the first law of prayer, and puts the mind
in a fit mood to receive spiritual help. The attitude
of up-looking faith is the chief medium through
which the mind of God can be poured into the
devotee's mind. By the vision of instinctive trust,
the praying Jesus first beheld what was in the pur
pose of the Father, and then prayed for the fulfil
ment of that purpose. In our blind ignorance of
that, how often do we pray that the very opposite
of divine will be done ? Prayer without faith degen
erates into objectless routine, or soulless hypocrisy.
Prayer with faith brings Omnipotence to back our
petition. Better not pray until you are in real
serious need of a thing, better not pray unless and
until your whole being respond to the efficacy of
your supplication. When the true prayer is
breathed, earth and heaven, the past and future,
say Amen. And Christ prayed such prayers.

80 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
The sacred law of prayer is dependence. Men's
prayers are much oftener dictates than supplications.
They would ask Heaven for aid, but would not wait
for an answer, or they would have their prayers
answered by their own ways and means. Jesus de
pended, his whole religion was dependence. What
the Spirit taught him that he taught the world.
Whither the Spirit led him, there he went. He
threw himself, as it were, into the appointed
machinery of divine arrangements ; and a special
providence was looked forward to by him in every
event. Simple as a child, he breathed his wants,
and then knew no more than to depend on the
Father. Dependence upon the bountifulness of
God is the natural result of true trust, and the
two together form the strength and simplicity of
religious character.
Yet faith and dependence are impossible without
love. Trust becomes the easiest and most sponta
neous thing when there is love. The highest law
of prayer, therefore, is the love of God. The true
poetry of spiritual utterances comes from the ten
derness of the devotee's heart. It gives wings and
inspiration to faith, it crowns dependence with the
heavenliness of humanity, it brings down showers
of grace, and obtains immediate response from the

THE PRAYING CHRIST 8 1
bosom of God. The secret of the mystery of
Christ's prayerfulness was his all-piercing love.
Whoso therefore prays, let him pray with love.
Truly, in prayer, as in all other spiritual exercises,
love is the fulfilment of the law.
The fourth law of prayer is strict and particular
obedience to the commandments of duty. The
ceaselessly praying Christ was also ceaseless in his
labors to do good to all, so much so that practical
usefulness has often been identified with the life of
the Messiah. Obedience to the laws of life laid
down by the Spirit is the only means by which man
can hasten the fulfilment of his supplications. By
holy and incessant work only can we have any in
sight into the secrets of successful life. That obe
dience in Jesus amounted to absolute and uncon
ditioned self-sacrifice. His will merged into the will
of God.
The very name of Christ calls these realities of
character into the believer's mind. In the mystical
theology of the Hindu, what distinction is there be
tween the name and the spirit ? The name and the
essence are one, and the bare mention of the one
awakens all the underlying virtues of the other.
"Whatsoever therefore ye ask in my name " carries
with it the hidden and profound significance of char-

82 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
acter. Unless therefore one is purified by shedding
sympathetic blood over the emblem of Calvary, and
risen with the resurrection of the Son of Man, how
dare he ask anything in the name of Christ ? Will
crying, "Lord, Lord," avail on that day when the
commandments about self-denial, crucifixion of the
flesh, faith, love to man, asceticism, and seeking
first the kingdom of God, are set at defiance? And
when one has kept these sayings, conformed to their
spirit, and like a wise man built his house upon a
rock, need he be bound to an endless repetition of
the letter of Christ's name, and to holding the
dogma of his technical intercession, in the face of
his own declaration, "I say not unto you that I will
pray the Father for you, for the Father himself
loveth you " ? True intercession, then, means the
reception of this spirit of Jesus ; and praying in his
name means prayer in that spirit.
Prayer, viewed closely, is a deep mystery. How
can man's supplications change the purposes of the
Immutable ? How can divine foreknowledge be
influenced by the petitions of little-sighted human
ity ? The praying Christ is the solution of the
deep mystery of prayer. His unity of will with the
Father, his poverty, his faith, his love, his patience,
his self-surrender and obedience, prove that all the

THE PRAYING CHRIST 83
change is in man and not in God. It proves that
prayer calls out all the best that there is in us. It is
the foreknowing purpose of God, that ordained and
created out of itself in us the character of Christ,
in order that the law of prayer may mean the union
of spirit with spirit. And does not this union inten
sify all our energies, all our emotions, all our deepest
wants, and highest aspirations ? A man beholds him
self at his best when he prays. He realizes his
whole future. He is incarnated to himself in his own
destiny. The past in the shape of its prophets, the
future in the shape of the kingdom of God, surround
us when we pray. Oh that, like Christ, we always
remained what we are during our prayers !
Having said so much, I will only conclude with a
few words on the model prayer of Christ. I consider
it to be a marvellous utterance. Many consider it
deficient in passion. To me, it has the calm, hushed
unimpassionateness of the whole world's future.
Not a sentence of that prayer has been exhausted in
two thousand years. How many thousand years will
search its heights and depths ! The more I gain in
faith and lose in self, the more grows upon me the
tranquil majesty of the Lord's Prayer. " Our Father
which art in heaven " unites all mankind in the two
fold bond of filial and fraternal love. " Hallowed

84 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
be thy name" concentrates all the essence of wor
ship, holy hymn, and pious utterance. " Thy king
dom come " involves the prayer and effort of all
religious dispensations. " Thy will be done on earth
as it is in heaven" includes every aspiration after
personal and social morality, and represents the
practical application of the foregoing prayer. The
entire teaching of faith, resignation, and asceticism,
with which the Sermon on the Mount is full, finds
expression in the simple, childlike petition of " Give
us this day our daily bread." The model prayer
condenses its universal magnitude into a pathetic,
personal character, when the Father is asked to
"forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who
trespass against us." And this culminates in the
supplication, " Lead us not into temptation, but
deliver us from evil." These seven prayers fit into
each other like component parts of a finished piece
of mechanism. They suit all races, all ages, all
stages of personal and national progress. From the
grandest to the humblest aspirations of humanity,
they embody all, they represent everything. Each
one of them can be separated into ten thousand
prayers, each prayer equally real, equally sweet.
Yes, the Lord's Prayer was the essence of Christ's
prayerfulness. It was his inner, intense life, poured

THE PRAYING CHRIST 85
out into audible supplication. His utterances, his
thoughts, his attitudes, his life, and his death,
moulded into a model for all men to fall into, con
stitute the Lord's Prayer.

CHAPTER IV.
THE TEACHING CHRIST.
"DESIDE the coast of Caesarea Philippi, behold
the teaching Christ. He blesses Simon on
the shady hillside for recognizing him as "the Son
of the Living God." For the beauty and power of
his blessed precepts, some called him Elias, others
Jeremias, some called him John, or one of the elder
prophets come to life again. But Jesus was not
anxious to be discerned by the outside world. For
the right recognition of that little world of souls
which he had been slowly forming around him, he
was truly anxious. His whole soul burst out into
a shower of benedictions when, for the first time,
they greeted him as the Son of God.
It has been sometimes asked, What was new in
Christ's teaching? I answer that question by ask
ing, For what offence did they destroy Christ ? Was
it not because he called himself the Son of God ?
That which caused his delight caused also his death.
Because the Scriptures say, as soon as the recogni-

THE TEACHING CHRIST 87
tion came from Peter, he charged his disciples to
tell no man that he was the Christ, and foretold the
sufferings and death which would inevitably result
from the fact being known. The distinctive posi
tion, then, which Christ meant to occupy as a
teacher, was that of the Son of God. Prophetic
teachings agree in the main. Yet each great teacher
has his distinctive truth to deliver. Competing
trades and sects of religion hurl at each other the
charge of selling stale articles. The mutual scorn
ful challenge is, "Produce the credentials of any new
truth that you may possess." As if all freshness
and vigor had forsaken God's world, as if the king
dom of the Spirit were a dull small circle endlessly
repeating itself ! Why is the New Testament new ?
Its teachings of faith, self-sacrifice, unselfish love,
and spiritual holiness have their parallel elsewhere.
What is unparalleled in the New Testament is the
simple unique teaching that Christ is the Son of the
Living God. To us in the East the son is the sub
stance, the part, nay, the essentials of the father
reborn in the flesh. The son is the inheritor, the
regenerator, nay, the saviour of the father, the repro
ducer of the character and virtues of the race. The
father's existence is ineffectual, and his destiny is
oblivion. There is no heaven for him, but the na-

88 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
raka of childlessness, if he cannot perpetuate him
self in the son. The Son of God and the Son of
Man mean to me one and the same thing. The
substance of God in man is the inheritor, repro
ducer, and regenerator of humanity.
" The best expression of creation," says Keshub,
"so far as we have been able to trace, is sonship.
The last manifestation of divinity is divine humanity.
Having exhibited itself in endless varieties of pro
gressive existence, the primary Creative Force at
last took the form of the Son in Christ Jesus. Can
God create without a purpose ? Merely supplying
a pattern could not be the be-all and end-all of crea
tion. Where millions perished in disobedience and
sin, of what avail was the appearance of a single
instance of obedient sonship ? All, all required to
be saved. If sonship there was, it was bound to
develop itself not in one solitary individual, but in
all humanity. . . . Look at the clear triangular figure
with the eye of faith, and study its deep mathema
tics. The apex is the very God Jehovah, the Supreme
Brahma of the Vedas. Alone in his unmanifested
glory he dwells. From him comes down the Son in
a direct line, an emanation from divinity. Thus
God reaches one end of the base of humanity, runs
along the base, overspreading and influencing the

THE TEACHING CHRIST 89
world, and then, by the power of the Holy Ghost,
drags up regenerated humanity to himself. The
Father coming down to humanity is the Son. The
Father carrying up humanity to heaven is the Holy
Ghost. This is the whole philosophy of salvation."
Christ then, as the Son of God, was the manifesta
tion of divine character in humanity. The unattain
able infinity of the Supreme Godhead forbids definite
comprehension, and makes practical imitation impos
sible. We can meditate upon and adore his glorious
attributes. We can wonder and bend before his all-
compelling Presence. In communion and transcen
dental Samadhi, we can feel absorbed in his blessed
nature and intense light. His peace goeth forward
before us, and stilleth everything within and around.
But what does all that avail, if our character is dis
similar to his, and if, in our deeds, thoughts, wishes,
and practical purposes, we tread in other courses
than those appointed by his holy will and eternal
wisdom ? Some one must show us the way to this,
else all piety is unreal and immoral. Religion be
comes the incoherent dream of the purblind enthu
siast. David commits unpardonable crimes during
the respites of his intermittent inspiration. Jud-
histir publishes a half-uttered falsehood. Moses
murders an Egyptian taskmaster. Mohammed pro-

90 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
claims a bloody war. And Sakya Muni omits to
lay down the doctrine of God. Who but the Eternal
himself can reveal his character in relation to man ?
That character descends in Christ for the enlighten
ment, conversion, regeneration, and adoption of all
men. Therefore, Christ is the Son of God and the
Son of Man alike. He is the Way, the Word made
flesh, the true Light that lighteth every man that
cometh into the world. The teachings of Christ are
many, but they are only such as guide all men to
be the sons of God. The kingdom of heaven had
been a traditional and prophetic idea, familiar long
before Jesus had begun to preach it. But Christ's
kingdom was the kingdom of sonship. What per
sonal and spiritual excellences does not obedient
sonship include ? Purity and morality are inculcated
by the Mosaic, and by every other system of ethical
law, but the utter crucifixion of the flesh and the
reborn life of the spirit laid down by Christ is the
perfection of humanity as it exists in the Father in
heaven. The enthusiasm of love which compels
submission and welcomes suffering and death only
because it is conformable not to one's own will, but
the will of the Father, is nothing but the unquestion
ing affectionateness of an ideal son. The faith and
childlike trust that finds no inclination to think of

THE TEACHING CHRIST 9 1
the morrow, but depends upon the Father for every
thing necessary for the well-being of this world and
the next, is the self-assuring and self-rewarding
reliance of the Son of God. The law of meekness,
the law of forgiveness, the law of philanthropy, the
law of resentment, of self-purification, of faith, of
self-sacrifice, were included in the supreme truth of
sonship which Christ claimed for himself and all
those who believed in him. Therefore, it may be
said that Christ did not come to teach faith, or love,
or morality, or piety, but that all these virtues, and
countless others, were involved in the doctrine of
spiritual sonship which, above all things, he taught,
and has left behind him. It enfolds within itself as
an eternal potency the very source of the law-making
faculty in human nature which adapts its moral
deliverances to every occasion of duty and trial as
it arises. Does not Jesus promise many more won
derful things to the productive faith of his disciples
than he himself worked ? The Holy Spirit whom
he bequeathed to humanity would, he knew, suffice
for all truth, all precept, all moral requirement.
Christ teaches not as a philosopher, but as one
having authority from above. There is the teacher
who teacheth many things, — every rule of life and
every detail of conduct. There is also the teacher

92 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
who saith little, teaching only that by learning which
a man may instinctively do what is right and good.
Lessons are endless, the spirit of man is one; and,
when the spirit is full of light, every part of life
shineth out.
The mission of the true teacher is, therefore, to
teach only what kindles the spirit in man, and leave
everything else to the man himself. Now, three
things kindle the spirit, — the first of which is Love.
Call it enthusiasm, or charity, or passion, or piety, or
devotion, or Bhakti, the essence of it all is the same,
— that mysterious faculty which is called by the
name of love. It is the key to all earthly and heav
enly life : its uses and abuses form a marvellous
study. The Son of Man has condensed all truth in
the teaching that the love of God is the first law, and
the love of man is the second ; and they exhaust all
the laws and prophets. The second thing that kin
dles the spirit is Faith. It is the eye of the soul,
the faculty of light which discerns the dark secrets
of the soul and of God, proves the realities of our
earthly abode, and the heavenly kingdom which the
world continually denies and disproves. It is the
magic which transforms impending failure into abso
lute success, which has given humble men victory
over the mighty and the great, which alone unlocks

THE TEACHING CHRIST 93
the gates of truth in human nature. The third thing
which kindles the heart is Holiness. As there is a
passion of love in man, so there is a passion of sanc
tity. Holiness means the enthusiasm of perfection
as it exists in the blessed nature of the All-holy.
This holiness, on its negative side, includes morality,
which is but the completion of self-restraint, but, on
its positive side, means perpetual advancement in
motive, feeling, wish, and thought to the oneness of
will with God. Holiness opens a new order of
being to the man of common impulses, and is inex
pressibly higher than mere deeds. It is the fulfil
ment of all command, the accomplishment of the law
of obedience in conscious sonship. The sum of this
threefold teaching is humanity. It includes every
beatitude and every virtue. It is higher than mo
rality, higher than theology, higher than religion,
higher than philanthropy, because this humanity is
the perennial fountain from which all wisdoms, all
benevolences, all pieties, spring from age to age.
Humanity, then, in faith, love, and holiness, concen
trates the whole spirit of the Sermon on the Mount.
Half of it is composed of the love of God, and the
other half of the love of man. The secret fasting
and prayer; the meekness, gentleness, rejoicing amid
persecution and pain ; the reliance and childlike

94 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
trust, — are all but sparks from the flame kindled by
the filial love for God. The forgiveness, the charity,
the active service, the peace-making, the blessing for'
curses, the non-resistance of evil, are but the results
of the genuine love of man. The whole life of the
Messiah was one continued acting out of this double-
natured love.
One most characteristic teaching of Jesus is
taking "no thought for the morrow." The whole
structure of the resignation, dependence, trust, and
asceticism, so natural to the people of the East, is
raised upon this inculcation of faith. Faith is the
corner-stone of the religion of Jesus. It is the light
of the body, the singleness of the eye, the power of
perception of all spiritual realities. It is the secret
of all miracles, all healing, even the raising to life
of the dead. He exalts his precepts to the culminat
ing point, " Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven
is perfect." Here, love and faith ripen into holiness.
The purity of the body, the deeper purity of the
mind, the absolute renunciation of anger, lust, and
covetousness, the doing of all that is good, the suf
fering of all wrong, constitute " the strait gate and
narrow way which leadeth unto life." This is the
holiness which ought to be laid up "as treasure in
heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt."

THE TEACHING CHRIST 95
This, then, is the sum of what Christ teaches as
constituting humanity, or true sonship. But, if he
teaches humanity, does he not also teach divinity ?
Almost to his dying moment, he taught that the
Spirit of God is in every man, — nay, he left that
truth as the all-sufficing legacy to his disciples. Try
ing to realize that Spirit in himself, he felt he and
his Father were one. Trying to realize it in his
disciples, he felt that he was in them and they in
him. This divinity descended into him in such
measure that he said, " He that hath seen me hath
seen the Father." Thus, God can be seen in man.
Is the Eternal, then, to be approached and thought
of as a man thinks of a man ? He is awful, incon
ceivable, inimitably great and glorious. Who can
find him, hold him, or utter him ? All philosophies,
all scriptures, meditation, worship, and song stand
hushed and abashed in his presence. No : the In
finite is not man, but he is exceedingly manlike.
Not in body, for God is a pure spirit, but in nature
and in soul. Unlike us in his immensity and un
speakable glory, in the unapproachable heights and
unimaginable varieties of his being, he is exceed
ingly like us in those graces and blessed spiritual
gifts with which he has filled our inner being. Be
cause man's soul is exactly made in the divine image,

96 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
therefore to know our true nature is to know as
much of the Infinite as can be known on earth.
The man of mere flesh and blood is so very unlike
the truly spiritual man that the two may almost be
said to be beings of different natures. The spiritual
man only who has got rid of the bonds of carnality
knows how like and yet unlike God is to man. The
carnal worshipper either prays to an abstraction or
to an idol of flesh and blood like himself. The spir
itual man beholds the Spirit with the eye of purified
faith, and worships with all the enthusiasm and love
which eternal beauty and holiness can call forth
from the bosom of his human son groping and yearn
ing after him. God is the Absolute Whole ; and how
many universes does that Whole include ? Man is at
best a spark, an infinitesimal atom of those eternal
fires. The part cannot hold or answer for the whole ;
yet all fire is fire, and the spark suggests the confla
gration. To be able to feel how far like and unlike
the divine spark in us is to the eternal glory of the
Spirit Father, it is necessary that we should be
Christlike, and put on that sonship which he taught
and practised. For this purpose, the utmost devo
tions and the strictest self-discipline and faith are
wanted. When a man has been able to burn out all
carnality from his soul, and can, in spiritual expe-

THE TEACHING CHRIST 97
rience, clearly distinguish his higher self, or spiritual
mind, from his lower and carnal mind, then, indeed,
is he able to discover the likeness and unlikeness of
the Deity to mortals. It is the immortal that can
commune with the Immortal. It is the spirit that
can perceive the Spirit. Flesh and blood cannot
see, but the Son can behold the Father.

CHAPTER V.
THE REBUKING CHRIST.
'THE strong and fierce language used on occa
sions by him who is fitly known as the Lamb
of God is a difficulty to the mind of the "mild
Hindu." Truly, we are familiar with the fiery wrath
of some of our ancient sages and seers. Durbasha
and Vishwamitra were the impersonation of kind
ling curse and fire-breathing sanctity. But was not
Jesus the image of meekness and submissive love ?
Hence, perhaps, a great many who honor him, ig
nore these violent utterances, and are silent over
them, as if they did not dare to inquire into senti
ments which they would rather see dropped out of
the Gospels, — nay, which might be interpolations
after all. They dwell upon the more amiable traits
of Christ's teaching. There are some, again, who
openly accuse him of fanaticism and vindictive
wrath. I refer to the class of pseudo-sentimental
rationalists, who bitterly denounce orthodox faith
and piety, but feel their delicate susceptibilities hurt

THE REBUKING CHRIST 99
when Jesus rebukes hypocrisy and falsehood. And,
lastly, there are those, unfortunately too many of
them in our country, who, forgetful of other char
acteristics, imitate the apparent and occasional vio
lence of Jesus, and imagine that the secret of all
evangelistic success lies in vilifying the convictions
of other men.
The right of rebuke is not unfrequently accorded
to religious teachers. Resentment against sin and
corruption is recognized to be legal, according to
exalted notions of duty. But did Christ always
keep himself within the limits of that law ? Did he
denounce those who were notorious for their sinful
and corrupt lives, and treat with gentleness the fail
ings of such as were strict and correct in their
outward conduct ? Or did he also inquire into
secret motives and the impulses of action ? Christ
acted in the most emphatic contradiction to this
generally accepted rule of propriety. It is a sin
gular fact that, in the different descriptions of the,
passionate attitudes of Christ, there is not a single
occasion on which he is said to denounce the sinful
and the vile as such. His burning holiness came
in repeated contact with various forms of the most
leprous uncleanness, and never burst into reproach.
The publican, the adultress, the thief, and the harlot

IOO THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
were neither loathed nor shunned, but were either
pardoned freely, or dismissed with a " Go, and sin
no more." The fallen and the castaway, the devil-
ridden and the detected, met with nothing but the
most angelic pity from him. The fire of his wrath
kindled in the presence of men of another kind.
The wages of sin is death. Sin may or may not
kill the body, but surely it brings death upon the
soul. The death of the soul is the disappearance of
faith. Faith in the living, inworking God ceases,
and gives place to dead forms and lifeless dogmas.
In the actual dealings of Providence, in the charac
ter of divine men, in the power and works of God-
sent Truth, there is no faith. On the contrary, evil
is done in the name of religious and moral law,
selfishness and falsehood are disguised, and outward
professions of rigor and righteousness are made to
cover a multitude of gross transgressions. What is
held out as the light of heaven is nothing but the
darkness of hell. Both he that holds out this false
light and he that foolishly follows it are equally led
to be damned. Christ, therefore, concentrates all
his wrath upon the self-righteous Pharisee, the un
faithful leader of the unfaithful, who would neither
enter heaven himself, nor allow others to enter.
The publican and the sinner have had some sort of

THE REBUKING CHRIST IOI
justice meted out to them by public opinion, and
live openly in the shame which they deserve. Even
atheists and infidels profess to be no better than
what they are, and are recognized as such by every
body. But the hypocrite who professes purity and
practises covetousness, who prays at street corners
yet breaks every rule of truth and justice when no
man's eye is upon him, destroys the very rudiments
of religion and morality, though his own life may
show plenty of rigor and legal exactitude. And
Christ, therefore, singles him out for his scathing
denunciations. The fire of his tremendous indigna
tion kindles before the presence of such men. Jesus
could not tolerate hypocrisy or excuse false profes
sions of faith. Those who assumed the externals of
religion and went through pious forms, cherishing in
their hearts the lusts of worldliness, and feeding
those lusts upon the credulity, the ignorant piety of
the poor, provoked his terrible rebuke. He heeded
not their apparent power, he had no sympathy with
their apparent learning and correctness of habits, he
made no allowance for the extenuating influence of
circumstances, but shot at them the piercing shafts
of his bitter speech, and called down woe upon the
whole generation of them. He could bear any
amount of unholiness, because he knew faith could

102 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
cure that. But he could not bear the absence of
faith, because what could be the cure of that?
Specially when the absence of faith was sought to be
disguised by cunning and by hypocrisy, he poured
out his disapprobation in words which burnt and
lacerated every one whom they touched. These
denunciations very probably hastened his death : he
knew that they did. But, evidently, he thought it
was never too soon to expose the frightful vortex of
ruin which was thinly covered over by the mouthing
professions, and secret crimes of the scribes and the
Pharisees. There are men in every age and country
who would never become pure, nor allow others to
become pure, covering their want of faith and right
eousness in vain disputations and worthless soph
istry, and whose one object of daily care is to see that
men do not exchange sinfulness for repentance and
falsehood for truth. Secretly unbelieving and hating
good men in their hearts, they never lack in words of
profuse admiration for the prophets and saints whom
their predecessors stoned to death. Their lives ex
cited in Jesus the heroic resolution to lay bare the
rottenness, and crush the iniquity of the emissaries of
Satan. It need not be doubted that these men had a
good deal of conventional punctiliousness and mere
tricious zeal. But Christ invariably cried, " Woe

THE REBUKING CHRIST IO3
unto them ! " The gentleness and sympathy of Jesus
must not be confounded with weakness, timidity, and
toleration of evil. He had gentle pity and forgive
ness for the victims of mistake and passion ; but the
deliberate slaves of falsehood, faithlessness, and relig
ious vanity are only fit for the fire and brimstone
which Jesus hurled at them.
THE PHARISEES.
A religious man might most gravely propose to
himself the question, What is the deadliest sin ?
The offences enumerated in the penal code of a
nation do not necessarily indicate the right and nor
mal scale of unrighteousness. Falsehood, for the
sake of selfishness, constitutes the primal source
from which all other offences, like polluted streams,
flow into human society. And this falsehood, dis
guised in the visible paraphernalia of truth, becomes
only ten times more dangerous. Christ, in rebuking
sin, did not think it worth his while to denounce
its outward manifestations, the deformity of which
was patent before men's eyes ; but he sought out
the very fountain from which the minor deformities
sprang. He singled out the representatives of this
primitive evil. Because he cared not to denounce
sin in the abstract, he chose to expose sin' in its

104 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
concrete and personal form. Immorality is the
natural fruit of hypocrisy. What, let me ask, can
cure the mortal disease of the man who publicly
professes faith and morality, but privately indulges
in untruth and impurity ? Christ singles out these
men for his scorching rebukes. Unhappily, relig
ion disguises mean gross worldliness in many ages
and lands. There are Pharisees everywhere. Men
enter into a kind of unhallowed convention to call
certain forms of covetousness by the name of piety.
The inspired insight of Jesus pierces into this
flimsy falsehood, and identifies falsehood without
giving a chance of mistake.
THE UNBELIEVING CITIES.
It seems as if there is something arbitrary in
the denunciation of woe upon Chorazin and Beth-
saida, because they did not repent in sackcloth and
ashes. But there is no doubt that Jesus repeatedly
puts emphasis on the fact that want of faith is many
times more fatal than gross carnality. " It shall be
more tolerable," says he, "for the land of Sodom in
the day of judgment than for thee, Capernaum,
which art exalted unto heaven." The want of faith
is a dreadful cause of evil in the world. It is the
killing of one-half of human nature. It is the source

THE REBUKING CHRIST IO5
of every form of rebellion against the command
ments of heaven. Few can imagine the mighty
efficacy of faith in curing unhappiness and the evil
of habit. To Jesus, as well as to every other godly
man, this world of misery and trial is converted into
paradise : it is the very secret of spiritual existence.
When faith is gone, even paradise itself is turned
into hell. Few can think to what desperation of
criminality the best of natures can run when the
protecting hand of faith is withdrawn from their
motives. Faith can compensate for, or at least
cure, very serious deficiencies of character. But no
amount of philosophy or poetry or legal correctness
of conduct can compensate for or cure the deficiency
of faith. The men who profess to teach religion
without the fulness and maturity of faith do deserve
to be singled out as blind leaders of the blind. This
absence of faith has been a common danger in all
times, and specially in times of the rise of great
religions. What is worse, the evil is most predomi
nant, where it is least expected, among the priestly
and privileged classes ; in refined, learned, and philo
sophical cities. Among the unlearned and humble,
infidelity is often discovered in shameless indul
gences and carnal excesses. Among the literary,
the clerical, and the refined, that infidelity works

106 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
its way underneath the character, produces a moral
and spiritual hardness which nothing can affect,
¦while the degrading propensities of animalism are
allowed subtle satisfaction under the gilded forms of
a hollow, base civilization. If guilt emerges on the
surface, a so-called public opinion drives it down to
the bottom again. And great cities, great men, and
great governments thus rot in hidden leprosy, while
the outside society is as respectable and whitewashed
as^ possible. Good men feel the evil, but know not
how to remove it. They assign one cause or another.
Politics, and economics, and education are all tried in
vain, till the prophet, under God's command, arises,
and preaches repentance in sackcloth and ashes.
The nameless vices of a false civilization are de
nounced under the name of infidelity. Gross sins
are found to be venial in comparison with want of
faith. Woe is denounced upon grand cities and
systems, and Sodom is preferred before Capernaum.
THE CAMEL AND THE NEEDLE'S EYE.
The severity of Jesus upon the rich is most un
mistakable. That he should curse the rich because
they are rich cannot be held for a moment. No : it
was not the result of ascetic prejudice, of denomi
national discontent, of a shallow communistic desire

THE REBUKING CHRIST 107
to level down social inequalities. Riches represent
the outcome of the form of infidelity described
above. Spiritual aspiration dies, and is buried under
the superabundance of wealth. Gold makes up for
the want of faith, truth, and holiness. Effort, labor,
prayer, dependence, reflection, even the hopes of
heaven, merge in the enjoyment of present pros
perity. It is strange how individuals, nay, whole
nations, have perished through the excess of wealth.
Some will argue, it need not be so. But history and
experience say it is so. Jesus came to deal with
facts and not hypotheses. It is strange how sym
pathy, fellow-feeling, co-operation, and the bearing
of common burdens cease under the supineness
fostered by wealth. The rich have their consolation
here, and are conscious that they require neither
God nor immortality to awake them unto faith.
Yet every moment, like others, they stand exposed
to the fearful risks which their irresponsible life
draws down upon them, more, perhaps, than upon
the rest of mankind. They are so feared, so flat
tered by the people and preachers alike, that few
are found to have the courage and sincerity of love
to arouse them to their danger. The world feeds
upon them, victimizes them, and lets them die and
drop away with a hollow sigh. The warm, affec-

108 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
tionate concern of Jesus kindled at the spectacle of
ruin which covetousness thus presented around him.
Soft language, he felt, would not shake their slum
bers. Their false complacence and unreal laughter
produced in him the ecstasy of horror and pain-
He uttered his cry against the slavery of wealth in
words that wrung the heart, and aroused the dead.
By his denunciations, wealth has often been conse
crated to higher and better uses. By his rebukes,
the self-sufficiency of the prosperous has been often
dissipated. In a material, money-loving age, the
kingdom of spirit has contracted its limits, and rules
its few by a contempt of the idolatry of wealth.
Well and wisely does the New Dispensation act by
reviving, in its apostolical body, the vow of poverty.
But need it here be pointed out that the pride, self-
sufficiency, and supineness of spirit spoken of here
are not exclusively confined to the abundance of
earthly goods ? Need it be said that the arrogance
of knowledge, of power, of culture, nay, even of re
ligiousness, produces exactly the same results ?
Everything that interferes with the poverty of spirit,
with meekness, gentleness, and persecuted innocence,
everything that tends to produce conceit, self-suf
ficiency, even popular approbation, draws down woe
upon it. The beatitudes of the Sermon on the

THE REBUKING CHRIST IO9
Mount belong to those only who walk humbly with
their God. The rich must abase themselves, and
the arrogant bend their heads very low before they
can enter into the straight gate that leads to the
life eternal. THE FIG-TREE.
Why did Jesus rebuke the fig-tree ? Thought
less men exult in the absurdity of the act. Yet
the fig-tree that is full of leaves, and does not show
a fruit upon which the wayfarer can satisfy his
hunger, contains within itself a pregnant lesson.
It reminds us of the metaphorical vine, how "every
branch that beareth not fruit he taketh away ; and
every branch that beareth fruit he purgeth it, that
it may bring forth more fruit." The vine-branch
withereth, and men cast it into the fire ; the fig-tree
also withereth to its roots. Unfertile piety is a
curse. It is a by-word for the heathen, and a hissing
for the infidel. The religious man who abounds in
words, as the fig-tree in leaves, who is full of doc
trines and authorities, but cannot yield a practical
life upon which tired wayfarers can quench their
hunger and thirst, only cumbers the ground. The
test of religion is in its reproductiveness. Any
church that practically does no good must cause its

IIO THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
own removal. And any church-member who does
not bring forth an abundance of good fruit must be
taken away, and cast into the fire. The barren
ness of speculation, the fruitless controversies often
indulged in, the fine, unprofitable sermons which
pulpits put forth every summer and winter, the
dearth of genuine spirituality and practical useful
ness in religious bodies, might very well necessitate
the parable of the fig-tree. Unless our creeds fer
tilize the world, and our lives furnish meat and
drink to mankind, the curse uttered on barrenness
will descend upon us.

CHAPTER VI.
THE WEEPING CHRIST.
*"T*HE evangelist condenses the most pregnant
verse of his recorded testimony into two
words, "Jesus wept." Jesus is reported to have
wept only four times, the first time being when he
stood by the open grave of Lazarus.
Free from desire, the mother of sorrow ; free from
carnal affection, the cause of all misery ; free from
self-interest and self-glorification, why did Jesus weep >
Great souls are seldom found in the act of weeping.
Their tears flow inwardly, and, like the rivers of
paradise, like the sap of mighty ancient trees, cir
culate in hidden, noiseless currents within the deep
disguise of outward life. Their unseen tears, like
celestial moisture, deepen the roots of their being
in God, and carry their heads nearer and nearer to
heaven. But no one can mark how they deepen
and how they grow. Why, then, did Jesus weep ?
Jesus wept because Mary and Martha wept, — Mary
and Martha, his beloved daughters, his handmaidens,

112 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
in whose affection and service he took delight, who
had lost their only brother and guardian in Lazarus.
He wept the tears of present ready sympathy and
consolation, which shares sorrow, and pours upon it
the balm of kindred sorrow. Jesus was the incar
nation of the sweetness of self-forgetful compassion.
Has any one measured the depth of the comfort and
the good which an unbidden tear carries into the
heart that is stricken? The eloquence of a silent
tear shames the barefacedness of false comforters,
turns human sympathy from a hollow civilized
mockery into a blessed reality, and generates the
electricity that draws heart to heart. God weeps
when we weep : weeping is no weakness, it is the
overflow of strong love. The divine in Jesus wept ;
and let not the holiest and best be ashamed to weep,
if they can, with the poor and the mean. Mary and
Martha, and a million Marys and Marthas, won over
to faith, love, and holiness, have wept divine tears
of blessed sympathy, and spread heavenly comfort
after they saw that "Jesus wept." Jesus wept: he
wanted whole sorrowing humanity to be his in
sweet, everlasting sympathy. Jesus wept over the
mangled affections of others. To heal the wounds
of the bereft heart he did not scorn to weep. And
so weeps he in spirit even now in the mansions

THE WEEPING CHRIST II3
of the blest. But Jesus wept not for Mary and
Martha alone, but for their brother Lazarus also.
He wept not merely to condole and console, but also
to save. Tears save where teachings fail. Tears
give a pathos to the tone, a point to persuasion,
a power to precept, and an authority to command,
which make many a man, lying dead in a moral
grave, rise and come forth. Great souls weep fruit
ful tears, and their fruit is the salvation of God's
children. We could raise our dear ones, lying dead
on the cold dreary bed of worldliness and sin, if
we could only know how to weep faithful, prayerful,
fruitful tears. Can any one imagine how many
thousand Lazaruses have been raised all over the
world, and called to a prolonged service of loving
worship and tried purity by the image of the sweet
weeping Christ, who stands at their open sepulchre,
and gives thanks and glory unto God that his child,
who was dead before, comes back to life again?
Jesus wept, because his holy tears carried the warm
current of vitality into the heart of the living and
the dead, more to the dead than to the living. Let
all vain, fruitless tears cease, but blessed be the
spirit of the weeping Jesus.
The next time that Jesus wept was on his tri
umphant journey, his last journey from Bethany to

114 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
Jerusalem. The despised son of the carpenter, the
poor, proscribed Galilean, found a short and sudden
recognition. Success seemed unexpectedly to rest
upon his cause ; and Fortune, for once, smiled upon
him. Though the learned, the wealthy, and the
self-conscious kept out of his way, the poor, the
canaille, the humble, greeted him, and blessed him.
He never cared much for the rich and the learned.
He cared for the poor. And the poor held palm
leaves in their hands in token of his royalty, spread
their scanty garments on the way for him to ride
upon, put their rough cloaks on the colt to make his
seat easy, and in a hundred other ways tried to show
their warm homely fidelity and love, which the
poor alone feel and show. On went Jesus ; and, as
he neared Jerusalem, became great, and still greater.
" When he was come nigh, the whole multitude of
his disciples began to rejoice and praise God, and
thank him for all the mighty works that they had
seen, saying, Blessed be the King that cometh in
the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven, and glory
in the highest." Nay, at that blessed moment, no
body seemed able to keep his peace ; and it seemed
as if " the very stones of the streets would cry out "
in joy and exultation. Yes : it was a moment of
success indeed, well-earned, long-delayed success ;

THE WEEPING CHRIST Ilg
and there was good cause to rejoice and shout. But,
when others laughed and triumphed, he for whom
there was all this gladness, he wept; From the top
of the hill, he descended to the great city of David,
he beheld Jerusalem spread like a panorama beneath
him, with its temples, towers, tombs, with its gates,
gardens, tanks, with its strange sacred historic asso
ciations, so thrilling to the heart of the true Hebrew,
its marvellous signs of the dealings of God with
man. He beheld the Jerusalem of the prophets,
kings, and judges, and Zion, the daughter of God.
Greeted from all sides as the Messiah, long foretold
and long expected, he was about to enter that Jeru
salem. Well might a flush of joy and pride light up
that patient brow. But nay, not so. His cheeks
became paler, his eyes were cast down, and, strange
to say, he wept over the radiant city. From his lips
burst out those heart-wringing unearthly words of
sorrow which seem still to echo through the vast
silent centuries : " O Jerusalem, Jerusalem ! how
often would I have gathered thy children, even as a
hen gathereth her chickens under her wings ! But
ye would not."
Alas ! why did he weep ? For whom ? Why did
he weep at all in the moment of joy and triumph ?
The present, past, and future rose before his eyes

Il6 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
in one tumultuous vision. He could not help re
membering the brave, holy men who entered Jeru
salem like him, in like circumstances, — entered to
return no more. They entered Jerusalem to spread
the message of righteousness and peace, came only
to raise and save their country. They were de
spised, and stoned to death. Their noble images,
their spotless lives, their burning words, their mel
ancholy end, rose before his excited feelings as he
looked at the proud city. His retrospective sym
pathy wept over their unmerited woe. There arose
before his mind how even now the wise, wealthy,
and eminent leaders of the people disowned him,
watched to waylay him, and persecute him to death.
Can it be he did not anticipate that amid all this
outward enthusiasm and ignorant greeting, he was
entering the ill-fated city for the last time, to eat
his last morsel of bread with tears, perform the sad
ever-memorable ceremonies, then to be caught and
killed like a felon ? Nay, did he not anticipate the
fearful doom that overtook the land and people, that
destroyed its own promise and crucified its own
hope ? He saw but too well the dark future of his
nation ; and, self-forgetful, amid the surrounding joy
and exultation, Jesus wept. He wept not when
they deserted him and ill-treated him, because then

THE WEEPING CHRIST 117
he bore his share of the world's burdens, the com
mon lot of human suffering. But, when he was
fortunate, successful, exultant, his own peaceful joy
unconsciously compared itself with the darkening
fate of his persecutors ; and, forgetting his present
triumph in their future pain, Jesus wept.
If the nation had accepted and honored him, there
would be some cause to sorrow for the disaster that
was fast coming over it. If it had looked up to him
for deliverance and kept its trust and dependence
on him, there would be some cause. But the nation
treated him like an outcast and an impostor, was
soon going to reward his invaluable services with an
ignominious death ; and for that nation he wept.
He wept with the tenderest words that could pro
ceed from human lips, like a dying mother over her
helpless babes. Those were words of strange, sym
pathetic patriotism, divine philanthropy, true, manly,
godly sadness over the darkened destinies of the
self-deluded evil-doer. The hero can weep and die
for his grateful country, the philosopher can calmly
lay down his life before the admiring gaze of his
devoted disciples, the dying mother can plead for
the clinging babe on her bosom ; but can any but
the sweet man of sorrows silently weep for his trai
torous people at the long-delayed moment of triumph

1 18 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
and joy? Weep for your country, as Jesus wept;
nay, weep and serve, as he did.
The third time that Jesus wept was at Gethsem
ane. That was a" fearful weeping, indeed. "My soul
is exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death." It was
the unspeakable sorrow of parting from what one
loves most. It was the immediate separation from
his beloved disciples and friends, — the shepherd
smitten down and the sheep scattered. Jesus had
a mother, brothers, and other kinsmen, too. He
was but seldom with them, if ever at all. The hum
ble, faithful twelve were all the friends, brothers,
and family that he knew. They did not know what
he was to them, until he had gone ; but he knew,
as the time of going came near, what they were to
him. They loved him with a sort of half-worldly
loyalty, which forsook them at the moment of need.
He did indeed love them more than his life. He
had never done them harm, — ever done them good ;
but they did not understand it. Poor despised fish
ermen and wanderers as they had been, he called
them by the power of his marvellous love, and con
verted them by that power into saints, — the honored
of the honored, the leaders and ornaments of man
kind. What had they done to him ? By their rude
ness and roughness, they offended those whom he

THE WEEPING CHRIST I 1 9
had wished to draw and save. By their want of
faith and spirituality, they sometimes endangered his
influence and misrepresented his mission. By their
want of love, they often contended and fought
among themselves for personal pre-eminence ; and,
at the time of his melancholy end, they did not dare
even so much as to stand by his cross and speak
a word of consolation. But, unworthy as they were,
they were his all ; and, as the time of separation at
last drew' near, he cried, saying, " My soul is exceed
ingly sorrowful, even unto death." So resistless was
his sorrow that he was obliged to ask them to tarry
behind ; and he himself went on, and fell forward
on the ground with groans of indescribable agony.
Alas ! they did not understand it at all. They could
not watch, as he had begged them to do ; nor could
they pray. In the listlessness of their hearts, they
became drowsy, and went to sleep. They slept : he
alone watched, wept, and prayed. They were heavy,
slothful, and dead : he was throbbing in every nerve
with an unspeakable life of sorrow, agony, and anx
iety for their good. Before his body shed its pre
cious blood, his heart shed tears of warmer and
more precious blood. Asleep and gross, they did
not count his tears or his groans ; but he had them,
every one of them, in the heart of his heart. It was

120 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
for their benefit, because he had not yet fully estab
lished them in the new religion, and the kingdom
of God seemed incomplete. For their benefit and
the good of the world, he wished, if possible, the
cup to be taken away. It was the cup of direst
hatred and deadliest wrong that man can do or
suffer. But it was not taken away. He had to
drink the cup to the dregs. The awful mind of God
is known to him alone. In the quivering horror
of the fatal issue, even Jesus himself felt a mo
ment's perplexity. But, if the flesh felt weak in
view of what was too near, the divine within soon
suffused the spirit with holy calmness. Himself in
pain, he wanted to administer the soothing balm to
their minds, and said to them, " Let not your hearts
be troubled : trust in God, trust also in me." But
his own heart was troubled for them. Some might
imagine he was as little affected as the rest, as
thoughtless, as unconcerned. But who could know
the double agony of his spirit, his agony because
of the unrighteous state of the world, and because
of his inevitable separation from those in whom
every hope of his heart was centred in trust and
affection. He wept and groaned, and prayed in
faith to God for them, for those around them, and
for us all, in one all-comprehensive spiritual vision ;

THE WEEPING CHRIST 121
and his sorrow heals us, and makes for righteous
ness to all those who believe. Do we in secret cry
in his spirit for our dear ones ? Do we take upon
us the measure of agony which they have deserved
and earned ? Have we suffered such a melancholy,
one-sided separation, praying for those who have
never prayed for us, and suffering exceeding sorrow,
even unto death, for those who are glad to leave
us alone ? Then, perhaps, we may understand why
Christ wept at Gethsemane.
And then the last time that Jesus may be said
to have wept was on the cross. " My Father, my
Father, why hast thou forsaken me?" I emphasize
the word "Thou." I contrast it with the shallow, un
real compassion of all mankind. What is not beara
ble, when the consciousness of a tremendous "Thou"
is at our side ? How can we bear anything, when the
nameless consolation of that inexpressible Presence
is taken away, and the whole universe emptied into
desolation ? Forsaken by him, we may feel crushed
at any, even the most joyful, moment of life. For
saken by him at the moment of death, we may,
indeed, cry out in deep sorrow. Forsaken at the
awful crisis of such a death as that of Jesus, — what
unfathomable depth of trustful anguish it must have
been that led him to utter that imperishable groan

122 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
recorded, as it were, in characters of blood ! He
has disappeared, but the wild echo of the wail seems
to linger in our deepest soul, when we ourselves feel
forsaken. Yea, once for all, when he had wept for
every one, at last came the moment when he had
a tear to weep for himself. It would not be human,
not natural, were it not so. When friends forsake,
and those upon whom, in life, we looked most
fondly turn their faces away, when health and
strength ebb out into eternity, and all the relations
of the world seem like the phantoms of a feverish
dream, is there not still left to us the right of
looking up to our Father, and catching upon our
failing hearts one all-sufficient gleam of the eternal
sunshine of His face ? But, alas ! when everybody
and everything has forsaken us, and, withal, the
smiling light of God's approving spirit is eclipsed
in the blackness of death, — the utter agony of
afflicted humanity might well burst out in the cry,
" My Father, my Father, why hast thou forsaken
me?" Jesus weeps for his God. Let us not
be ashamed to do so. He drinks the full cup of
human helplessness. If he was helpless in life, was
he not doubly friendless at the dread moment of his
death ? If he was before forsaken of man, is he
not unspeakably forsaken now in his death ? The

THE WEEPING CHRIST 123
weeping Christ on the cross cries the cry of entire
humanity at the absence of God. He has trans
mitted to us not only the divine right of weeping
for our God, but weeping in our dire need at the
conscious separation from our Father's Spirit.
Then, truly, does the Divine Hand smite us, when
he disguises his constant nearness into a dreaded
distance. All complaint of man's partial loneliness
is hushed before the majesty of Christ's last cry.
His work apparently unfinished, with no one to take
it up, with no sympathy of a superior, or even the
kindred spirit of an equal to support him, with the
whole world arrayed against him and his Father,
with nothing to look up to but the eternal grace
which was then for a moment veiled before his
view, Jesus raised the cry of sorrow. Jesus wept
on the cross to give us infinite encouragement,
when, at times, we feel forsaken by Heaven. He
was never less forsaken than at that awful moment.
He died with a gentle cry of pain, which carries a
strange message of comfort and peace to every one
that suffered ever after in his name. His cry makes
our failure success, our weakness strength, that we
might behold what consolation there is in weeping
for God. To solve the great problem of sorrow and
pain, to prove that the worst suffering may be the

124 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
highest blessing of God, Jesus wept. To fill our
inner desolation with his unspeakable sympathy, to
prove to all men that to be forsaken and despised
of the world is not to be forsaken of God, and that
suffering means a diviner life, to reconcile us to our
Father in irreconcilable danger and affliction, and
out of our helplessness in death to bring forth
glorious immortality, did Jesus weep. Yet his were
no tears of weakness, but dominant, overflowing
strength. He gave, but when did he want to receive
the tribute of tears to his sorrow ? One does not
find it recorded that Jesus, at any time, was favored
by those marks of tender sympathy. Even during
the unrighteous trial, amid the heartless insults and
bitter mockeries borne in serene silence, there was
not a voice, not a tear, to relieve the cruelty of the
unmerited wrong. But the human heart is not
made of stone. Specially the nature of woman
cannot bear to see unmoved such suffering as his.
Therefore, when they were leading him out to die,
he bending and often falling under the weight of
the heavy cross he had to bear on his back,
dragged, buffeted, treated with every manner of in
dignity, — when he was led out to die, Luke says,
" there followed him a great company of people,
and of women who bewailed and lamented him."

THE WEEPING CHRIST 125
Surrounded by such a scene of pitiless misery, this
singular expression of sympathy did not escape his
watchful observation. He immediately looked round,
and beheld the weeping figures of humble women,
among whom his own mother might have been.
He was touched and impressed ; but, instead of
feeling soothed by this unexpected tribute, his emo
tions gathered into that gentle melancholy rebuke
which broke his long silence from the judgment
hall to the place of execution.
Thyself weeping for every one, say, why didst
thou feel troubled when others wept for thee?
Healing the sick, raising the fallen, cheering the
weary, giving rest to every one, why didst thou
refuse the only tear-drop they could spare for thee
on that dark, dreadful day ? Jesus, thou wouldst
drink the flowing cup of God-given bitterness with
out the alloy of earthly sympathy ! Because, until
sorrow was complete, how could joy attain its full
measure in heaven ? Personality has ever been the
cause of pain. By sacrificing that at the altar of
sorrow, thou hast solved the permanent mystery of
life, and lifted the veil that hangs on the face of
the Great Unknown.

CHAPTER VII.
THE PILGRIMING CHRIST.
"THE knowledge of a divine call does not neces
sarily mean the knowledge of a divine appoint
ment. To feel called to the ministry is not always
to find your place in the eternal hierarchy. God is
one, the Church is one ; but the ministers are many.
The devotee longs to know what is his exact place.
Particularly in the case of a great spiritual genius,
the whole prophetic past and the boundless hope of
the future demand that he should definitely state his
position, that the world may know what to expect
of him. Hence, self-knowledge, in the republic of
spirit, becomes a supreme necessity. The greatest
saints of our Aryan world teach self-knowledge as
the stepping-stone to knowledge of God. But self-
knowledge, in view of one's own place in the min
istry, must be relative, depending upon the know
ledge of the proper place of others. To usurp a
position that rightfully belongs to another is to be
expelled from the rights which belong to one's own

THE PILGRIMING CHRIST 1 27
self. Specially in a case like that of Jesus, where
the divine commission extends its relations to all
the prophets of the past, to all the greatest souls of
the present, and to the hope and destiny of mankind
in the future, the rightful assertion of distinctive
work in the progressive dispensation of God must
be singularly difficult. The questions which men
often asked of Jesus, he must have asked of himself.
Was he Moses, was he Elias, was he Jeremias, or any
of the other prophets come to life again ? How was
the work appointed for him related to the work of the
elder dispensation ? Did he come to supplant the
laws and prophets ? These questions were as delicate
as they were momentous. Is the Christian dispensa
tion superior or inferior to the Mosaic ? If it is supe
rior, God's great action in the past is nullified. If it
is inferior, why should men forsake the better for the
worse? With the object of satisfactorily answering
these questions, Jesus made a spiritual pilgrimage to
Moses and the prophets of old. He subjectively
realized their ideals in himself. " It is this philos
ophy of subjectivity," Keshub says, "which under
lies the pilgrimages to saints in the New Dispensa
tion. As pilgrims, we approach the great saints, and
commune with them in spirit, killing the distance of
time and space. We enter into them, and they enter

128 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
into us. In our souls we cherish them, and imbibe
their character and principles. If they are not per
sonally present with us, they may be spiritually
drawn into our life and character. They may be
made to live and grow in us. This is a normal psy
chological process, to which neither science nor
theology need take exception. I believe philoso
phers have not noticed one thing, — the absorbent
character of the soul. Marvellous is its power of
receptivity. It is a wonderfully impressionable sub
stance. An hour in the company of saints is
enough. The whole heart is revolutionized. All
scriptures bear testimony to this blessed influence."
Jesus, then, to solve the momentous questions of
his ministry, held such spiritual communion with
Moses, and went on pilgrimage to Elias and the
elder prophets. Heaven must descend upon earth
before earth can ascend to heaven. Who can have
a living faith in the resurrection and communion
of the prophets but he who has seen and conversed
with them ? The kingdom of heaven — the future
state of life — is " not lo here, lo there, but with
in." Enfolded within the living spirit, in the sancti
fied present, there lies deep that blessed life eternal.
But its secrets never come into full view until the
fiery emergencies of spiritual trial call them into

THE PILGRIMING CHRIST 1 29
unmistakable prominence. Jesus called away his
three most advanced and appreciative companions
into the mountain solitude in night-time. There, it
was his wont to pray. When all voices were hushed,
all scenes were overcast, and darkness shadowed
forth the Infinite, his sublime spirit sought light
and counsel amid the unbroken silence. The carnal
sleep, the Yogi is awake : he interrogates darkness,
silence, and the unknown great. Christ called away
his disciples, because his soul yearned to take and to
give a great secret. Only a week . before did the
declaration of his sonship formally take place on the
coast of Philippi. Now, naturally, various further
and all-important questions arose. What was his
place in the new dispensation, — in the kingdom
of heaven, — which would come about before those
who then stood around him passed out of life ? The
place of a man before the pure, all-witnessing Spirit
of God, and in the estimation of those who are
heavenly-minded, determines his place in the world.
All true relations are eternal. Hence, it is said that
heaven must descend on earth, before man, who is
of the earth, can ascend to his proper place in
heaven. Jesus received all secrets of his Father's kingdom
through the spirit and attitude of prayer. And,

130 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
hence, when Peter, John, and James stood with him
on the mountain, he was merged in devotions. How
long he remained thus absorbed is not said. But
the silence of the disciples is first broken by a
strange change in the appearance of Jesus. His
face shone like the sun, and his garment was as
white as the snow. His hidden spirituality came
openly into view. A man attains the perfection
of his spirituality, when his innermost prayers to
heaven are consciously answered. The certainty
of revelation falls upon him in full flood ; and he
lives the life of a spirit, while still in the human
body. He sees the spirit in his heart, and others
see the spirit on his countenance ; and he sees
the spirits in the Spirit, the glorified souls of saints
and prophets in the glory of the Holy of holies.
He beholds himself on the bosom of God, sur
rounded by the spirits of the blessed. In the beat
itude of his soul, his whole appearance is changed :
he is transformed, transfigured, and gone to the
spirit-land of pilgrimage. The past and future dis
solve in one overpowering vision of light. The
great departed come, as it were, and stand on his
right and on his left ; and so vivid becomes the
reality of his relations with them that he perceives
them, converses with them, and adjusts his true

THE PILGRIMING CHRIST 131
place in the kingdom of heaven. And, hence, we
read that " the fashion of Christ's countenance was
altered, that his raiment became white, and there
talked with him two men, who were Moses and
Elias, who appeared in glory, and spake to him of
his decease, which he should accomplish at Jerusa
lem." Henceforth, Jesus talked confidently of his
relations to the two great prophets, and boldly
claimed his place in the ancient theocracy.
His relative place to Elias, the prophecy about
whose reappearance was a disturbing element in the
organization of the holy kingdom, was settled in his
own mind. His attitude to the great Mosaic dispen
sation was fully elucidated. And the certainty of
all this revelation he enforced in the minds of his
three disciples. But he withheld its communication
from all others, until his death and resurrection,
implied in the heavenly secret which was committed
to his hands. Thus, in devotional rapture, Christ
was transfigured, and saw heaven on earth. Thus,
he discovered his profoundest relations to the de
parted and to the future generations. His place to
the ancient prophets was also determined in his own
consciousness. He taught with greater authority
than he had ever exercised before, because he taught
as one who had seen the things which he asked

132 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
people to believe. Let us remember his devotions
were the fittest opportunities, when he realized the
kingdom of heaven on earth, when he beheld, com
muned, and conversed with the holy prophets, when
the momentous secrets of the divine bosom were
kindled and poured into his soul. His protracted,
watchful, untiring devotions were his discipline, his
school, his pilgrimage, his light, and the crises of his
earthly existence. Might not devotions and prayers
be cultivated to lead us to all truth and holiness ?
Might not our devotions suffice for every perplexity,
for every trial, for every deficiency? Yes, if we
have the spirit which Christ had, we, too, then might
converse with Jesus, as Jesus, transfigured, con
versed with Moses and Elias on the mountain.
For intense seeing into God shows God in the
deepest humanity. When God and humanity be
come united, the carnal man disappears to reappear
in Him as a spirit, and He disappears from every
other thing to reappear in man as divine character,
then communion, or Yoga, becomes perfect. Heaven
dawns upon earth when God and his prophets people
its heights and depths. What are the prophets but
the truest revelation of humanity, and what is God
but the life and soul of the prophets ? He therefore
lives in heaven who lives continually in God and

THE PILGRIMING CHRIST 1 33
his elect. The most striking instance of this is in
the transfiguration of Jesus. Toiling up the high
mountain for his wonderful devotions, he often
parted from his disciples and prayed alone. The
lofty solitude of his soul made sometimes human
companionship simply impossible. So he left them,
and merged in spiritual absorption. On the pres
ent occasion, however, it was different. They were
near when he lapsed into his devotions. They ob
served him. And his intense communion in their
simple eyes of faith seemed to impart a strange
alteration, to his outward appearance. He became
refined, pure, heavenly, white as snow. Nothing
could be more translucent than the absorbed, ideal
ized figure, the spirit merged in Spirit, the whole
body suffused and shining with the effulgence of the
communion. During these rare conditions, the in
visible becomes visible, and we, as it were, behold
the soul. But in Christ's case it was still more mar
vellous. He was talking with persons who were not
on earth, but in heaven. Conversation is impossible,
unless those who talk stand in each other's presence.
Elias and Moses were in the presence of Jesus.
Not only was the outward appearance of Jesus
heavenly, but he was in heaven, conversing with
those who live in paradise. He had gone to the

134 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
mountain-top, as his wont was, to seek and commune
with the spirit of God alone. But, in finding God,
he found also the spirits of his glorious prophets.
Through the Spirit, he made his entrance into the
spirit world, and conversed with those whose mission
on earth was associated, if not identified, with his
own. Did he see ghosts, immaterial apparitions,
about which visionaries speak ? Far from it. The
whole thing was profoundly spiritual. He saw the
vivid ideals of his great predecessors embosomed in
the depths of God with whom he communed. Di
vinity symbolized itself in the clearest vision of
the character and mission of Moses and Elias. And
Jesus perceived the relations of his work with that
of those who had come and gone before him as har
bingers of the kingdom of heaven. He verified and
confirmed his previous estimates and ideals at that
blessed season of transfiguration, when he beheld
everything in the light of the manifested Spirit
alone. And, henceforward, he spoke with authority
about Elias and Moses. When they questioned him
about the coming of Elias and the restoration of all
things, he answered forcibly, " I say unto you Elias
is come." Moses and Elias had indeed come. They
were in Christ's blood and breath. They were in
Christ's heart, ideal, character, and work. He living

THE PILGRIMING CHRIST I35
in God and his prophets, the kingdom was within
him. He had made the pilgrimage, he had labored
up the holy mountain of God, he was immersed in
the Spirit, and the things of the Spirit. His whole
nature, his figure, and his raiment whitened and
glistened with that inner heavenliness which carried
him into the Paradise of divine presence, and
through divinity into the communion of the spirits
of the blessed, who unfolded to him the marvellous
mysteries of the better land. This is the true pil
grimage. And well might Peter say, " Master, it is
good for us to be here and build tabernacles."
But what was the result of it all ? Let us see
what relations the pilgriming Christ discovers be
tween the dispensation of Moses and his own. He
said "he did not come to destroy the law, but to
fulfil it." What then was the character of that ful
filment ? He developed it, widened it, made it more
universally applicable.
"There is such a thing as the evolution of the
divine purpose in the order and history of religion.
There is a logical sequence in the dispensations of
faith. All these dispensations are connected with
each other in the economy of Providence. They
are linked together in one continuous chain, which
may be traced to the earliest age. They are a con-

I36 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
catenated series of ideas which show a systematic
evolution of thought and of religious life. Popular
opinion, however, on this subject, has always run
in a contrary direction. Men have not seen, and
therefore they are ready to ignore and deny the
connecting link between the several dispensations.
The New Dispensation has discovered the missing
link. In Jesus, we see the logical sequence of
Moses. The New Testament is the necessary log
ical sequence of the Old. Faith sees Christ in
Moses. Logic looks upon Christ as the logical
sequence of Moses. The Jew of the New Testa
ment is the Jew of the Old Testament developed
and matured. Moses is the prefiguration of Jesus.
Jesus is Moses perfected. Moses taught stern
justice, and inaugurated the kingdom of law. Jesus
taught love, and established the kingdom of grace.
The theology of love is the logical complement
of the theology of fear. The dispensation of grace
is the necessary logical result of the dispensation
of justice. The two form one integral gospel, and
are indissolubly connected. Can you separate Moses
from Jesus ? You cannot. Come then, Moses and
Christ, hand in hand. Hail Moses, Christ, unity in
duality ! In blessed union forever knit together,
who can disunite you ? "

CHAPTER VIII.
THE TRUSTING CHRIST.
/CONTEMPLATE the singular relations which
Jesus had to " little children." The scene in
which he rebuked his forbidding disciples because
they did not suffer innocent children to approach
him has formed the subject of the highest art and
spirituality. His allusions to babes and sucklings,
to lambs and little ones, were exceedingly frequent.
Jesus had in him a child nature which repeatedly
found intense response in lilies, lambs, and "little
children." He said, " Of such is the kingdom of
heaven." What is there in the nature of loving
infants that bears a special affinity to the kingdom
of heaven ? Is it the guileless innocence unsuscep
tible of temptation ? Is it the mysterious tender
ness whose only language is the smile and the tear ?
Is it the simplicity that insures the highest free
dom ? It may be all this, but it is certainly some
thing more. The deepest attitude of childhood is
its trustfulness. The inexperienced and unknow-

I38 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
ing innocence of infancy is inimitable in age. The
freedom, the tenderness, the simplicity of the babe,
can be more admired than adopted. But Jesus has
proved that we can trust like the child. Christ's
tenderness, it has been said before, was like that of
the woman. His courage and strength were like
those of the hero. His holiness has set the stand
ard of all human morality and pureness of motive.
But his trustfulness was that of the child. The first
thing which you mark in a child's trust in its parents
is the absence of anxiety. Perfect trust casts out
anxiety. The child reposes on the bosom of its
mother like a pilgrim in some immortal shrine, like
a ship-wrecked traveller in some indestructible ark,
who, while a mad sea is raging around, feels safe
and strangely assured. The only cause of danger
and anxiety is when the mother is not near. The
fox has its hole and the bird its sheltering branch,
but the Son of Man had not where to lay his head.
Yet no one denounced anxiety and care for the
morrow in stronger words than did the Son of Man.
His childlike trustfulness laid all anxiety to sleep.
Jesus felt it was enough for him to look up to God
and rest. Was any one's life-work undertaken amid
circumstances more hopeless than his ? Had any
one ever had greater occasion for anxiety than he ?

THE TRUSTING CHRIST 1 39
But his trustfulness brought with it the calm of
quietness and peace. For, with him, faith meant
certainty, and to trust was to repose on the Father's
bosom. Another thing was the absence of fear in
Christ's character. Wherever the child fears, he can
not love ; where he loves, he does not fear. Hence,
his attachment to his mother is more than to his
father, because in his relation to the latter there is
sometimes the element of fear. The Hindu never
stops by calling his God his father : he always softens
divinity in motherhood. Jesus was fearless not in
the sense of Elias and John. It was not the ferocity
of wild asceticism. It was the perfect fearlessness
of loving trust. Fear is the child of disobedience,
and the father of falsehood. The faith of Jesus was
never tainted With the consciousness of transgression,
and therefore it expelled all fear. It was perfectly
royal in its freedom and self-assurance. Nothing
was impossible to it. Jesus feared not to cure dis
ease, to forgive sin, and to break convention. He
feared neither priest, prince, nor proconsul, because
he had the strength of trust. Power, position, and
wealth had as little effect upon him as upon the
unweaned child clinging to its mother's neck. Even
the fear of death, that comes to all, came not to him.
Childhood never despairs. Hope is born of child-

140 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
like trust, hope is fed by trust. None can hope as
the child can. Despair is born of hardness of heart.
The hopefulness of Christ's faith penetrated the very
veil of death. But no hopes of the good things of
this world flattered the heart of Jesus. True trust
never rears its hopes on earthly vanity. Christ
hoped for all things heavenly. Faith builds its
hope on the eternal hereafter. The trusting Christ
launches on the bark of hope into the dark, unknown
future. He can hopefully face a cold, cruel nation,
he can defy all the persecution, hate, and infidelity
of the present, and work for the benefit of a certain
future. Suffering loses its smart before genuine
trust. Trust proves its strength in suffering.
Every one suffers, but the trusting son of God
understands and honors suffering. The perfection
of faith is at the moment of death. True trust is
struck by suffering as the great tree of the forest
by the storm, to be tossed, torn, and settled deeper
in everlasting strength. Suffering and trust ever
go together : the suffering is for a little while, while
the trust is transformed into eternal joy. Can sub
mission ever go to a greater extremity than in
Jesus ? He submitted, because he trusted. He
submitted, because in faith he beheld a will higher
than his own. To that will he sacrificed himself.

THE TRUSTING CHRIST I4I
Every one has got to sacrifice to something.
Blessed he who can submit in trust to the true
will of God. Blessed he who has discovered the
will of God to be different from his own, and trust
fully submitted to it.
Trust, as a faculty of the soul, passes almost with
out recognition. Yet, in spiritual life, it is a car
dinal, vital power. It is not a mere feeling. Though
its relations to all warmth of sentiment be very
deep, it is a positive organ of strength. The solidity,
the objective magnitude of truth, is never realized
except through trust. The kingdom which Christ
came to establish, and which, in its material form,
was simply nowhere, existed in its stern objectivity
in the domain of his trust. Nay, where is God;
where is the celestial, immortal soul; where is
future eternal life, but in the vision of trust ? Yet
it is strange that men will put their trust in fallible
historical records of the past, in legendary imagi
native revelations, but have no faith in the tremen
dous realities that beset them. Christ saw things
through trust : we see things through the intellect.
Faith beholds being, while intellect beholds mere
relations. Relations are continually changing. Being
remains unchanged. Opinions are unstable : trust is
eternal. Eternal verities, therefore, are comprehen-

142 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
sible through faith. Who can measure the strength
of truth ? It reaches farther than the ages : it
moves and makes the world. The strength of truth
is the strength of the man who puts his trust in
that truth. There is occasion, therefore, that, in the
midst of all our philosophy and material comfort, we
should revive in ourselves the lost inspiration of the
faculty of trust. Trust God, trust man : it will only
strengthen you, and do you good.
Trust is the test of love. A sure and infallible
test it is, because divine love is very different in its
processes from human love. Divine love tries us,
pains us, punishes us, throws us into the midst of
inexplicable perplexities. How few men can retain
the sweetness and fulness of their trust amid the
small, vulgar harassments of life ; and how fewer
still amid great and unprecedented disasters ! Trust
helps love, and love helps trust; trust without
love may sustain us, but love without trust is a
mockery. Nay, the two abide together, and are
different names given to different sides of the
same mental attitude. This trust is the key to all
deep wisdom. It opens a wonderful insight into all
that is excellent in man's life and soul. It gives
new eyes and new ears to the faithful disciple. It
gives new enthusiasm and unseals hidden life to the

THE TRUSTING CHRIST 1 43
genuine devotee. In the wreck of bodily powers, in
the dissolution of social attachments, it is true trust
that finds out the difference between what is tran
sient and permanent. The sure indication of a
higher and better life is this faculty of trust, be
cause evidence fails us here, and demonstration it is
foolish to expect. After the example of Christ,
therefore, it becomes every one of us to acquire the
strength of trust, and treasure up its wisdom. It
becomes us to temper our love with trust, to test
our devotions with trust, and make faith the ever
lasting ground of our religion and our hope.
But there is more benefit in the principle of trust
than all this. It is the strength of patience and
peace. When Christ promised his peace to his dis
ciples, he presupposed in them the condition of trust.
Is there any misery comparable to that of self-con
suming anxiety ? And are not the troubled waters
of care laid at rest by the touch of inner trust?
The genuineness of religious life must be meas
ured by the permanent peace it affords. And no
peace is possible but through well-founded trust.
The fiery passions — such as anger, hatred, and
revenge — are quenched by the serene calmness of
trust. The war of motives is reconciled by its wis
dom. The strange inequalities and apparent con-

144 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
tradictions of life are allayed and explained by power
of trust. Dangers, uncertainties, injustices, asper
ities, all lose their might to afflict the man who
looks to the future in lofty, God-illumined trust.
There is neither religion nor philosophy, neither
social nor domestic life, neither bodily health nor
motion, neither mental security nor comfort, with
out conscious and unconscious trust. We trust men
with our life and property, without inquiring for a
moment into their character. We trust ourselves
and our dear ones to laws and organizations, know
ing them to be faulty or wicked. We even trust in
irrational natural forces, and brute beasts to work
our purposes, and our welfare. The law of trust
permeates every part of the creation. How is it,
then, that we hesitate or unwillingly consent to trust
in the love of that God who has made his creatures
mutually trustful and dependent on each other ?
And, lastly, if we have to offer, we have also to
receive a solemn trust. Jesus trusted because he
received a trust. The trust with which he was com
missioned was to set forth, and leave behind him the
example of true sonship. That sonship is many-
sided. Each one of us who professes allegiance to
him reflects a feature of it. Each is a limit and
member of that perfect, corporate sonship. And

THE TRUSTING CHRIST I45
each is bound to receive and discharge his own frag
ment of trust, that the Church may complete its
organization, and shine before the world. He who
feels this grave trust reposing on him dares not
trifle with it, and finds he has not a moment to lose.
Vain contentions, and rivalries for power cease when
men become conscious of the trust God reposes on
them. Life is too short, and opportunities come but
too rarely, to discharge it satisfactorily. How can we
keep our trust but by trusting ? Every great work
is endless : we can never accomplish it perfectly.
And the Son of God, when called away, found the
world far away from the kingdom of heaven he
came to establish. For what he accomplished, he
glorified God ; for what he could not accomplish,
he looked up in trust to the Holy Spirit to accom
plish when he was gone. Yet, all the time he was
allowed to walk on the earth, he spared no energy,
and wasted no time in carrying out to the fullest
extent the great work trusted to him. The most
active, practical, painstaking life was the life of the
trusting Christ. And thus true trust is discharged
in work and suffering unto death.

CHAPTER IX.
THE HEALING CHRIST.
HPHE miracles of healing which Jesus performed
necessarily resulted from the concentration of
his sympathy. He felt so intensely for the ailments,
both bodily and spiritual, of those who helplessly
courted his aid to cure them, that the necessity of
rescuing these sufferers forced itself upon his loving
nature. It may be that Jesus, like any other rabbi
of his time, knew the rudiments of the healing art.
But even the highest medical skill of those days
could not cope with the strange maladies which the
Son of God so effectually healed.
Coming to speak of Christ as the healer, it natu
rally occurs to one to meditate on the nature of
sympathy as efficacious for the cure of sin. What
healing is comparable to the healing of the wounds
of character ? The worst sins are cured, if the evil
doer can find sympathy with the divine attributes
of the physician of souls. If Christ cured physical
ailments now and then, how often did he cure the

THE HEALING CHRIST 1 47
blindness, leprosy, and death of the spirit ? His
reputation comes down to the generations of man
kind, not because he cured Peter's wife's mother,
but because he sought and saved the fallen. The
secret of that atoning power lay in his instinct of
being able to feel with the worst of men and women.
Their guilt of moral disease, their shame, remorse,
and ruin touched a mysterious chord in his beautiful
nature, and produced the most interrse agony. Why
is it that holiness should be agonized at unholiness ?
We cannot say why it is ; but it is an undoubted
fact that the purest and best among mankind have
wandered about in sorrow for the deserved sufferings
of the vile and outcast. It was so with Chaitanya
of Nuddea, the prophet of love, who wept aloud at
"the condition of the creature." It was so with Sidd-
hartha, whose tender humanity refused the blessings
of Nirvana, when so many fellow-beings were in the
misery of carnal Desire. And unspeakably more so
was it in the case of " the Man of Sorrows." When
the perpetrators of iniquity, used to receive the sanc
tion of kindred guilt, or the stolid apathy of society
at large, or, worse still, the cruel, unrelenting penal
ties of human law and justice, suddenly come to
face the unfamiliar fact of affectionate holiness ago
nized at the spectacle of their guilt, they are amazed

I48 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
with a strange experience. The shock of that ex
perience calls out the best that is left in them. It
not unfrequently converts them. In the midst of his
own peace and blessedness, the Son of God is cruci
fied on the cross of others' guilt. He suffers sorrow
which others have deserved. Those who realize that
feel mysteriously affected — nay, they cannot but feel
renovated and healed — at the thought. Oh that
we could feel that the spirit of Infinite Goodness,
incarnated in the best and purest among ourselves,
profoundly grieves at our downfall and misery!
Oh that we could feel Christ weeps and intercedes
for us in heaven ; that other Christs living in the
world, in whom the healing Jesus has found a resur
rection, mourn for our misdeeds, and wait for our
return ! Atonement is the perfection of sympathy.
Regeneration is the success of aggressive, aggrieved,
conquering love. The authorized healer is a man
of mesmeric genius. Others' ailments touch him
with vicarious suffering. His power touches others
with curative, quickening, reviving grace. It is the
magic circle of fellow-feeling. It is the diffusive,
incomprehensible power of blessing others. It is
the binding force of the Church, and the fraternity.
Let men awaken to sympathy, and they will convert
the world. Let men awaken to love, and they will
heal mankind.

THE HEALING CHRIST I49
The power of physical healing by pure, tender
sympathy, by warm, active, impulsive, self-forgetful
faith, is discounted in these days of gross material
medication. But, in point of fact, true spiritual min
istry has a remedial value both to the mind and body.
We have often delighted in the thought of the holy
preceptor who is skilled in the art of healing both
the heart diseased and the aching weary flesh. Is
it not a fact that the groaning of the soul often
utters itself in physical pain and prostration, and the
afflicted flesh recoils upon the vitality of the inner
man ? Is it not a fact of our own experience that a
pure, heavenly draught of heart-felt devotion has
quenched the fire of a rising fever, and relieved the
agony of disease ? Yea, even death itself is disarmed
of its fear and sting at the name of the heavenly
Healer. Such healing is not violation of the laws
of nature, but only deeper and truer conformity to
those laws. We can assure the true believer that
there is not that hostility between the laws of the
spirit and the body which the faithless votaries of
the one, or the other, would mislead us to imagine.
Were we really true to the spirit, we cannot but be
true to the bodily life which the Father of spirits has
himself given us. And hence, in former days, and in
these days also, men who conquered their own minds

150 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
conquered their flesh also, and in conquering their
flesh triumphed over the whole world. They healed
the hearts and bodily sufferings of those that trusted
in them. In their presence all soreness and pain
were forgotten. The holiness of their look or touch
transformed the humble, the trustful, whose own
faith cured them. What talisman was there in the
look or the touch ? No carnal, magical, miracle-
working power certainly, but the power of divine,
sympathetic humanity, an absorption in the suffering
of the sufferer through self-forgetful inexpressible
tenderness. Alas ! it seems that has gone out of
the world altogether. But it has not gone out
completely. The healing miracles of divine sym
pathy and holy tenderness will have to be worked
again. There is a sect of Christians who ascribe all ten
der healing to Mary, the universal mother. They
thus unconsciously hold the double nature, the
fatherly and motherly nature of the Christian divin
ity. We believe in a Mother God, we believe in
womanly as in manly incarnation. To us, certainly,
their doctrine is not very foreign. But what we
contend for is that, as in God, so in Christ, so in
every holy man called to the ministry, there is both
a masculine and a feminine element. The complete-

THE HEALING CHRIST 151
ness of all religious character lies in the proportion
in which the two elements are combined. It is the
woman in us that touches the woman. The most
loving of Hindu deities is invested with a face of
feminine grace. The "twofold image" of the Vaish-
nava is the ideal complement of manly and womanly
affection. Where Christ is identified with the mas
culine perfections of faith, holiness, and truth, as in
Protestantism, religion takes a harsh, abstract, com
bative aspect. Where all the saving virtues of sym
pathy and love are attributed to the Madonna, prac
tical and personal homage is transferred to the
woman deity ; and the soothing functions of the
Son of Man all but cease. But, when we discover
both the paternal and maternal in God, and propor
tionately in all his true incarnations, we derive a
double advantage from religion, besides being faith
ful both to the moral and emotional in man.
The function of woman as a healer, as a nurse,
has in all ages been recognized. But the mission of
woman to teach man the divine grace of sympathy
has not been so readily recognized. Instead of our
learning from her the arts of healing affection, we
are trying to teach her to imitate our hard, mascu
line, muscular qualities. I would not object to
teaching woman our firmness and courage, if we were

152 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
allowed to learn from her how to heal care, pain,
and sorrow. When the man learns to cease to be
masculine in the presence of woman, but becomes
womanly in the beatitude of tender, refined sympa
thy, then he can cure the sufferings of all humanity.
It is curious, however, that in Christian art all
angelic forms are represented as more feminine
than masculine. And still so strong is popular
prejudice that every mention of God as the Supreme
Mother is regarded as improper. The virtues as
cribed to Mary, the mother, the healer, the merciful,
the sympathetic, indicate that Jesus had other rela
tions to society than are generally recognized. Let,
therefore, Mary merge in Christ. Let woman and
man combine to make the perfection of manhood.
For all genuine ministry is twofold. It seeks not
only the spiritual, but the personal and bodily wel
fare of the disciples. The ministry of healing is
often set aside, or finds a formal recognition. In its
absence, genuine interest in the flock becomes
deficient, and spiritual ministration lacks in reality
and power. A distance grows up between the shep
herd and his flock. Perfect confidence is seldom
established. The pulpit deals in respectabilities
which answer no true want. The pew pays its rate,
and considers its duty ended. Where is the healing

THE HEALING CHRIST 1 53
of body and mind ? Where is the balm of comfort,
the touch of sympathy, and the cure of soul for
which the poor looked up to Christ?
Call it mother, call it woman, call it Christ, or call
it Mary, it is nothing more than the ineffable sympa
thy and tenderness of the nature of the Son of Man.
That is the secret of all healing. By far the greatest
portion of Christ's recorded miracles relate to heal
ing. And, what is strange, the Healer bids the healed
to go, and tell no man of his cure. It is possible
he knew men enough to suspect that these cures,
if reported, would excite profane curiosity, and igno
rant superstition, much more than faith in the power
of divine humanity. If so, then, alas ! those wise,
modest precautions have proved very nearly fruit
less. Men have exalted the physical miraculousness
over the holy, humane sympathy. And, hence,
though they have gained in the power of credulity,
which has both its good and its bad sides, they have
not gained in the power to cure. The real healing
of the miracles has been lost, and their husks only
remain. Now, in these days, the science of medicine
has so far improved as to be able to work miracles
of cure without the aid of religion. We wish
heartily the unexplored and really vast powers of
religious faith should be combined with medical

154 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
wisdom. But, before such a blessed combination
actually takes place, must religion give up the holy
ministry of healing altogether ? No : let us in sea
sons of sickness and suffering bring to bear the
power of our devotions and faith upon our weak
ened flesh. Let us exchange the divine remedy of
mutual sympathy, and brotherly tenderness. There
is before us the assurance, if this does not com
pletely cure us of our bodily ailments, it will at least
cure us of the much deeper and more inveterate
ailments which afflict the heart and conscience.
For, verily, there is much more wonderful miracle
in the cure of the sinful, lustful nature, dead and
buried in unholiness, than in the cure of bodily
suffering from a temporary suspension of bodily
power.

CHAPTER XI.
THE PARTING CHRIST.
T F any one wishes to behold a relation of strange
love dissolving into the sad sunset of a celestial
farewell, — a farewell in which what was best, deepest,
purest, sweetest in the soul was poured out, as never
before nor since, — let him turn to the parting Christ.
There, on the serene and woody summit of Olivet, in
the humble house of Simon the leper, Jesus sat
calmly contemplating his death, the time for which
had now come in solemn certainty, and was to take
place in two days more. He has just finished the
clear awful warning to his disciples of the approach
of the end. The echo of those words — " Take heed,
watch and pray, for ye know not when the time is " —
was still ringing in their bewildered ears, and the
Master was merged in the depth of his own forecast.
¦In contrast to all this, the sacred city of Jerusalem,
which lay down below on the slopes of that very hill,
with its golden cupolas, and polished columns of
marble, was full of the noise, music, and mighty

156 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
pastures of the wilderness, and the little hills rejoice
on every side. The pastures are clothed with flocks,
and the valleys also are covered with corn. They
shout for joy, they also sing. Behold the sons of
men go forth to their labor, and the field yieldeth
food for them and their children. They reap every
one of them from his cornfield ; they gather every
one his vintage from the vineyard."
Christ was the child of nature. His spirit had
the poetic, pastoral genius of the primitive Hebrew.
He spent his nights with the silent stars on the
mountain top, he preached on the shingly margin
of the Galilean lake, he spake from the blue ripples
of its breezy surface. Nature was his bridal cham
ber, and Christ was the bridegroom ! He wor
shipped, he meditated, he found his occupation, and
his simple joy, walked, stood, or sat amid the
bounties and solitudes of nature. There is for
every one a festive converse with the silent elo
quence of this mysterious universe. There is a
joyous suggestion in sky and air. For the exiled
and outcast there is a benediction in the calmness
of morning, and evening twilight. Every land
scape over plain and mountain is an everlasting
possession to the eye purged from covetousness.
Every song of bird, breeze, or man is a feast to the

THE FEASTING CHRIST 157
Son of God : all wealth of pure laughter and inno
cent merriment is undoubtedly his. He is happy
with the rich, happy with the poor, happy with
the saint, and happy with the child. Christ is joy
ous as the bridegroom.
Did not the saints and sages hold high festival
with nature in all lands and nations ? Forest, hill
side, river-bank, were haunted and sacred to them.
Midnight was the time of profound devotions. Men
have disenchanted nature of the magic of primeval
spirituality. They repair to the woods to shoot the
singing birds, or to kill them for their plumage.
They desecrate the river-banks to hook and net the
finny tribe. Or, if they are very solemnly inclined,
the chain, compass, and sextant are the implements
of their worship. Nature is submerged in mathemat
ics. Measurement and exactitude swallow all emo
tion. The fields have no festival, the sky has no
consolation. Let -the spirit of the feasting Christ
once more draw us outside ourselves, to rejoice in
the plenitudes of beauty and grace in the world.
Let the presence of God be rehabilitated in the
throne of the universe.
"They come and say unto him, Why do the
disciples of John and of the Pharisees fast, but thy
disciples fast not ? " This must have been a serious

158 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
difficulty to the minds of many honest observers of
the new message. Every dawning dispensation of
religious truth is apt to be judged by old standards.
Fasting and asceticism have been the two recog
nized tests of spiritual accomplishment in the East.
One cause why the New Dispensation of the
Brahmo Somaj has not found as ready acceptance
in India as we could wish, is that we refuse to
conform to the old rules of orthodox piety ; namely,
ascetic hermitage and retirement from all household
practical life. That Christ accepted the spirit of
fasting and asceticism who can doubt? The forty
days' fast is one of the most significant chapters
of his life. But Christ's asceticism and fasting
were of entirely a new order. It was self-renuncia
tion for others' good. It was rigid abstinence amid
the abundance of outward resources. It was a fast
in feasting. It was the universal law of temperance
and self-deprivation which all men are bound to
practise. The Johannic and the Mosaic dispen
sation was for saints, for men who made a preten
sion to prophetic character, for the priestly order.
Christ's dispensation was to call sinners to repent
ance. The spirit was new, and the form required to
be new. It would not do for him to embody the
law of chaste moderation in the rigidity of Phar-

THE FEASTING CHRIST 1 59
isaic observances. " No man seweth a piece of
new cloth on an old garment; else the new piece
that filled it up taketh away from the old, and the
rent is made worse. And no man putteth new
wine into old bottles, else the new wine doth burst
the bottles, and the wine is spilled." The new
spirit of practical piety then, which Christ came to
embody, demanded a new form ; and that form man
ifested itself not only in orthodox fasts, but in occa
sional religious feasting.
The East excels in the number and grandeur of its
feastings. Full one-half of the most ancient of the
Vedas is dedicated to the laws and methods of reg
ulating the consecrated festivals. It is the refresh
ment and refilling of body and mind. Feasting is
symbolical of human brotherhood. The rich and the
humble, the wise and the illiterate, forget the ine
qualities of circumstance when they sit side by side
in the holy festival. The accursed custom of caste
is found, even in the most liberal lands and nations,
to tear asunder the relations of natural brotherhood.
Who can say how much of the social and moral
asperity between class and class could be allayed,
how much solid practical reformation effected, if
the mighty and the noble would deign to sit at a
common feast with the low and the unfortunate ?

l60 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
But the old Pharisaic pride intervenes. Feasting is
select and exclusive. And, if any man of Christlike
love and condescension mixes with the down-trodden
poor, the charge is at once laid against him that
"he eats and drinks with the publicans and sin
ners." But Christ knew the profound meaning of
a common feast.
The commonness of enjoyment is the secret of
brotherly love. Feasting is a small thing, but no
great religious community has ever got on without
a common meal. We cannot be fed upon rebukes,
sermons, and tears always. Christ rebuked, he
taught, he wept ; but he ate and drank with those
whom he taught and rebuked. There is more moral
and spiritual efficacy in a hearty meal partaken to
gether in simple affection than in mighty conclaves
and controversies. Cut away from the sacraments
of society, hated and renounced by the sanctimo
nious Brahmins of hollow Orthodoxy, herding to
gether in vulgar occupations, there stood the pub
licans, as the sudras stand in India. The Son of
Man felt that he "came not to call the righteous,"
but to seek and save the lost. Is it possible he
did not reflect on the marvellous effect his heart
felt sympathy would produce, when, passing by, he
saw the publican sitting at the receipt of custom,

THE FEASTING CHRIST l6l
and, in the excess of his gracious love, whispered to
him, "Follow me"? What was the feeling of the
poor pariah, when the holy, young, mysterious Rabbi,
whom multitudes adored, whom John, the prophet,
himself honored, in whom the nation looked for
ward for the manifestation of the promised Mes
siah, accosted him, — nay, not only so, but went
to his house, and sat to partake of the unconse-
crated meal ? The amazement of the privileged
hierarchs was not greater than that of the down
trodden outcasts who flocked to sit around him. In
that feasting at Levi's house, he won the poor and
alienated the priests forever. It showed his status
and mission : it established his community. In that
act of feasting, the Christian Church became the
Church of the poor raised up, and of sinners saved.
It separated itself forever from the self-righteous, the
proud, the unspiritual. It would be well if Christian
missionaries in foreign lands would eat the bread of
the people whom they go to convert, eat it from
a common table, eat it in the unrefined, humble
ways of the people, as Christ ate at the festive
board of the publicans. I know Roman Catholic
missionaries have done so, and won the hearts of
whole tribes of men. Let all classes of men, high
and low, be occasionally invited in the name of re-

l62 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
ligion to partake of a sacred meal, and let the fes
tivity be a medium to spread the holiness, faith, and
love of the best, and permeate the assembly.
Feasting is the gift of God. The feast which
nature prepares for all sentient beings comes from
the preparation of a bountiful providence. And
human feasting, in oriental countries, is God-ap
pointed. Christ's model prayer is for the gift of
the daily bread. And, when that bread came, he did
not take it contemptuously, or as a matter of course,
but with gratitude and rejoicing, as a feast prepared
for him in the wilderness. The simplicity of faith
delights in every good thing which the Father gives,
though it never demands or expects any. When
meat, or drink, or raiment comes, it fills the
soul with childlike gladness. While the prosperous
pine in imagined languors, while the miser decays
in anxious penury, and the lavish and luxurious
feel cloyed in satiety, Christ holds his daily festi
vals over his humble bread, and gives thanksgiv
ings from the singleness of his heart.
The feasting Christ incarnates the spirit in which
the well-regulated bounties of Providence are to be
received. Fast days and Sabbath days make no
difference to him, when the spirit of loyalty to God's
commandments is within. And, when his disciples

THE FEASTING CHRIST 1 63
are accused of breaking divine ordinance in the
matter of food, he excuses them by saying that
even David himself ate the shew-bread. The evil
disposed and slanderous charged him with gross
laxity; but he came not to destroy human nature,
but to exalt and consecrate it. He uttered his
dreadful rebukes against the fulness, the laughter,
and the wealth of the world ; but he boldly proclaimed
the justification of his disciples, when they gave up
fasting, in the festive parable of the bride chamber.
" As long as they have the bridegroom, they cannot
fast. But the days will come when the bridegroom
shall be taken away from them, and then they shall
fast in those days." There are times when feasting
is as good as fasting. Times there are when feast
ing is better than fasting. Because abstinence and
enjoyment come alike from God. Both bring their
inspiration, both answer great purposes. Thus,
Christ feasted and fasted every day.
Domestic festivals, such as marriages, births,
and various other auspicious occasions, are blessed
occasions of union and congratulation in the East.
Religion fastens itself on them. False enthu
siasts and heartless fanatics decry them. These
centres of household and social fellowship form a
great part of religion in common life. Unnatural

164 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
religion and harsh formalism discourage them. But
the humanity and sweet sense of Christ knew their
value. He not only presented himself at the mar
riage celebration, but contributed to increase the
festivity of the occasion. He fostered the spirit
of ceremonial observances within rational and due
limits. The great tendency of our times is to destroy
the rituals of religion, and multiply the ceremonies
of eating, drinking, and making merry with the
other sex. The household has no opportunity to
order its preparations for the moral and spiritual
welfare of its inmates. Dinner parties, dancing
parties, and the uncounted frivolities of a sensual
civilization are allowed to drive the solemnities of
home and religion out of recognition. The holy
man is honored in the Eastern household to pro
nounce his blessing on auspicious occasions. The
scene of marriage is fragrant with the incense and
flowers dedicated to religion. And, if the spirit of
Christ with his disciples should descend to the
domestic hearth while we are celebrating our simple
festivals, will it not be the addition of joy to joy?
Nor is that all. Jesus felt he was to be with
his disciples but for a short time. United to them
with all the associations of prayer, fasting, medita
tion, and counsel, his loving nature longed to be

THE FEASTING CHRIST 165
associated with them in those earthly scenes which
make the relations of this world so sweet and memo
rable. In the commonest acts of life, very profound
relations are often perpetuated. The preceptor, who
can interweave his influences with the daily routine
of existence, has seldom any chance to be forgotten.
Jesus shared his meat and drink, his occupations and
recreations, with his humble associates. To observe
him, to imitate him, was the best means of consecrat
ing their existence. Christ loved to eat and drink
with his disciples, to teach them the rules of enjoy
ment and abstinence. He desired to be remembered
in their meals, when their minds found relaxation and
rest after the arduous labors of the day. He taught
them the great duty of thanksgiving at their meals.
It was the joyous and simple communion of the poor.
It was the sacrament of every-day life. It was
that by which he knew he would have the liveliest
hold upon their minds. If he was glad to enjoy his
meals with his beloved, he was glad to give feasts
and feed thousands with the commonest fare. His
feeding them with the bread of the body was typical
of feeding them with a more celestial fare. But this
usage of oriental saints to feed large numbers of
people out of their scanty resources is universal.
The poor who are fed never reflect on the quality

1 66 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
of the fare, but feel sanctified to eat of the bounty of
the holy man. Who knows but, in the case of Christ,
the five thousand were not exalted by saving truths
to support their souls also? Who knows how he
symbolized that great feast ? Perhaps among us
just now there is no want of feasting. But there is
great want of converting the feast of the flesh into
the flow of soul. Festivals require to be symbolized.
Eating and drinking demand to be divested of their
gross carnal meaning. Feasts do not exalt us, but
make us heavy and drag us down to drowsy idleness.
The feasting Christ has typified his spirit in the holy
meal perpetuated by him in the world. Does not
the communion table in every Christian church bear
conclusive testimony to that ? Bread and wine sig
nify objects very different from what they them
selves are. While at the feast Christ ate, he ate
spiritual food, ate of the eternal word which was
incarnated in him ; while he drank, he drank of the
enthusiasm of love, the kindling flame of high and
holy impulses, which made him burn through the brief
period of his life, like a celestial light whose orbit
was in some higher sphere than this our earthly sky.
All feast to him was the feast of soul. The outer
festival only foreshadowed the inner intoxication
of joy.

THE FEASTING CHRIST 167
What free spontaneity must there have been for
those beloved early disciples to feel festive glory in
the presence of Christ! Set free from the harsh,
narrow despotism of the Pharisees, from the bonds
of sin and remorse, from the cares and anxieties of
worldly life, their burdens borne by the Master's
mysterious power, their yoke made light by sweet
love to him, partaking to their hearts' content of
his holiness, peace, and wisdom, they are full of
frolic and festivity, even on the Sabbath day. The
envious priests were ill-pleased with all this delight,
and clothed their complaint in sanctimonious disguise.
Jesus saw the present and the future, — the heedless,
joyous present of his trustful apostles, their future
sadness and martyrdom. It gave him a melancholy
satisfaction, like the glow of a winter sunset. He
wanted them to rejoice as long as they could, as
long as he was with them. He heightened and
chastened their rejoicing, and crowned their feast
by adding to it his profound gladness. Was not
the ministry full of anxieties and sorrows ? Was
not the labor, with its fatigues, great ? Were not
the poverty, the privations it brought, the disci
pline, the asceticism, heavy to be borne? If the
grace of the Father occasionally granted intervals of
respite, the disciples and the Master joined in holy

l68 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
festival. Darker days were coming apace. Clouds
were rising on the horizon. The time of heart
rending separation loomed in the near prospect.
Death beckoned to the Son of Man to prepare be
times. And, then, did he not foresee the bread of
the disciples would be their irremediable sorrows, and
their drink would be their own tears, that they must
weep and watch as he did, till, like him, they passed
away into his glory ? While the brief day of mutual
union lasted, therefore, he grudged them not a few
intervals of freedom and mirth. It was like the mu
tual felicitation of a household on the eve of a final
parting, — the evening songs of birds met on the tree
at sunset, to depart, each to a separate destiny, at the
early dawn. Yes, there is a melancholy grandeur in
the feasting Christ before he mounted the throne of
his cross. There is a sweet, mellow lustre about
that heavenly bridegroom rejoicing with his simple
children of the bridal chamber. As infancy and early
youth prepare us for the troubles and trials of man
hood, as the festivities of the marriage day prepare
us for the sorrows and responsibilities of the house
hold, and life anoints us for death, so Christ feasted
with his disciples, that they might be ready for the
days when the bridegroom should have gone away,
and the children of the bridal chamber should have
to mourn in fasting and patience.

THE FEASTING CHRIST 1 69
Let us then not be ashamed of our festivals. Let
us solemnly celebrate, with rites and ceremonies, our
seasons of joyous event. If the weeping Christ has
taught us the service of sorrow, the feasting Christ
has taught us the service of rejoicing and gratitude.
If the Man of Sorrows found, in this hard world,
his bridal chamber, and was joyous like a bride
groom, eating and drinking, giving meat and drink
to others, why should we, with our more numerous
enjoyments, mourn to manifest our ingratitude?
The feasting Christ is a unique figure, side by side
with his other, and more tragical attitudes. But
Christ would not be coextensive with human nature,
if he did not combine fasts and feasts in that many-
sided discipline which gives perfection to the diverse
faculties of man's heart.

CHAPTER X.
THE FEASTING CHRIST.
"D EFLECT upon the pathos of Christ calling
himself "the bridegroom." One feels dis
posed to exclaim that he married sorrow and suffer
ing. But no, there was deep enjoyment in his sim
ple life ; and, what is more, this enjoyment was not
only of things celestial and spiritual, but also of the
blessed beneficences of God in this our common
earthly life. The dew and the sunshine, the seed
times and the harvests, the fields, pastures, flocks,
and flowers were to him a perpetual festival. His
eyes dwelt, and wandered in the midst of them, his
ears drank their music, his heart feasted upon their
poetry, his imagination extracted sweet, everlasting
metaphors from them. Who knows how many times
he might have sung internally, or burst forth in the
Psalmist's utterances : " Thou hast established the
borders of the earth ; thou hast made winter and
summer. Thou crownest the year with goodness,
and thy paths drop fatness. They drop upon the

THE PARTING CHRIST 171
preparations of the feast of the Passover. It was
the most memorable of all the yearly national feasts
which the Jews kept. It was to commemorate
the passing out from Egypt, the land of bondage.
Henceforward, in the same typical sense, it was
to become the most memorable feast of all man
kind. In the mean time, an incident occurred which
suddenly brought the little company to a sense of
their position. A woman, companion of Mary and
Martha, one of a band perpetually devoted to the
service of Jesus, quietly drew near, and poured out
a box of the most precious ointment on his lowly
head. It jarred upon the disciples as out of season,
and also as out of proportion to the means at their
disposal, — they not having the place, nor perhaps
the wherewithal to procure their Passover meal, she
running to the expense of three hundred pence to
waste a box of spikenard ointment on the person of
Jesus. The disciples grumbled at the extravagance,
and the humble devotee stood rebuked and abashed,
until the gentle voice of the Master was heard to give
the assurance of indescribable pathos, — "Let her
alone : why do ye trouble her ? She hath anointed
my body for the burial." The death, then, which he
saw, in all its misery, drawing so near, was to him
his coronation ; and the loving hand which uncon-

172 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
sciously offered a melancholy tribute to that event
wrought a work whose fame has spread wheresoever
the gospel of Christ has been preached. In Eastern
lands, the person whose death is anticipated is
treated with festive honor ; and Jesus, who inwardly
looked up to heaven at this critical time, felt that
the loving Father had, through that humble woman,
poured upon him a parting honor, a final anointment.
When, therefore, they spoke of distributing its value
among the poor, he feelingly exclaimed, " The poor
ye have always, but me ye have not always."
Contrast once more with this melancholy tender
ness the dark cruelty of the scribes and chief priests
who, amid the gathering festivities and joyful prep
arations of the sacred city, were laying careful
plans as to how they might craftily take him, and
destroy him, so as to minimize the risk of a popular
uproar, and induce the deluded crowd to take a share
in the guilty tragedy. But Jesus foresaw all, was
prepared for all, and calmly went to meet it. The
disciples had gone a little before to beg the hospi
tality of a virtuous man who would let them eat the
Passover in his house ; and, in the evening, Jesus
came down with the twelve to the place in the city
of Jerusalem. The table was laid, the meal begun,
the sad memorable supper eaten, amid silent tears

THE PARTING CHRIST 1 73
and unspeakable emotions, painted by artists, and
described in the voice of faith, times without num
ber. The hour had come, and Jesus thought it was
no longer necessary to bear in his solitary soul the
burden of oppressive anticipation. So, casting his
eyes upon the little band, he suddenly exclaimed,
"Verily, one of you shall betray me!" All the
mournful warnings and exhortations uttered on the
hill-slope at Bethany that morning, the sadness of
the affectionate anointing, the anxiety, ominous
calmness, and sorrow had sufficiently dispirited the
poor disciples ; and, when unexpectedly they heard
that one of them should betray him to death, it
startled them like a thunderbolt. Their fear, con
fusion, and sorrow knew no bounds. They asked
questions, made surmises, and looked aghast. In
the mean while, the traitor had gone out to do his
work, the scene was preparing in the darkness of
the night in the house of Caiaphas, and Jesus saw
there was no time to lose. So he sadly went
through that profound act of farewell which has
symbolized the whole character of the religion he
has bequeathed to us. The first three Gospels speak
in very nearly the same words of a simple ceremony.
He took bread and gave it to his disciples, saying,
"Take, eat : this is my body which is given for you."

174 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
He took a cup of wine and gave it to them, saying,
" This is my blood of the new testament which is
shed for many. Do this in remembrance of me."
The Gospel of John mentions that after the meal he
laid aside his garments, took a basin and towel, and
began to wash his disciples' feet. Both the state
ments are in strict conformity with Eastern customs,
and the spirit of the occasion.
THE LORD'S SUPPER.
The figure of the parting Christ, as he institutes
the sacrament of bread and wine, is that of a father
who calls his sorrowing sons to receive the precious
inheritance he has reserved for them till the last
moment. The inheritance is the immortal treasure
of spiritual character. The gospel accounts bear
testimony to that inheritance. The bodily Jesus
departs, the wealth of his spirit remains. The
bodily Christ departs, the presence of his spirit
remains in the bosom of God. He invests that
spirit in his little band of faithful followers. He
pours out his spirit into the willing receptacles of
their nature, makes himself the flesh of their flesh,
the blood of their blood. He embodies himself,
incarnates himself, reproduces himself in his spir
itual descendants. He thus acquires and imparts

THE PARTING CHRIST 1 75
immortality before he has ascended to heaven. The
symbolical farewell of the bread and wine is the
transmission of the character of the parting Christ
to the regenerate nature of future humanity. The
flesh of the flesh is a man's inner self, and the blood
of his blood is his moral character.
"The difference between subjectivity and objec
tivity in religion," observes Keshub, " none compre
hended so thoroughly as Jesus, or he would not have
instituted the sacramental rite. The disciples be
lieved in him as their Lord and Master, and they
had assured him of their loyalty and devotion.
Why, then, did he demand of them further allegi
ance ? Why did he impose upon them the obliga
tion of eating his flesh and drinking his blood, saying,
' This do in remembrance of me ' ? Because the
prophet saw that his people would hold him up as
an objective impersonation of truth and purity, and
he wished to prevent it. Despite the unbounded
reverence and love which they tendered to him,
he felt he was only an outward object of devoted
loyalty. He preferred subjective allegiance, the
loyalty which, while it intellectually accepted him,
absorbed him spiritually in the inner consciousness.
Nothing short of internal absorption and assimila
tion could satisfy Jesus. And this beautiful idea he

176 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
embodied symbolically in the eucharist. He asked
his disciples to eat his flesh and drink his blood. In
other words, he wished to be accepted by the world
subjectively, and not objectively. Let us be satis
fied that every bit of flesh and every drop of blood
in you and in me is Christ before we proclaim our
selves his followers. Faith in Christ means life in
Christ." The parting Christ means to confirm that at the
Last Supper. In eating the bread and wine which
was Christ's flesh and blood, the disciples, and all
disciples, at all times, received the essential elements
of his character within themselves, digested them,
assimilated them, grew upon them, and gained an
exalted vitality they did not possess before. What
was the profoundest element of character in the
parting Christ ? That inner spirit in him which he
meant, when he said, "I and my Father are one."
The features of Christ's character, so far as one
may dare to analyze, were first his faith, secondly
his love, and thirdly his humble, self-forgetful, unre
mitting service. His faith included, in the fact of
eternal sonship, the whole world in him, and the
Father in all. The three, namely, the Father, him
self, and all mankind, constitute together that king
dom of heaven which he came to establish. This

c^

THE PARTING CHRIST 1 77
was the very soul and secret of his existence, the
bread of his whole being, the word which came out
of the mouth of God, the cause for which he came
to the world. In offering the symbolical bread, the
Master, before he left his servants, committed unto
them the absolute secret of his life and ministry,
and the future of the cause of humanity, to estab
lish which both he and they had been preordained,
and sent on earth. In accepting this bread, they
accepted that impersonal existence which meant the
annihilation of all individual interest and all carnal
craving, and a new life in the spirit of Jesus. His
love was the intense and ardent enthusiasm of union
with God and man, which may be likened unto
strong new wine. It was a holy intoxication that
sent him from suffering to suffering, from sacrifice
to sacrifice, until all was matured in the consummate
glory of Calvary. In offering, then, that mystical
wine as a farewell remembrance, the departing Mes
siah left his ardent passion of humanity to those
who took up his work, to love as he loved, to suffer
as he suffered, to die as he died. And, in accept
ing that wine, they accepted the solemn and eternal
vow to perpetuate on earth the kingdom of Christ's
love. The bread and wine thus symbolize the in
corporation of Jesus in the flesh and blood of his

I78 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
descendants, — the hiding of the Son of Man in the
everlasting bosom of humanity. It was an outward
farewell, but inward union, — Christ in us, we in
Christ, and all in God. The holy body of Christ,
which is to be found nowhere else on earth, is thus
found buried in every faithful heart.
The Lord's Supper, then, was an affectionate fare
well, a personal union between the living and the
dead, and the foundation of an everlasting commu
nity. It was a personal bequest, a new covenant,
and a tender parting. It was a sacrament, a symbol,
an outward embodiment of the invisible Christ in
the visible Church. The disciples and apostles were
each a limb, each a vital part of that corporate
Church ; but Christ's flesh and blood, his spirit,
his character, ran through all, enlivening, combining,
idealizing the whole. There is a celestial fitness in
the metaphor of the vine and its branches. The
vine was sown, with its branches, in the flesh and
blood of the Messiah, on the soil of the soul of the
apostolic Church, and the Husbandman watered it
with the dews of grace. The parting Christ per
petuated his whole life-work in the new passover
meal of the Last Supper. Truly may the Christian
Church be said to be washed in the blood of Jesus,
and fed with the substance of his being. Visible

THE PARTING CHRIST 1 79
representation of the invisible could not be fitter, or
more touching. Nor could Christ more effectually
perpetuate his ministry in those who were to minis
ter to the whole world.
Where, then, is Christ ? Not in fictitious portraits,
not in sculptured forms, not in mythological heavens.
Christ is in the flesh and blood of every faithful
believer. And what is the Christian Church ? Not
a farrago of false theology, or mumbling dogmatism,
of routine worship, and saint worship. Christ's
Church is the spiritual household, in which the
brothers have that faith, love, and holiness which
the sweet founder bequeathed to the world at the
parting meal two thousand years ago. Verily may
it be said that Christ has fled from the visible
Church, which is so full of strife, contention, and
mutual hatred, to that invisible Church where, sitting
in the heart of the humble believer, embosomed in
God, he calls you and me to the mansions of peace..
St. John narrates the washing of feet. It is a.
menial service in the East : we all know it in India..
But it symbolizes the truest service, wherein all the
enjoyment belongs to him who is served, and all the
labor — labor without reward — to him that serveth.
Service crowns faith and love. Workless love and
faith are a mockery. Hence, Christ so repeatedly

l8o THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
emphasizes the doing of the commandment. And
the typical farewell could not be complete, unless it
included the washing of ¦ the disciples' feet, in all the
important elements of Christ's character. Peter ob-
j ected to have his feet washed. He forgot that from
the moment he had been called away from his fish
ing-net, his feet had been every day washed by the
Lord. At the last moment he only symbolized in
an external ceremony his nameless occupation of
washing men's feet. He taught them, by physical
illustration, to do what he had done all his life. By
his baptism the whole world had been bathed and
cleansed ; and now, by his washing men's feet, there
has been established among mankind that ministry
of unutterable service which has sprung up like the
lily everywhere — wherever the name of Christ has
been uttered, and his holy religion has set its foot.

CHAPTER XII.
THE DYING CHRIST.
TN death, as in life, Christ was human nature
perfected. If he has taught us how to live, has
he not taught us even more completely how to die ?
Death is an awful thing. However much we may
choose to explain it away, we regard death with
feelings which nothing else can excite. The strange
ness of the sense of a sure existence in the void
unknown weighs upon the heart with a supernatural
pressure. And the utmost intensity of such feelings
Jesus bore as none had done before. Socrates
uttered philosophic self-composure in those immortal
words: — "And now it is time to depart. For me
to die, for you to live. But which for greater good
God only knows." Cato showed heroic courage
and devotedness. Seneca illustrated indomitable
stoical firmness. But Christ alone presented on the
cross the perfection of human nature. The unex
ampled injustice of the mock trial was consummated
in the cruelty of the crucifixion.

l82 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
The first and the chief attribute of the victim
of this national conspiracy was his characteristic
silence. To the vilest and most deadly charges, he
responded with deep, unbroken silence, such as ex
cited the wonder of the judge and the spectators.
To the grossest insults, the most violent ill-treat
ment and mockery that may well bring indignation
into the feeblest heart, he responded with voiceless
uncomplaining calmness. Those who are unjustly
accused, and causelessly ill-treated only know what
tremendous strength is necessary to keep silence to
the end. Those only who have achieved the tri
umph of perfect self-control, and put out for ever
the fire of all passion in the waters of Nirvana,
those who have partaken of the peace of conscious
justification in the presence of an All-seeing God,
know what dignity there is in extreme silence. Si
lence as a virtue, as the attribute of holy saints, was
known in India before ; but silence, kept under such
conditions, as signalized the trial and death of Christ,
had never been practised in our country, or any
where else in the world. Jesus has exalted this
lamb-like virtue of silence to the heavenly crown
of sweet sonship. Since then, we, too, who are so
loud with our petty complaints, have learned to suffer
in silence. But it was not a silence unbroken by

THE DYING CHRIST 1 83
speech. Only it was a speech nobler than silence.
Coming out of the wicked judgment hall with a
simple affirmation of his spiritual royalty, he but
once spoke on the road, which, in remembrance of
the unheard of inhumanity exercised upon the Mes
siah, is to this day called the Street of Agony.
And that was to the weeping daughters of Jeru
salem. His life-work, always carried on under diffi
culties, was converted into the heaviest burden of
pain which man can bear, while he walked that
dark, tearful, memorable walk to the place of ex
ecution. He carried his own cross, and often
stumbled under it, and fainted with its weight.
Marvellously does that symbolize the trial of every
man who undertakes an unique and God-appointed
life-work. The men were too hard-hearted, or, if
the faint pulse of pity throbbed at all in any waver
ing heart, it was hushed under the withering and
deadening influence of that miscreant mob. But the
women followed weeping aloud. Genuine womanly
sorrow heeds neither fear nor control. Jesus noticed
it, and addressed it, perhaps unheeded.
Even when he ascended the cross, amid the reel
ing, bewildering agony of the scene, he beheld his
struggling, downcast disciples, and the forlorn,
weeping women. That was not the time to waste

184 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
words, nor was that the time to remain speechless.
A heavy responsibility weighed upon his heart.
When the living and the dying are about to part, it
often happens that the living remain dumb and
helpless; it is the dying that adjust the relations of
life. Fathers provide for sons, husbands for wives,
masters for disciples. Any failure here is the failure
of a final duty. The Son of Man had neither son,
nor wife, neither home, nor property. But he left
behind a heart-broken mother crying with the other
women who had gathered from far and near, and
he left behind a fond disciple whose heart was
womanly in its tenderness. He remembered both,
he saw both, and for the moment, forgetting every
thing else, did his last duty by giving the charge of
his poor parent to the only one who could be like
another son to her.
Then, his dying vision enlarged. Amid the shouts
and mockeries, cruelties, and unspeakable wicked
ness of the scene, by his side he saw nailed on an
other cross the writhing form of a miserable male
factor, who looked upon him with the last glance of
supplicating penitence and faith. The deep, .divine
sympathy, which during the labors of his ministry
carried him incessantly to the doors of poverty, pain,
and death, welled up in his heart at this last spec-

THE DYING CHRIST I85
tacle of suffering. And he poured out upon the
bruised spirit of that penitent thief the benign balm
of his passionate, forgiving love. Oh, the sense of
divine fellowship on thy cross by the side of the
dying Christ ! Thief as thou wert, his sympathy
and promise found for thee a shorter way to para
dise than we, with all our forms and creeds, find
to-day. That sympathy was magical in its power
of transforming; that promise, once heard, could
never more be forgotten. The hour of death only
intensified the power of Christ's marvellous love,
and he died weeping for the thief.
It was a dread moment ; and, amid the palpita
tions of his sad, loving spirit, the great physical
pain now and then overwhelmed him. Too artless
to disguise suffering or feign a mastery over bodily
and mental agony, given him as his portion by the
hand of God, he cried, " I thirst." The stupefying
drink which they offered him he refused — that
thirst was unquenchable. Could oceans of tears
and carnal consolation quench the thirst he felt at
that fatal hour ? The physical thirst was but a
faint symptom of the parching, scorching, immense
desert in the soul, which cried out the next mo
ment, "My Father, my Father, why hast thou for
saken me ? " That was the fulness of agony.

1 86 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
What bodily pain is not bearable when the conso
lation of the Loving Presence is within the soul?
And, when that ineffable consolation is withdrawn,
physical pain is aggravated, and the cry was rung
out of the soul's desolation. It was death upon
death. "My Father, why hast thou forsaken me?"
So cried Jesus on the cross, to give us infinite
encouragement when, at the critical times of life, we,
too, feel forsaken. He complained of the Father's
forsaking to the Father alone. But never was he
less forsaken than at that awful moment. The
spirit of the Father was never nearer to the Son
than it was then. Yet he was left alone with the
calm majesty of his glorious trust, that our poor,
sceptical solitude might be illumined by a similar
faith. The Son of Man glorified his messiahship,
not with a triumphant union with the Father on
earth, not with a chorus of hallelujahs from the
mouths of the faithful, neither with the crown of
success on his radiant brow, nor with a smile of
exultation on his dying lips ; but amid apparent
failures and undeserved shame, he died with a ring
ing cry of pain that darkened the triumph of his
enemies into a hastening doom. In contrast to that
agony is the gravity of the offence of his perse
cutors. The balance of divine justice, weighing the

THE DYING CHRIST 1 87
measureless pain of the dying Christ equally with
the guilt of the Jews, is an appalling sight, the
thought of which drowned in his heart, even at this
moment, all sense of personal injury. Suffering
melted into commiseration, death melted into for
giveness ; and, a suppliant for mercy on behalf of
those very men who put him to death, he said,
" Father, forgive them, for they know not what they
do." Can ideal forgiveness go any further? His
mother provided for, the sufferer by his side con
soled, his bodily pain fully endured, his sense of
desertion expressed, to give us the assurance that
God is never nearer to us than when we imagine he
is far away, his enemies heartily forgiven, there came
the time for the dying Christ to commend his spirit
into the hands of the Father. Let the Father who
dwelleth in every heart, declare with what response
he embraced the glorious spirit of the dying Son.
The heavens were darkened, the earth shook, all
nature was hushed, as spirit passed away into Spirit.
The figure on the cross cried, " It is finished, and
he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost."

CHAPTER XIII.
THE REIGNING CHRIST.
T N losing Jesus, as they imagined they never
would, the bewildered disciples lost everything.
Every tie that bound them to a mad, hostile, heathen
world seemed suddenly broken, every hope lost.
Alive till but yesterday, with the fulness, vividness,
pathos, and glory of his heavenly life around him,
eating, drinking, watching, weeping before them,
every scene breathing the fragrance of his gentle
figure, the whole atmosphere ringing with the echo
of his song and precept — so alive yesterday, where
was the Master now ? The women sobbed as they
prepared the spices to embalm his body, the men sat
in dumb misery before each other, stricken and help
less. Slowly, as the watches of the black dismal
night passed by, his parting sentiments, one by one,
recurred to their dull, downcast faculties. Jesus had
indeed foretold his death, but he had also foretold
his resurrection. He had, before them all, sung on
the night prior to his death, on the very scene of

THE REIGNING CHRIST 1 89
the Last Supper, the great national dirge which
opens with words of sublime mourning ; but he also
sang with pealing response the words : " I shall not
die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.
The Lord hath chastened and corrected me, but he
hath not given me over to death. Thou art my
God, and I will thank thee. Thou art my God, and
I will praise thee." A quiver of unearthly confi
dence thrilled through the frames of those lonely
men and women, as, amid their heart-broken deser
tion, the sudden hope shot into their minds that
Jesus might rise from the grave. Repeatedly had he
said this, taught it, hoped, prayed, and sung about it.
To their untutored imagination, such a hope could
have but one meaning ; but the hope was there.
They scarcely dared to breathe it to themselves ;
and it rose and sank in fear, rose and sank again,
leaving them in dubious despair, and anxious misery.
In this state of mind, before the dawn had broken
on the dismal sky, the women had left — headed by
that fiery spirit, Mary of Magdala — for the garden
of Joseph where the body of Christ lay buried.
The strange thoughts, fears, and wishes, — above all,
the overpowering sorrow that worked in them in
that dark, ghostly twilight, in that deserted, solitary
walk, — must have made them oblivious of everything

IOX) THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
until they reached the garden, — nay, perhaps the very
brink of the grave itself. When, behold their aston
ishment at finding that the ponderous stone which
covered the mouth of the grave had been rolled
away, and the entrance to the sepulchre lay open.
How, when, by whom this was done they could not
imagine ; but latent anticipations about the rise of
the Master caused a fearful palpitation of their sur
charged hearts. The simplicity and supernatural-
ness of their notions began to run through them
in cold tremor, when, lo ! in walking into the grave,
they were amazed by the discovery that the body
of the blessed Messiah was not there. The grave-
clothes were left in the empty darkness, the napkin
lay folded on the ground, everything else was as they
had arranged it when they affectionately put the
corpse in its last repose. But the body of the Lord
had departed. Whither ? Their trembling hopes,
their anxious thoughts, their trusting hearts, had
anticipated the answer. They stood transfigured,
they had scarcely the power of speech or thought
left in them. In that supernatural twilight, they
saw angel apparitions. Corroborative voices seemed
to reverberate their swelling faith. And they ran to
inform the apostles that Christ is risen.
"Christ is risen!" What infinite, inarticulate

THE REIGNING CHRIST 191
gospel in the three words! What faith, expect
ancy, consolation, and strength to those forlorn
men and women, and to millions after them !
The report spread like sunlight, and through the
silent darkness of the centuries reaches us at the
present day. Why rudely raise the veil from the
face of that sweet, simple, sacred trust which
soothed the bosoms of those stricken children of
God in their inconsolable grief ? Why expose the
tender and holy confidence of millions in every age,
who on their ideas of Christ's resurrection have
anchored the dear hope, and trust of a glorious
eternity ? If Jesus has risen to them, much more
hath he risen to us. "Flesh and blood," says
Paul, "cannot inherit the kingdom of heaven."
But doth not the spirit rise to the Spirit? Flesh
and blood are not more real than the spirit. It
is the incorruptible that putteth on incorruptibility.
The spirit of Jesus hath risen, and reigneth.
Christ reigns. As the law of the spirit of heav
enly life, he reigns in the bosom of every believer.
He reigns in some as the spirit of trustful, speech
less suffering, in others as the endless struggle and
devotion to a life-work that seems far from comple
tion. Christ reigns in some as the spirit of agony
for others' sins. He sits as a crown of thorns on the

I92 THE ORIENTAL CHRIST
brow of those who have sold themselves at the altar
of brotherly love. In others, he reigns as the hard-
won spirit of forgiveness for injuries that have
sapped the foundation of life, injuries that are given
as the reward of life-long goodness and service, that
bring death where life should be. As the calm
spirit of trust that reposes itself in all-sufficing Prov
idence, that labors hard to-day and thinks not of the
provisions of the morrow, as consecrated poverty
that is sure of its daily bread, Christ reigns in us.
Christ reigns as the recognizer of divine humanity
in the fallen, the low, and despicable, as the healer
of the unhappy, unclean, and the sore diseased.
Reigns he not in the sweet humanity that goes forth
to seek and save its kin in every land and clime, to
teach and preach, and raise and reclaim, to weep and
watch, and give repose ? Christ reigns as matchless
strength in the character that scorns vileness and
seduction, lust and worldliness, and the power of
evil in men and women put together. He reigns as
sweet patience and sober reason amid the laws and
orders of the world, as the spirit of submission and
loyalty he reigns in peace in the kingdoms of the
world. As the secret of ceaseless prayer, as the real
ized result of fervid devotions, Christ holds his sway
in those who pray to God in his spirit. As tender

THE REIGNING CHRIST I93
sympathy with every weakness and unrest, every
poverty, suffering, and unheeded complaint, Christ
reigns in his disciples. He reigns as an approving
smile in our sympathy with every good and right
eous cause, and in the ready tear for unremedied
and unaccountable pain. Reigns he not in every
minister as the vow of service unto death, — as
painstaking, self-denying anxiety for others' good, as
all-surrendering labor in the household of God ?
Christ reigns in the individual who feebly watches
his footprints in the tangled mazes of life. He
reigns in the community that is bound together in
his name. As divine humanity, and the Son of God,
he reigns gloriously around us in the New Dispen
sation.

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