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DIVINITY SCHOOL
TROWBRIDGE LIBRARY

GIFT OF
Prof. Bo land H. Bainton

THE INCARNATE SAVIOUR

FROM REVIEWS AND OPINIONS OF
THE FIRST EDITION

The late Canon Liddon. — "It commands my warm sympathy
and admiration. I rej'oice in the circulation of such a
book, which I trust will be the widest possible."
Rev. Professor Sanday, D.D. — "There was quite room for such
a volume. It contains a great deal of thought, often pene
trating and always delicate, and pleasingly expressed.
The subject has been very carefully studied, and the
treatment will, I believe, furnish much suggestive matter
both to readers and preachers."
Baptist Magazine. — "A truly valuable contribution to the litera
ture of ' the life of Christ.'"
Methodist Recorder. — "Cautiously and forcibly written — the
production of a close thinker, and of a man who knows
how to impress his thinkings upon others. It is a boon
to the Church to have such a volume as this. "
Evangelical Magazine. — "Singularly readable and admirably
planned. It embraces a vast range of subjects, which are
tersely, eloquently, and comprehensively treated."

THE
INCARNATE SAVIOUR

A LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST

BY THE REV.

W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D.
EDITOR OF "THE EXPOSITOR" "THE EXPOSITOR'S BIBLE"
ETC.

NEW AND CHEAPER EDITION

EDINBURGH
T. & T. CLARK, 38 GEORGE STREET
1897

FS<50

PRINTED BY MORRISON AND GIBB LIMITED
FOR
T. & T. CLARK, EDINBURGH
J.ONDON : SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, HAMILTON, KENT, AND CO. LIMITED
NEW YORK : CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
TORONTO I THE WILLARD TRACT DEPOSITORY

PREFACE TO NEW EDITION

IN the preface to the first edition" of this little book
I used the following words: — "Should this book
meet with any acceptance, I hope at some future date
to follow it with another on the 'Theology of Christ.'
Many who in this age of unsettled opinions are unable
to acquiesce in traditional systems, profess themselves
ready to accept a theology which can fairly be made
out from the life and teachings of Christ, apart from
all other writings ; and such might welcome an honest
attempt to discover this." Circumstances prevented
the fulfilment of this intention. But since then, as is
well known, the subject has been pursued with great
zest and ability. Unfortunately, as it seems to me,
the main object of most books in which the study has
been pursued, has been to disengage from the Gospels
a purer Christianity than that which is presented in
the New Testament as a whole. In other words, an
attempt has been made to invalidate the teaching of the
apostles. What I proposed was an attempt to show
that the germs of the whole teaching of the Epistles
were to be found in the words and works of Christ, taken
as we find them in the four Gospels. As a rule, recent

vi Preface
writers on the teaching of Jesus do not start from this
basis. They do not accept the Gospels as they stand,
but subject them to critical examination, and sift out
the material they believe to be trustworthy. From
this material they construe the teaching. They almost
invariably glory in the fact that the result is different
from the teaching found in the Epistles, and from the
accepted doctrine of the Catholic Church.
(i) This process of winnowing is, no doubt, necessary
from their point of view. The results, however, vary,
as might be expected. An extreme writer like Havet
does not even see any evidence that Jesus asserted
Himself to be the Messiah, or made special enemies
of the Pharisees, or denounced them in the words
attributed to Him in the Gospels. All these assertions,
as we find them in the Gospels now, were incorporated
by a later generation ; in fact, Havet excises so freely,
that in the end he says that so little remains that it
may be said to be " the soul of Jesus that escapes us."
Others, who do not go nearly so far, apply subjective
tests, and obtain a result that satisfies them by a
liberal use of the knife to passages that controvert
their opinions. Yet they strongly object to subjective
reasoning on the other side. Take, for example, those
passages in the Fourth Gospel, that have touched as
no other words have ever done the very heart of
Christendom, and see how they are treated. Yet it
is with these chapters in view, that men uncon
sciously argue — "If these are not the words of Jesus,
then a greater than Jesus is here."

Preface

vn

(2) It is necessary to consider the relation of Christ's
Word to His work. Did He come primarily to deliver
a message to the world, or did He come in order that
there might be a message to be delivered? Is the
centre of His manifestation to be found in the gracious
words that proceeded out of His mouth, or in His
dying for the world that He might take its sins away?
(3) Admitting, as many will not admit, that our
Lord spoke the promise of the Holy Ghost, was that
promise fulfilled to the apostles, or was it not ? If
it was fulfilled to the apostles, all the questions about
the relation between apostolic teaching and the teach
ing of our Lord become strangely irrelevant, if not even
positively blasphemous. For the apostles claimed not
to be delivering their own message, but to possess
the mind of Christ. They claimed to be witnesses of
Christ, and to have received the Holy Ghost. The
Holy Ghost, according to the promise of Jesus, had
led them into all the truth. Jesus Himself, through
His Holy Spirit, had interpreted His life and death,
and though they had known Christ after the flesh,
yet from henceforth they knew Him so no more. To
them He was the Lord of Glory. They were in direct
communication with Him, and therefore their words
revealed Christ. Their words were the continuation
and completion of the Gospels. And so it has been
steadfastly held that Christianity is what our Lord
delivered to the apostles, and what the apostles
delivered to the Church. If this is not so, then how
has Christ's promise of the Spirit been fulfilled ?

viii Preface
(4) It might be answered that essentially the
message of the apostles is the message of Christ,
but that in their words there is a larger element of
weakness and fallibility ; or it might even be said
that in Christ's words there was no such element as
existed in theirs. But the real question is not whether
in every detail of their letters the apostles were
right, but whether they were right in the great
doctrines with which the Epistles are threaded through
and through, as a leaf is threaded by its fibres. If
these doctrines are true, and heartily accepted as the
mind of Christ, there is very little to argue about.
If they are not true, then the apostles corrupted
Christianity. And this is the view to which much
teaching of the present day is drifting.
(5) Is it possible to maintain, in view of the con
ditions of the Incarnation, that the words spoken by
our Lord in the flesh are so incomparably raised above
the words He afterwards spoke by His Holy Spirit,
that the former cannot be placed on the same platform
with the later ? Some writers are to be commended so
far for their sense of the supremacy of Jesus — a feeling
which has led one or two of them to reject the doctrine
of the Kenosis in every form. When they come to
what seems incongruous with their conception of Christ,
they are apt to pass it by as no part of the original
tradition. But does the criticism which impugns the
authority of the apostles stop short at last of impugning
the authority of Christ ? By such a writer as M. Havet
we find Christ accused of severity and harshness, of

Preface ix
violence and imperiousness, of chagrin and bitter J
melancholy. We find it said that the faith of Jesus
was a very narrow one, that He was no thinker, that
He never brought light to dissipate the shadow, that
He was simply a Jew ordained and exalted, "born in
a country which nourished an independent and undocile /
spirit ; one who obeyed His own inspirations more
willingly than He obeyed authority ; a man of nature
rather than of the schools, made to compromise the
Sanhedrin of Jerusalem and to ruin Himself, but made
also to move the souls of men."
It will be seen, I venture to think, as time goes on,
that the exaltation of the Christianity of the Gospels
above that of the Epistles is ultimately fatal to Chris
tianity in every form. As Dr. Denney says: "It is
only in the Church that the Gospels have ever been
appreciated or understood, and they have never been
appreciated or understood as in any kind of rivalry or
contrast to the New Testament revelation of Christ as
a whole. The Spirit which created and which lives in
the Church, reveals Christ in Gospel and Epistle alike,
and without this revelation the Gospels themselves, the
very words of Jesus, reveal nothing."
Hampstead, September 1897.

"Many soul longings
Have I had in my day.
Now the hope of my life
Is that tree of triumph,
Ever to turn to.
Mighty my will is
To cleave to the Crucified ;
My claim for shelter
Is — right to the Rood."
C<edmon's Cross Lay.

I. The Birth and Infancy of Christ
II. Jesus as a Child
III. The Silent Years of Jesus
IV. John Baptist and the Baptism of Christ
V. The Temptation of Christ
VI. The Object and Claims of Christ
VII. The Miracles of Christ
VIII. The Teaching of Christ
IX. The Apostles of Christ
X. Christ's Intercourse with God
XI. Christ dealing with Inquirers
XII. Christ's Replies to His Enemies
XIII. Christ's Toil for Men .
XIV. The Transfiguration of Christ
XV. The Prevision of the Cross
XVI. Judas Iscariot ....
XVII." Gethsemane ....
XVIII. The Trial of Christ .

9
2337
5i6.S7991
in125137 'S3169
179 191
203
21S227239

Contents

XIX. The Seven Words on the Cross
XX. The Burial and Resurrection of Christ
XXI. The Resurrection Life of Christ
XXII. The Ascension of Christ
XXIII. The Character of Christ
Notes .....

253 267
283 295
3°73'9

THE INCARNATE SAVIOUR

INTRODUCTION
ALTHOUGH it is true that there will always be
fresh occasion for writing the life of Christ,
the subject being exhaustless, and the ceaseless gravi
tation of human thought thereto one of the most
impressive proofs of the divinity of the original, yet I
should not have thought of writing this book merely
as another narration and grouping of the outward
facts. The scenery of Palestine, the customs of the
changeless East, the idioms of Oriental speech, the
literary phenomena of the gospel history, and the
modes of contemporary thought, — these have been set
forth lately with the highest skill and learning. There
is a place, doubtless, for all these things, for Jesus
Christ belongs to human history. But He is living still,
and the events of His life are not separated from us by
eighteen hundred years of the sorrowful experiences of
humanity. While they have their place in time, they
yet transcend it, and are of everlasting significance.
To that inward significance we turn our thoughts in
the following pages, and it was at first designed to call

2 The Incarnate Saviour
the volume "The Inner Life of Christ." The objec
tion to this was, that the inner life of Christ cannot be
satisfactorily treated of without to a certain extent
narrating its outward course. But the narrative here
will not be sufficient for those who are not already
familiar with it. It is given only in so far as it seems
to bear upon the propositions which this work aims to
illustrate. Before the life of Christ there is prophecy,
and after it explanation, — both prophecy and explana
tion being inspired. At present we do not deal directly
either with what goes before or comes after; but it is
believed that the propositions advanced are in harmony
with the words of prophets and apostles.
We endeavour to illustrate three main propositions
in the following pages. First, Jesus Christ was God
and man in two distinct natures and one person. His
humanity was true and proper, but through it we see
continually gleams of the Godhead. As the Apostle
John says in the preface to his Gospel, "The Word
was made flesh, and dwelt among us, and we beheld
His glory." This glory, as we understand the words,
was not merely beheld by the apostle in such great
and signal manifestations as the transfiguration, the
resurrection, and the ascension, — it was beheld more
or less clearly even in the lowly actions and the
ordinary tenor of His common life and speech. For
example, we are told that after one of His miracles
the disciples put the question, "What manner of man
is this?" That He was a man they never doubted,
yet ever and anon there was something which suggested
He was more. The look in His face, the tone in His
voice, the work of His hands, constantly startled them

Introduction 3
— made their hearts burn, and called them to reverence
and homage. He was near them, and yet there was
an infinite separateness ; between the last touch of
familiarity and Himself, a look, a tone parted them.
When they began to feel almost on a level with Him,
some question would humble them, and open the depths
of their ignorance ; some word coming out of eternity
made them wonder if, after all, He was the son of
Joseph. To use a familiar illustration, — A company of
men are gathered together talking without restraint,
and amongst them one higher than themselves is
introduced disguised. The disguise outwardly is com
plete, and for a time undetected. It is not long, however,
before it is penetrated. And what discovers it is little
— a tone, a glance may be enough. Even this might
prompt the question, " What manner of man is this ? "
We shall find illustrations innumerable as we pro
ceed. In His first miracle He made wine, and yet it
was not the wine which other men made ; neither was
it made after their measure. The master of the feast,
mistakenly speaking to the bridegroom, gave all uncon
sciously the true keynote to the life of Christ, when
he said, Every man — but thou. Every man — that is
one side, that is the way of humanity; but thou —
everything that thou doest, though the same, is yet
infinitely different. And to take one incident from
the end, we read that before His death He washed
the disciples' feet. He took the towel, and stooped
low to this mean act of service. But side by side
with this humbling of Himself we see the light of His
divine glory, for He took the towel knowing that He
was from God, and going to God. In the supreme

4 The Incarnate Saviour
exaltation of His consciousness of divinity He bent to
lowly service, and thus glorified it for ever ; and, were
our discernment deep and clear enough, we should see
about every act Christ did, and every word Christ
spoke, some mark of divinity, some subtle property
that does not and cannot belong to man. We go over
the beautiful story of His humanity, saying at every
point, " Lo ! this is our God ; we have waited for Him,
and He will save us." Only our blindness will keep
us from seeing in every incident, in every word, the
broad arrow of the kingdom of heaven, the image and
superscription of the Son of God.
Secondly, we further aim at showing that Jesus
Christ came to suffer in order that He might save.
His life did not begin at Bethlehem, — He was from
eternity. He came into the world with His life-plan
foretold, and moved in obedience to old and sacred
words of prophecy. His purpose did not gradually
lay hold of Him, — it was a complete thought from the
first. Many men grope from littleness step by step
into greatness ; but He came into the world with a
plan He never amended. To us each day comes as a
new surprise, and we are at the mercy of events. To
Him nothing came suddenly, and all the seemingly
unrelated events of His life go together to form one
vast unity. We see this most impressively when we
consider that He came to die. Other men have their
lives interrupted by death, — other men begin their
careers of reform with hopes of victory and coronation,
and though death often comes to destroy their hopes,
it is a death all undreamt of in their earlier hours.

Introduction 5
But to this man death, though it came with all the
accompaniments of horror, was not a surprise nor an
interruption, but the very work which He came into
the world to do. He foretold His own death in all its
circumstances. The statement may be passed over
unthinkingly, but the more we ponder it, the more
its mystery will grow upon us. It is the tritest of
commonplaces that no man knows the day of his own
death. Even when it is clear that life is near its close,
the most experienced skill will be baffled in trying to
foretell the hour of its end. What shall we say of Him
who from the beginning saw clear before Him that
cross upon which He was to be lifted up, and who,
instead of mourning over that cross as the symbol of
the extinction and defeat of all His hopes and works,
gloried in it as the sign under which He was to conquer
and to lead His followers on to victory.
We shall show in the following pages how the
shadow of this cross lies over all His life, — how it is
impossible to understand that life apart from it, — how
it touches the very cradle of His childhood, and is never
anywhere absent, — how His whole progress through
life is a progress to the cross. "Where," runs an old
Rabbinical saying, — "where is the true Messiah to be
found? Sitting at the gate of Rome" (the symbol
of the Gentile world) "among the lepers, binding and
bandaging His wounds." The sign -manual of the
Messiah is that He should suffer.
Thirdly, we endeavour to show the sweet and per
fect accord of Christ's words, works, and thoughts.
We take His teaching, and ask whether He lived as

6 The Incarnate Saviour
He preached. We take His works, and ask whether
they were the mere tricks and feats of a deft conjurer,
or whether they were true expressions of His soul.
We follow Him into the solitude of the mountain, the
silence of the garden, the hush of the upper chamber,
and listen to His communings with God. We watch
all His words, and mark those rare and precious
revealings of His inner nature, which come from Him
now in a strain of sorrow, and again in the confidence
of sympathy. Into these windows we gaze to see
the working of His heart. Most reverently, yet most
jealously, we scrutinise all, and we come to see in the
end that all is of one piece. Every other life has notes
that ring harshly. Every disguise men have ever worn
has sometimes slipped off; every mask has sometimes
shown the truth behind it. But He could have worn
no disguise, for with all our scrutiny we must confess
that we cannot convince Him of sin, and that only one
key will open the lock of His life. In other words,
what He was in any one place at any one time, He was
always and everywhere ; so that, though the mirror of
the gospel history be broken in a thousand fragments,
every fragment yields the same image of the God-man,
the Redeemer of the world.
These points, though not minutely insisted upon,
have been borne in mind all through; and although
this book assumes the truth of the gospel history, and
is thus not directly addressed to unbelievers, yet there
is an argument, and that of the most weighty kind,
contained in the very harmony and simplicity of the
character traced in it. Whence came he? What
imagination gave Him birth? Did He rise out of

Introduction 7
the disharmony of a Jewish peasant household ? Was
He the product of that Eastern soil ? or was He what
He claimed to be ? Those who do not admit the true
doctrine of His person and work, are continually
brought to a standstill by astonishment. We, too,
marvel, but with us the mysteries are not many.
They have been reduced to one, — God was manifest
in the flesh. "Rabbi, thou art the Son of God;
Rabbi, thou art the King of Israel."

I
THE BIRTH AND INFANCY OF
CHRIST

" SEnto us a ffitjilo is born ; unta us a .Son is giben.1

A child He was, and had not learned to speak,
Who with His words the world before did make ;
His mother's arms Him bare, He was so weak,
Who with His hands the vault of heaven could shake.
See how small room my infant Lord doth take,
Whom all the world is not enough to hold ;
Who of His years as of His age hath told,
Never such age so young, never a child so old."
Giles Fletcher.

CHAPTER I
THE BIRTH AND INFANCY OF CHRIST
A VILLAGE maiden, of whose previous history we
know almost nothing, had the homely tenor of
her life one day strangely broken by the descent of the
angel Gabriel, and his salutation, "Hail, thou that art
highly favoured, the Lord is with thee : blessed art
thou among women." In the midst of her troubled
surmisings as to what the meaning of this salutation
might be, he announced to her that she was to bear the
promised Messiah. She was thus called to the most
awful charge ever laid upon a mortal creature. The call
was as overwhelming as it was sudden and startling.
From the privacy of her obscure life, she was summoned
to be the instrument of the fulfilment of God's greatest
purpose and the accomplishment of God's most amazing
work. She was to be the last link in the long chain
of chosen souls through whom God's purpose had
advanced, and in her it was to be consummated. In
her, man and God were to be brought into the most
inexpressible closeness. She was to be the human
mother of the eternal Son.1 What consequences were
to be involved in this election none could dream ; only,
1 See Church's Human Life, p. 172.
11

12 The Incarnate Saviour
as the call was great, there must be much to endure, to
surrender, to anticipate. It is idle to try to imagine
what the state of the soul of the maiden must have
been when she heard of the place she was to fill in the
eternal plan. What tides of fear and rapture, of shame
and wonder, swept through the gentle heart we cannot
even dream ; but her answer was one of profound and
humble obedience. She was betrothed to Joseph, and
standing on the brink of a new life at a time when, if
ever, the heart flutters on widespread wings of hope
and fear, and excited words rush to the lips ; but before
the holy angel, and with her heart filled by his great
message, there was neither dejection nor exultation.
He came and went, and she remained in her sweet
humility waiting the fulfilment of the word of the Lord.
That her character was singularly pure, simple, and
religious, is quite apparent. The very fact of her being
chosen to be the mother of the Messiah, is proof in
itself of that. But it appears also from the uncon
sciousness and the gentle greatness of trust with which
she accepted the overwhelming honour that was put
upon her. In the thought of God's presence with her,
in the thought of accomplishing His purpose, all hopes
and fears and loves of her own little life went clean out
of sight. The Lord had magnified her, she was His
handmaid ; He might do with her in all things as He
willed. We read next of her going to Elizabeth, who was
soon to obtain the dearest wish of a Jewish woman, in
having a son. When she stood on the threshold of her
kinswoman's house, she was received by a joyful saluta
tion, which confirmed to her the angel's message.

The Birth and Infancy of Christ 13
Elizabeth's words of blessing went beyond those of the
angel. Being filled with the Holy Ghost, she said,
"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the
fruit of thy womb." Thus the angel's message was
confirmed by human voice. What she had hidden in
the deep silence of her trustful heart, what she had
believed, and yet trembled to believe, was made real by
another, and that repressed still spirit broke forth in
words of song, in which she poured out her praise to
God who had shown His mercy to the humble. "All
generations," she sings in her gladness, "shall call me
blessed," — a true woman's thought of happiness —
blessedness in blessing others. Her song is the last
word of the old covenant and the opening utterance of
the gospel. While retaining the form and colour of
the old Hebrew poetry, it quivers tremulously with the
great and partially disclosed revelation about to be
given. The hymn, like others that stand near it, could
not have been sung earlier or later. "Such sunlit
mountain-tops in the distance, with such mists over the
paths that lead to them, such a firm grasp of salvation
and redemption, such a clear view of its character, and
such silence as to its details, can only belong to the
thin border line of a period neither quite Jewish nor
quite Christian. A little less, and these songs would
be purely Jewish ; a little more, and they would be
purely Christian."1 After this song was sung, she
returned to feel the beginning of the pain and sorrow
that were to come along with the great honour which
was hers by the divine election. Joseph was minded to
1 See Bishop Alexander's Leading Ideas of the Gospels, p. 107 ;
and Mill's Pantheistic Theories of the Gospels.

14 The Incarnate Saviour
put her away privily. Angels in heaven, sisters on
earth, had been singing her praise, and how sharp the
contrast must have been of the suspicion under which
she now fell of vulgar sin ! The very tenderness of her
betrothed husband must have made the wound sharper,
but whatever that wound was, we hear nothing of it.
She yielded herself to the stream of the divine will, and
was guided on by the current, nor did she depart at all
from the spirit in which she first received her com
mission : "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it
unto me according to Thy word."
Her child was conceived of the Holy Ghost. "A
virgin," it had been written of old, shall conceive and
bear a son." This miraculous conception must form
the beginning of any true estimate of the life of Christ.
Either it is fact or falsehood. If it be falsehood, let it
be utterly repudiated as a baseless and blasphemous
superstition ; if it be truth, let us recognise it as a
truth of such importance that it is quite idle to study
the life of Christ without taking it into constant ac
count. For, first, it signifies that Jesus Christ was
more than man. He was the child of the Holy Ghost.
His pedigree is given to us, and in the long line of
his ancestors we mark the famous, the unknown, the
infamous, bright and dark commingled, but none of
all escaped the universal taint of sin. For all those
years the tyrannical tradition of evil had never been
broken. The sin of our first parents had passed on
from generation to generation, and each of the millions
of mankind had to say, "Behold, I was shapen in
iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me." Each
fulfilled in his life all too truly the sad promise of his

The Birth and Infancy of Christ 15
birth. How was this tradition to be broken, and yet
broken by one who really belonged to the race ? The
instinct of man has foreshadowed the truth. Stories of
a virgin birth, here and there discernible in Paganism,
show the deep intuition of the human race which was
realised in Christ. He came into the world to fight
with sin ; He came to redeem a race steeped in a
terrible heritage of evil, and that He might redeem
them He Himself was free from the evil. Besides,
His immaculate conception points to the fact that He
did not come into being then, but that He was merely
manifested. He had existed from eternity, and now
entered into the sphere of sense and time. How could
the entrance of such a being be marked ? It was
marked by the suspension of the law of nature. He
entered into the world a true man, and yet by a way
never used before or since.
Again, this child was born into the world with a
distinct mission. Before He came He was named by
the angel, "Jesus." His name was called Jesus, be
cause He was to save His people from their sins.
When He lay in the cradle His destiny was written
upon His brow. Other children are mysterious enigmas,
to be solved by the progress of time. It is a bold thing
to foretell any child's future. Children of the rich have
died poor ; children of many prayers have become
earthly, sensual, devilish. But this child was born to
fight with sin, and to conquer it. All that He spoke,
all that He did, was to relate to sin. He thus chal
lenges our intensest scrutiny from the first; and,
knowing the issues that depend on His behaviour, we

1 6 The Incarnate Saviour
may well gaze on it with an agony of earnestness.
For He must not only come untainted into the world,
but, from the time He draws His first breath to the
hour when He commends His spirit to the Father, He
must resist every assault, escape every pollution of
evil. One evil thought dimming but for an instant
the crystal clearness of His soul, and all is lost. The
Saviour from sin must be in all battles, great and
small, the conqueror of sin.
We read that Joseph and Mary were summoned, by
an edict of the Emperor Augustus, to travel the hundred
miles that lay between Nazareth and Bethlehem, to
register their names. Though peasants, they were of
the city of David, and belonged to Bethlehem. When
they reached the inn, after their long journey, they
found it crowded, and were fain to take refuge in a
corner of the inn yard that would otherwise have been
occupied by beasts. At the period of her life when
even poverty strains itself to provide its utmost of
comfort and even luxury, in her hour of trial, in the
midst of strangers, and without womanly hand to help
her, the virgin mother brought forth her first-born son,
and wrapped him in swaddling-clothes, and laid him
in a manger, because there was no room for them in
the inn. The noise and bustle of the world surged on
around them, and none but Joseph and Mary knew
that the Messiah, the Saviour of the world, had been
born of the carpenter's bride.
But the revelation was soon given from heaven, and
given to some humble, simple souls, spiritually akin to
the virgin. The angels told the glad tidings of great
joy to a company of shepherds on the plains of Bethie-

The Birth and Infancy of Christ 17
hem : "Unto you is born this day, in the city of David,
a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall
be the sign unto you ; You shall find him wrapped in
swaddling-clothes, and lying in a manger." The deep
token of the divine presence was not a glory in earth
or heaven, — -for God's thoughts are not as our thoughts,
— it was a helpless babs and a manger cradle. Nor is
this out of analogy with the rest of His life. He came
to identify Himself with the race of simple, fallen,
straying men. He came to put on our nature, not in
its ornaments or embellishments of rank, or wealth, or
culture, but as it was in its poorest and humblest ex
perience and conditions. So it was fit that He should
come in such a fashion that none are poorer, none
humbler, none less noble after the flesh than He. The
earthly conditions were of the lowliest. It was the
mark of the Messiah that they should be so ; yet
through all the lowliness the glory shines.
For to that humble cradle and that young child
there came not the shepherds alone. It had been
foretold that kings should come to the brightness of
His rising, and this word was fulfilled in the coming
of the wise men from the East. They toiled across
the desert to adore Him. Their homes were probably
in Parthia, and they belonged to the caste of Magi,
who represented the wisdom of the Eastern world.
They were looking for a deliverer, as men were at the
time, from the East, and, like all sincere and humble
seekers, they were favoured with divine guidance.
They were led across the long space by a star, which
they gazed at and followed day by day and night by
night, till at length they found themselves in the sacred

1 8 The Incarnate Saviour
city Jerusalem. From Jerusalem they were guided to
Bethlehem by a star, which went before them till it
came and stood where the young child was. In their
trustful simplicity they were not repelled by the ap
parent lowliness of the King. They believed in Him
and worshipped Him, and gave gold, frankincense,
and myrrh. They fell down, not examining their Lord
curiously as an intellectual puzzle, but feeling that
they had reached in Him the very centre and source of
being. He had come, not only to be the glory of His
people Israel, but to be a light to lighten the Gentiles,
and these Gentiles who came to Him in His cradle were
first of all the long line of the nations that were to
receive His illumination.
These righteous, waiting souls are the type of those
who, true to the light they have, and seeking more, are
not denied the boon. Like Cornelius and the eunuch
of Ethiopia, they were, as it has been phrased, flowing
gently along in the channel where they were overtaken
by the waters of grace.1 Those who follow the lights,
the stars, of God, find that they brighten, and do not
cease till they have guided to the Sun.
They are also a type of the kings, not of earthly
descent only, but as well of mind and heart, who are
drawn to Christ. Jesus Christ is the true "Master
of those who know " ; ano/ if He has found many of
His best and steadiest friends amongst the humble, as
He did among the shepherds, He has drawn also from
the wisest and the most noble. Poetry, eloquence, learn
ing, have been devoted to His service ^nor has He
missed some tribute of the precious things of the earth.
1 J. E. B. in The Patience of Hope.

The Birth and Infancy of Christ 19
The gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and more especially
the undoubting, simple worship, were a grateful earnest
of the offerings to be.
On the eighth day after His birth He was circum
cised, — made under the law, entering into the covenant,
and having His name inscribed in the roll of the nation.
Soon after, He was taken to the Temple. There was
nothing to a superficial observer in the sight ; but when
the Lord of the Temple suddenly came to His house,
He did not miss a welcome. Poor people have brought
the offering of pigeons and doves. An old man and
woman, who seem to have overpassed the period of
useful service, and to be fit only for death, come forward
to receive Him. This is all the world sees, and it
negligently passes on. But to the eye of faith there
is here the coming of the rightful heir, in disguise of a
stranger, to visit His own house ; and His aged saints
have been waiting long to receive Him. Simeon, the
aged man, had received the promise that he should not
see death till he had seen the Lord's Christ. If he
received the promise early, what a strange, charmed,
expectant life he must have led ! He could not die, no
matter what danger threatened, till Christ had been
seen. But the years passed, and his hair grew white,
and his step tottered as he entered the Temple, and his
companions dropped at his side, and he wondered why
he was so long kept out of heaven.1 Anna, the pro
phetess, had dwelt in the Temple nearly all her long
life, departing not from it night nor day. One thing
1 It is u. fair inference from the narrative that Simeon was an
aged man.

20 The Incarnate Saviour
she had desired of the Lord, that did she seek after, that
she might dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of
her life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to
inquire in His Temple ; and she did behold the beauty
of the Lord at last, when the young child was carried
in. It was revealed to the aged pair that this was the
Messiah, and they lifted up their voices in praise, and
felt that now they had nothing to do but die. Happy
souls that saw Him thus, and passed away before the
years of trial came ! — happy souls, whose dream was
not broken by the storm and tragedy of His later life !
Taught by the Spirit, they may have had a deeper and
truer fore-glimpse of Christ than many ; yet to foresee
and to bear are different things, even when the sight is
clearest ; and they may well be counted happy, who,
with the assurance that Christ was come,, and fresh
from the joy of holding Him, fell asleep, "spared the
trial of finding Him at last unfold to a form at vari
ance with their dream." Others were to live, and
the sword was to pierce their hearts : they died un-
wounded. "A sword," said Simeon, speaking by the Holy
Ghost to the young mother, "shall pierce through
thy own soul also." It was not long before she felt
its keenness. Herod, the prince of the country, then
in his old age, tortured with disease and remorse, had
heard that Jesus was born, and sought to find from
the Magi where He was. Warned of God in a dream,
they did not return to tell him, and in his fury he
sent his soldiers to murder the babes in Bethlehem,
but Jesus was gone. He had been taken down into

The Birth and Infancy of Christ 21
Egypt by the command of God, to be there until
the danger was over.
We see already, then, the mingled humility and
greatness of Christ, His Godhead, and His manhood ;
we see already the shadow of the cross lying over the
cradle. We see Him set for the fall as well as for
the rising of men, and for a sign that shall be spoken
against. He comes into the world as God emptied of
His glory so far as that could be, and yet with His
divinity clearly manifested. The wise men adore Him ;
He has to flee into Egypt. He comes to suffer, and
the suffering begins with His life. The chastisement
of our peace is upon Him from the very first.
The flight to Egypt not only saved Him from the
murderous malice of Herod, but also served to secure
the true human development of His life. If He had
remained in an atmosphere of portent and wonder,
a true natural growth would have been impossible ;
but by this break, whatever there was of wonder or
surmise had time to die down, and, when Joseph after
Herod's death returned to dwell at Nazareth, all was
forgotten, and He grew up in the humble home as the
child of the carpenter and his wife. 1
This is not the mere history of the past ; it touches
us livingly. A mediaeval preacher2 begins a sermon
from the text, "Unto us a Child is born; unto us a
Son is given": — "And thus it is that we know Him
to be born, because He is given. For His birth would
avail us nothing unless He were also our own ; and He
would in vain be made the Son of man unless it were
given to us to become the sons of God. Behold how
1 See Note A. 2 Guaric.

22 The Incarnate Saviour
Jesus is offered to us; hasten to meet Him; stretch
forth your hands, make ready your affections, prove
your devotion by acts as well as words." The kingdom
of heaven could not be set up among men without
affecting profoundly and radically their whole circum
stances. Since He came, and spoke, and died, the
world has had to reckon with a new agent, that is to
disturb as well as calm, to cast down as well as raise.
Joseph and Mary are disquieted ; Herod trembles on
his throne ; the babes of Bethlehem die, and the air is
rent with their mothers' cries. Such are the pre-
figurations of the revolution made in the world by the
coming of Jesus Christ.

II
JESUS AS A CHILD

23

Jf fjabc more understanding than all mo. teachers, for thrj tcstt*
monies are mg metittation. If tmierstanti mote than the ancients,
because I keep tftg precepts."

"Good father,
Which of the angels do they miss in heaven ?
Ofttimes at mass I press him close, and tremble,
To the sweet voices, lest at ' in excelsis '
He should remember, and go back."
Sydney Dobell.

CHAPTER II

JESUS AS A CHILD

THE records of Christ's childhood are tantalisingly
brief, and the efforts which have been made to
supplement them are useful mainly as a foil to them,
showing how unequal is the human imagination to
such a task. Jesus grew up in a humble home. He
shared the lot of His reputed father Joseph and His
mother Mary. They dwelt in Nazareth, an obscure
and petty village, inhabited by a wild and rough
people. We have already traced faintly the beauties
of the character of Mary, and Joseph in his humility
and righteousness was a fit husband to such a wife.
There were other inmates in the home, — Jesus had
brothers and sisters. He grew up, therefore, under
the most healthy influences. In a soft atmosphere of
love He received the nurture and admonition of the
Lord. He was not learned, — not a proficient in the
studies of the Scribes. But the Old Testament was
familiar to Him ; He knew it in Hebrew, as we find
from His after quotations. The language which He
spoke was either Aramaic, a provincial and north
country dialect, or Greek, the language of education,
and the vehicle of the greatest uninspired thought of
25

26 The Incarnate Saviour
the world. And although Nazareth was so little
favoured in its inhabitants, it was a place favoured
with the choicest influences of nature. There is no
place in Palestine even yet that is haunted by flowers
as Nazareth is. It lies in a dell surrounded by hills,
and one hill, of some five hundred feet high above
the village, gives one of the most magnificent spec
tacles in the world, — a spectacle on which the eyes
of Jesus must often have rested with rapture. We
may suppose also that Joseph taught his reputed son
the rudiments of his trade, and thus the quiet years
wore on.
Jesus Christ might have come into the world as a
man full grown, but He condescended to come as a
child, and to undergo the endearing changes by which
the infant passes into a child, the child into a youth,
and the youth into a man. There was in Him a
changeless element that was divinely faultless, but
there was also a changing element by which He was
developed. As has been remarked, we have no stories
of His precocity, and the imagination of man has failed
to conceive any that can be accepted as even possible.
An acute thinker has observed that our anxiety to have
anecdotes of the childhood of great men, rises from our
desire to be confirmed in the belief that great achieve
ments come from great gifts, and are not possible
except to those who have been exceptionally endowed
from the beginning. However that may be, we are
told nothing of the childhood of Jesus, save the incident
we are now to consider. He grew in knowledge, His
knowledge not being of many books, but of one book.

Jesus as a Child 27
He also grew in wisdom, a very different thing from
knowledge. "Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one,
Have ofttimes no connection : knowledge dwells
In heads replete with thoughts of other men ;
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
Knowledge, — a rude, unprofitable mass,
The mere materials with which wisdom builds, —
Till smoothed and squared, and fitted to its place,
Does but encumber when it should enrich.
Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much ;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more."1
Thus the days passed, and found Him increasingly in
favour with God and man.
When He was twelve years of age, the sole recorded
incident of His childhood occurred. His parents went
up to the Temple. They left their homes to go to
Jerusalem and offer the paschal sacrifice. They had no
fear to leave all behind, for enemies were kept from the
land while they were away. Neither were they afraid of
Archelaus, in spite of the memories of the murderous
intent of Herod. They resolved to go, and to take
Jesus with them. Women were not actually bound to
go, but devout women like Hannah and Mary would
count it a privilege and not a burden, and would be all
the more willing to render the service because it was
not actually enjoined.
We can perhaps conceive something of the feelings
of Jesus in view of the feast. He had been brought up
in that humble village; His view of human nature,
although clear, would be restricted, and there would be
1 Cowper.

28 The Incarnate Saviour
in Him a noble curiosity to see human life in a great
centre. His mind was just opening, far from being
dulled as yet to the wonders and the great surprises of
living ; and we may conceive how this child would
anticipate the sight of men, — the sight of places with
whose history He had been long familiar, and, above
all, the sight of that Temple which was the house of
God. At twelve, like other Jewish boys at the same
age, He entered on a new division of life. He became
a child of the precept, and, after being examined in
the sacred books, was bound to a man's obedience of
the law.
We are able to follow the pilgrims in imagination.
Their road was haunted by wild beasts and banditti.
For defence they kept together, and as they journeyed
they sang, their songs being probably the fifteen psalms
after the 119th. They would sing among the Arab
tribes, "Woe is me that I sojourn in Mesech, and
dwell in the tents of Kedar." When they escaped the
troops of their foes, they would sing, " My soul has
escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowler."
When they were journeying in cheerful accord, they
sang, " Behold how good and pleasant a thing it is
for brethren to dwell together in unity." Jesus would
take part in the songs, and understand their meaning ;
and we can imagine how His soul was thrilled with
memories, when He saw the Jordan and those other
scenes that made the stories on which His childhood
had been nourished so real. But, above all, when
Jerusalem came in sight, and the pilgrims shouted, "I
will lift up mine eyes to the hills whence my help
cometh " — when the mass of the great Temple, white

Jesus as a Child 29
on its uplifted rock, fell upon His eyes, what must His
feelings have been ! Never was any city of earth loved
so dearly as Jerusalem, whose name is thus fitly applied
to the city on high, which is the mother of us all. And
when He arrived at Jerusalem, He would not merely be
impressed by the natural sights, but He would feel His
soul drawn out by the sight of the great multitude of
different countries who thronged the streets of the city.
Hundreds of other nations had become proselytes to
the Jewish religion, and were gathered there to render
homage to the one God. How would the Son of man
feel, beholding for the first time this realisation, broken
and imperfect though it was, of the unity of humanity
in God ! How must He feel in the consciousness
that in Him the sundered hearts were to be gathered
into one !
In Jerusalem, some who came up to keep the Pass
over were accommodated in private houses, and paid as
the price of the accommodation, the skin of the lamb
and the utensils they employed in cooking. Often,
however, every place being crowded, they had to dwell
in tents outside the walls of the city. If so, Joseph
would have gone probably with Jesus to the Temple to
kill his Passover lamb. Jesus would see the blood
gushing into the golden cup, and thrown at the foot of
the altar of burnt-offering. Then came the return to
the tent with the carcase of the lamb and the prepara
tion of supper, at which at least ten people had to be
present. First the lamb was roasted, being thrust
through with skewers of pomegranate wood, and then
put into the midst of a red-hot oven. Afterwards
would be placed near at hand a plate of unleavened

30 The Incarnate Saviour
bread, another of bitter herbs, and a vessel containing
a thick sauce made like clay, to remind them of the
brick-making in Egypt. Before the lamb was eaten,
Joseph would take the cup of red wine, of which all
drank. The lamb was then placed before him. The
second cup of wine was filled, and some child — it might
have been Jesus — asked the head of the house, "What
mean ye by this service ? " The story was then told of
the deliverance from Egypt. The bitter herbs were a
remembrance of the bitter bondage, and the unleavened
bread of the haste in which the nation was thrust out.
The 113th and the 114th Psalms were then sung.
Then the lamb was carved and eaten. Wine was
partaken of once more, and the 115th, 117th, and 118th
Psalms were then sung. What must the Lamb of God
have felt, listening and looking on in the presence of
all this !
When all was accomplished, and they had returned
home, it was found that Jesus was lost. It was
customary for all the men to travel by themselves
in one company, and all the women in another, the
boys travelling either with father or mother. This
may explain why He was lost. Or it may be explained
by supposing that such confidence was put in Him, that
it was not thought needful to seek Him, or be troubled
about His absence at first. He had gone to the
Temple, and was found there among the doctors,
both hearing and asking them questions. It was not
wonderful that He should be there. The seven days of
the paschal feast were not enough for Him. He began
to burn with that zeal for God's house which afterwards
consumed Him. One day in these courts was better

Jesus as a Child 31
than all the thousands that had gone by in Nazareth.
He was led to the Temple by His love for knowledge,
and made acquaintance there with the great movements
of thought. Ideas existing in germ burst then into
flower. We need not suppose that there was sudden
and disturbing development. The child grew, and the
language in which He speaks to His father and mother
is not that which would follow upon a sudden thought,
but rather upon one long familiar. But He would learn
in the Temple not merely from the words spoken, but
by the sights He saw, and by the songs in His ears.
The Temple music, the Temple service, would remind
Him of His true home in heaven, where praises arise
continually, and where worship is continually offered.
The chord struck in His nature vibrated sweetly and
solemnly. He felt that this, and not the cottage of the
carpenter, was His Father's house.
The crises, if we may so call them, of the develop
ment of Christ's thoughts and plans, cannot, I think,
be decided with the materials at our disposal. This
much we may say with some confidence, that there
was nothing to disturb His true humanity. We do
not suppose that He became conscious in the Temple
for the first time of His sonship and of His commis
sion, for there is a tone of recollection in the words
He speaks; and, besides, there would be something
inconsistent with a normal development in so sudden
and startling a revelation. Neither do we suppose
that as a babe on His mother's breast He was con
scious of all that He had come into the world to do,
for that also would be to violate a true conception of
His nature and of ordinary development. Nothing

32 The Incarnate Saviour
more can be said, than that He grew in wisdom and
stature, and in favour with God and man ; that the
germ was there at the first, and steadily grew to its
fulfilment. His father and mother sought Him among His
kinsfolk and acquaintance. Says Bishop Hall: "The
parents of Christ knew him well to be of a disposition
not strange, nor sullen and Stoical, but sweet and
sociable ; and therefore they supposed He had spent
the time on the way in company of their friends and
neighbours. They did not suspect Him wandered into
the solitary fields, but when evening came they go to
seek Him among their kinsfolk and acquaintance. If
He had not wonted to converse formerly with them,
He had not now been sought amongst them. Neither
as God nor man does He take pleasure in a stern,
froward austerity and wild retiredness, but in a mild
affableness and amiable conversation." He was dif
ferent from His kinsman John the Baptist, who was
nourished in the desert till the day of his showing
forth unto Israel. He grew up in the home — in the
shop with His father, in the house with His mother, in
the neighbours' cottages, winning their hearts — sweet
and sociable as a child, even as He was when a man.
We find Him in after life mixing freely with people
of all classes and conditions, frequent alike in scenes
of joy and sorrow, and the child was father to the
man. After three days they found Him. Even as He was
lost three days at the end, so it was at the beginning.
And He was found at last among the doctors. The
pure and eager young face had been seen among the

Jesus as a Child 33
circle of the sages. He had been asking them ques
tions, for He was anxious to learn. What kind of
questions they were we may conjecture readily. He
was asking them about the meaning of that word to
whose mysteries they professed to have the key ; but
He was teaching them, waking new trains of thought,
throwing new gleams of light among those old students ;
as it is written, "I have more understanding than all
my teachers, for Thy testimonies are my meditation. I
understand more than the ancients, because I keep Thy
precepts." He had meditated, He had kept the word,
and so those grey-bearded listeners were thunderstruck
at His understanding and answers. " I have learned,"
said one, ' ' much from the Rabbis my teachers ; I have
learned more from the Rabbis my colleagues ; I have
learned most of all from my disciples."1 When His
parents came in, the child would move to them, and it
is noticeable that His mother speaks first. He be
longed to her rather than to Joseph, and she says,
"Why hast thou thus dealt with us? Thy father and
I have sought thee sorrowing," or rather, "tormented."
The sword of prophecy was again piercing her heart, —
the sword that she had felt when she had to hasten
with Him to Egypt, but whose sharpness she had time
in those tranquil years to forget. She feels it in all its
keenness : they were tormented, tortured with anxiety.
"How is it," He replies, "that ye sought me? Wist
ye not that I must be in my Father's house ? " There
is no regret, not even sympathy with their anxiety, but
rather a mild rebuke that they did not know, as they
might have done, where He was to be found. "Wist
1 See Plumptre's Christ and Christendom, p. ioo.
3

34 The Incarnate Saviour
ye not that I must be in my Father's house ? " J — a
gentle reminder also that Joseph was not His father,
but that God was. This question shows of what nature
the unrecorded questions must have been. He says in
effect, You might have known that I would not be found
admiring the outward show, that I would not have
sought the haunts of pleasure, that I would not have
deserted you for any place but this. How early the
keynote of His life was struck ! How different was
His childhood from other childhoods ! What pathos
there is in the thought that He took hold of realities so
soon, having little space for laughter and for joys, and
beginning His Father's work at twelve years of age ! Of
our childhood we may all say,
" Unthinking, idle, wild, and young,
I talked and laughed, and danced and sung."
But how soon the awful shadow fell upon His brow !
And yet, although His parents did not understand Him,
and although He had gained full comprehension of His
destiny, He went down into Nazareth, and was subject
unto them. He went their messages, did their work,
humbled Himself, as if this episode at Jerusalem had
never been. Between His mother and Himself there
was the true love that is built upon reverence. She
reverenced Him. "She kept all those things, and
pondered them in her heart." She knew the awful
secret of His birth ; and although the thought of His
greatness had been somewhat obscured by her long
ministrations to the weakness and helplessness of His
1 That this is the true rendering, is forcibly argued by Dr. Field
in a note in Farrar's Gospel of St. Luke, p. 368.

Jesus as a Child 35
childhood, it could not be forgotten again ; it had been
brought to mind too sharply for that. After this crisis
in His history He went home, and lived in peaceful
solitude in the silence of the retired village,
" Voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.''
The great use of this incident is to teach that Jesus
Christ from His earliest years was conscious of His
purpose. Without such a record as this we might have
fancied that the consciousness of His life-work began
with its execution. We are taught that it was not so,
and that the years of silence were spent in conscious
ness of those powers which were to be exercised in
the brief, intense years of His public ministry. He
was developed by the influences of home, of nature,
of the holy Scriptures, and, above all, by the Spirit
of His Father working in Him.

Ill
THE SILENT YEARS OF JESUS,
AND
THE SILENT BUILDING OF THE TEMPLE

" ffifjere faas neitfjcr fjammet nor aie nor ang tool of iron fjearo in tfje
bouse, bifjile it Snas in builotng."

"There is a day in spring,
When under all the earth the secret germs
Begin to stir and glow before they bud ;
The wealth and festal pomps of midsummer
Lie in the heart of that inglorious day,
Which no man names with blessing, though its work
Is blest by all the world."
M. S.

CHAPTER III
THE SILENT YEARS OF JESUS, AND THE SILENT BUILDING
OF THE TEMPLE
THERE are no fewer than eighteen years of the
life of Christ of which we have no record,
except what is contained in the words, "Is not this
the carpenter? " It was said in His public life, " Never
man spake like this man " ; but we, with the Temple
story fresh in our memory, may well say, ' ' Never man
kept silence like this man." We know what He could
do, and how He could teach, and yet the whole history
of His doings and teachings for these long years is
summed up in the one word "carpenter." This
strange silence reminds us of another strange silence.
When the Temple of Solomon was being built, it grew
silently : from the hands of the workmen who were
gathered together, not a sound was heard. The
Temple rose " As Ilion like a mist rose into towers.''
Jesus Christ likened Himself to the Temple. He spake
of the Temple being destroyed and raised in three days,
meaning thereby the temple of His body that was to
fall in death, but to be built again fairer in the resurrec
tion. And it is written in ancient prophecy, that He
39

40 The Incarnate Saviour
should sit a priest upon His throne, and build a temple
to the Lord. So perhaps we may connect the two
silences, — the silent growing of Solomon's Temple,
and the silent years of Jesus. Perhaps the old builders,
who had so much reverence in them, if we may judge
from their work, thought that the noise and hammer
ing, that might be fit enough for ordinary work, did
not beseem the building of a holy temple to the Lord,
which should grow, like the works of God's own
building, in solemn silence. The great thought then
before us is that Jesus grew in silence. Not merely
the eighteen years, but we may say the whole thirty
years, was a time of profound, hardly-broken silence.
God's house was being built there, down at Nazareth, in
the stillness.
We may consider the silence in three aspects. It
was a time of restraint, a time of growth, and a time
of preparation.
i. It was a time of restraint. We might have said
suffering, for in one sense the word would be true, but
the other word perhaps expresses the truth more nearly,
— a time of self-denial, a time of obedience, manifesting
itself in various ways. And, first of all, it manifested
itself in the poverty of Jesus. Joseph was a carpenter
in a provincial village, and Jesus shared his lot in life.
They did not live in abject poverty; still they were
poor, with nothing to spare for luxuries and super
fluities, and nothing, probably, to store up for the
future. Jesus in His after life looked a sterner poverty
in the face, but He was poor now. There is a peculiar
fitness about this. Jesus Christ came to save the
world, and, under any conceivable condition of things,

The Silent Years of Jesus 41
poverty must be the lot of the great majority of human
beings. It is so now ; it probably must be so for ever.
In Israel, the poor had a recognised standing in the
national system. They were never to cease out of the
land. "The poor ye have with you always." It is not
needful that men should be abjectly, miserably poor.
Most, if they will, may escape from that, but the rich
must always be few ; and so for the great mass, it is
much to be able to go back to the home at Nazareth,
and to remember that Christ and His relations were
poor people, with the associations, the habits, the
feelings, and the sympathies of the poor. He learned
from actual experience what the limited dull life, lived
day after day with little change until the last change of
death, means, and by this He was prepared for the
great work which He came to do. The motto of His
ministry, read in the synagogue at Nazareth, was :
"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He hath
anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor." When
He went into the synagogue, He had the roll of Isaiah
delivered to Him, and, disregarding the lesson for the
day, as He had a right to do, He unwound the roll
from the cylinder until this passage appeared. He
read it, and then declared that that day the scripture
had been fulfilled in their ears. The Galilean peasants
who formed the listeners were of that class, and His
words were for them. Poor men were His first disciples,
and the grace of His example is specially seen in this,
that "though He was rich, yet for our sakes He
became poor, that we through His poverty might
become rich." Those years at Nazareth would teach
Him the needs of the poor. He would learn their sore

42 The Incarnate Saviour
struggles, their many temptations. He would know
how hard it is for those whose strength is spent in the
endeavour to gain bread, to think much of things
unseen. He would perceive also how almost inevitably
self-respect tends to disappear under the hard, brutal-
ising conditions in which many led their life. Nazareth,
small though it was, seems to have been notoriously
wicked, and from the very beginning He would have
opportunities of observing closely the misery, the ruin,
and the shame of sin. He would learn also the pro
clamation of religion which poor people need, — as a
religion which must satisfy the heart, and not make too
great a demand on the understanding. The poor need
religion, not as a material for speculative enterprise,
but as a friend which can help them along the road of
life and through the great change beyond it.1 " For
them life is always real, — its hopes, its misgivings,
its joys, its heartaches, its catastrophes, its dim sense
of the seriousness of being where and what we are, and
of the possibilities before us, are quickened by poverty.
The poor man, if religious at all, must believe in One
who is no less an object of affection and obedience than
the most awful and sublime of intellectual truths." He
learned the lesson well, for the common people heard
Him gladly. The poor had the gospel preached unto
them, and received it. The Church of the apostles
was the Church of the poor. It was, as has been said,
the reproach and the glory of apostolic Christendom,
that it first won its victories and then lavished its
blessings chiefly among the poor. To win the poor,
Jesus spoke in parables and in simple sayings, and with
1 See Lidden, University Sermons, ii. 283.

The Silent Years of Jesus 43
deep sympathy ; and if there is in the Christian Church
now a want of feeling for the poor in their depressed
multitudinousness, — in the great mass where the in
dividual seems lost,— there has been a departure from
the example and spirit of Christ.
Again, He was a labouring man, working, as the
majority must always do, with His hands. It is quite
impossible to evade the conclusion that He was a car
penter ; and it is very probable that He must by His
labour have earned the living of the humble house
hold. Joseph seems to have died early ; and Christ,
as the oldest in the household,1 would take upon Him
self the burden of their maintenance. So He toiled
there patiently at the carpenter's bench for many years.
Why He chose His particular trade we cannot explain,
further than to say that it was natural for Him to
follow the occupation of Joseph. Allegorisers have
suggested that in that labour He had continual occasion
to ply the rule to judge what was right and straight,
and that He was thus prepared for laying judgment to
the line, and righteousness to the plummet. But the
suggestion seems far-fetched. More important it is to
note that He glorified common toil, and that He made
mean the contempt in which the idle and those who
work with the brain are too prone to regard those who
labour with their hands.
Once more, He was obscure. The more fame is the
object of ambition, the greater must be the number of
those who are excluded from it. From its very nature,
eminence can belong to but few, and the rest must live
1 Not necessarily the oldest, but there is a considerable prob
ability. See Plumptre, Epistle of St. James, p. 14 and foil.

44 The Incarnate Saviour
simple, hidden, and unnoticed lives. He was content
to live in that way, and so gives comfort to those who
have no conspicuous position, who reached their place
early, and who will never rise above it, and whose
names will never travel beyond the very limited sphere
of their home and work. He taught us that a great
and noble life may be lived in obscurity, unnoticed and
unpraised in the busy world. There is a lesson for those
who seek to do great things and who despise little
things. To do little things well may be to do great
things. At least many who can do the great fail in the
little. Peter said he could die for the Lord, but he
could not keep awake for Him in the garden. Quiet
things are those that in the long run win, and the quiet
things done in obscurity and poverty may be ennobled
and consecrated by the example of Jesus Christ. There
are some who are so impatient of their obscurity, that
if they cannot have fame they will have notoriety. But
how different He was ! How He restrained Himself! He
saw everything going wrong. Amidst the scene of evil
He would see passions running wild, and men's lives
wrecked by their sin. He would hear God's word and
God's mind misinterpreted, yet He kept silent till God's
time came. He waited for the call ; and though He
grew in favour with men, and wound Himself in a
strange fashion round their hearts, it is a singular
thing that He was not marked as different from others.
His brethren did not believe in Him. He was not even
known as the strange son of the carpenter. He lived
as others did ; and when He came forward to do His
work, those who had been all His life familiar with
Him wondered as much as the strangers. They said,

The Silent Years of Jesus 45
"Is not this the carpenter?" We must remember
that in these things He is more immediately our ex
ample than He is in the rest of His life. We cannot
do the work of His public ministry, — we cannot speak
His words, do His miracles, or endure His sufferings ;
. but we are called upon to follow Him in quiet, toiling,
humble, unconspicuous lives. So we miss much, if, in
the thought of the public life of Christ, we forget the
private life, which is a lesson for us even more, because
it comes nearer us.
2. This period was a time of growth. As has been
said, there are no materials in Scripture for very
definite propositions as to the development of Christ.
We know that there was an element which could not
change, and another that was mutable. The growth
was not an apparent development, but a real develop
ment. The point we specially note, however, is that
He grew in silence. There is noise in building, but
silence in growth. He grew as the flower grows, that
turns its face to the sun, and travels all the arc after
the light, and lets the rays pour into it till its broad
disc grows broader and broader. He drank in the
sunlight of God's presence — of His countenance. Ears
of fairy fineness have been fabled to hear the flowers
growing at midnight, but this is but fable, for we
never heard growth. The great works of God grow
in silence. Jesus grew as the old Temple grew, in
silence of fitted stones. As the new building fitly
framed together groweth unto a holy temple in the
Lord, so He grew in silence. We may learn that if
we are to grow in grace we must be silent. If the

46 The Incarnate Saviour
Church is to grow, it must be without boasting and
contention, by drinking in quietly the light of the face
of God. In the glaring publicity given to the affairs of
churches — the parades of statistics and the clatter of
machinery — there cannot be much true growth. When
we hear loud noise and ostentatious boasting, we may
remember that the kingdom of God cometh not with
observation, and that for the most part true progress
does not come in that way. Hankerings after great
demonstrations, to which the world will turn its eyes,
show a misapprehension of true life ; and what is true
about the Church is true about the individual. Not
in publicity, but in retirement and silence — in desert
places — the spirit and teaching of Christ must be drunk
in, if there is to rise a spiritual building of a holy life
hid with Christ in God. Jesus Christ grew strong
amidst that silence ; and if we feel that we are not
growing, let us ask ourselves whether we need rest
and quiet, and whether waiting upon God would not
renew the weakened and ebbing life.
3. This time was a time of preparation. The body
and the mind were being prepared. Consider how the
body must have been strengthened for the work He
had to do under the sweet influences of nature, and the
pure and healthy life that He lived. He was being
fitted for the awful strain of His three years' ministry.
When we remember how He toiled, we see that only a
pure and uncontaminated body could have borne the
weight of the effort. In these thirty years at Nazareth
He was made strong for all that He had to do and
endure. "Virtue," He said, when the woman touched

The Silent Years of Jesus 47
Him, "hath gone out of me." For three years strength
was continually going out of Him ; but for this expendi
ture He was prepared by the long season of repose.
Not only was His body prepared, but His soul also.
He learned the word of God so thoroughly that it
became part of Himself. He learned the ways of
men, for He must have been observant at all times.
He increased in wisdom and in favour with God and
man. At last, when the long time of preparation was
over, the summons found Him ready, and His readiness
is proved by the whole record of His ministry. "What
along foreground you must have had for such a start!"
said one writer to another who had published his first
book late in life. So there was a long foreground, but
it was a foreground for the three years' ministry.
These eighteen years of silence must have been
lived, for they could not have been imagined. Exactly
the reverse would have been the product of human
imagination. He who had so wondrously impressed
the teachers at Jerusalem, would remain there, and
take, sooner than any had ever done, the highest place
amongst the sages. He would work wonders, and His
life would be filled with memorable deeds and words.
That is how we should have imagined it, but God's
plan was that He should wait eighteen years in a wise
passiveness. It was a time of preparation, and we are able to
trace what He prepared for ; but if we do not, we need
not suppose that the time was lost. Many seem, so
far as we can see, to prepare all their lives for the
uttering of one sentence — the doing of one deed ; and
others — a far more numerous class — seem to prepare

48 The Incarnate Saviour
all their lives for a work that never comes. Through
slow, dull years they toil on, and die without having
an opportunity for doing any great deed, or speaking
any life-giving word. Has the time of preparation
been lost? No, because there is an eternity beyond.
Had Moses died away in Midian, would his life have
been thrown away? No, for there is an eternity to
work in. Many will die, and their life will have been
a time of preparation for higher service which never
came, and we are inclined to say life is lost. But so
long as there is a whole eternity in which to develop
the preparation of time, that should never be said. A
deep lesson for life to most of us is, that the great
achievements are to be done not on this side, but on
the other side of death. Nowhere does faith show
itself more clear and victorious, than in one who goes
on to the very end laboriously cultivating every power,
although no outlet for exercise is visible. To be
irritably and fretfully anxious for a field in which to
display one's talent, is to fail in trust. The calm,
unsolicitous endeavour after the perfection of our
nature, and the committal to God of the instrument
when it has been tempered, to use where and when
He pleases, is a noble achievement of faith. And so,
if we are relegated to obscurity, or compelled to be
passive when we are willing to be active, and when
we think our instruments are ready, let us spend the
time not in fretting but in preparing, — in strengthening
our wills, kindling our inspirations, cultivating our
faculties, — and then, when the word falls upon our
listening ears, we shall be ready to say, " Here am I ;
Thou hast called me at last, and I am before Thee

The Silent Years of Jesus 49
with all my powers and my opportunities." Jesus
Christ spent eighteen years at Nazareth in silence.
The result of them was, — "a few years of action, but
of action Concentrated, intense, infinite. Not one word,
not one deed, which did not tell, and which will not
tell, upon the universe for ever. Eighteen years of
silence, and then the regeneration of the world ac
complished, His Father's business done ! "

IV
JOHN BAPTIST AND THE BAPTISM
OF CHRIST

" among tljem that are born of teomen there batb not risen a greater
than lofjn the Baptist: nebertheless be tfjat is least in the
ftingoom of beaben is greater tfian fje."

' He the last star of parting night,
And we the children of the dawn.

CHAPTER IV
JOHN BAPTIST AND THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST
WE are justly suspicious of summary judgments
on so complex a thing as a man's life and
work. Human life and character are so mixed and
mysterious, that we do not care to have the secret of
a man's history packed into a neat epigram. But of
John the Baptist we have a brief judgment passed by
the Master and the Judge of souls. "Among them
that are born of women," said He, "there hath not
risen a greater than John the Baptist : nevertheless
he that is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater
than he." Here we have an anticipation of the judg
ment-seat, and here we have also some justification of
our suspicion of human judgments, for neither in one
part of the judgment nor in the other do we find
what we should have expected to find. There are
men in history whom we should be inclined to place
higher than John ; and certainly we should shrink
from saying that the least and humblest believer was
greater than he. But the judgment of Christ is our
unerring guide, and, after glancing at the history, we
shall dwell upon what it tells us of the greatness and
littleness of John the Baptist.
In the first period of John's life we find him in
53

54 The Incarnate Saviour
the wilderness, weary of the hollowness and untruth
of the world. He went into the desert to commune
with his own soul. During that period his mind had
intimate converse with the prophets of the old covenant.
The marks of their influence and that of the desert
scenery appear prominently in his after teaching. He
was not alone in the desert in vain. Away from the
deceit of man, he found truth at last. The whole truth
was not disclosed to him, but a message was given
which he might with certainty communicate to his
generation. The message once gained, he could not
waste it on the desert air. He had to pay the debt he
owed to his kind. The word burned within him ; he
was weary of forbearing, and could not stay; and,
without taking time to adapt his ways and speech to
the polished uses of society, this strong son of the
desert presented himself before the startled Jews, and
proclaimed that he was the forerunner of the Messiah,
and that the Messiah was near at hand — even at the
door. It is in accordance with the way of God to guide
history by a gradual process, — to give men indications
of His coming work and will. Streaks herald the
dawn, and the dawn the day. The long line of
prophets had foretold the coming of Jesus, but still
the day lingered, and their voices had become silent.
Time, however, had not ceased to flow, and time
brought with it the coming of Christ. When He was
near, John was appointed to give warning, and to tell
them that the Saviour, whom they had long looked for,
was at last nigh.
He had to tell them, further, that they were not

John Baptist and Baptism of Christ 55
ready for His coming. Their life, unreal and sinful,
must be thoroughly reformed before they could meet
the King with welcome. The King was coming to
lay His axe to the old Jewish tree. He came with
His fan in His hand throughly to purge His floor,
and to cast the chaff into the fire. "Repent!" was
the message of this stern prophet, — a message not
addressed to one, or to a class, but to all, — a message
which urged a reform that went much deeper than
the outside, and involved, indeed, an entire revolution
of the inner nature: "Repent, for the kingdom of
heaven is at hand."
Most men who can speak directly and sincerely to
heart and conscience, find an unhoped-for readiness of
response, and that often in the most unlikely quarters.
To one like John, whose sincerity was so undeniable,
who had won the truth he taught with such earnest
struggle, a welcome was given so enthusiastic that it
must have surprised himself. His uncompromising
denunciations of sin did not awake hostility, but drew
around him even the proud Scribes and Pharisees. He
did not lower his message for his hearers, but urged
upon those who thought they had touched perfection in
their obedience to the law, their need to flee from the
wrath to come. Hollow sick hearts found him, as they
always find a man who is content to speak the true
word of God ; and how deep the heart-sickness was
which then oppressed the nation, may be judged from
the fact that the whole region went out to the desert to
him, confessing their sins. Many would have been
drawn by the news of the approaching footfalls of
the Messiah, but besides that, there was the deep

56 The Incarnate Saviour
sense of sin and unworthiness which he had awakened
in their spirits.
But though he could indicate the disease and make
it felt, he could not cure it. He could only say,
' ' Repent ! " He baptized, indeed, but his baptism was
with water. He could not reach down to the inmost
defilement and take it away. The water was a fit
emblem of the cold, unsatisfying, ineffectual character
of his ministry, just as the fire with which Jesus Christ
baptized was an emblem of the warming, searching
character of His. After Jesus came, John proclaimed,
" Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of
the world." That these words have a reference to the
Old Testament idea of the suffering Servant of God,
cannot reasonably be disputed.1 After the intense
agony of the wilderness, Christ's appearance, as well
as the story of His self-abnegation, would bring to
mind the afflicted Servant of the 53rd chapter of Isaiah.
But the words were a special inspiration in special
circumstances ; and it is clear from the subsequent
narrative that the two conceptions of Christ — as the
sufferer and the judge — were never harmoniously ad
justed in the Baptist's mind. This witness to the
atoning Lamb he was not long allowed to bear. He
was the herald of the dawn, but the new kingdom to
which he pointed he did not enter, and he could not
fully comprehend.
In the last period of John's life we find him in the
court of Herod. Here he underwent the real trial of
his life. In the air of the desert, amid the free winds
of heaven, and beneath the open sky, he might well
1 See Reynolds' John the Baptist, p. 376, and Westcott in loc.

John Baptist and Baptism of Christ 57
bear an undaunted witness ; but when his chainless
spirit was taken into the enervating atmosphere of a
court, his dangers greatly increased. Will he, we ask,
turn out a mere court preacher, like those with whom
history has made us only too familiar ? Will he trim
and abate his message to suit kingly ears ? Will he
wink hard at kingly vices ? Nay, verily ; to Herod he
was like an incarnate conscience. The vicious, weak,
dissolute king, not yet unvisited by better impulses
and higher promptings, viewed him as a just man and
a holy, and observed many of his injunctions. One
darling vice, however, he could not surrender. He was
living in an incestuous connection with his brother
Philip's wife, and the voice of the stern preacher would
not cease saying, "It is not lawful for thee to have
her." Systematically to disobey conscience in one
injunction, is to disobey in all, and the words, "It is
not lawful for thee to have her," ringing constantly in
the ears of Herod and his guilty paramour, made life
unbearable. So he did what many a one has done
before and since, he tried to muffle his conscience, —
not, at first, to extinguish it entirely. He put John
into a dungeon, where his protest could not be heard
in the banqueting halls of the castle. Still, muffled
though the voice was, it sometimes made its way into
the ears of the guilty sinners. Just as conscience
comes sometimes to an abandoned man in breaks and
pauses of revelry, and speaks then more stingingly
than it used to do when he talked with it hourly, so
Herod would, in spite of himself, be drawn sometimes
down the dismal stairs to where the prophet was lying,
and come back with his heart pained and trembling, as

58 The Incarnate Saviour
never before, — come back with a gloom that reflected
itself in his guilty consort, till at length she resolved
that this voice should be silenced for ever. So in one
night of mad revelry the king promised to give to a
dancing girl whatever she asked, even to the half of
his kingdom. At her mother's prompting she asked
the prophet's head, and the king, though he was
exceeding sorry, — for no man murders his conscience
willingly, his conscience being part of himself, and the
murder a suicide, — yet nevertheless he gave consent,
and John was beheaded in the dungeon. The maiden
brought her frightful gift under the glaring lights :
Herod gazed on the accusing face, and knew that he
had killed his conscience. Henceforth he was not
troubled, except by spectral fears. He could meet
Jesus without a blush, and ask Him about many
things. But to Herod Jesus observed a boding fateful
silence, for to those who have slain their conscience the
lips of the Incarnate Word are for ever locked.
The greatness of John the Baptist is announced in
striking and emphatic words by our Saviour. None
of all that went before was greater than he. His
greatness appears mainly in his courage. There is no
virtue so popular as courage. No men win the heart
of a nation as do its defenders by land and sea. Names
like Wellington and Nelson stir the blood of the people
as the names of statesmen and men of letters never can.
This admiration is often misplaced. Courage — mere
courage — is frequently nothing more than brute in
sensibility to danger, — an insensibility which refined
natures often do not possess. Still, overrated as the

John Baptist and Baptism of Christ 59
virtue may be, the popular instinct is not wrong, for
true courage reposes upon very deep qualities. John's
courage appeared in his championship of truth. He
did not palter with the truth to gain the hearts of men.
He did not shrink from telling the most self-righteous
of his hearers that they were a generation of vipers.
To king and to Pharisee alike he called "Repent!"
and to both he asserted the sovereignty of God's im
mutable law. He was true in pointing on to Christ.
He himself was not the Christ, but a voice that an
nounced His coming. Men were not to look upon
him and see in him a pretender to faultless virtue.
They were to give heed to the message, looking away
from the imperfect messenger, who was not worthy to
unloose the shoe latchet of the Perfect One who was
coming. In spite of all temptation to arrogate to
himself more than was rightfully his due, John con
tinued to deny that he was the Christ, and to affirm
that he was not fit to be compared with the Christ.
This courage reposed, first of all, upon faith. The
Lord Jesus, summing up his life, emphasised this.
"John," He said, "was not a reed shaken by the
wind," — the stormy wind of popular fury, or the milder
but not less dangerous breezes of popular applause.
His belief was not a hearsay creed : his soul built
upon real truths. He knew that Christ was before
him, and that Christ was to come as the perfect and
accredited Messenger of God. He knew that all men
before Christ were guilty, and that all needed to re
pent. From these faiths nothing could move him
away. Again, his courage reposed on independence. To be

60 The Incarnate Saviour
dependent on the world is to be afraid of the world ;
but he was content to live on what the desert could
afford him. From man he needed nothing, and sought
nothing. He was, our Lord says, not luxurious, — not
a wearer of soft clothing, — but a hardy child of nature.
He owed the world nothing but the truth, and fully
and boldly did he pay that debt.
And yet more, he was disinterested. He might have
reaped earthly fruits of his work, but he did not seek
to do so. He might have founded a school, and his
disciples were disappointed that he did not. He might
have asserted with a partial and temporary measure of
success his claims against the rising ascendancy of
Christ, but his words were, " He must increase, but I
must decrease." He was a prophet, and more than a
prophet, for he was a baptizer. Still he knew that his
preaching and baptism were unsatisfying and incom
plete, and he pointed on to One who could baptize
with the Holy Ghost and with fire. This deep, well-
grounded, dauntless courage and disinterestedness won
the warm admiration of Christ, who declared that of
all the great servants of God that had gone before,
none was greater than this prisoner of Herod.
If we were puzzled by the first part of the judgment,
much more are we perplexed by the second: " He that
is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he."
"What!" we say; "is it possible that the weakest
Christian in the Church — and how weak such an one
may be each may know — is greater than John the
Baptist?" "Yes," we must reply, for this is not a
question of nature, but one of grace. The life of the

John Baptist and Baptism of Christ 6i
new kingdom is such that it infinitely ennobles the
receiver. John was the last star of the departing
night. We are the children of the dawn, and the
dawn has made us greater than he. He could point
men on, but he could not enable them to attain. His
system was terror, but terror is transitory while the
evil day lingers. He was always outside of the king
dom, rejoicing in its coming, but never entering in.
He wanted the life of the new kingdom. His life is
a very sunless one. There are few lives that inspire a
deeper compassion. He was, like Moses, led to the
threshold, and died there. At the last he sent the
question to Christ: "Art thou He that should come,
or do we look for another ? " The question was more
than the mere result of despondency. It is true that
the child of the desert was confined, and that a morbid
weariness may have had much to do with it. But
Christ's grave reply shows that there was something
more. There was a radical misconception of the nature
of Christ's kingdom. The kingdom, as preached by
Christ, was good news ; as preached by John, it was
awful news. John spoke of a Judge coming to dis
criminate and punish ; Jesus, of a Father who was
ready to receive and pardon the guiltiest. John missed
in Christ the axe and the fan of which he had spoken.
He looked for Christ to do the work of avenging and
judging; and lo ! no weapons were seen in His hands,
and His voice was not one of terror. Therefore it was
that John asked whether He was the Messiah ; and
therefore it was that Christ recited His gentle works,
and declared of John that the least in the kingdom was
greater than he.

62 The Incarnate Saviour
The life of the kingdom, as we have said, ennobles
the least member of it. A statue may be polished with
consummate skill, till the marble seems nigh to breath
ing; but the most shapeless product in the kingdom
of life is greater than the greatest achievement of the
sculptor. So the least Christian who has received the
life of the kingdom of heaven is greater than John.
Besides, he wanted the power of the new kingdom.
He did no miracles, — he did no outward miracle, and
no inward miracle. He could not change the heart,
or baptize with the Spirit. Greater things than out
ward miracles could the disciples in the kingdom of
heaven do through the power that rested on them, but
that power did not come to him.
If John cannot be compared with the least in the
kingdom of heaven, much less can he be compared
with the Master of that kingdom. The two come
together in a very striking way. What their relations
were in early years we cannot tell. It is probable
that John knew Jesus, though he may not have met
Him for many years. John was baptizing by the
river, and when Jesus approached him a voice within
whispered who this peasant was, and he saw in an
instant how wide was the gulf between Him and the
others who came to be baptized, — nay, between Him
and the baptizer. But Jesus made His purpose known,
and said He would be baptized, because it became Him
to fulfil all righteousness. He did not disclaim the
homage that John paid Him, — He never disclaimed
homage, however great, — but He declared that the
head and representative of the people should prepare
their way. He was to die for them, and to bear the

John Baptist and Baptism of Christ 63
weight of their sins, and He would identify Himself
with them in their most humbling experiences. So He
went down into the water, — not, indeed, to be cleansed
by it, — rather, as an old writer says, to cleanse it ; 1
and the divine voice declared: "This is my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased." He descended into
the water, just as He submitted in His early years to
the Jewish law. His being baptized was part of His
unutterable humiliation. Jesus pledged Himself to
the fulfilment of all righteousness on behalf of the
race whom He had come to save, and the divine Spirit
was given to Him to prepare Him for the rest of the
work. He had the Spirit before. Here it was given to
Him with a new richness to equip Him for the new
functions He was now to perform, and in His strength
He went forward.
It might be pointed out that Christ is complete,
while John was incomplete. Christ was the centre of
truth, yea, the truth beyond which we cannot advance.
John was but the vestibule into the temple. John
was conscious of imperfection, and pointed from the
messenger who was human, to the message that was
divine. Jesus came not merely to preach the gospel,
but to be the gospel, and challenged the strictest
scrutiny, both of Himself and of His message. John,
for all his unfaltering boldness, erred and doubted.
Christ made no mistake — no retractation. John died as
a victim — the victim of a lustful woman. Jesus died
as a priest ; no man took His life from Him. John's
death did nothing for the race ; Christ's death saved
the race. There was no story of the resurrection of
1 See Keim, ii. 274-276, and Note B.

64 The Incarnate Saviour
John. His grave was the end of his school. When
the disciples laid in the tomb his awful and headless
dust, they gradually disorganised. Jesus died and
rose again, and by His resurrection drew His disciples
together. All are unsatisfying and incomplete save
Christ. We ascend till we come to Him ; further we
cannot go.
Such a life and death as John's cannot be explained,
without the faith of immortality. His life, viewed
from an earthly standpoint, was a complete and dreary
failure. But his death was an escape from the twofold
prison — the prison of Herod and the prison of his own
doubts — into wide and utter liberty. It was an en
trance into the kingdom of heaven, where that kingdom
is realised in its purity and completeness.

V
THE TEMPTATION OF CHRIST

"JEfl him that obercometh Sntll I grant to sit boifh mc in ing
throne, eben as I also oberrame, anb am set Sobm forith mg
JFather in |^is tljrone."

: The day when he, Pride's lord and man's,
Showed all earth's kingdoms at a. glance
To Him before whose countenance
The years recede, the years advance." ROSSETTI.

66

CHAPTER V
THE TEMPTATION OF CHRIST
THE temptation of Christ followed His baptism,
and must be viewed in connection with it.
When God gives armour, He soon puts it to the proof,
and so the strength given at the baptism was soon
tested in the wilderness. The first Adam fell from
the garden to the wilderness, and so in the wilderness
the second Adam takes up and wins the battle. He
was led by the Spirit into the wilderness — led by the
good Spirit to be tempted of the evil. "The Spirit,"
says Mark, " driveth Him into the wilderness," — an
expression we may fairly take as showing how great
is the pain of temptation, and how Christ shrank from
it. Temptation is not to be avoided by flying into
solitude, for there the Lord met with the evil spirit.
Into some difficulties connected with this subject
we do not intend to enter, simply because it does not
appear that there are materials for the solution of these
problems. That there is a personal devil, and that
he was the agent in the temptation, we assume as
the plain teaching of Scripture, confirmed by many
mysterious passages of life. It has been well said that
though the devil may be expelled from theology, he
cannot be got out of the world, so marred by traces of
67

68 The Incarnate Saviour
his work. We do not attempt to explain how the
sinless Christ could be tempted. We assume that a
sinless manhood can be tempted, and further, that to
a sinless nature temptation must come from the out
side, and not from within ; and thus we find it here.
i. The first temptation, " If thou be the Son of
God, command that these stones be made bread," was
addressed to Jesus after forty days of fasting. During
these days He had been sustained, not by the power
of His divine nature, but by the great rapture of
spiritual gladness which upbore Him. When these
had passed, He was torn by the pangs of hunger, and
here the temptation of Satan comes in.
"If thou be the Son of God." After the manner
of the tempter, he makes the truth problematical. He
disparages the Sonship of the Saviour. As in Paradise
he had said, " Yea, hath God said," so now to the
hungry, weary Christ he says, " If thou be the Son of
God, command that these stones be made bread." The
stones to the sick eyes of a hungry man had the shape
of loaves, and one word from Him would have turned
them to food. Why was the word not spoken?
Because, if He had spoken it, He would have undone
His incarnation, by drawing back from the lot of the
race with which He had identified Himself. He would
also have shown a want of trust in the divine pro
vidence, that was able to feed Him without His using
any miraculous energy. " Man shall not live by bread
alone, but by everything that proceedeth out of the
mouth of God." He did not care to assert His Godship
then. " Man," He says, "shall not live by bread alone."

The Temptation of Christ 69
Bread can feed man, because God made it so ; but if
God pleased, He might make the bare wind of the
desert a banquet. Jesus has meat to eat that the
tempter knows not of.
We may view these separate temptations, first, as
illustrating the identity of Christ with His brethren ;
and, secondly, as showing the nature of the tempta
tions wherewith He was assailed all His life. Leaving
the second use to be considered afterwards, let us see how
this first temptation is presented to us by the tempter
in our own lives. To make bread may be called the
life-work of most, and in the effort we are assailed
continually by satanic suggestions. Thus, if I give
up my convictions, it will open the way to a lucrative
position. Tricks of trade would help me ; my rivals
use them, and if I do not I must perish. I must live.
The answer is, There is no need that a man should
live, but there is need that he should be righteous.
He will not die if he trusts in God. Man lives by
everything that proceedeth from God's mouth. The
old answer of Jesus Christ is enough for us in the
hour of temptation, which comes, we may say, to all.
Again, man is sometimes destroyed by his very bless
ings. Bread is abundant, and he needs nothing more.
That staff is broken ; and instead of being destroyed
he is saved, for it is then, and not till then, that he
begins to live upon God. We may even extend this,
and say that this temptation illustrates all those that
come under the description of the apostle, "the lust of
the flesh."
2. He was taken next to the holy city, as Matthew
describes it, the city so dear to the Jews, and to the

70 The Incarnate Saviour
most sacred place there, — to the Temple, and to the
pinnacle of the Temple. It was a masterpiece of Satan
to take Him there. If He had yielded there, it would
have been a defeat indeed. We learn to take care of
places that seem secure. This was the most unlikely
place for temptation, and yet there the enemy was busy.
With steady foot and wary eye, and the heart braced
for conflict, do we need to tread even in those places
where we expect Satan least.
He was tempted to presumption : "If thou be the
Son of God, cast thyself down." The tempter, as if
he had learned a lesson from Christ's quotation of
Scripture, quotes Scripture himself. " Cast thyself
down," he says, "and thou shalt drop into the soft
arms of waiting angels who have charge to keep thee."
He left out the words, "In all thy ways." The way
downward from the Temple was not a way of God,
and in that way there was no promise that He should
be kept. Arguments from Scripture are the best or the
worst of arguments ; and how we should use Scripture,
we are taught by Jesus when He says, " It is written —
It is written again." By comparison and balancing we
learn the truth. "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy
God " ; which means, Thou shalt not idly put God's
friendship to the proof; thou shalt not rush needlessly
into danger ; thou shalt not rashly undertake great
enterprises before thou art sent. "Cast thyself
down ! " There is no sin that is not voluntary. The
\j tempter could bring Christ to the pinnacle of the
Temple, but he could not cast Him down. Jesus would
not tempt the Lord His God. He withstood in the evil
day, and having done all, He stood. This temptation

The Temptation of Christ 71
is illustrated in our experience by our frequent incite
ments to presumption, to foolish hazarding, and to
needless testing of God's promises. When it was
proposed some years ago to test the reality of God's
answer to prayer in the healing of the sick, the Lord
our God was tempted. Men apparently find it difficult
to see the sin as it applies to God. They can under
stand it very well in the lower planes of human life.
When one friend puts the friendship of another to need
less and cruel tests and strains, such conduct is justly
resented. And why? Because it shows a want of
faith in the friendship. A friendship really trusted
would not be so tried. All these experiments on God,
these rash misreadings of His promises, spring at
bottom from a want of faith. Calm trust in God does
not need nervously to prove Him ; it rests in settled
peace. 3. The last temptation was the worst of all. The
two stood together on a lofty peak, with all the
kingdoms of the world and the glory of them spread
beneath them. Satan, arrayed, we may conjecture,
like an angel of light, stood in his majesty beside the
worn and weary Christ, and pointed to the glittering
glories around, — all the kingdoms of the world and the
glory of them ; and all were to be His if He would
kneel for a moment and worship, — one touch of the
knees upon the snow, and the power would be His
own. We do not understand this temptation if we
suppose that Christ was attracted by the outward
glitter and show. He saw from the mountain the
misery of the world, — hearts beating under the sway
of the evil prince, to whom the world had been

72 The Incarnate Saviour
delivered. God's love was abused or unknown, God's
best gifts were working evil. And Satan said, " This
is in my power, for these things are delivered unto me."
He does not dare to say more than the truth. He was
not prince of the world by victory — only by sufferance.
This influence he held by the tenure of God's will.
And now he says to Christ, " If thou wilt worship me,
thou shalt have the rule. Thou shalt stanch all wounds,
dry all tears, heal all suffering, repair what I have
done so much to waste and ruin ; and more, thou
shalt have all this sway in a moment." Christ sought
this dominion. He was to die to gain this dominion ;
but instead of the sorrowful way of the cross, a new
road that would bring Him instantly to the end is
pointed out. This was the strongest and the most
wicked of the temptations, and was repelled with
awful violence : "Get thee behind me, Satan." There
is no argument here ; the moment was too terrible a
one for fencing. The attack is made and repelled,
and the temptation is over.
For Christ the way to kinghood lay through a deep
valley. The shortest way to the kingdom is not the
best. Through much tribulation we must enter the
kingdom of God.
The lesson for us is, that influence for good may be
bought too dear. To desire to have more power to
wield for God in this world — nay, to reach out with
longing to the time when we shall sit on the right
hand of the Son of God — is not base but noble. Only
to these great things we must ascend by God's own
ladder, and to climb any other way is to change the
lofty ambition to a vile appetite. The happiness of

The Temptation of Christ J2>
any heaven must, it has been well said, consist in
certain inner voices. Wherever conscience is com
promised with for any gain whatever, the gain turns
out worthless. An eternity of usefulness bought by
one moment of sin is bought too dear. Many acquire
wealth unlawfully, and seek to wipe away the sin by
a noble beneficence. Others gain reputation by dis
honest means, and try to quiet their consciences by
using the influence for Christ. But it is in vain.
They have fallen down to Satan to gain the kingdom,
and so the kingdom is valueless. The temptation is
a very subtle one, and it must be repelled with
absolute and instant rejection, as we see that Christ
repelled it.
The devil leaveth Him for a season. His fiery darts
were all quenched and blunted, and the adversary fled.
What is the force of these words, — for a season ?
Some consider that they signify the assault at the
close of His ministry, when He was tempted in the
garden. But it is far more in accordance with the
facts of His life to read the words as referring to the
continual battle of His life. He Himself, as we have
often occasion to remark, lets a deep silence brood for
the most part over His own inward experience ; and
thus it was necessary, perhaps, that we should have
two such distinct and strongly - marked scenes of
temptation as the conflicts in the wilderness and in
Gethsemane. But in one of the deeply instructive
revealings of His inner life, He says to His disciples,
"Ye are they who have continued with me in my
temptations." " My temptations " : that is the descrip-

74 The Incarnate Saviour
tion of His life. There was not a temptation at the
beginning and at the end, and a clear space between,
but the battle was fought all through His life. And if
there be proof, or rather record, awanting of it, that
does not make it less terrible, for mortal struggles are
waged often in grim silence. His last word, " I have
overcome the world," tells how sharp the strife had
been, which is remembered even in heaven, as He
speaks to His militant Church, and tells them that
they shall overcome " even as I also overcame." "As
on some battlefield, whence all traces of the agony and
fury have passed away, the harvests wave and larks
sing where blood ran and men groaned their lives out,
some gravestone raised by the victors remains, and
only the trophy tells of the forgotten fight, so the
monumental word, 'I have overcome,' stands to all
ages as the record of the silent, lifelong conflict."
We may trace, although imperfectly, how the devil
returned and plied Him with the same temptations all
His life through.
t. He was tempted all His life by bodily pain and
privation. Imaginative reverence tends to soften the
sharp angles of truth, and makes us forget that Jesus
Christ was poor. He had nothing that He could call
His own, and when He died He left nothing behind
Him but His seamless robe. He had said, " Lay not
up for yourselves treasures on earth," and He had
obeyed His own precepts. There was no secret hoard
hidden from the keen eye of Judas the treasurer. He
was hungry, and sought to feed Himself from a fig-
tree by the way. He was tired, and He slept in

The Temptation of Christ 75
the fishing-boat. He had nothing to pay His tribute
with. And when He was to reply to the captious
question of the Pharisee, He said, " Bring me a penny."
He had nowhere to lay His head in life or in death.
It was a borrowed grave in which He took His short
sleep. He was therefore plied incessantly with the
temptation to make Himself rich amidst all those
treasures which a word from His lips could have
unlocked. But He never did so. In His poverty
He did not cease to be God. The very examples of
His poverty which we have quoted, have definite and
strange marks of His divinity. He stilled the storm
from the boat where He had been sleeping, with the
wooden pillow beneath His head. He burst the bonds
of death, and came out of the borrowed grave a con
queror over the last enemy. But provide for Himself
He did not, and He would not. As a commander in a
famine-stricken city refuses exemption from the lot of
his fellow - soldiers, so our Leader and Commander
refuses to listen to the solicitudes of His need, and
lived and died poor. A great thinker, we are told,1
was especially pitiful to those who sinned from the
pangs, of poverty and hunger. Such sin might be
excused if any sin could be. We could understand
that, and the more easily in the case of one who had
once been rich. He was rich once — with an amplitude
of wealth we cannot comprehend. He needed not ever
to have been poor. Stones would have turned into
bread at a word from Him. But for our sakes He
became poor, and remained poor, that we through His
poverty might become rich. 1 Foster.

76 The Incarnate Saviour
2. Again, there was a temptation to use His super
natural power. He had taken the resolution neither to
court danger in reliance upon superhuman power, nor
needlessly to free Himself from it. And we find
instances of this in the sequel. For example, when
His enemies sought to kill Him, He quietly departed.
He did not suffer them to touch Him. And how
merciful was this, for, had they touched Him before
the time, they would have fallen dead as they did who
profanely handled the ark of God. No one could take
His life from Him ; but when His time came, He
surrendered Himself to the human wills that so blindly
destroyed Him. But until then He was safe ; yet not
safe by undue use of His divine power. When Peter
took Him aside, and said, "Be it far from thee, Lord :
this shall not be unto thee," He replied, "Get thee
behind me, Satan," treating the words of the apostle
as another suggestion of the baffled spirit.
3. Again, He rejected a false Messiahship, accordant
with the worldly spirit of Judaism, in favour of an
inward kingdom to be developed by the power of the
divine Spirit. All the kingdoms of the world, and all
the glory of them, were to be His at last, but He
would not grasp His sceptre too soon. When they
sought to make Him a king by force, He left them and
went into solitude. It was better to be alone than to
be the creature of such creatures. He would not please
His disciples by taking a temporal kingship, which
they should share in Jerusalem. He becomes King by
dying. His cross is His throne. His cross was at
once the intense superlative of all temptations and the
final answer to the tempter. When He died, His feet

The Temptation of Christ yj
like fine brass bruised the head of the great enemy of
mankind. In conclusion, we do not forget that He had to
wrestle with the Evil One at the end. The struggle was
one of peculiar intensity. He was tried by pain, as He
had been aforetime by pleasure. His consistency was
tested by agony of body and mind. But as He had
overcome the tempter at the first, so He overcame him
at the last. Still this does not lead us to forget that
He Himself described the space between the wilderness
temptation and the temptation at the end as ' ' my
temptations." Not "my sorrows," "my difficulties,"
"my pains," but " my temptations." His virtue was not
cloistered and untried. It was subjected to the hottest
fire of the struggle, and came out unscathed. He was
victorious in the end ; and yet how significant it is,
that when He describes His life, it should come before
Him as " my temptations " ! 1
1 See Note C

VI
THE OBJECT AND CLAIMS OF
CHRIST

79

" ST-his is a fattfjful saging, anb inortfjg of all acceptation, tfjat Christ
Jfesus came into tfje toorlb lo sabe sinners."

"He did not come to judge the world, He did not come to
blame ;
He did not only come to seek, — it was to save He came :
And when we call Him Saviour, then we call Him by His
name."
Dora Greenwell.

80

CHAPTER VI
THE OBJECT AND CLAIMS OF CHRIST
THE object of Christ was defined in different ways
by Himself, but ultimately is perhaps most fully
expressed in the saying: " The Son of man is come to
seek and to save that which was lost." In the apostolic
Church the saying was current in this form: "Christ
Jesus came into the world to save sinners." Who first
expressed it so we cannot tell. Like many of the most
beautiful things and thoughts, it is the work of an
unknown soul. It immediately found welcome, and
was passed from mouth to mouth, and lodged in
memory after memory. At last the apostle took it up
and indorsed it with his authority, declaring it to be a
faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation. We
take it as an infallible guide in teaching us the purpose
of the eternal God, entering into time and submitting
to the bonds of flesh.
The description of man, as lost, claims our attention
first. Lost means lost to God. God had lost man,
and He was grieved by the loss, — how deeply grieved
we should not have dared to imagine, had not the
Saviour Himself explained it in three of His most
touching parables. Man was missed by God as a
6

82 The Incarnate Saviour
shepherd misses one sheep out of a hundred — as a
woman misses one silver piece out of a little hoard of
ten ; 1 or, to put it more adequately, as a father misses
his younger son in a house where there are but two.
Man's fall is God's loss. In another aspect man's fall
is man's sin. The sin of man in wandering from God
is depicted in the very darkest hues. It is a mark of a
revelation from God that it does not extenuate the guilt
of sin, or minimise the awfulness of its consequences.
He who came to save sinners was He who spake the
most terrible things of sin. Further, this wandering
from God not only involved God in loss, but also the
soul in loss. To be absent from God was to be dead.
That was not life which was lived away from righteous
ness, truth, purity, and all high influences that flow
from heaven. Such a life might be quick and energetic
so far as earthly interests and aims were concerned, but
this very activity only served to throw into darker
relief its deadness to all great ends and issues. Man
had sinned, man was lost, man was dead in trespasses
and sins.
But, strict as His judgment of sin was, and fiery His
indignation against it, He did not give a despairing
view of it. He taught that deep as were the misery
and ruin into which man was plunged by sin, he might
nevertheless be saved from them, — yea, brought to the
very height of purity and perfection. He might win
all that he had ever lost, and more. There is nothing
more striking than the way in which the Bible describes
the disease and shame of sin, and then calmly fronts
1 The small intrinsic value makes the emblems a better type of
the despised publicans and sinners.

The Object and Claims of Christ 83
the question how a being so marred and degraded can
be restored. Further, He taught that it was worth
while to save man whatever the expenditure might be ;
for man, however far he had wandered, had still the
image of God. As one may read the sacred writing of
an old manuscript beneath all the disfiguring inscrip
tions of later days, so Jesus saw in the soul of the
meanest Syrian slave, through all erasures and blots,
the stamp of God. He never shared in the view, to
which there is so much to incline us, that man is too
sinful and too insignificant to be worth the pains and
the effort of God. The lost thing was precious enough
to bring Him down from heaven that He might save it.
He came to seek and to save that which was lost. He
came into the world that the world through Him might
be saved. Accordingly He gave no place to the dis
tinctions of race. As He Himself stood above the
national and secular peculiarities of His place and time,
as He was a foreigner in no land, but a citizen of every
tongue and kindred, — the Son of man, — His heart was
not bounded by any of the separating walls which
confine us. Rank and wealth were nothing to Him.
Before His eyes nothing was common and unclean.
He came not to save a particular race, but a world.
So large a thought conceived and expressed at a time
when great ideas were unfamiliar, and little provinces
of human love and trust were rigorously mapped out, —
such a thought was divine. The father seeks the
salvation of the family, the citizen of the city, the
patriot of the country; but the Son of man came to
seek and to save the whole world. This largeness of
sympathy was fully consistent with the most loving

,/

84 The Incarnate Saviour
individual regard. He did not love the world without
caring for the individuals of the world. He loved man
because He loved men. He had special friendships.
He associated Himself with special members of guilty
and degraded classes. His love was the aggregate of
personal attachments, and each object of His love is
regarded with a solitary affection as true and as heed
ful as though there were none other in all the world
to share it.
When He addressed Himself to the salvation of the
lost, He did not do so by ignoring the great problem
which had to be solved. He did not content Himself
with improving the condition of society. Nothing has
done so much to raise society as the work of Christ.
But that taken alone was not His object. He did not
lower the standard of divine holiness ; indeed, He
elevated it far higher than ever it had been raised ; and
yet He did not repel men by its exhibition, but so
showed it as to make men enamoured of goodness.
He did not address Himself to the cultivation of mind,
for the highest enlightenment may be present along
with entire spiritual ruin. Nor was he content even
with improved conduct and better feeling. Nothing
would satisfy Him short of the weakening and the
ultimate expulsion of the power of sin. The plague
of the heart, the one real evil and deep disease of
humanity, the rebellion against our Lord and God, —
these He dealt with; and the expulsion of them, and
the subjugation of the will to Himself, was the aim
short of which He could not be satisfied. The bound
will had to be liberated from its chains, and made to
obey Him who was its rightful King. This great

The Object and Claims of Christ 85
surrender was faith in Himself. The soul that once
trusted Him was back in the old true way. It had
ceased from straying, and was returned to the Shepherd
and Bishop of souls.
Before this union could be accomplished,- — before His
purpose of mercy to the race could be realised, — He
had to die. It is this which separates Christ so widely
from every human teacher. Death comes to all men as
the mark of weakness, failure, and guilt. But how
could it come to Him who was the Son of God ? Death
comes to other workers to end their work, but to Him
it came as His work. We shall miss entirely the whole
meaning of the life and death of Christ, if we take His
death as an incident which might have been averted,
and which He hoped to avert. He came into the world
to save sinners, and for their salvation it was needful
that He should die. Men were to be saved by faith in
Him, but the object of their faith was to be the Son of
man lifted up. He was not torn in pieces, by venturing
in a rash moment too near the whirling wheel of the
world's evil. He saw the end before Him from the
beginning, and might have shunned it had He so
pleased ; but to shun it would have been to leave to
their doom sinful, straying men. This has always been
an enigma to the world. When the Jews saw Him
nailed to the cross and in the hold of death, they
judged His claim to be practically settled. Even His
own disciples, when they saw Him in the tomb, aban
doned their hopes. "We trusted," said they, "that it
had been He who should have redeemed Israel." He
Himself shrank from death with all the natural shrink
ing of a pure and vigorous human nature ; but He

86 The Incarnate Saviour
distinctly recognised that not to die was to be barren,
— to abide alone, — and that death would be as the
falling of a corn of wheat into the ground, which,
dying, bringeth forth much fruit.
How His death was to be thus fruitful, we do not at
present attempt to explain. The fact to be insisted on
is, that He freely willed to die for us. His life was not
taken from Him whether He would or not, but by the
free will of His love and pity He gave Himself up that
we might be redeemed.
Further, He declared Himself to be the only source
of life. He did not stand side by side with other
ministers and channels of grace. He did not allow
His teaching to take a place as one form out of many,
but declared that He had a monopoly of truth, that He
had the secret of salvation, that there was salvation in
none other; that though human modes might affect the
fate of man in this world, nothing could really influence
for good the hereafter, save faith in Him. The high
charity that brought Him down to give light to them in
the shadow of death, made Him declare that His light
was the true light, and that all others would fail and
go out ; that to save man was to restore him to God in
this life, and to begin that purification which would be
completed in the other life when God would be seen
face to face. To be lost to God was a state which grew
steadily darker and more painful amongst the eternal
issues beyond the grave. To be won to God was to
enter a state of happiness which would broaden and
deepen into eternal bliss. Men were to be won to
this state by all that He said and did, but the great
instrument of their gaining was to be the Cross. So

The Object and Claims of Christ 87
we may say indifferently, the Son of man came to save
sinners, or the Son of man came to die for sinners.
How near the salvation of men was to His heart, may
be seen from His whole behaviour. His rare joys rise
from seeing this end in some measure accomplished.
Much of the shadow of His life falls from the unbelief
of men. The immense and fatal abuse of God's love
and gift, — the great and affecting failures to obtain
salvation, — wring from Him often cries and bursts
of pain. "Many are called, but few are chosen."
"Strait is the gate and narrow the way that leadeth
to life, and few there be that find it."
We come next to speak of the claims of Christ.
These are manifold. We select a few for comment.
He claimed first of all to be equal with God. The
ground on which He was condemned to die was His
assertion that He was the Son of God. He claimed to
be the Son of God in a unique sense, and this claim was
deliberately repeated when He knew that death would
be the penalty of making it. The blindest arrogance
has never risen to such an audacity of blasphemy as
that ; for blasphemy it is if it is not truth. He claimed
the attributes of God, — the power to forgive sins. In
speaking to Simon the Pharisee, He claims to be the
creditor to whom all debts are owing. Pharisee and
Magdalene alike were in debt to Him, and by Him
alone could they be forgiven. He said, " My Father
worketh hitherto, and I work," thus claiming to share
with the Father His world-sustaining energy. He
claimed to be of one essence with the Father. ' ' I
and my Father," said He, "are one." He declared,
"Before Abraham was, I am" ; not " Before Abraham

88 The Incarnate Saviour
was, I was." To Nicodemus He declared Himself as
the Son of God who came down from heaven, and was
in heaven even while talking with him. He declared
that He would ascend up where He was before. He
spoke of an hour when all should hear His voice and
live. He condemned the cities of Chorazin and Beth
saida for rejecting Himself. He proclaimed Himself
the Emperor of the future world and the realm of the
dead. He turned upon the Pharisees, and denounced
them in langage which could fitly come only from the
purity and power of God. He declared that He had
the power of judgment, of redemption, and of fellowship
with the Father.1
The old and awful name of God, "I Am," was taken
by Jesus Christ and filled up. God revealed Himself to
Moses as "I Am that I Am." Jesus says more. He
takes all the symbols of strength, sufficiency, tender
ness, adds them to that name, and claims it for His
own. He is not only true, but He is the Truth.
He is not only light, He is the Light. He is the
Door, the Bread, the Water, the Good Shepherd.
Whatever the human spirit can need, that He claims
to supply. In Him, if His words are true, all fulness
dwells. These names can be used by others only in a
secondary and incomplete sense. He Himself alone
can use them in the full integrity of their meaning.2
He invites men to come to Him, and He will give
them rest. "Come unto me, all ye that labour and
are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." The
1 See Westcott on John, Introduction, p. 84.
2 His claim to sinlessness will be found discussed in the con
cluding chapter.

The Object and Claims of Christ 89
words were spoken at first to a little knot of forgotten
Jews, but they were made over to the weary genera
tions of men. He confronts all the coming races with
their burdens, and declares Himself able and willing
to give rest to them all. Can this be the claim of a
man? Further, we notice that in His intercourse with men
He claims all. He never disclaims any expression
of affection and adoration as too great. It is not,
"Worship God, I am of thy fellow-servants," but "Ye
call me Master and Lord, and ye say well, for so I am."
He claims the homage of men, — a homage as complete
as can be rendered to His Father. When the woman
came to Him with the box of spikenard, He did not
say, "It is too much, I must not have it all," but He
took it as His by right. A mere man would have said,
"You are poor; it is too great a gift for your slender
means." He rarely used courtesies of speech common
with us : it was not His place to make requests, but to
give commandments. Men were to break away at His
word from the most sacred ties. Whosoever loved
father or mother more than Him, was not worthy of
Him. Without taking time to obey even the most
pressing claims of humanity, men were at His word
to follow Him. Although they did not see His ulti
mate intention, men were to take His plans without
questioning and doubting. To doubt or question was
to sin.
The immediate success or failure of His work made
no difference in His self-estimate. He did not lower
His claims when men left Him, nor raise them in the
elation of popularity. Men came and went ; He re-

90 The Incarnate Saviour
mained serenely the same. The tribute might not be
rendered now, but it would be His at last. In the
darkest hour of His fortunes He could calmly anticipate
the time that He should be acknowledged as King of
kings. Beginning His work in a peasant's garb, with
almost no following, He anticipated the time when His
religion should become fashionable, — when men should
call Him "Lord, Lord!" and He would not know
them ; when His name, hardly known, or known to
be despised, should become the spring of power, — the
well-head of great and sweet utterances, — the name
above every name, as Paul calls it, — the beautiful
name, as even the stern Apostle James says, with the
rare, deep tenderness of a rugged nature. Such were
His claims. None other made such claims; none other
claimed to stand so high, or to give so much. If these
claims are untrue, can His character stand stainless?
We are shut up to the old dilemma. Either He is God,
or He is not good.
His divinity and humanity both appear in His claims
and in His work. He was never afraid of lowering
Himself. Standing on the very verge of time, with
the millenniums of glory stretching on before, He
paused and stooped to wash the disciples' feet. He
was ready always with all the help which a man may
claim from his brother. Never dazzled by earthly
splendours, He was never humbled by earthly lowli
ness. What explanation can there be of this but the
old one, — He proceeded forth and came from God ?

VII
THE MIRACLES OF CHRIST

91

" ©rratrr Snorts tfjan tijesc shall gc bo."

' Thousands of things do Thee employ
In ruling all
This spacious globe : angels must have their joy,
Devils their rod, the sea his shore,
The winds their stint ; and yet when I did call,
Thou heard'st my call and more."
George Herbert.

CHAPTER VII

THE MIRACLES OF CHRIST

IT hardly accords with the plan of this work to dis
cuss the philosophy of miracles. That miracles
are possible is no question with those who believe in a
personal God ; that they have occurred is no question
with those who believe in a divine Christ. A satis
factory philosophical foundation for miracles is to be
found in the facts that God is free, and that His power
is not exhausted in the creation and in the upholding
of the universe. We go further, and say that miracles
are probable, because the original order of the universe
has been broken by sin. The perverted use of man's
free will has corrupted the world, and to restore it
needs the interposition of God. Christ came to restore
the moral order, and in performing this miracle He had
to perform many others. The end of the universe is
the glory of God in the salvation of man, and every
thing is made to subserve that. This delivers us from
being crushed by material magnitude. It supplies an
answer to the question : What are we — mere specks in
the immensity of things ? What are we — shut in and
lost amidst these frightful wastes of space which Pascal
shuddered at, encompassed by flaming and unknown

94 The Incarnate Saviour
worlds ? The reply is : We are the Church of God,
which He hath purchased with His own blood. For
us the course of nature exists, and if miracles are
needed for our sakes they will not be refused. All
that we demand about the Christian miracles is that
they fulfil certain conditions. First, we may ask that
they should be — not mere feats and wonders ; they
should have a moral meaning and end. If they are
mere feats, we may suspect that they are nothing but
the work of a juggler. The tricks may baffle and
surprise us like many conjurers' tricks, but even
although unable to explain them we shall still remain
unconvinced, and declare that the worker may be
nothing more than the cleverest of the host of en
chanters. We shall ask that the miracles have a
moral and spiritual meaning. They must be not only
what they have been called, a tolling of the great bell
of the universe to call the inhabitants to listen to
God's sermon, but also part of the sermon. They
must be not only "a great belt round the furthest
sun," but also part of the sun. Further, we shall ask
that these miracles be done with ease. There must
be no effort and no ostentation. Man performing a
miracle may be exhausted in the work, and boastful
when it is accomplished. If God does it, it will be
nothing to Him, for He will not rise up to it, but
descend upon it. He will not have a special class of
feats ; He will not prepare Himself for the effort ; He
will not exult over the work when it is achieved.
Further, He will do the work completely. The miracle
will not be partial, but total. These conditions, then
— first, that the miracle have a moral and spiritual

The Miracles of Christ 95
end ; secondly, that it be done with ease and without
surprise ; thirdly, that it be done completely — are con
ditions such as we may fairly expect to see fulfilled
in the Christian miracles. We shall, after examining
in detail the first miracle, and the classes into which
miracles may be divided, ask how far this expectation
is realised.

I. — The Beginning of Miracles
When our Lord looked over His life from the high
tree of His cross, He pronounced " It is finished." By
this He meant that the will of the Father had been
done without defect or flaw. He was born at the
right time, was silent at the right time, spoke at the
right time, and in the right way wrought in deeds the
perfect will of the Supreme. The more we study
His life, the more we shall see that there is in it a
calmness and an order, and a gentle taking up of
events. This miracle at Cana is, we are told very expressly,
the beginning of miracles. Here He tolled for the first
time the great bell of the universe that summoned
men to listen to His sermon. We must read the
miracle under that light, and when we do so we shall
find that it illustrates both what went before and what
was to come after in the life of Christ. The first
miracle might be expected to be the least glorious.
We might also hope to see in it some light thrown upon
the past, and, considering how it committed Him to a
divine course, we might expect to see in it how He
breaks with those quiet, uneventful years. Consider-

96 The Incarnate Saviour
ing also how greatly the stormy and tragic future was
to differ from that peaceful past, we might expect to
see how He looks forward to that future ; and, besides,
recognising the harmony of His life, we might expect
this miracle to rule the rest, as the keynote rules the
strain. These points we shall illustrate in order. First,
Christ's revelation of Himself and of God was progress
ive. He grew up before God like a tender plant.
He did not start into a sudden fulness and splendour of
beauty, but had His life nurtured day by day ; and so,
in revealing the brightness of God, the light and the
glory of His words and deeds constantly increased.
So here we have a view of the mind and heart of God,
as shown towards man before the stain of sin came
upon the world. God, as a bountiful benefactor, here
provides for His creatures' happiness. It is not good
for man to be alone, and so He sanctions marriage ;
and as marriage is a season of gladness, He provides
fit accompaniment, — provides it of the best, and in
such large measure as has amazed and alarmed timid
moralists. The quality and greatness of the gift were
worthy of God ; and we see the generosity all the
more clearly, when we remember that this bountiful
Creator had a little before refused to create bread to
save Himself from the pangs of hunger, while here
He provides wine to minister to the joy and prevent
the shame of the young couple at whose nuptials He
did not disdain to be present. The miracles wrought
after, this were for the most part miracles of healing,
cures, and recoveries, — amongst these recoveries being
three raisings from the dead. Had man kept pure in
soul, he would have remained pure in body ; but sin,

The Miracles of Christ 97
which destroyed the soul, destroyed the body, and
became the fruitful mother of disease and death to
humanity. So, then, in these miracles we have a
revelation of God showing intense sympathy with man
in the distress and ruin wrought by sin. We see
Him repairing the waste, and in this there is a more
glorious and comforting revelation of God in His pity
than we have in the first miracle, where He is revealed
merely in His bounty, and where, so to speak, sin is not
recognised at all. But it was at the end, when the
swift eventful years of His work were past, that the
most glorious revelation of God was given in miracle,
when He was being led to His death, — not surrounded,
as at the marriage feast, by smiling faces, but by
frowning, threatening foes. One of His servants took
his sword and cut off the servant of the high priest's
ear. His sun was sinking into its sea, and shone
brightest at its setting. " Suffer ye thus far," He said.
He asked for the use of His bound hands, and, having
obtained His request, He touched his ear and healed
him ; and though in their furious hate His enemies were
all unmoved by this strange mark of love and power,
— love manifested to His enemies in their supreme
madness, power manifested when He seemed to be
weakest, — we have leisure to mark the deed and to see
the revelation which for us is highest and most wel
come, — the revelation of a God showing mercy to
sinners in the height of their sin. If we are ever
to have mercy, we must have it as Malchus had,
seeing we have had our part like him in the cruci
fixion of the Son of God. We see, then, in the
beginning of miracles the dawn of that revelation of
7

98 The Incarnate Saviour
God which continually waxed in brightness till the
end. Secondly, the beginning of miracles throws a light
upon that past life at Nazareth with which He now
broke so completely. What, we have often asked,
did they do at Nazareth? How did He behave at
home? Too daring imaginations of old have tried to
fill the void, but in vain. We go back to the brief
fragments of revelation, and are fain to content our
selves with these. But let us not neglect what we
have here. Who knew His life better than His own
mother? She knew that He came from God. In
her heart were stored up all the mysterious revelations
and manifestations of His Godhead. She had watched
Him as child, boy, and man, — in His uncomplaining
toil, in His constant devotion, in His true submission
to the will of the Father. She had seen Him by day
and night for thirty years, and she can best tell what
manner of man He is. What is her testimony ?
"Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it." Here we
have a biography in a sentence. It was as if she said,
" I have watched Him all those years, and have never
seen Him err. He was subject unto us, but we were
gladly subject unto Him. His look commanded us, let
it command you. He is born to be the leader and the
commander of men. ' Whatsoever He saith unto you,
do it.'" This word of His mother's lightens up
strangely all the darkness of His life while He had
a home. Besides, there is a very revealing glimpse
into the past contained in the word beginning. The
imaginations of men have naturally pictured these

The Miracles of Christ 99
Nazareth years as full of wonders. But it was not so.
There was no miracle till the hour struck, and God's
hour did not strike till now. The miracle at Cana was
the beginning of miracles.
Thirdly, that past there is over, and, as we might
expect, we see here how He breaks with it. "What
have I to do with thee ? " He says to His mother.
After all the attempts that have been made to soften the
apparent harshness of this speech, it remains true that
there is something in it — as there is in the subsequent
record of His relations with His mother — which cannot
be explained unless we remember that Jesus was the
Son of God. He was subject unto her before, but
now the fleshly ties were broken — He was obedient no
more ; a higher voice called Him, and He must go. It
was part of the cross of Christ, as it has been part of
the cross of many of His people, that the work of God
severed His earthly ties. His mother must have been
exceptionally near and dear to Him. That loving heart
could not but have clung to the companions of early
years. It could not but have been a pang to Him to
repel His mother's advances and remonstrances in His
public work. Even we are touched with the patient
fidelity that clung to Him, and refused to believe in
the rebuffs or to accept the fact that the old tie of
mother and son was broken. Few words of the Bible
go so straight to the heart as those which tell that
there was by the cross of Jesus His mother, clinging to
the last, present with Him in His last agony, the pain
of which, if in one way it might have been lightened,
was in another way increased by the anguish of her

100 The Incarnate Saviour
look. He had to tell her — He does tell her here — that
the earthly bonds exist no more ; that others may come
as near Him as she ; that whosoever shall do the will
of God, the same is His brother, and sister, and
mother. We seem to perceive here not only a backward
look on the past, but also a look to the future.
" What have I to do with thee ? Mine hour is not yet
come." These last words have perplexed interpreters
so much, that a recent writer says they cannot be
explained either by Protestants or Roman Catholics.1
But may we not see in it something of the feeling of
one who was Himself about to take a decisive step
from a life of peace into a life of conflict and gloom
that was to darken into death ? Is it not the cry of
a sleeper awakened on the morning of a day which is
to end in a terrible tragedy ? Surely, He says, the day
is not yet come ; surely there are some hours to run
before it begins. So Jesus shrank as He opened His
eyes on the grey and awful dawn of that day, whereof
the midnight was to be so black and all the hours so
bitter. He had loved Nazareth. He had been happy
in the holy and beautiful morning of His life. The
name Jesus of Nazareth, which His foes hammered
over His dying head, was a name He never was
ashamed of. It was the name He used long after,
when He spoke out of heaven to Saul lying blind on
the dazzling road. He had loved the journey on the
smooth sward, and now it had come to an end ; and
He sees before Him the road of flints, at every step of
1 Dr. W. G. Ward in his Essays. See Note D.

The Miracles of Christ ioi
which His blood will run. So He shrinks back for the
moment : " Mine hour is not yet come." But instantly
He recalls Himself, and goes on to the work.
" What is it thou buriest so softly and still? —
Oh, this is the grave of my own proud will :
I bid it sleep softly in this little room,
And my hopes, too, I bury with it in the tomb."
He had no proud, rebellious will to break and bury,
and yet there was a struggle. In this passion before
the Passion we see that shrinking which we often trace
later, and at the same time that stedfast purpose which
mastered it, and carried Him on to the decease that He
should accomplish at Jerusalem. So He put His hand
to the work. The bell was rung for the first time, and
He never drew back.
Then, lastly, this miracle rules the rest, as the key
note rules the strain. He manifested His glory.
There was also a revelation of the glory of God ; but
the miracles of Christ were singular in this respect,
that they manifested His glory. Moses manifested
God's glory, and sinned when he forgot that that was
all he could do; but the miracles of Christ are all
expressions and revelations of His own glory. We
see in them His heart, His power, His will to work
and to suffer for our sakes. The revelation made at
the beginning is, as we shall see, continued through
the rest. Having regard to the symbolic character
of John's Gospel, we can hardly err in seeing here
besides a sign of the nature of the work of Christ,
which was to take natural homely things and enrich

102 The Incarnate Saviour
and transfigure them. His work was to turn the water
of earth into the wine of heaven.
We thus perceive that in the beginning of miracles
there is the beginning of a revelation of God. There is
a light thrown on the Saviour's past, there is a breaking
with that past, there is a forward looking to the future,
and there is the keynote given which was to rule the
miracles that were to come.

II. — The Kinds of Miracles
The miracles of Christ are a complete revealing of
His power and nature, so far as everything known to
man is concerned. We find them including examples
of His power over nature, His power over external
objects, His power over man's bodily frame, His power
over man's mind, His power over death and him that
hath the power of death, that is, the devil.
i. His power over external nature is illustrated by
His stilling the waves of the sea. On one occasion
He was with His disciples crossing the stormy Sea of
Galilee, and in the hinder part of the ship He was
sleeping on the pillow. He had not where to lay His
head. But the weary head is not hard to please with a
pillow, and He was very weary. The sleep of the
labouring man is sweet, and He was sleeping the sleep
of one wearied in teaching, and helping, and saving
man, — a heavy, dreamless slumber, undisturbed by the
tumult of wind and waves. The disciples did not
waken Him till the last moment. They waited as
long as they could. "The ship was filling," says one
evangelist, giving the view of one on board. " It was

The Miracles of Christ 103
now covered with the waves," says another, describing
it as seen by somebody standing on the shore. But
when it came to that, they turned to Him, saying,
"Master, carest thou not that we perish?" Two
things were contending, — on the one hand trust, and
on the other the old world-nature. But the trust was
uppermost, for they came to Him, saying, "Master."
We are all equal up to a certain point. For a time
there is no difference between us, but in great crises of
life the deliverer is sought out and found in a moment.
It was an impossible thing that He should not care for
their perishing, and so their fears and their faith drove
them to the stern where the sleeping Christ was lying.
That cry — half faith, half fear — brought Him to His
feet ; and He made answer, ' ' Why are ye fearful, O ye
of little faith ? " His calm soul brought calm. He
rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, "Peace, be
still." His word produced an instant effect on the
tumult outside. There was a great calm. After a
storm comes a swell ; after this storm came a calm.
And with what perfect ease was the miracle wrought !
The wearied Man who had laid Himself down to rest
rouses Himself up, awakened by the complaint of the
disciples, and in a moment tames and subdues the
power of nature. The two thoughts coupled together
— of the sleeping Christ and the awakened Christ — give
us the image and thought of Him in whom we trust,
with all the weakness of humanity that brings us so
near Him, and at the same time with all the great
power of God.
2. His power over external objects is illustrated by
the miracle already discussed, the turning of water into

104 The Incarnate Saviour
wine. It appears also in that miracle which excited so
great a commotion, and which He made the text of His
sermon on the bread of life — The Feeding of the Five
Thousand. This is the one miracle narrated by all four
evangelists. The multitude had assembled, pressing
upon Jesus. He had sought quiet, but they would not
allow Him to find it. After preaching to them, Jesus
had compassion upon their necessities, and asked the
disciples whence bread could be procured that they
might eat. A lad had four barley loaves and two
fishes, barley loaves being the ordinary black bread of
the Galilean peasants. But what were they among so
many ? They confessed themselves baffled by so great
a difficulty, and so Jesus commanded the disciples to
arrange the people in ranks upon the grass. The
miracle must have occurred early in the year, for in
that country the grass is burnt and brown before the
end of April. That so huge a multitude should have
arranged themselves so obediently, shows that they
had that faith without which, in all likelihood, the
miracle would not have been wrought. They ranged
themselves rank after rank. And what expectancy
there must have been as the order was gradually
formed, and Christ faced them calmly with the slight
provision He was so marvellously to multiply ! They
were seated on the grass like rows of flowers, to use
the picturesque word of one of the evangelists, — which
refers probably to their bright Eastern dresses,1 — all
gazing wistfully, and expecting they knew not what.
Often men have to prepare when there is no sign of
anything, — to dig ditches for the rain beneath a blue,
1 ~Kal avtireaov irpamal irpcuriat, Mark vi. 40.

The Miracles of Christ 105
blazing sky, to build barns for a harvest not begun
to grow. So it was here. He faced them with no
dismay, — with a great pity, and the full consciousness
that He had power to indulge that pity. So, when all
was ready, the bread was broken and distributed to
the multitude. All had a share ; and after all were
provided there was a surplus, which was carefully
gathered for future needs. This miracle produced a
deep impression, and roused the people to enthusiasm,
inducing them to resolve to crown Him as their king.
This miracle — in some respects the most remarkable of
all in the Gospels, one which modern theorists find
particularly refractory — shows not only the ease and
completeness with which Christ could perform His
miracles, but also the reserve, the economy, with which
He used His power. Though a word created all that
vast store, the fragments had to be gathered so that
nothing should be lost. It was but seldom that Christ
miraculously afforded provision for man's physical
necessities ; and the reason doubtless is, that He feared
to corrupt them by putting them beyond the need of
honest labour. Indiscriminate charity has done much
to demoralise the poor ; but His charity was carefully
accommodated to their actual necessities and their true
welfare. 3. Most of His miracles manifested His power over
man's bodily frame. He healed diseases. Diseases,
frequently of repulsive form, were common then in
Palestine, and the Healer had brought to Him crowds
of sufferers, none of whom came in vain. So pressing
were the claims of the sick and their importunate
friends, that He had often to tell those who were

106 The Incarnate Saviour
healed not to spread the news abroad. His miracles
of healing were often performed on leprosy. Leprosy
was a type of sin, and it is notable that He never
paused when a leper cried to Him. He gave also
recovery of sight to them that were blind. Blindness,
as now, was sadly common in Eastern lands. He
healed those who were sick of the fever, and His
healing left them not weak and weary, but strong and
vigorous. The main points to be noticed in His treat
ment of disease are such as these : He was no specialist
— every class of disease was amenable to His will ; He
never had to ask for time or for helps ; before seeing
the disease He undertook to cure it ; His cures were
never gradual recoveries — they were always complete.
4. His power over man's mind is shown by His
knowledge of what was in man. From the beginning
He knew who should betray Him. When Nathanael
was under the fig tree He saw him ; when Simon was
cherishing the uncharitable thought in his heart, He
knew what was passing in his mind. Naked and open
were all men to the eyes of Him with whom they had
to do.
5. His sovereignty over death was manifested three
times, as well as in His own resurrection. He raised
Jairus' daughter, the widow's son, and Lazarus. These
three times are, so far as we know, the only occasions
in which He ever came in contact with death. Jairus'
daughter was just dead, the widow's son was being
carried to his grave a few hours after death, Lazarus
was dead four days. But these differences were
nothing. With equal ease they were all called forth
and restored to their old life. Their restoration was in

The Miracles of Christ 107
each case out of sympathy for those who bewailed their
loss. Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue, rushed out
from the house where his- little daughter lay at the
point of death, and broke in on Christ seated with the
publicans and sinners at the table of that despised one
whom probably Jairus had himself scourged out of the
synagogue. He made his appeal, and the Master went
with him like a servant. Their journey to the house
was broken by the woman who touched the hem of His
garment and was made whole. And when they reached
the house, Jairus' daughter was gone. But He said,
"She is not dead, but sleepeth." It was not His
manner to magnify His miracles. He did not say,
"She is sevenfold dead," but, "She sleepeth." And
with tender words He called her from her short slumber.
When He saw the widowed mother weeping for her
only son, He had compassion on her, and touched the
bier, and said, "Young man, I say to thee, Arise."
When He came to the grave of Lazarus, his friend, and
saw the two sisters whom He loved deep in grief, and
the company of the Jews weeping with them, His heart
was moved with trouble and anger at the victory of
sin, and in pure sympathy for their tears he wept, and
cried, "Lazarus, come forth." His cheeks were wet
with the tears of sympathy, and yet His word was shot
into the darkness of the tomb and the dull cold ear of
Death, and he who had been dead came forth in his
grave-clothes with shrouded face. As Augustine says
remarkably, "He calls him by name, lest He should
bring forth all the dead." In each of these cases He
completes the miracle. He is not flushed or agitated
by His triumph. As soon as the dead man sits up and

108 The Incarnate Saviour
begins to speak, He delivers him to his mother. When
the young maiden is raised, with delicate consideration
He commands that something shall be given her to eat.
When He sees the bound face and feet and hands of
Lazarus, He reminds those who stand by petrified with
astonishment to loose him and let him go. He does all
things beautifully well.1
6. His power is shown also over him that hath the
power of death, that is, the devil. There were diseases
in the time of Christ which were solemnly attributed by
their Healer to the power of unclean spirits. Evil at
that time was permitted to manifest itself with terrible
distinctness, that it might be met by the mightiest
manifestation of good. He conquered in every case
where He- encountered it. One case, decidedly the
most terrible of all, may be referred to. A man who
had been long possessed, who wore no clothes, and
dwelt in no house, but abode in the tombs, cried out
when he saw Jesus, "What have I to do with Thee,
Thou Son of God most high ? " There was something
in the look of Christ that was troubling the hidden
devils. He expelled them, and the man out of whom
the devils departed sat at the feet of Jesus, clothed and
in his right mind. Beautiful in its suffused calm is this
picture of the restored man, when it is put in contrast
with the paroxysm of madness and misery from which
he had been delivered. He was sitting. That was
wonderful, for the terrible restlessness of his malady
had made him incapable of a moment's rest. Now the
tension has collapsed. He is master of himself, sitting.
He is clothed. Chains could not hold him before, but
1 KaXws, Mark vii. 37.

The Miracles of Christ 109
now he is restored to a consciousness of the decencies
of life. And the explanation of it all is that he is at
the feet of Jesus. Jesus has brought him into quiet,
and sanity, and decency; and the man, in strange
contrast with those who prayed that Christ would
depart out of their coasts, implores Him that he may
be with Him, lest the old evil power should surge
over his spirit once more.
These narratives and the rest seem to satisfy all
the conditions which we may lawfully demand in the
miracles of Christ. They are done with infinite ease,
with an exuberance of power. They are not great
efforts, but repeated again and again. There is no
sign of exhaustion. The multitude are astonished, but
He is not astonished. Then they are not done reck
lessly or lawlessly. While there is great ease there is
great reserve, and every particle of power is accounted
for. When the woman touches Him, He knows that
virtue has gone out of Him, and demands who it was
that drew Him. Again, the miracles are complete.
Nothing has to be added to them — no one can amend
them. And they are all pregnant with revelations of
God's nature and purposes. Some are, in all probability,
symbolical of definite spiritual truths ; all are distinct
revelations of the mind and heart of God. This being
so, we are justified in placing them on a different plat
form from all other miracles.
He Himself never rated His miracles highly.
"Greater works than these shall ye do," He said to
His disciples. But He never said, "Greater words
than these shall ye speak," or " Greater thoughts than

no The Incarnate Saviour
these shall ye think." He knew that the needs supplied
for the moment would recur, that the sicknesses would
come back worse, and that the bitterness of death was
not past. But it was natural that He should do miracles.
Would He have been God manifest in the flesh if He
had journeyed deaf, and bound, and helpless through
the evils and distresses of humanity ? This was
impossible, and therefore miracles were done. But
signs and idle wonders He indignantly declined to
perform. Of works of mercy there was a plenitude,
but He refused to work wonders which would merely
gratify a vacant or transient curiosity. To create
belief, not to raise astonishment, was His object ; and
the works He did were enough to make unbelief with
out excuse.
It is incomplete to say that the miracles justify belief
in Christ, and it is equally incomplete to say that it is
belief in Christ that makes miracles credible. Christ
comes before us as a whole — His person and His work.
It is impossible to separate the two, and we believe in
the whole — that is, in both.

VIII
THE TEACHING OF CHRIST

" $eber man spake Kite this fHan."

"O holy Truth, whene'er thy voice is heard,
A thousand echoes answer to the call ;
Though oft inaudible thy gentle word,
While we regard not. Take me from the thrall
Of passionate Hopes, be thou my all in all ;
So may Obedience lead me by the hand
Into thine inner shrine and secret hall." Isaac Williams.

CHAPTER VIII

THE TEACHING OF CHRIST

A POINT always noticed by our Lord's hearers
was, that His teaching differed from that of all
others : " Never man spake like this Man." He spoke
like a man, and yet no man ever spoke like Him. The
criticism of those who left Him after hearing one
of His sermons was, " Not as the Scribes." Whether
the teaching was good or evil they might not be
able to say, but of this at least they were sure, that
it was different from the teaching they had been ac
customed to hear.
The double thread of divinity and humanity is to be
traced also in the teaching of Christ.
He spake with authority. It was this that first
struck the people as marking Him out as different
from the Scribes. The Scribes always made appeals
to others. They quoted traditional interpretations, and
sought to win the assent of their hearers by appealing
to those who had gone before. But Jesus appealed to
His own authority: "/say unto you." The Scribes
were aware of the opposition their statements might
excite, and of the silent resistance with which men are
always prone to meet any unfamiliar truth, and they

114 The Incarnate Saviour
took the usual means to anticipate and master that
resistance. They employed authority, argument ; and
if these failed, the fortress might be captured by
appeals to passion. But with Jesus it was different.
He appealed to no prejudice ; He made no concession
to passion. He spoke as one who knew that He
possessed the truth, and that the truth had a welcome
prepared for it from of old within obedient hearts. For
the most part He did not argue ; and although it is
true that an Eastern discourse is generally a collection
of loosely connected sayings, resembling in its entirety
not a living organism, but a heap of jewels, each
beautiful in itself, and that this is so with Christ's, yet
that is not the whole. When He says, "Believe in
me," " Follow me," "I am the truth," " Verily, verily,
I say unto you," He is speaking with the sublime
certainty of one who knows that, as a divine teacher,
He has a right to the empire and assent of every soul
of man. It is true that He refers to the Bible ; but in
His references He, as it were, stands above it, and sets
His seal upon it, even when He has claimed its sanction
for His own words. The prophets effaced themselves
by appealing to God, whose witnesses they were, and
prefaced their words by "Thus saith the Lord." He
spoke the most startling truths, and offered no certifi
cate but that of His own authority. And as He was
the authoritative teacher, so He was the commander of
men. He never gave advice. He did not say, "If
you please " : His words were imperative ; they were
law ; they were guarded by the most awful sanctions ;
to disobey them was to incur the risk of eternal ruin.
The difference between law and advice is one appre-

The Teaching of Christ i i 5
ciable measure of the difference between Christ and
human teachers. This was what men needed then,
and need now. Those who believed in Him first were
weary of debating ; they were not sure of their own
power to thread labyrinths of reasoning, or resist
appeals to passion, and they craved for a solid founda
tion on which they might build the hopes that were
dear as life. So it is still. In the time of health and
prosperity, men may delight in speculation and inquiry ;
but when the great shocks and overthrows of life come,
men seek something that will uphold them, that will
enlighten them as to what lies beyond the deep dark
ness of the grave. The search for truth, so fascinating
once, becomes weary when men have little time and no
heart to pursue it, and the eternal realities are near.
Then the truth itself is sought, — the truth that knows
its responsibilities, its frontiers, its consequences.
Doubts only make a man impatient, while he is met
and satisfied by the vast claims of Him who asserted
that Himself was the Christ. Instead of chafing at the
immense assumption involved, he is thankful then that
the words of Christ are so calmly assumed, so sub
limely imperative. Yet Jesus spoke as a man, for with
all these claims He fell back upon God's word. He did
not profess to be able to dispense with it, but fed upon
it, put His trust in it, and drank out of it as from an
ever-living spring.
He spoke with full and intimate knowledge of the
ways of men, and yet as one who was entirely above
them. His parables are full of proofs that He had
observed human work and ways with a close and

116 The Incarnate Saviour
kindly scrutiny. The woman putting the leaven into
the meal, the children playing in the market-place, the
sower sowing the seed, — these and many other homely
scenes of life did not escape Him. He knew human
nature thoroughly in all its best and worst phases. A
singular illustration of this is His story of the two sons,
or, as it is usually called, the story of the Prodigal Son.
How, we ask, will one who has never known wicked
ness, whose mind has never been sullied, whose lips
have never been polluted by any drop of the cup of evil,
understand the bitter and tortuous ways of sin ? How
will He, who has hardly been away from His mother's
side, describe the course of one who has left his home
and gone to the far country, and wasted there his
substance with riotous living ? Let this story answer.
With what supreme truth the whole miserable history
is told. There are two sons, and it is the younger son,
who had latest received the ministries of love, who first
forgets them. Indulged, probably, he wearies even of
the golden chains, and asks for his portion, gathers all
together, and takes his journey into a far country. He
gathers all together, for he has no thought of return ;
and he takes his journey into a far country, for his idea
of happiness is to be as remote from his father as
possible. For a time all goes well ; but when the
money is spent, a mighty famine arises in the land.
Can we be wrong in thinking that there is a reference
here to the mighty famine which a prodigal who has
spent all his money always finds around him ? So long
as he was rich, doors and purses were open to him.
But whenever he came to want, those who had helped
him to scatter his father's savings had nothing to give

The Teaching of Christ i i 7
him. No man gave unto him. The most terrible
indictment of human nature ever written. And yet
nature's sternest painter is the best. These were no
true friends — only boon companions ; and so he is
driven in his despair to an occupation the very mention
of which would have sent a shudder through our Lord's
hearers. He was sent into the fields to feed swine.
And then, in his dire extremity, he turned fatherwards
and homewards. Or rather, it was not his father he
saw, but the well-provisioned house, — the house where
even the hired servants had bread enough and to spare.
The bare fields and the stripped trees look drearier
than ever, and he says, " I will be done with all this."
And he rises, remembering that he is not worthy of the
least mercy. He frames his confession ; and what
tears, what burning shame there are in it : " Father, I
have sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am
no more worthy to be called thy son : make me as one
of thy hired servants." The speech is never uttered ;
it is cut in twain by a great burst of forgiving love.
His father runs to meet him, kisses his trembling lips
into silence, seats him at the board, and the house
rings with welcome, because the dead is living, and the
lost is found. And with what a sure hand does our
Lord describe what may be called the respectable vices !
He understands profligacy and the grosser forms of
sin, but the picture of the elder brother, with its
delicate touches, shows that He understood sins less
recognised, but as deadly. Every word tells. When
the elder brother sees the red lights flushing the
window, and hears the unwonted joy, he begins his
complaint without saying " Father." He speaks of his

i t 8 The Incarnate Saviour
many years of servitude as one for whom the time had
moved with leaden feet. " Neither transgressed I at
any time thy commandments," — one who had given a
loveless obedience, but no more. "Thou never gavest
me a kid, that I might make merry with my friends," —
an unloving soul that had never called forth any warm
token of love. " Thy son who hath devoured his living
with harlots," — a hasty and uncharitable inference.
And the same patient love includes and forgives the
two. It is a humbling fact, that men who have
proclaimed God's truth with great results have been
themselves full of envy, jealousy, — have known the
conflict of the worst passions, and have too often
yielded to their power. The very fact of their knowing
these malign emotions, the experimental evidence that
they were struggling with them, has made them better
able to speak to men like-minded, than those cast in
another mould, whose souls have been less vexed with
these stormy winds. And yet the fact that they have
yielded to sin has weakened and almost paralysed
them while denouncing it. Jesus combined the two
things, — perfect knowledge of sin, and perfect freedom
from sin, — and therefore spoke with double power. He
never illustrates from His own life, but finds weapons
to pierce the conscience in the history of human
hearts, whose baseness He knew to the very utter
most. He observed external nature, and said exquisite things
about it. His calm eyes saw through the pretence and
gaudiness of man's attempts at decoration, and He
said of the quiet lilies in the field, that Solomon in all
his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Yet He

The Teaching of Christ 119
did not linger upon nature lovingly, as many of our
poets have done. It would not be correct to say, with
Dr. Watts, that " He glides along by mortal things
without a thought of love " ; but we need not be afraid
to speak of His admiration for nature, for His glances
at nature, though heedful, are not close and passionate.
He speaks as one who stands far above it, whose eyes
are familiar with far fairer scenes. He is utterly above
the prejudices both of rich and poor. The poor had
the gospel preached to them. He went about amidst
the villages and lanes of Galilee doing justice to their
long-neglected claims, but He did nothing unworthy to
win favour amongst them. He held out to them no
prospect of earthly reward, and His way of giving
happiness to them was very different from what they
imagined. He was the Christ of the people, not in the
democratic sense of selecting a particular class for His
favour, for His message was one meant as much for the
rich as for the poor. He never sought to gain the rich,
and indeed went counter to all the views current
amongst them. In short, He was far above rich and
poor alike, — far above the whole atmosphere of His
time. We feel that all His words are spoken from a
commanding standpoint, — from an elevation to which
no mere man can ever climb ; and yet with all this
they show the clearest intelligence of man's ways and
needs, as well as the closest sympathy.
His teaching was new, and yet it attached itself
to all truth that had been revealed before. It was
original. Nothing has been more distinctly brought
out by recent investigation, than the absolute origin-

120 The Incarnate Saviour
ality of our Lord's teaching. The few and remote
analogies that have been discovered with the teaching
of the day, have only served to present this in a
clearer light. But He was not original in the sense
of being destructive. His teaching was not built
upon the ruins of old systems. It is easy to destroy,
hard to build, but most difficult to develop. The last
was His work. He took the law and precepts of the
old Jewish religion, set up His new divine ideal of
conduct, and connected the two. He declared that
not one jot or tittle of the law should fail ; that He
came not to destroy but to fulfil ; and set Himself,
especially in the Sermon on the Mount, to show how
His teaching attached itself to and transcended Old
Testament teaching. He took the commandments,
affirmed them, and explained that they related not
merely to acts, but to desires. He carried them into
regions of which the old law knew nothing. Going
beyond the highest reach of human wisdom, He de
clared that men were to love one another as He had
loved them. He overturned the traditional maxims,
which had in society more force perhaps than the
laws of God, and declared that what was highly
esteemed among men was abominable in the eyes of
God. In short, He undertook the most difficult of all
tasks, — to meet the people upon a common platform,
and to lift them up by showing that His teaching,
while new, was yet a true development of the old
revelation of God.
His teaching was characterised at once by simplicity
and profundity. His sayings were simple in form, — so

The Teaching of Christ 121
much so that the common people heard Him gladly.
They felt that they understood what He had said, and
wished to hear more. But soon they perceived that
there was more in these sayings than they had
imagined. They had another meaning and another,
and seemed to grow deeper with deepening life. They
were like clear wells, into which one may gaze without
seeing the bottom. They were like sea-shells sounding
with the immeasurable depth. Every word had in it
the echo of eternity. Or, to use another illustration,
they were like that bread which appeared scarcely
sufficient for a few, and yet sufficed for five thousand,
with a large provision left over. These words of
Christ have in them the infinitude of Godhead ; and
the years that have passed since they were spoken
have been spent in developing their meaning. Yet, as
one of their deepest students has declared, we are only
on the outskirts of the knowledge of them. The
bread has been broken amongst men and has sufficed,
and still there is more. The teaching of Christ was
not exhaustive but germinant, — like a handful of seeds
and roots, with great possibilities which have never
been unfolded ; which never will be, because they are
infinite. No other chief of thought has this depth, this
influence. Every other teacher comes to be criticised
and questioned, every other master has his place filled,
but a willing Christendom still sits at the feet of
Christ. Again, His words are remarkable for their intellectual
qualities, and at the same time never marked by mere
cleverness. He never needed to meditate before He

122 The Incarnate Saviour
gave an answer; and, as we shall see, most of His
finest sayings were struck from Him in the heat of
argument. He could make sharp retorts and replies,
but He seldom cared to do so. He never was disin
genuous, — never escaped by a quirk or quibble. His
sayings were all perfect in their form. His diction
is not an artificial fold which may be taken off His
thoughts and replaced by another. The thought lives
through every particle of the style. To cut is to
wound.1 Yet of form there was no apparent thought ;
and all was spoken not to display the gift of the
speaker, but to win the hearts of the hearers. He
Himself paid absolutely no regard to intellectual
eminence. His disciples were not amongst the wise
and prudent, and He was thankful that it was so.
He did not indeed disparage study and learning ; but
His criterion of judgment was not the criterion of the
schools, and nothing was of any account in His eyes
save what made for the purity and simplicity of the
soul. He had no intellectual pride ; and though He
could have held the whole Sanhedrim in audience, and
commanded the admiration of the learned, He never
made the attempt.
He speaks of heaven, of the future world, as a
witness. Yet all His revelation is carefully shaded to
make it fit for our eyes. He claims to know the Father
as none other can. He knows the interior relations of
the Godhead. He beheld Satan as lightning fall from
heaven, and knows of the joy that is in the presence
1 A perusal of the well-intentioned modern travesties of Christ's
words is instructive. See Foster's Journal, 393.

The Teaching of Christ 123
of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.
He is familiar with the many mansions in His Father's
house, and speaks of departing to prepare a place there
for His disciples. Speaking to Nicodemus, He forgets
the narrow street, with the wind moaning along it, and
says, "The Son of man which is in heaven." Yet how
little is spoken, how many pressing questions are left
unanswered ! Not because He could not answer them,
for this reticence goes along with clear, calm, confident
knowledge. It was not that He did not know ; it was
because the knowledge was too high and too deep to
be expressed to men.
Such are some of the characteristics of Christ's teach
ing. Into the matter of that teaching we do not enter
at present. Of this teaching He said Himself that it
would last longer than heaven and earth. Yet He
took none of the ordinary precautions for the preserva
tion of His teaching. He never wrote, except once
upon the ground. His method, however, was more
effectual, for He put His law in the mind, and wrote
it on the heart,1 and the two thousand years that have
gone past have never as yet given the lie to His saying.
Many a name has risen and set since then. Many
words have been spoken and forgotten ; but never
since they were uttered first have the words of Christ
been more earnestly heeded and studied than they are
to-day. There are voices that tell us that these words
also will pass away, and that the influence of Christ
will decay, as has decayed the influence of other
teachers. But what is to take their place? They fill
1 See Aquinas, Summa, Quasst. 42, Art. 4.

124 The Incarnate Saviour
a void which must be filled, and which no other words
do anything to supply. They are living and mighty
still ; and until we see other words likely to be their
substitute, we prefer to believe that He spoke but the
sober truth when He said that they would endure when
heaven and earth had passed away.

IX
THE APOSTLES OF CHRIST

"ge are theg brhtcb Ijabe ronttnueb iaitfj mc in mg temptations."

" We were weary, and we
Feeble and faint in our march,
Ready to drop down and die ;
Still thou turnedst, and still
Beckon'dst the trembler, and still
Gavest the weary thine hand.
If in the ways of the world
Stones have wounded thy feet,
Toil or dejection have tried
Thy spirit, of that we saw
Nothing ; to us thou wert still
Cheerful and helpful and firm.
Thus to thee it was given
Many to save with thyself,
And at the end of the day,
O faithful Shepherd, to come.
Bringing thy sheep in thy hand."
M. Arnold.

CHAPTER IX

THE APOSTLES

SOME of the apostles were at first disciples of John,
— probably all were so, — and this fact shows
that they were men of moral earnestness, wearied of
the unsatisfying religion that was in vogue, and need
ing something more. They were men also who could
not rest under the preliminary dispensation of John,
and who eagerly embraced the Messiah when He
appeared. At first their faith was not mature.
Although they saw in Christ the fulfilment of Old
Testament prophecy, that prophecy they interpreted
in a very carnal and unworthy sense. Still they
were enthusiasts. They had the root of the matter
in them, and He who measured them exactly from the
first saw their fitness for their place.
At first they appeared to have been only occasional
companions of Christ. We find them, for example,
with Jesus at His first miracle, wrought at the
marriage at Cana. Then they began to attend on
His person, and to be with Him almost without a
break, accompanying Him in • His preaching journeys
throughout the land. Their function was to be eye
witnesses and ministers of the word ; and in order
that nothing should be lost, it was needful that He

127

128 The Incarnate Saviour
should soon have about Him a company of disciples.
After a time He chose twelve of them as apostles,
partly to be free of the inconvenient crowd that pursued
His steps, but mainly for two reasons, — first, that they
might be with Him ; and, secondly, that they might
be fishers of men. The number twelve had reference
no doubt to the twelve tribes of Israel, besides its con
venience otherwise. The twelve apostles were chosen
at least a year before His crucifixion. We do not
know very much of the greater part of them. They
were poor men chosen from the lower classes, partly
because the wise and prudent did not give ear to Christ,
partly because there was less misapprehension in their
minds to combat. Two or three of them were men of
singular gifts, — in particular, John and Peter. John
was the disciple whom Jesus specially loved, the
disciple who understood best His soul and His object.
Of John we have a tolerably complete portraiture in the
Gospels. He was a man of fiery, vigorous character
externally, but underneath the apparent force and
impulse there was a great and gentle love, — a love
that was a profound intelligence, making him fit to
gaze on God's greatest revelations. Some difficulty
has been felt in harmonising the two ideas, — the Son
of Thunder and the Apostle of Love. It has been
suggested that as years grew, and as the Master's
influence was more felt, the fiery passions of youth
were cooled. One advocate of this view says: "It is
a tribute to the power of Christ, that He subdued and
dominated such a nature. A traveller, giving an
account of an ancient volcano which he visited, tells
of a wondrous cup-like hollow on the mountain summit,

The Apostles 129
and where the fierce heat had once burned, a still, clear
pool of water looking up like an eye to the beautiful
heavens above." But the difficulty of imagining the
two together has perhaps been exaggerated. The
great, deeps of his nature were unmoved, though the
surface might be vexed with transient storm. Peter's
character is more easily comprehended. A hasty,
audacious, impulsive temperament, a warm heart,
strong common sense, — these were his main character
istics. Christ discerned from the first the genuine
worth of the man, and called him a man of rock. The
features of his life are all in keeping, and are, as it
were, echoes of the central one, — his denial of the
Lord. One time he saw Christ in the sea through
the uncertain glimpses of the stormy moonlight, longed
to be near to Him, and stepped over the boat to walk to
Him on the water. But when he felt the spray in his
face, and the unevenness of the waves' flow, his faith and
courage failed him. So at the end he avowed that
though all men should forsake Christ he would not — he
would die for Him. His imagination, however, had
conceived the result but not the process. He had over
estimated his own strength. The cold of the day, the
want of sleep, the jeers of the servant girl, — these and
other little things came together and mastered him, so
that he denied the Lord, and having once denied Him,
his iniquity, like the wind, took him away. He denied
Him a second and a third time, with oaths and curses.
The two disciples sometimes appear together. Peter
and John, after the resurrection, go together to the
tomb. John stands outside, but Peter makes his way
in. And again, when they see Christ upon the shore,
9

130 The Incarnate Saviour
Peter's eagerness will not allow him to wait till they
have crossed the little strip of water that is between
them and Him ; he casts himself into the sea, and, half
wading, half swimming, he makes his way to the feet
of his thrice-denied Lord, while John waits till he has
reached the shore. Thomas has been called the Paley
of the apostles, from his desire to have verified to him
experimentally the fact that Christ had risen. The
term is not felicitous, for Thomas had little in common
with Paley, and as little in common with the sceptics of
the nineteenth century. These strange alternations
of cold doubt and passionate affection, which appear in
the few recorded incidents of Thomas' life, separate
him from most doubters. He had a warm heart, but a
melancholy temperament, and his fears and doubts were
often too strong for his faith, though not for his love.
We have a definite impression of some of the other
apostles; of others we know little. And "we must
learn to think of them not as exceptionally gifted and
holy men, but as very like the honest, hard-featured
men we may see standing in a knot at the corner of any
fishing village, or at whose superstitious legends or
domestic tales or ignorant questions we may laugh
when we spend a night with them in their boat."
Our Lord trained these twelve. They had the inestim
able privilege of going in and out with Him. They
were trained by what they heard and by what they saw.
They had His direct influence as well as the indirect.
A large part of His life and effort was devoted to their
instruction. To them was communicated a great part
of the Lord's teaching that they might deliver it. What
they heard in the darkness they were to speak in the

The Apostles 131
light ; what was spoken to them in the ear was to be
declared on the house-tops. Their patient Master had
to contend with much ignorance, narrowness, and
superstition on their part ; but there was true devotion
to Him, and that devotion did in the end prove victorious
over all that impeded it. He gently accommodated His
revelation to their minds. He taught them as they were
able to bear it. His hardest task was to disabuse them
of their carnal idea of the Messianic kingdom. At last,
when they seemed in a measure ready for it, He showed
them that He had to die. They came to a turn in the
road from which the end might be seen. They looked
forward and saw in the distance — what ? Not thrones
in Jerusalem where they were to sit by His side as
temporal princes, but the great cross on which the Son
of man must be lifted up.
The decisive interview, which forms such a turning-
point in the Gospels, is carefully described. ' ' Whom
say men that I am ? " He asked them first. They gave
Him for reply: "Some say, Elias; others, One of the
old prophets," — perhaps with some instinctive delicacy
concealing from Him the worst that was said. He
appealed from this judgment of the outer circle to them
who knew Him better: "Whom say ye that I am?"
And may we not say that He waited with anxiety for
the answer, — an answer that would show the result
of all His training and example ? It came full of music
and truth from the lips of Peter : " Thou art the Christ,
the Son of the living God." "Blessed art thou," He
said with quick gladness; "flesh and blood hath not
revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in
heaven." Having thus established them in the faith

132 The Incarnate Saviour
of His person, He begins to unfold the future. Just as
men find it needful often to prepare their fellows for the
announcement of hard tidings, by establishing them in
the assurance that it is a friend who speaks, so He
wished them to understand who He was, that they
might be able to accept the revelation that was coming.
"The Son of man must go to Jerusalem, and suffer
many things of the elders and chief priests and
scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third
day." It is not of a probability that He speaks. He
does not say, "The anger of my foes is increasing, and
may soon end in a storm which will destroy me." He
spoke of a certainty which must be. He " must go to
Jerusalem" — that of itself was bad news — "and suffer
many things" — the picture grows darker — "and be
killed " — that is midnight. And then He shoots a bar
of light across it and makes it all clear — " and be raised
again the third day." But they did not hear Him out ;
they heard about the death, but no further. Peter took
Him and began to rebuke Him. " Be it far from thee,
Lord : this shall not be unto thee." If there had been
any hesitation in His mind, this was the time to bring
it forth. The heart grows faint sometimes, when a
great purpose, as it were, takes shape in words. The
eyes are dazzled, and a very little would make the
resolve collapse. But it is not so here. "Get thee
behind me, Satan " ; for He hears again the voice that
in the wilderness sought to tempt Him by pointing a
short way to the kingdom. ' ' Thou savourest not the
things that be of God, but those that are of men."
Then He goes on and tells all : — The law of His
kingdom was cross-bearing. His disciples had each to

The Apostles i2>3
bear a cross. He that saved his life would lose it ; he
that lost his life for Christ's sake would find it. There
was a day coming when the wisdom of following Him
even with a cross and to a cross would be manifest to
all. The sluice is lifted now, and He talks freely, as we
ourselves have found it easy to say much that had been
long pent up, when the difficult first word was spoken.
So far as there is record, He is not interrupted further,
for the disciples had more difficulty with the thought
that He had to bear a cross, than with the thought that
they themselves had to bear it. Even when the solemn
end came, when the great depths of His heart were
broken up, His purpose with these disciples seemed
very imperfectly achieved. They could not keep awake
by Him in Gethsemane ; they nearly all forsook Him
at the cross. Peter himself denied Him thrice. After
His death they all scattered, but after the resurrection
He gathered them again, and gave them the great
charge to go everywhere preaching the gospel : ' ' Lo, I
am with you alway, even to the end of the world."
The disciples were chosen, first, that they might be
with Christ. He had a real gladness and strength in
their companionship. There is a note of pain when He
says, "The hour cometh when ye shall be scattered
every man to his own, and shall leave me alone." In
the supreme crisis of His agony He longs to know that
the human companionship was near. To be utterly for
saken was a deep grief. ' ' I looked for some to pity, but
there was none, and for comforters, but I found none."
When they failed to give Him their company, He re
proaches them gently : ' ' Could ye not watch with me

134 The Incarnate Saviour
one hour ? " He is grateful even for their uncompre
hending fellowship. "Ye are they," says He, "who
have continued with me in my temptations." He knew
the denials and unbelief that were coming ; He knew
their partial sympathy and knowledge: and yet He
was thankful even for their poor company, for their
wavering affection, for their doubting faith, and their
self-willed submission. And yet, thankful though He
is for their presence, and even in a sense dependent
upon it, He does not lean on them as the strongest
man is often thankful to lean upon his weakest brother.
Never does He take counsel with them ; never does
He pray along with them as a man with his brothers :
He always stands, while near them, yet infinitely apart.
But they were chosen chiefly to be instruments in
carrying on the work of His kingdom. Before He
ordained the twelve apostles He had been in prayer,
and had commanded them to pray the Lord of the
harvest to thrust forth more labourers into His harvest.
He put it into their hearts, as it were, to answer their
own prayer by making themselves labourers. He
gave them power. Who was this that could distribute
the omnipotence of God? He was not weakened by
this bestowal of power, but remained as rich as ever.
Who was this that always gave and never received,
and yet was not exhausted ? The power was beneficent
to heal, to cast out devils. It was easily appreciated,
yet it was strictly limited. The apostles were nothing
in themselves : all that they had was His gift, and
was meant to show forth His glory.
We cannot read the Bible carefully without feeling

The Apostles 135
that the view it takes of God's workers is very different
from what obtains now. In the Bible God's workers
are simply God's instruments. We are not told directly
of the intellectual power or genius of any of them. We
are not told of the great depths in John's mind, or of
the fiery energy of Peter, because it was not they or
their gifts that did the work, but God working through
them. Their light shone before men, not to glorify
them, but to glorify their Master. It was not by their
power or by their holiness that miracles were wrought,
but only through Christ working in them. They did
not bring the contribution to which Christ added, but
everything in them that really told in His service was
from Him. This conception is separated by a wide
interval from that which now prevails in the Church.
We hear it said, that if the old teachers and leaders
of the Church could be restored, we should see greater
things than we now behold ; if we had now in the
Church the apostles and martyrs of past times, the
world would soon be subdued for Christ. That is our
mode of thought ; but in the Bible it is God that is
viewed as the worker. Some of the apostles are no
thing more to us than names. They were not meant
to be more ; for not they did the work, but the Spirit
of God working in them. Christ intended to form an
enduring kingdom. But in framing it He not only
refused to seek the help of earthly governments, but
chose as His helpers men so unpromising, that from
a merely human point of view they were hindrances.
These men were rude fishermen, without intelligence,
influence, and wealth. They misunderstand and deny
their Master. Yet He chooses them as the material

136 The Incarnate Saviour
for the most enduring of works. Looking round on
them, and knowing them thoroughly, He says with
calm certainty, " Fear not, little flock : it is your
Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom."1
How is it that when Jesus died, His kingdom spread
far more rapidly than when He was living ? He surely
spake as never man spake ; and when His voice was
silent, His disciples might well despair of winning a
victory which even He had not gained. But they did
not despair ; and the reason was, that it was not they
who spoke, but the Spirit of the Master working in
them. They themselves would have deprecated much
of the adulation that is paid to their names, and pointed
away from themselves to the Master, saying, "Why
gaze ye at us, as though by our own power or our own
holiness we had done these wonders?"
The apostles, then, while their whole history bears
testimony to the brotherliness, the patience, and the
tender humanity of Christ, after all are the best wit
nesses of His power and divinity ; for He is not only far
above them, but whatever heights they have attained
to, are heights to which He has lifted them.
1 See the able statement of this argument in R. H. Hutton's
Essays, i. 137.

X
CHRIST'S INTERCOURSE WITH
GOD

137

"J§e beparteb into a mountain to prag."

"So closely art thou in God's heart,
And God so close in thine ;
I marvel which is human part,
And which is thy divine."
W. B. Philpot.

CHAPTER X
Christ's intercourse with god
WE turn from the public life of Christ, and from
its aspect to man, to speak of His interior
life and His communion with God. In speaking of the
devotions of Christ, the main element we must treat
is of course His prayerfulness. But before passing
to speak of that, we remark on His relation to the
synagogue and to the Bible. He was, as we learn, a
regular frequenter of the Jewish synagogue. He was,
we are told, in His place there, as His custom was.
Six days He laboured and did all His work, but the
seventh day was the Sabbath of the Lord His God.
He might have spent it among the hills round His
home, and thus escaped the death-like monotony of
the synagogue. But He knew that the best prepara
tion for His teaching was the reverent estimation of
the old service. Besides, His own soul was nourished
amongst the worshippers. He heard the word of His
Father through all the misrepresentations which over
laid it. The prayers might be dull and unaspiring,
but there was at least a worshipping and bowing down
before the Lord our Maker. So He was there ; no
more patient, devout, and humble listener than He.

140 The Incarnate Saviour
The incident is deeply instructive, as showing the
true place of public worship. No wise defender of
public worship ever rested his case on the ability of
the preacher. Many preachers are men of limited
intelligence and feeble emotions, — much inferior in
these respects to some among their hearers. The
interval, however, to say the least, is not what existed
between the teachers at Nazareth and Jesus. Men
may read at home sermons far more profound and
eloquent than they can hear in church. Still their true
place is in the sanctuary ; for this is still a custom of
Christ's, to be where His people are gathered. Where
but two or three are met in His name, He is there in
the midst of them.
Further, we have seen already that He was a pro
found student of the Bible in His early life. During
those long years of preparation, His chief companion
was His Father's word. He studied Moses, pondered
the meaning of the mystery of the Psalms, traced the
line of golden testimony through all the prophets to
Himself. We remember how well that knowledge
served Him in His years of conflict. We remember
how, with that sword of the Spirit, He made Satan
himself to reel, and taught the sufficiency of Scripture
in the worst crises of life. We know how He made his
minions to stagger under the same weapon. "Have
ye never read," He said in thunder more than once to
purblind students of the Bible, who had vainly spent
their lives in the study of the letter, seeing nothing of
the spirit, — "have ye never read," and confounded
and routed them as He had done the Adversary in the
wilderness. Even words of that book were made, we

Christ's Intercourse with God 141
know, the foundation of elaborate arguments. But
that does not give the whole case. He not only knew
the Bible intellectually, and used it as a sharp weapon
in attack and defence, He knew it spiritually. He
loved it, and trusted it, and sought it in the hour of
His agony. It was to Him food during those forty
days in which He fasted in the wilderness. Not by
bread, but by the word that proceeded out of the mouth
of God, did He live then. And so throughout His life
the Bible was to Him a fountain of solace and refresh
ment in the midst of care and conflict. And, as we
shall see, when the bitterness of death came, and when
that bitterness was bitterest, He fled to the Bible for
words of appeal and consolation. "My God! my God!
why hast thou forsaken me ? " He cried when the
darkness was at its worst; and, "Father, into thy
hand I commend my spirit," were the words with which
His soul approached its Father. He died amid the
solemn music of an ancient psalm ; and so to Him, in
life and in death, the Bible furnished not only weapons
for intellectual controversy, but food convenient to
nourish and stay the soul.
We come now to speak of His prayerfulness. In one
sense, the prayers of Christ formed the truest proof
of His manhood.1 His practice of prayer and His
exhortations to it are chiefly recorded in the Gospel of
Luke, which is pre-eminently a Gospel of the Son of
man. We are told, for example, that Jesus prayed
after His baptism; that after He had cleansed the
1 The boldest transcendental flight of the Talmud, according to
Deutsch, is its saying : " God prays." —Remains, p. 131.

142 The Incarnate Saviour
leper He withdrew into the wilderness and prayed ;
that the choice of the twelve apostles followed a night
of prayer; that when Jesus was alone praying1, the
disciples came unto Him, and Peter made his great
confession ; that as He prayed the fashion of His
countenance was altered. Again, Luke records that
His disciples asked to be taught how to pray ; and two
parables — that of the loaves and that of the widow —
are recorded in Luke to enforce the duty of prayer.
Besides, the prayer for the establishing of the faith of
Peter, and the prayer for the murderers of Christ, are
recorded in the same Gospel. This comes naturally
from the writer who traces our Lord's descent to Adam,
tells the story of His birth and His childhood, and gives
many beautiful touches that teach His true manhood
and His tender sympathy.
Prayer is what distinguishes man from other crea
tures. The creatures below him cannot pray ; those
above him do not need to pray. The angels, for
example, render, without ceasing, ascriptions of praise,
which are no doubt prayer in an important sense.
One clear thought of prayer is communion with God,
having His thoughts and His love dwelling and work
ing in us, living under the conviction that we have
been chosen by Him to stand and to work in our lot
to the end of the days. But here we speak specially
of prayer as request for some needed boon. The man
hood of Christ never comes nearer to us than when we
remember that He too needed to ask for gifts and for
help. We know how His physical nature needed to
be supported : how He was weary and thirsty by the
well, how He broke down in tears at the tomb, and

Christ's Intercourse with God 143
slept soundly through the storm that almost wrecked
the little ship. But we need still more to know that
His spirit also was dependent, under submission, and
in need ; that in communion He was our pattern ;
that He lived by faith ; and that, although His life
might be called one long prayer, still He needed, as
we do, special seasons of supplication to God. It
would not have been wonderful if He had given this,
as the angels do, in prayers consisting of mere ascrip
tions of praise and adoration ; but we shall find that
we have in the Gospels as real and genuine pleadings
for a boon as any man ever offered.
There is the other side of the case. While Jesus
Christ was true man He was also true God ; and as
in other words and deeds of His life we have traced a
double side, — true manhood and true Godhead, — not
separate, but always together, so in prayer we shall
find the same. And we may conveniently arrange
our thoughts upon the prayers of Jesus Christ,
by considering them, — first, as showing His true
manhood ; and, secondly, as showing His true
divinity. Looking first at the prayers which show the true
humanity of Christ, we take, first, that which He
offered before He chose the apostles. His enemies had
been seeking to take His life away. He went and
chose twelve, as if to multiply His influence and make
it indestructible; but before the choice He continued
all night in prayer. We can see how large were the
issues wrapped up in this selection, — how much,
humanly speaking, all the fortune of His kingdom in
the world depended upon it ; and so, as a preliminary

144 The Incarnate Saviour
to this solemn act, He prayed all night. In the same
way we find Him praying before He revealed to His
disciples the suffering that was drawing near. We too
may well pray before we make a great choice or speak
a decisive word. Were we to pray, the heavenly
wisdom granted in answer might save us many a
blunder, many a retractation, many an agony. We
should be able to walk with sure strength and courage,
even by new and difficult roads, if we saw the Wonder
ful Counsellor before taking the great steps that deter
mine the course and the issue of our lives. In every
life, no matter how insignificant it may seem absolutely,
there occur circumstances and crises as important
relatively as these were to Christ. When these oppor
tunities are misused, and these problems erroneously
decided, the errors, for the most part, are irretrievable.
To be saved from these errors, we should look up to
God after the manner of Christ, and do nothing
till an answer has come from the sacred place to
our question, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to
do?" Again, we find that Jesus Christ not only prayed
before great and decisive acts, but that He prayed after
them. He prayed after service as well as before. For
example, when He wrought the great miracle of feeding
the multitudes, which we have previously referred to as
in some respects the miracle that made the deepest
impression upon the people, and most undeniably
showed His divine power, He went and snatched a
brief hour or two of repose, and after that rose early in
the morning and engaged in prayer to God. This
teaches us much which it is easy but fatal to miss.

Christ's Intercourse with God 145
When we have done some great work by immense
expenditure of force, we are tempted to say our part is
done, — we cannot accomplish more. Many a man
desires to end and crown his public life amidst the
shoutings of applause for some victory or achievement.
He would retire to boast of it, and live all the rest of
his days upon that proud memory. Better it is to
pray, — to pray, if it be God's will, for new strength, for
new if humbler efforts, and if that is denied, for blessing
on what has been attempted or done. Jesus Christ did
not boast, He did not give up, but He recruited Him
self for new service by continuing in prayer to God.
Another temptation is to pride. We are lifted above
the simplicity and humility in which we lived before.
Our hearts swell, and we are tempted to think our
previous life mean and insignificant. Never are we
further from God than when intoxicated by pride. In
the pride of their hearts the wicked angels fell, and we
may fall too unless we are delivered from their sin.
Nothing will avail more effectually to allay and silence
our pride than prayer. In communion with our Father
our pride is chilled and destroyed. A kindred tempta
tion after great achievements is the temptation to
profound depression. When one has done one's
utmost, and put forth the whole force of life, one feels
completely spent, as if work were over. Men who
have preached with power to multitudes of people, have
told us of the terrible languor which succeeds a full
outburst of the heart. They have told us how they
felt as if their life went from them in that supreme
effort, and could never be regained. That is natural ;
and we may learn from Jesus Christ how it is to be

146 The Incarnate Saviour
met. Let us pray that by prayer and service we may
be taught to feel that our well-springs are in God, and
that He who strengthened and filled us for that
achievement, which we fear we can never repeat, can
gird us, if He will, for new and nobler work. The
profound truth, after all, is that the greatest thing man
can do is to pray. The true climax of his life is not
some dazzling public achievement. There is some
thing greater and nobler in the silence of the secret
chamber, in wrestling before God for a blessing on the
message he has delivered. The preacher is then really
higher than he was when he delivered the message.
Man experiences his greatest privilege in communion
with his God. It is easy to misinterpret the old adage,
which says, "To labour is to pray." While it is true
in one sense, in another it is false. In a full life
there must be both prayer and labour. In a life
that is all work, true religion must pine and languish.
In a life spent in prayer, without actual service, there
is apt to be a luxurious and selfish religion. Christ
spent His day in service, but rather than miss prayer
He borrowed the hours from sleep, because He knew
well that prayer and work must in a true life always
go together.
Once more, the Son of man teaches us to pray
before and during great agonies. During the great
agony of Gethsemane, and before the death of the
cross, He prayed more earnestly than any other ; yea,
He outvied Himself, for His sweat fell upon the
ground like great drops of blood, which mingled with
the tears of His strong crying. We almost fear that
the agony is to be too much for Him, that the

Christ's Intercourse with God 147
flesh is too weak, and that the spirit must shrink
from effort.
But He prays, and as the voice of pleading rises,
gradually the storm of His spirit is assuaged ; strength
comes from heaven ; and He obtains a victory so
complete, that He is borne unmoved through all the
trial, carrying Himself with wondrous dignity and
patience before His captors and judges, and giving His
life a ransom for many.
We travelling onwards can see, not far ahead, great
wrenches, and losses, and humblings that we must
encounter. The mere brooding over the sorrows that
must come to all who live, will not help us to bear
them, but we shall be helped if we pray. There are
those who feel no cross, and expect none ; but the
cross will come to all, whether they are the disciples of
Christ or not. As the Eastern saying has it, "Every
dwelling-place, even if it have been blessed ever so
long, at last will become a prey to wind and woe."
But those who pray will find that Christ carries the
heavy end, and for all that may come, yea, even for the
sundering of soul and body in death, we shall be
prepared by prayer.
We turn, in the second place, to look at the mani
festation of the divinity in prayer. We have seen
Him true man, but we do not miss the landmarks of
the true God. First of all, in reading the prayers
of Jesus Christ, we miss instantly one of the most
prominent features of our prayers. In His prayers
there is no contrition, no sense of sin, no prayer for
pardon. Even in the dire extremity, when there are

n r.J

148 The Incarnate Saviour
none to help Him, when refuge fails Him, when no
man cares for His soul, when He is forsaken even
by His Father, He asks why, well knowing that
the reason is not His own sin. In this He con
trasts remarkably with His own followers and disciples.
They make much of sin ; their prayers are largely
confession. It seems as if sometimes, when they had
confessed their sin until the mouth was opened wide,
they did no more but left it to God to fill it. And we
find also that the holier they grew, the more unholy
they felt themselves to be ; the nearer they approached
God, the more clearly did they perceive the glory of
His holiness, and in that glory every spot, speck, and
stain in themselves stood out. We find that the
prayers of the Bible are very much made up of confes
sion. It is touching to read in the prayers of our
fathers the expressions of their broken-heartedness for
"the sins whereby we have made ourselves less than
the least of all thy mercies, and provoked thee to
embitter all our comforts." But the prayers of Christ,
earnest, agonised, tearful as they were, have in them
no word of confession. He bore our sins in His own
body and in His own soul, yet He Himself had no taint
of sin : He was the spotless Son of God. And so in
the longest prayer of His we have recorded, the preface
is not a confession of sin but an assertion of righteous
ness : "I have glorified thee on the earth ; I have
finished the work thou gavest me to do." "Into thy
hands," He said, last of all, " I commend my spirit."
But He did not say, as we do, " for thou hast redeemed
me," because He needed no redemption, being Himself
the Redeemer.

Christ's Intercourse with God 149
Further, it is very striking that though He prayed
often for men and before men, He never prayed with
men. We rejoice to pray with each other, and He has
encouraged us to do so. Exceeding great and precious
promises are bound up with the prayer of two or three
together. We cannot speak in His name without
speaking in His ear ; even where but two are gathered
together, He will make the third. But He never
prayed with any one. He prayed before His disciples,
but not with them. He never said along with His
disciples, "Our Father," lifting up common petitions
for both. He never even said "Our Father" when
speaking of Himself and the disciples. He makes the
distinction, "Your Father and my Father — your God
and my God," as if, even in His closest approaches to
them, there was an infinite distance between man and
God. He prayed many a time for His disciples, but He
never asked their prayers. Their sympathy, indeed,
He was thankful for ; but though He prayed often that
their faith might not fail, He never asked them to plead
that His might stand.
Again, when He prayed He received special mani
festations of the divine favour. Having referred to
these elsewhere, we need not say much of them now.
Thus at the Baptism, when He was dedicated to His
work, and when the voice of God attested Him as His
Son, we are told that He was praying. At the Trans
figuration He became clad in raiment like snow ; His
form was illuminated, and He was transfigured before
His disciples. And then, again, God spake to Him.
Now it is clear that these manifestations were in a
sense lonely and supernatural. We cannot share in

150 The Incarnate Saviour
them fully, and yet there is a part that we need not
miss. At the Transfiguration, when He prayed, the
weariness, the wrinkles, the marks of pain went out of
His face, and He received His true likeness; and
even to men something of the same wonderful light
has come and may come. If we want to have the
wrinkles wiped out of our face, and be transfigured
with the coming glory, and to have the stains of sin
washed away, we too must pray. Especially in death,
when it is noble and believing, there may be seen
something of that smile which was on the face of
Stephen when he beheld Christ. There may be even
in life that light like an Italian morning on the face.
It will come if we pray. He will say to us even,
"Thou art my son," and we shall know it to be true
in spite of all that makes against it, — in spite of sin,
and sorrow, and death. But such manifestations as
these received by Christ in answer to His prayers must
be held to mark Him out as divine.
Again, the most superficial reader cannot but feel,
in perusing especially the intercessory prayer of Christ,
that its tone is quite different from any prayer of ours.
He makes Himself equal with God. It is probable that
the prayer was lifted in the Temple courts. At the
Passover the gates of the Temple were opened at
midnight. But whether this be so or not, He prays
standing upon the steps of the throne. "This is life
eternal, that they might know thee the only true God,
and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." "All mine
are thine, and thine are mine, and I am glorified in
them." Is that the voice of a man? Does not He
speak who counts it no robbery to be equal with God ?

Christ's Intercourse with God 151
Then mark how He prays here. He does not plead as
the frail unworthy suppliant, uncertain of the issue of
his prayer, but He is as one who has power with God
and who prevails. "Father, I will that they also
whom thou hast given me may be with me where I am,
that they may behold my glory which thou hast
given." Praying for Himself, He uses the language of
deep submission ; but, praying for others, He speaks
the tranquil irresistible word we would not dare to use.
" My glory," He says, when the glooms of death were
thickest, — "the glory which I had with thee before the
world was, and will have after the world has been."
So we see that, though He was true man, and prayed
like us with tears and agonies and cries, nevertheless
even in the deepest hour of darkness He was God ; and
His Godhead shines luminous through all His sorrow,
and we know Him to be the eternal Son of God who
has become man.
We repeat, then, in closing, that His humanity
teaches us to pray as a preliminary before solemn
duty, as a rest after service, and as a preparation for
great agonies. We are taught His divinity by the
entire absence of confession of sin from His prayers, by
the loneliness of His prayers, by the wonderful effect
they produced, and by His speaking to God in prayer
as to His equal.
It is deeply suggestive to reflect that He is still the
praying Christ, only now He is the Intercessor. Before
Gethsemane He said, " Sit ye here while I go and pray
yonder." He says to us now, " Labour, struggle, suffer,
¦ pray, while I go and pray yonder." He is praying for

152 The Incarnate Saviour
us, and by and by He will pray us into heaven. The
day will come when it will be His time to say for one,
for another, "Father, I will that he whom thou hast
given me may be with me where I am, to behold my
glory."

XI
CHRIST DEALING WITH
INQUIRERS

153

" E safa all Israel scattcreb upon the fjills, as sheep that fjabe not a
shepfjerb."

' He took the suffering human race,
He read each wound, each weakness clear,
And struck his finger on the place,
And said, Thou ailest here and here."

M. Arnold.

154

CHAPTER XI
CHRIST DEALING WITH INQUIRERS
MUCH of the Gospels is taken up with conversa
tions between Christ and individuals. Teaching
so startling and difficult as His, with such an element
in it of attraction and hope, naturally drew around Him
many who sought to know further what this gospel
meant. He on His part was as eager to meet inquirers
as they were to seek Him ; and we find that He be
stowed as much care and pains in expounding the
nature of His kingdom to individuals, as He did when
He was speaking to great multitudes. The audience, .
if small, was fit.
Not only so, but we find that He put Himself in the
way of individuals. He came to seek souls as well as
to save. The shepherd goes after the sheep — after
that which is lost. If his track seem erratic, it is
because the sheep has wandered first. So it is with
Jesus. We seem to see Him seeking, wandering, as it
were, aimlessly up and down the land, — now in a
crowd, now in solitude, now in a house full of guests,
now upon the sea-shore. We find Him looking into
the faces of men, calling them from sycamore trees, or
by wayside wells ; and if we ask why He wandered

156 The Incarnate Saviour
thus, and why His life-course was not more definite,
perhaps the best answer is that He was seeking, and
that His course was determined by the track of the
sheep. Out of the numerous stories we may select for
study the conversation between Christ and the woman
of Samaria, and that beween Him and the rich young
ruler. One of these issued in salvation, the other in
departure from Christ ; and the contrast seems to
furnish some important teaching as to the upbuilding
of the new kingdom.
1. Jesus Christ seeking His sheep must needs go
through Samaria. Travelling in the heat of noon, He
was thirsty, and sat down by Jacob's Well ; but He
had nothing to draw with, and the well was deep. The
Creator sat by the waters He Himself had created, and
looked down into their cool depths in the burden and
heat of the noontide. Being weary, He sat thus by the
well, making no effort to disguise His weariness, —
stretched out in lassitude beneath the burning sun.
He is lying thus when the woman comes to Him from
a neighbouring village. She was, we know, a woman
who had lost her fair name, and this, it may be,
brought her forth at a time when others were glad to
rest. When He saw her, another thirst awoke in the
Saviour. Only sometimes did the body thirst, but the
thirsty soul would not let Him rest, and had brought
Him here. With the thirst of the body the thirst of
the soul rose, and made Him forget His natural thirst,
and set Himself to win this lost sister.
To His request for a draught of the cool water He
received the reply, " How is it that thou, being a Jew,

Christ dealing with Inquirers 157
askest drink of me, who am a woman of Samaria ? for
the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans."
She did not know that this Jew had dealings with
the Samaritans — with all nations and countries.
After what fashion He dealt with her we shall
see. First, He wakened in her mind the sense of need.
Forgetting His need of water for the body, He spoke
of water that should quench thirst for evermore, — of a
well that sprang in the soul, and never ceased to yield
its sweet abundance. ' ' The water that I shall give
him shall be in him a well of water springing up into
everlasting life." As yet she understood not His words,
but her soul darkly felt their beauty. She thought of
her long journeys in the Eastern noon, and of the need
in her heart of something that would satisfy ; and she
prays, " Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not,
neither come hither to draw." It was a poor prayer,
but it was a beginning. It was with her as it was
with the prodigal in the parable, for not love but need
drew him home. In that hunger-ridden land he dreamed
of plenty, and saw his father's house ; but what he
saw there was not fulness of love, but fulness of bread.
Even the hired servants, whom he had so often ordered
about, had bread enough and to spare, so that the very
beggars did not depart hungry. That abundance of
bread made him rise. " I will go to my father ; I will
say unto him, Make me as one of thy hired servants " ;
in other words, " Give me bread and to spare." Bread
and to spare was all the heaven which such a soul
could in the meantime conceive. It was very little, but
it was a beginning. And so, "I perish with hunger,"

158 The Incarnate Saviour
said he, "and I with thirst," said she; and, hungry
and thirsty, their souls faint within them, they turned
their faces fatherwards and homewards. But the con
versation deepens. It was not enough that she should
be convinced of her need for salvation ; she had to be
convinced also of her sin. "Go, call thy husband,"
He says, "and come hither." The command seemed
strangely irrelevant, but He who knows what is in
man and woman well knew what He did. The Great
Physician of souls shows His skill ; He is not only the
healer of disease, but its detector. To know what the
disease is, is the first and essential step towards curing
it, and the step which we often find it hardest to take.
He took it now with sovereign inerrancy. He looked
at her from head to foot with those clear eyes over
which nothing could cast any glamour ; He perceived
her sin, and He touched its secret place. We grope
clumsily for the place of disease, and spread our
ointments often where we should not. He, making no
mistake, struck her to the heart, pierced her conscience,
and brought out all the story of her life.
ft was now vain to disguise. She said, "I have no
husband," half shrinking and half wishing that He
might prove His knowledge and His claims. With
a sad irony Jesus replies, "Thou hast said well, I
have no husband ; and he whom thou hast is not thy
husband." We cannot tell now all the wicked and
bitter story wrapped up in that, — the story of shame,
and crime, and heartlessness that these words covered.
Enough to know that they seemed to contain her whole
history. "Sir," she said, "I perceive that thou art a
prophet." There was no use for further disguise.

Christ dealing with Inquirers 159
Now her heart and life lay bare to His eyes. He was
a prophet, and she was a sinner ; and there she stood
naked and ashamed before Him.
One sin He had told, but all were told with it. " He
told me all things that ever I did." Good and evil
alike were in that story. There might have been love
true and undefiled as well as lawless passion ; but
whatever there was, He, in telling the one sin, had
told it even as He had known it all. How often does
it happen that the whole of life is the history of one
sin ! All that went before has led up to that sin, and
all that comes after carries with it the shadow and
the pain of that sin ; so, when it is dragged into the
daylight, all before and after is dragged out with it.
When he plucked the sin out of her bosom for her
deliverance' sake, it seemed to her as if all her life were
shining in the glare of His omniscience. The question
which follows has been strangely misunderstood. She
confessed Him to be a prophet ; and it has been said,
to a Samaritan no question could appear more worthy
of a prophet's decision than the settlement of the
religious centre of the world. But surely one moved
as she had been, sought something more vital, more
personal ? She had come to herself, and, having come
to herself, she sought her Father. The sense of need
and the sense of sin drove her to seek her God ; and
"Where," she says, "is He to be found?" "Our
fathers," she said, "worshipped in the mountain
towering beside us. Must I go to the far Jerusalem to
find Him? Can I not find Him on the hill where my
fathers found Him?" The Saviour, speaking neither
of Gerizim nor Jerusalem, tells her that God is a spirit,

160 The Incarnate Saviour
and that they that worship Him must worship Him in
spirit and in truth.
The words were too deep for her bewildered soul ;
she would have been lost in them, had it not been
that she looked forward to an explainer. " Messias
cometh, which is called Christ ; when He is come He
will tell us all things. He will expound what is now
so obscure." The pronoun "He" is emphatic; that
teacher would make clear what she could understand
from none other. But she was nearer light than she
knew ; she had not to go to the strange unfriendly city
to find Him. She had not to wait for the Messiah.
The Word was nigh her — the eternal Word. " I that
speak unto thee am He." When He said that to her,
they looked the look that is at once an avowal and a
covenant. Their eyes met, and their souls met never
to part more. She who had come to know her need
and her sin, had come to know her Saviour, and
knowing Him knew the Father. What follows is full
of interest. Upon this came His disciples, who
marvelled that He talked with the woman, yet no man
said, "What seekest Thou?" or, "Why talkest
Thou with her?" He had upon His face that rapture
which is faintly figured by the joy of the shepherd
finding the sheep, or even by the joy of the earthly
father regaining the lost son. He had in His face the
joy of the Saviour who has found a lost soul. None
dared to speak, until at length, seeing how worn He
was, remembering how long it was since He had eaten
with them, His disciples humbly implored Him to eat.
But He needed not water from the well, or bread from
the town. He had meat to eat that they knew not of.

Christ dealing with Inquirers 161
" My meat," said He, " is to do the will of Him that
sent me, and to finish His work." And then with
glowing eyes He looked forward, and, with one ear of
corn in His hand, He saw the harvests that were yet to
be, — saw the fields white, and the corn falling before
the sickle, — saw the disciples doing the work that He
could only begin, — and was glad in the thought that
He that sowed and they that reaped would rejoice
together. When read sympathetically, nothing in the
Gospels is more profound and touching than the insight
this gives us into the workings of the Saviour's heart ;
nothing shows more clearly what was His real delight,
and how dear to Him was the purpose of His life. The
joy was not transient, for the woman carried the gospel
to her countrymen, and for two glad days He sowed
and reaped together.
2. The story of the rich young ruler is a complete
contrast to that we have now narrated. At first sight
it appears a far more promising case than the other.
Instead of a Samaritan adulteress, we have a young,
beautiful, and, as man speaks, a pure soul. So
amiable was he, that although still unredeemed, we
are told that Jesus loved him. He was young, and,
as has been said, youth itself with health is wealth.
"Wealth is in happy heaps that seem exhaustless.
Oh for an untried, unstained, unsuspicious heart !
might the miser sigh, sitting wearily on his chest of
gold. Oh for the eyes that shed the sunshine by
which they saw, and that fired only in hate of wrong
and love of beauty ! Oh for the feet that broke from a
walk into a run for very joy ! Oh for a back too strong
n

1 62 The Incarnate Saviour
to bend in servility, and knees not too stiff to kneel in
worship ! " 1 And besides, he was pure. He had kept
all the commandments from his youth up. He had not
consciously stooped to evil ; and all ignorant though
he was of the sin and weakness so soon to be revealed
to him, yet after his groping fashion he had chosen the
good part, which many might envy him. Many a
worn-out debauchee might look at such a young frank
face and say :
" To know good is to love it ;
And the honour that I covet
Is the pride of your pure youth."
Besides, he was rich, and riches tend to repress and
chill the soul. It was something that he was what
he was, in spite of all his riches ; that he had kept
from drinking the cup of pleasure ; and that in his
high place he had loved righteousness more. We need
not shrink from frankly allowing these things, for
Jesus beholding him loved him.
Besides, there was something winning in his mode
of approach. In the case of the Samaritan woman,
Christ had to pierce through the dull crust of sin
and worldliness that lay round her heart ; He had
to waken the desire He was afterwards to satisfy. It
was not so here, for he came running, as if with an
earnest desire, — as if afraid his enthusiasm would cool
before he gained the gift. He came reverently, for he
knelt and said, "Good Master." He went straight
to the heart of the question : " What shall I do that I
may inherit eternal life ? " Look at the two pictures,
1 T. T. Lynch.

Christ dealing with Inquirers 163
and say whether the Lord will not deal more gently
with the rich young ruler than with the woman of
Samaria. So we say in our ignorance, looking at the two, and
seeing on the one no mark of disease, and on the other
disease in all its foulness. But Jesus looks with the
eyes that cannot be deceived, and immediately takes
hold of the young man's question, and asks him what it
means. " Good Master ! " what does that mean ? It is
a graceful epithet. Is it mere politeness ? is it the
mere effervescence of an amiable nature ? or do you
know all that is meant by saying "Good Master"?
Christian apologists are blamed sometimes for putting
the dilemma, that Christ is either God or He is not
good. They are told that such a style of argument
will either kill or cure. But they may plead great
authority, for that is what Christ Himself does. He
pulls him up sharply, not because he was irreverent,
but because he was superficial. "There is none good
but one ; that is God. If I am good, I am God ; and
there is no medium." He goes on: "If thou wilt
enter into life, keep the commandments." The answer
came with a shock of disappointment. The rich young
ruler wanted to do something more, — something new
and great, — when he was told to pace the old round.
"Keep the commandments!" Why, he had given
them a lifelong obedience! "Keep the command
ments ! " Had this new teacher nothing more to say
to him? He had: "Go and sell all that thou hast,
and give to the poor ; and come, take up thy cross and
follow me." He thought he had kept all the command
ments, but here was one commandment interpreted,

1 64 The Incarnate Saviour
and he falls. The Lord goes into the chamber of his
heart, and finds seated there the horrid idol Mammon.
It was too much : the young man made the great
refusal — he turned away.
What was the meaning of such a strange demand ?
ft cannot be implied that all who trust in Christ need
to part with their possessions. We must fall back
upon Christ's certain knowledge of man. He saw into
the depths of that soul, and perceived that its ultimate
rest was riches ; and as salvation must be the rest of
the soul on Christ, that prop had to be taken away at
whatever cost. It was not that he was so grossly
ignorant as to think that riches would purchase eternal
life ; nor was he so vulgar as to boast of his riches
offensively. The soul was of finer fibre than that, else
Jesus would not have loved it. But his riches were,
after all, the main element of his happiness. There
were many things probably between his happiness and
its foundation, — so many things, that he did not know
that the real foundation was money. Still, so it was ;
and if the riches had been taken away, the whole
content and happiness of his life, his very amiability,
would have vanished with them. It was not that he
clutched his wealth, not that he was niggardly, but his
life was his wealth — it was his rest ; and if he had been
a completely beggared man, he could not have stood free
and clear in God's world; or, to put it more plainly,
the loss of his means would have killed him, as it has
killed many a one.
We need to make a very short and sharp reckoning
with whatever comes between us and our trust in
Christ. If we will not, He will, and friend and lover

Christ dealing with Inquirers 165
will be put far from us, and the edifice of our fortune
shattered, that we may lean upon Christ alone. The
test was a very sharp one, but nothing less would do ;
and so he said, " I cannot take up my cross, if I
must lay down my gold. I cannot go up to Jerusalem,
if I have to go up to die." So then he went away
sorrowful, for he had great possessions. Whether he
returned we cannot tell. He might, — we may hope
he did, — because he did not leave carelessly, and
because he was loved by Christ. " O man whom
Jesus loved, didst thou ever love Him in return ? and
as thou once earnest glad and wentest away grieved,
didst thou ever come grieved and go away glad ?
Did thy blossom bear no fruit?" Was he not saved
if so as by fire ? We know not ; but even if he was,
he had missed a great opportunity — an opportunity
which never could return. He went away sorrowful.
And he left behind him a sorrowful Christ. Else why
the melancholy refrain, " How hardly shall they that
have riches enter the kingdom of God ! It is easier
for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than
for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." How
wistfully He gazed after him departing from life and
light. We speak and think much of the sorrow of the
disappointed inquirer, but what of the sorrow of the
rejected Master ? There is no sorrow like that sorrow.
The same pang shot through Him as made Him weep
over unsheltered and doomed Jerusalem, that so often
might have been gathered had He but had His will.
A few lessons may be drawn from the contrast.
There is first the old lesson, needing ever to be
repeated, of the preciousness of one soul. The greatest

1 66 The Incarnate Saviour
words of Christ were spoken to one soul, the greatest
joy ministered by one. "There is joy in the presence
of the angels over one." "Where two or three are
gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of
them." One soul is an end worthy of all the effort
of Deity, and therefore worthy of all ours. Many a
heart has been made sad, that God has not made sad,
by refusing to be satisfied with what delighted the
Saviour. To save even one soul is honour enough to
crown a lifetime. Out of one soul's salvation issues
of inconceivable magnitude may flow. To convert one
may be to convert a continent ; but whether or not
we see this — whether or not we can cipher it out
correctly — we may be sure that one soul in itself is
an end for which we may strive with all our power,
and over which we may rejoice with all our heart.
Again, we mark that Christ did not try to gain
those who might profit His cause in a worldly sense.
He never bought adherents by unworthy means. We
can easily see that in some ways the adherence of the
rich young ruler might be profitable, while the con
version of the Samaritan woman might rather discredit
Him than otherwise. His disciples marvelled that He
talked with the woman, and they marvelled still more
that He sent the rich young ruler away. "Who
then," they said, "can be saved?" But He never
bought adherents by worldly means, and never sought
to gather into His kingdom those who were not with
it in heart. His success was not to be judged by
numbers. It is pleasant to see great numbers gather
ing round the standard, but quality is more than
quantity. Those who gather themselves around Christ

Christ dealing with Inquirers 167
must be strong men who have trusted Him, who have
entered by the strait gate, and who have left behind
them all other grounds of trust. The gate was not
broad enough to admit the rich young ruler with his
burden of wealth ; there was room only for the soul,
and so he was left outside. Jesus Christ looked forward
to the time when men should say, "Lord, Lord," and
enter in this way the portals of the Church visible,
but into the Church invisible none could pass save those
who had His spirit.
We are taught also that sin does not shut the door,
and that morality does not open it. The Samaritan
woman entered before the rich young ruler ; publicans
and harlots entered before Pharisees. Why? Because
they were forlorn, because they had nothing else to
lean on, and therefore leant hard on Christ. The rich
young ruler had respectability and riches. He was
not sure if they were able to sustain him, and yet he
would not take the risk of quitting them for Christ,
and so he is shut out. He went away sorrowful, for
he had great possessions. The woman of Samaria
entered that door which is open to the wretched and
the guilty, for the Son of man is come to seek and
to save that which was lost.

XII
CHRIST'S REPLIES TO HIS
ENEMIES

"©ut of his mouth roent a sharp ttoo»ebgeb sfoorb.

" When the pitcher falls on the stone, woe to the pitcher ; when
the stone falls on the pitcher, woe to the pitcher ; whatever befalls,
woe to the pitcher." — The Talmud.

CHAPTER XII
Christ's replies to his enemies
WE cannot fully estimate Christ, unless we see
Him as He was when He was put upon His
defence. How did He meet His enemies? The
subtlest intellects in the country opposed Him — who
outwardly was nothing more than a poor peasant, who
had never learned. We know how He could speak
when He had time and opportunity to prepare Himself.
How does He answer when He is attacked suddenly ?
On one occasion He was assailed in succession by
different classes of His enemies. First of all, the elders
and chief priests asked Him by what authority He did
His works. They hoped to entangle Him, believing
that in whatever way He answered He would find
Himself in a dilemma. He replied by putting another
question, "The baptism of John, was it from heaven or
of men ? " They found themselves puzzled now, for if
they admitted the baptism to be from heaven, then
they would acknowledge Christ's claims ; and if they
denied its heavenly origin, they would find themselves
in collision with the people, who reverenced John as a
prophet. They took refuge in a cowardly silence :
"We cannot tell." Then said He, "Neither tell I
you by what authority I do these things." At first
171

172 The Incarnate Saviour
sight it seems strange that He should fail to give a
clear response to any question about His authority.
These men were the appointed rulers of the people,
and, apparently, in the strict line of duty in making
such an inquiry. And, besides, there is something that
at least resembles evasion in the reply — an apparent
want of openness and candour. Any difficulty of that
sort in the sayings of Christ is well worth examining,
for it always covers a large principle, just as precious
metal is found in the hardest rocks. The answer was
what it was because the question was dishonest. He
tears away the veil from the question, and makes them
see what it really was. He shows them that they
knew, or might know, that the question had been put
dishonestly, and therefore did not deserve a reply.
Putting the question in that spirit, they could have no
answer. There are certain attitudes of mind which
shut the mouth of Christ, and there are difficulties
which, professing to be intellectual, are in reality
moral. This was one of them. For, first of all, their
minds were already made up. They had come to the
fixed conclusion that Christ was not from heaven ; and
though they were putting questions, they never meant
to believe the answer, if it did not square with their
preconceived notions. And so it is in vain for any one
to investigate Christianity with a foregone conclusion.
Many a one begins the search into the claims of
religious truth fully resolved in his own mind that he
never will become an old-fashioned Christian ; and to
such a one the mouth of Christ is shut. They never
intended to believe in Him and do His commandments.
They had habits and ways of life which allegiance to

Christ's Replies to His Enemies 173
Him would rudely break up ; but such an allegiance it
never entered their minds to render. So many a one
begins to investigate Christianity while his life is ruled
by habits directly contrary to Christianity, and it needs
no prophet to foretell that such an investigation will
lead to no result.
These men, besides, could have no answer, because
they had neglected the partial answer already received.
Light had been given to them, and they had refused
that light. "To him that hath shall be given," is as
true of Christian light as of anything else. All have a
little light to begin with, and that light, if followed,
will brighten and at last illuminate the soul. Christ is
the true Light, that lighteth every man that cometh into
the world. The range of His beams is wide, and any
one who will choose a beam and follow the track of light,
will find himself at last in the central radiance to which
all paths converge. They could not tell. But if they
had not willingly closed their eyes they could have told,
and if they had not been cowards they would have told.
And because they had neglected and rejected the light
they had, Christ refuses to give them another gleam.
He will not give that which is holy to dogs, neither
will He cast pearls before swine.
And, besides, He was silent to these men because
they were mere intellectual inquirers. The very last
thought that entered their minds was, that they had
need of Christ. They came to Him to bandy words,
with no thought that, as guilty sinners, they needed
His love and pardon. To come to Christ as a clever
lawyer comes to browbeat a witness, is to come in vain.
There must be the sense of want, otherwise He will

174 The Incarnate Saviour
refuse to speak to us, and in His very refusal silence
and confound us.

Not deterred by the failure of these questioners, came
the Pharisees and the Herodians. Of the Herodians
we know nothing more than can be inferred from the
name, which shows that they were favourable to the
ascendancy of Herod and his family. The question
they put was, "Is it lawful to give tribute to Caesar,
or not ? " and, so far as appearances went, this question
also was a perfectly fair one. It was a practical one,
and to the Herodian there might be a question between
his loyalty to Herod and the demands of a foreign
ruler. To the Pharisee it might be a matter of con
science. Caesar, the arch-enemy of Israel, — his throne
on the Babylon of seven hills, his heel on the neck of
the covenant people of God, his eagle hovering over
the Temple area, — this profane tyrant, was he to be
acknowledged by the children of Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob ? The question seemed sincere, but was not in
reality so. The two had banded themselves together
in order to destroy Jesus, this hatred of Him being
the one thing they had in common. He had called
Herod a fox, and held up the Scribes and Pharisees
as a scorn and byword, and they seek to flatter His
pride and destroy Him. If He says "Yes," He will
forfeit His reputation for courage and His last oppor
tunity of being a popular leader. If He says "No,"
the Roman authorities will immediately seize and
destroy Him.
He makes no direct reply, but asks for a penny — a
denarius, the common silver coin of the day, with the

Christ's Replies to His Enemies 175
stern, cruel, inscrutable face of Tiberius stamped upon
it ; — " Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's."
The stamp is a mark of ownership ; it tells of a fixed
Government which rules over their life, and to which
its dues must be paid. Our Lord declares not the
divine right of Tiberius, but the divine right of law
and order. Not content with this, He adds the
significant lesson and rebuke, "Render unto God the
things that are God's." That is, "Do not be satisfied
with doing your duty in the smaller matters, — with
cleansing the outside of the cup, — but rise higher, and
remember that, as the image of Caesar is stamped upon
that coin, so is the image of God upon you." They
were God's coins, issued from Him to return to Him,
owing to Him the tribute of themselves. The question
they were discussing was of infinitely little importance
as compared with the question that they were ignoring.
It is the disease of humanity to escape from the real
problem which ought to engage the soul, to one which
beside it is but frivolous. "Render unto God the
things that are God's." The lines upon the coin are
blurred, but still the face of God is there, and you are
not your own.
Thirdly, once more He was assailed, this time by the
Sadducees, who had got up a case which they imagined
would puzzle Him. "A woman," they said, " had been
married to seven brothers : whose wife should she be in
the resurrection ? " An imaginary case in all probabilit}',
and much credit would the deviser of it take to himself.
But how utterly they were defeated ! He showed them,
as He showed all objectors, that they -were fundamentally
wrong. "In the resurrection they neither marry nor

176 The Incarnate Saviour
are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in
heaven." And He profoundly argued from the fact
that God called Himself the God of Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob, that these departed fathers were still living
unto Him. Not declaring a new truth, He showed
them what treasures, unknown to them as yet, were to
be found in the old revelation.
A lawyer, who might have learned wisdom from all
these defeats, now crosses swords with Him, saying,
perhaps within himself, "These people have failed
because they have not studied the law ; they do not
know the plans of cross-examination as I do. But I
will undertake Him and silence Him." So he puts the
question, "Which is the great commandment of the
law ? " and is silenced by the voice which thunders out,
" 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,
and with all thy mind, and with all thy soul, and with
all thy strength, that is the first commandment of the
law ; and the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy
neighbour as thyself.' " It was enough for the lawyer.
The whole case is not exhibited by the stories of His
retorts. Some of the deepest of His sayings were
brought forth by enemies. When the Pharisees and
Scribes murmured, "This man receiveth sinners, and
eateth with them," He told the parables of the sheep
that was lost, of the silver piece, and of the prodigal
son. It was when a certain lawyer stood up and
tempted Him that He spoke the parable of the Good
Samaritan, which, next to that of the prodigal son, has
been dear to the heart of the world. It was in answer
to Simon's suspicion that He told of the creditor who
frankly forgave both his debtors.

Christ's Replies to His Enemies 177
These instances might be added to. What do they
show? They show that the more Christ's mind is
drawn out, the richer it is. He is never so great as
when He speaks without premeditation in reply to His
enemies. Remember who they were and who He was.
They were the wise men of the nation, skilled from
their childhood in all manner of word-fencing. He was
but a poor carpenter, who had just left the bench,
who had never learned. What makes Him such an
antagonist ? Whence has He that wisdom ? Why is
it that He is never worsted? Why is it that these
conflicts always end in the humiliation of His enemies ?
that He makes the wrath of man to praise Him, and
the heathen to sound His trumpet ? Is not the man
who can do these wonders God with us ?
So it has been since He spoke. Attacks on the
Christian religion have brought forth replies which
have been the fullest exposition of Christian truth.
We owe more to the enemy than to the friend. The
enemies who attack Him are, in spite of themselves,
made to swell the host of His friends. The devil's
assaults on the saints have issued in the most pathetic
and devotional utterances of the human mind. The
Church has been at her greatest when led to prison
and to judgment. The blood of the martyrs has been
the seed of the Church.

XIII
CHRIST'S TOIL FOR MEN

179

" I must Scorn tfje Snorfts of ?§im tfjat sent me, Snfjtle it is ban : the
night rometfj, Soften no man can Soorft."

" This life of mine
Must be lived out, and a grave thoroughly earned."
Robert Browning.

CHAPTER XIII

CHRIST S TOIL FOR MEN

WE aim in this chapter at giving an idea of the
way in which the days of Christ's ministry
were spent. Before speaking of His work, something
has to be said of His endurance. His sufferings in
one sense were solitary and unique, but He had His
share also of those pains which every great and noble
life has to pass under. He was the enduring Christ,
not only in the deep mystery of His atonement when
He drank the bitterness of our punishment, not only
in the trial agony which He endured as our represent
ative, but in the lifelong pain of His days. He lived
surrounded by an atmosphere of calumny and rejection.
He was misunderstood by those who were closest to
Him in ties of blood. For the gospel's sake He had to
break through the bonds which had been confirmed
through thirty years of His life. He had to endure
the misunderstandings even of His own disciples who
were nearest to Him, and to whom He showed most of
His heart. And, besides, He lived under the fierce,
fiery, watchful hatred of the Pharisees. There is no
hatred like the hatred of religionists who fear that their
system is to be overthrown, and that hatred He knew
to the full. He was dogged by keen and critical

1 82 The Incarnate Saviour
malignity. Every action was misinterpreted, every
word twisted. Men sought in all things to find
materials for accusing Him. This hatred pained Him,
as it would pain any — nay, it pained Him more keenly
than it could pain us, because of His absolute sinless
ness. He felt such a requital, because there was
nothing within Him which declared it to be even in a
remote degree just. We who indistinctly know our
imperfections have the feeling that criticisms passed
upon us, if not deserved in one point, are deserved in
others. He had no such alleviation. Besides, since
He loved all and despised none, every harsh judgment
wounded Him. And further, His pain was intense,
because He saw that men in thus treating Him were
kicking against the goads to their own ruin. When
men reject their fellow-men, they for the most part
know that the worst suffering will be that of the
rejected. Christ knew that the loss and the ruin would
be to those who so tried Him, and this consciousness,
instead of lessening his pain, made it keener.
Yet He endured the contradiction of sinners against
Himself. The word implies more than stoical patience,
it signifies an unalterable tenacity of purpose. He
abode in His place, saw the plain path, and pursued
it in spite of all opposition. This persistence of Christ
in His course, the exceeding tenacity with which He
pursued His point, is often missed by us, because His
purpose never drooped. Had He faltered sometimes,
as all men do, and knit Himself up after a temporary
swerving, we should have appreciated much more
easily the thorough and perfect determination of His
life. But the fact that the motive always prevailed

Christ's Toil for Men 183
makes it more difficult for us to perceive it. And,
besides, the exceeding gentleness with which this
resolution was as it were sheathed, conceals it from
us. A velvet glove is over the iron hand, but it is an
iron hand. He endured the contradiction of sinners
against Himself. In spite of all the criticisms, all the
hatred, all the opposition, He never turned back. He
kept His way stedfastly on to the very end.
But besides endurance there was work. His days
were full of labour, and in all the labour there was
profit. The record of one day from the early part
of His ministry will best show the nature of His life.
That day He spent in His own city Capernaum, where
He had returned from the other side of the Lake of
Gennesaret. Capernaum, then a busy thriving town,
situated on a pile of rocks overlooking the sea, was
for some time His home. In the morning the neigh
bours came to welcome Him back. There would be
in the house, as in other Jewish homes of the same
class, a large upper chamber for prayer and social
gatherings, and the people flocked in there. While
they were with Him, He was interrupted in a singular
fashion. A man, whose career of vice had been cut
short by paralysis, and who was now apparently
approaching his end, — for it is difficult otherwise to
explain the manner of his introduction, — was suddenly
let down through the roof and laid at His feet.
Whatever sins the man had been guilty of, he had
at least four good friends left. And these kind-
hearted men, in the eagerness of their friendship, had
adopted the bold and daring plan of breaking the
roof, and putting their poor friend thus down at the

184 The Incarnate Saviour
feet of Jesus. The man seems to have had less hope
than they, for Jesus, looking kindly down on him
as he gazed up into His face, answered his unspoken
thoughts with the words, "Be of good courage, my
child, thy sins are forgiven thee." Some of the
venerable doctors in the room had come to test the
claims of Jesus, and Jesus first makes the claim of
power to forgive sins. They think within themselves
that He blasphemes, because none can forgive sins
but God. And He answers their unspoken thought
by giving a proof of His claim, — confirming the word
by action, and triumphantly healing the man. While
they were thinking it is easy to say, "Thy sins be
forgiven thee," He shows them that He can not only
speak but act. Shortly after, He went out with a
multitude following Him, and at the receipt of custom
He sees a man, Levi. This man had deeply degraded
himself in the eyes of his fellow-countrymen by
taking service with the Romans. He had to receive
the dues of the boats that came into the little port,
and the taxes of the caravans that entered the town.
It must have been a great grief to his friends to see
him where he was, for no true Jew would have taken
such work. He had been scourged out of the syna
gogue, and cut off from his own people, and there
he was day by day among his relatives, but not of
them. The class of men to which he belonged was
execrated by his countrymen, and doubtless there
was an honest family in that town to whom he was
a constant grief. Jesus cast His eyes upon him and
said, "Follow me." And the man rose and followed
Him. He left his old life, received a new name, —

Christ's Toil for Men 185
the gift of God, — and became a disciple, an apostle
of Jesus Christ. This call would make a great
sensation — and we find that it did — amongst those of
Matthew's own class, as well as others. It showed
how utterly indifferent Christ was to worldly con
siderations in the choice of His disciples. To elect
a man who had been a publican would be a stumbling-
block to many, but Christ did not follow the maxims
of so-called prudence. He called Matthew, and then
went out and taught. What He said we cannot tell.
The lost words of Christ, what desires, what specula
tions there have been about these ! Science has given
us many things back, and we still may gaze on the
scenes where the words were spoken. But these lost
words of Christ, will they ever be restored ? We shall
find some of them, doubtless, in heaven, woven into
the grateful songs of praise raised by those whom
they won.
He taught — how long we do not know, but in the
evening we find Him sitting at Matthew's table with
a great company of publicans and sinners. Matthew
showed his insight into the heart of Christ by asking
those publicans and sinners, knowing that their com
pany would be welcome ; and he showed his love for
his old associates by giving, and they their good feeling
for him by accepting, this invitation. He took them
to his house, which must have been large and hand
some to receive so great a company, and there Jesus
must have enjoyed some of His purest draughts of
happiness. The Pharisees came in to criticise.
Debate commenced, and we have some of the con
versation that passed at the table. The question was

1 86 The Incarnate Saviour
put, why the disciples did not fast as the disciples
of John had done, and Jesus replies in some of His
profoundest and most genial words. His kingdom,
He explained, was one of joy, and He was yet with
His disciples. The time was coming when He would
be taken from them, and it would be time enough for
them to fast. In the meantime they were to be glad,
for His preaching was good news. He illustrated this
by the parable of the children of the bride-chamber,
who do not mourn, but. the reverse, when the bride
groom is with them ; and by the parable of the old
and new cloth, and the bottles and the wine. Old
cloth should not be sewed on to new ; old wine should
not be put in new bottles. The law of seemliness and
congruity should be observed, and yet He says there
is something to be said for those who prefer the old,
for the old is mild. The mood of Christ at this supper
seems to have been exceedingly bright and cheerful.
He was where He loved best to be. The Physician was
amongst the sick, and He felt Himself at home.
While they were sitting, there suddenly burst in
the ruler of the synagogue, Jairus. He was the chief
man of the place, and it was strange that he was seen
in such a house, for he very probably had scourged
Matthew out of the synagogue with forty stripes save
one. But he had good reason. His little daughter —
a term of endearment, for the girl was twelve, and
that age means womanhood in the East — is at the
point of death. Jesus went with him down the darkling
street, but as they were going along they were stopped
by a woman who had an issue of blood. Twelve years
had she suffered from it — as long a time as Jairus'

Christ's Toil for Men 187
daughter had lived. She had spent all her living and
was nothing the better, but rather the worse. The
disease was one which warranted divorce, and made
her unclean. She touched the hem of the Healer's
garment with a trembling finger, and virtue went out
of Him. He turned round, asked who touched Him,
had her brought forward to confess her story, and
sent her away with the words : ' ' Thy faith hath saved
thee ; go in peace." Jairus must have been impatient
while this delay took place, knowing all the time
that his daughter's life was passing. And when
they came to the door there was the tumult of the
mourners, which showed that she was gone. But
said Jesus, " She is not dead, but sleepeth." He
entered the room, took her by the hand, restored
her to life and to her parents, and with benignant
composure and tenderness commanded that something
should be given her to eat.
Surely this was a crowded day; but, as if it were
not enough, two blind men cried, "Thou Son of
David, have mercy upon us." They followed Him
with their cries, but He gave no heed, until at length
they cried, "Lord, have mercy upon us." The use of
that word, which was not applied even to the emperor,
showed great faith, and Jesus saw that they were now
fit to receive an answer. He gave it : "According to
your faith be it unto you," and they received their
sight. Even this is not enough ; for when He comes
home He is met by a man possessed with a devil.
The Evil One became incarnate when the Holy One
did, and now they meet. The result is not doubtful.
Jesus turns to the man with the calmness of conscious

1 88 The Incarnate Saviour
strength, and commands the devil to come out of him.
The commandment is instantly obeyed, and the dumb
man begins to speak.1
Such is a day of the life of Christ, and of the same
complexion are all the rest. We find that His toil
was prolonged to the point of physical exhaustion.
We find that He put aside His own bodily wants for
the relief of others. We find that with wonderful
and uncomplaining patience He bore the requests, and
appeals, and interruptions which were constantly
occurring in His life. He made haste to do His work.
Looking at the face of the dial, He saw the hours
passing, and said, " I must work the works of Him
that sent me, while it is day : the night cometh,
when no man can work." Is it any marvel that His
life was as a fire that burned fiercely ? Unsparing
toil, continuous passion, habitual emotion, wear the life
away. His was an eminently active life, but its most
prominent feature was neither activity nor contempla
tion, but the way in which activity and contemplation
were combined. While He was upon earth, engaged
in rude hard work, and enduring pain, He was always
surrounded by the presence of God. The ever
thronging cares of His ministry never separated Him
a moment from the Father. With us the deeply
religious spirit is often unable to cope with the dis
turbing realities of life, and the practical spirit tends
1 I have followed closely the bright and graphic narrative of
Mr. S. Cox in A Day with Christ. But I have not been able to
accept Mr. Cox's attempt to prove that Matthew was Christ's
cousin. See Meyer on John xix. 25.

Christ's Toil for Men 189
to become hard and poor from want of meditation
and prayer. The two are joined here in absolute
completeness. Never was there any life more full
of tireless activity ; never was there any that drank
more continuously at the well - springs. None ever
bore a greater part in all the activities of life than He ;
and yet He was the Son of man which is in heaven,
and we cannot think of Him as without the celestial
background.

XIV
THE TRANSFIGURATION OF
CHRIST

191

" ge receibeb from (Sob the .father honour anb glorg."

" Few the homages and small
That the guilty earth at all
Was permitted to accord
To her King and hidden Lord.
Dear to us for this account
Is the glory of the Mount,
When bright beams of light did spring
Thro' the sackcloth covering.
Rays of glory found their way
Thro' the garment of decay,
With which, as with a cloak, He had
His divinest splendour clad."
R. C Trench.

CHAPTER XIV
THE TRANSFIGURATION OF CHRIST
THERE may be said to be three summits in our
Lord's life — the Temptation, the Transfigura
tion, and the Agony in the Garden. Of these we
may perhaps call the Transfiguration the summit level
and division. It was the one open manifestation of
Godhead. Before, Jesus had been manifested as God
only in words and acts ; here, He takes on the appear
ance proper to Divinity. Up to the Transfiguration
the faith of the disciples grew until it culminated in
the great confession of Simon Peter: "Thou art the
Christ, the Son of the living God." And up to the
Transfiguration the hostility of His enemies steadily
advanced. Before the Transfiguration, miracles were
numerous ; after the Transfiguration, few, and these
few in special circumstances. Before the Transfigura
tion there had been free and frequent speech in
public ; after the Transfiguration He talked mainly
with His own disciples. It seemed as if all whom
words and miracles could move had already been
drawn to Him, and so from the summit of the Trans
figuration hill He descended quietly into the darkness
of death that lay before Him in the valley.
The note of time given in connection with the
l3

194 The Incarnate Saviour
Transfiguration is extremely significant. It was eight
days after the revelation made to the disciples of the
approaching death at Jerusalem. This helps us tb
understand the bearings of the scene on Christ and on
His disciples. Of the two, perhaps the significance
of the Transfiguration is more immediately connected
with the Lord Himself. In the first place, it was for
Him a foretaste of the glory that was to follow. As
He stood there on the hill-top, arrayed in that gar
ment of light which scattered the darkness, He was
clothed in the apparel proper to Deity, for the
raiment of God is light. But the light around
Him was more than raiment — it was more than a
robe put on from the outside. It was an emanation
from the fountain of light within. These were rays
that streamed forth from His own nature : and herein
is the difference between the Lord and such of His
followers as have looked to Him and been lightened.
The face of Moses shone, though he was all uncon
scious of the radiance ; and we read of the dying
Stephen that his face was as the face of an angel —
bright, calm, and pure. But in both these cases the
light was derived, and the servants merely reflected
the glory that streamed upon them from the face of
their Master. Not so with Christ, who Himself was
the Light of the world. He was not merely one who
bore the light in His hand — He, the Light Himself,
rayed out into splendour, upon the full blaze of which
we may not look.
Were we to forget this, we might say that the glory
of Christ in the Transfiguration was the glory of His
soul ; not external glory, but the glory of feeling and

The Transfiguration of Christ 195
of will. There was the glory of His self-devotion, of
His utter surrender of Himself for the needy world,
and there was also the glory of His resolved will,
which made Him set His face as a flint to go to
Jerusalem, in spite of all that was to meet Him.
Without disregarding these, it is safe to conclude that
the main element of the glory was the revelation of
that Godhead which had been and was to be, for a
time, so darkly obscured.
Again, the Transfiguration gave Christ the assurance
of the sympathy of heaven in the work that was
dearest to His heart. Moses and Elias appeared and
talked with Him about the decease He should ac
complish at Jerusalem. His great work was to die,
and one of the chief sources of His sorrow must have
been the want of sympathy from men with that which
was dearest to Him. For long, except in veiled
allusions, He was not able to speak of His death at
all. When at last the tide of feeling burst its barriers,
and He opened all His heart, and told His disciples
that He must suffer many things, and be killed, and
be raised again the third day, even Peter, who had
just risen to the height of his great confession, fell,
and said: "Be it far from thee, Lord; this shall not
be unto thee." He who a few moments before had
been called the Rock was rebuked as Satan. Since
He could not speak even to His own disciples of His
great death, how welcome it must have been for Him
to commune with Moses and Elias, who could speak
of it with the calm wisdom and satisfying sympathy
of heaven ! They spoke of the decease which He
should accomplish at Jerusalem. The word decease

196 The Incarnate Saviour
means departure, and so the harshness of death is
veiled and chastened in their speech. For what was
His death after all? It was a departure, which He
should accomplish from the Jerusalem which murdered
the prophets and stoned them that were sent unto her,
to the Jerusalem which is above, the Mother of the
Holy. They two had an easy departure. Moses died,
according to the beautiful legend of the Rabbis, by the
kiss of the mouth of God. He died in the fulness of
his strength, with his eye undimmed and his natural
force unabated, while Elijah was carried by a chariot
of fire to the courts above. Christ's death was to be
more glorious than the departure of these, and it was
not so hard as it might seem. It was an exodus He
should accomplish at Jerusalem.
If they comforted Him, might not He have said
something to comfort them? Though their end had
been easy, their life had been hard. Moses died
without entering the Promised Land, Elijah ascended
without seeing the full triumph of God's cause.
Would not the Saviour show them how their work —
the work of the lawgiver and the work of the
prophet — was taken up and fulfilled in His own
life ? He would show them how their labour, the
issues of which they had not fully understood, was
a preparation for, and indeed a necessary preliminary
to, His work. For the glory of the work of Christ
does not efface and absorb the work of the servants
— it only brightens and explains it. He would help
them, they would help Him, as they talked to
gether of the great sacrifice that was to be rendered so
soon.

The Transfiguration of Christ 197
We know from other parts of the gospel what
solace our Lord found in the sympathy of heaven.
Though Pharisees might frown and jeer when sinners
were saved, there were mirth and music in the presence
of the angels of God. Here He was not ministered
to by angels. Those who spoke to Him knew more
than angels could of His sorrow in His work, and of
the meaning of death. Still it is the sympathy of
heaven that is here given as a cordial to help Him
on. Besides, He heard the voice of the Father, "This is
my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." We
can never understand how the approval of the Father
gladdened and uplifted the wearied soul of Christ,
and so we must leave it, remarking only how much it
must have been to Him when it was three times
repeated in the great turning-points of His life. There
is no need to dwell on the view of Christ's death
implied in all this. This death is not a yielding to
the malice of men, but the fulfilment of the eternal
purpose of God.
We now turn to the bearings of the Trans
figuration upon the disciples. They learned, first of
all, that the words of Christ about His crucifixion
and death were altogether true. The staggering re
velation which they understood so little, and forgot
so soon, was emphasised by the authoritative word
from heaven, " Hear ye Him." That commandment
we need just as they needed it. In the presence
of the cross of Christ, after all the explanation we
can give, there remains much which is a deep mystery.

198 The Incarnate Saviour
Before the darkness we stand speechless. We cannot
reason ; we cannot understand ; we must believe.
He is the beloved Son. We hear Him, believing
that the mysteries we in vain desire to look into
shall at last be unfolded by Himself. Still further,
the disciples were prepared by special revelation for
the great trial that was to come. They had the
Lord's divinity manifested before their eyes, and this
vision was to remain, and did remain in some measure,
before them when the shadows and sorrows of death
encompassed Him around. So, when things grow
darker with us and yet darker, we are, for the
most part, prepared by some special provision of
timely grace bestowed before, lest we should faint
in the greatness of our way. So much so that
Christians have learned, after a wonderful manifest
ation of divine love, to expect some trial in the
darkness of which that manifestation would be the
rest and refuge of the soul. Yet again, we see here
Christ's mission confirmed by the representatives of
preceding dispensations. These ancient princes —
elect of the elect — represented the one the law and
the other the prophets. The law and the prophets
bore their witness, and set their seal to the atoning
work of Christ. He was to be crucified for setting
aside the law, and for falsely assuming to be the
Messiah ; and yet here we have Moses and Elias
talking and sympathising with Him, as if Moses
said, " My law has not been destroyed but fulfilled";
and Elias, ' ' Those wonders which we darkly foretold
have been fulfilled in Jesus the Son of God."
But still further, the disciples needed to learn that

The Transfiguration of Christ 199
Christ's true glory was in suffering. His glory was
full of grace. They saw nothing in the cross but
shame and defeat. This vision was to teach them
that His cross was His throne. It seemed to them
that He had completely lost His glory when He went
to die. They had to be taught the victory of defeat
— the glory and the gain of loss ; for the outer
trappings in which they supposed the glory to lie
were mere accessories, and when they were given
up of His own free will, the burning heart of the
glory only blazed the brighter. He never was so
glorious as He was in His bending love and His
stooping pity. God forbid that we should glory, save
in the cross of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Still further, they needed to learn the supremacy
of Christ. Peter says, " Let us make here three
tabernacles — one for thee, one for Moses, and one
for Elias." He did not realise the unapproachable
greatness of Christ. He would have put them all on
the same level. But he is rebuked, when Moses and
Elias vanished from the hill, and when to their eyes
lifted up in wonder there appears Jesus only. Jesus
was left alone. Moses and Elias vanished, as all
preparatory dispensations vanish ; as, indeed, all things
and all men will ultimately vanish save Himself. They
shall perish, but Thou remainest. From dying eyes all
will pass save Jesus only.
The modern mind has in some measure learned
one of these great lessons. The glory of self-
devotion that lighted up the hill, and scattered the
shadows and glooms of death, has never been more
extolled than it is now by those who have failed

200 The Incarnate Saviour
to see the glory of the cross of Christ. But it may
be found that all self-sacrifice that is persistent and
really helpful to the race, must ultimately derive its
force from the self-sacrifice on Calvary. There can
be no true enthusiasm of humanity without faith in
a personal God and Father, and this Father is given
to us in the cross of Christ. Without this faith
a man may attempt to lessen the sum of human
misery ; but the effort will soon collapse. For if
there be not a good Lord on our side, is it not like
an attempt to empty the sea, and, what is more, an
attempt to empty it without proving that what we
are doing is the best fitted to attain the object?
Besides, where without the cross is the motive for
self-sacrifice? The Christian spirit is the heroic
spirit, willing to give itself. But the reasons must
be worthy and noble. The Christian spirit is shown
not simply in giving up this world, or accepting
pain and want, but in doing this, if it must be done,
for that for which it is worth a mati's while to do it —
for something of corresponding greatness, though
unseen ; for work, for faith, for duty, for the good
of others, for a higher life.1 This view can be beheld
only from the cross. How soon was Christ called
upon to use the strength He had received ! He had
been in heaven for these few hours, all night on
the hill with Moses and Elias. He must have felt
as if the New Jerusalem had descended from heaven
from God. It was good for Him to be there, and
His soul was doubtless strung into an ecstasy of high
rapture. But round the hill there rolled darkly the
1 See the masterly remarks of Church : Sermons, p. 68.

The Transfiguration of Christ 201
sea of sin and sorrow, and it was not long before He
heard its moaning. Familiar though it was in His
present mood, it stung Him with a sudden pain when
He was called to heal the sore vexed lunatic boy
whom His disciples could not cure. " How long,"
He said, "shall I be with you? How long shall I
suffer you ? " It was not long. Jerusalem was near,
and the end of His sufferings was at hand.

XV
THE PREVISION OF THE CROSS

'3§e set f^is face stebfastin to go to Jerusalem."

"The long self-sacrifice of life."
Tennyson.

CHAPTER XV
THE PREVISION OF THE CROSS
AN attempt has been made to show that our Lord
was one manner of man at the outset of His
ministry, and another towards its close. According
to this theory, His early years were steeped in the
sunshine ; later on He became a bent and sombre
man, the old joy crushed out of His heart by a
desire for self-immolation. But to those who accept
the gospel histories, nothing can be clearer than that
the Cross with its dark shadow lies upon them from
the very beginning. The shadow of that Cross is
over His cradle, and even in the tranquil years of
His childhood and youth it is not absent. An old
legend describes Him as working out His own cross
in the carpenter's shop at Nazareth. The gospel is
like one of those great tragedies where in the earlier
scenes a suspicion is infused of the darkness that
deepens round the close. The Cross is always present
from the very first, although more fully unveiled as
time proceeds. The life of Jesus was a perpetual going
forth to the Cross.
Else how explain the words which He used at the
very beginning of His ministry, to say nothing of the
apparent shrinking at Cana? What else can be made

206 The Incarnate Saviour
of the words, " Destroy this Temple, and in three
days I will build it up," and His saying to Nico
demus, "As Moses lifted up the serpent in the
wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted
up"? He said this at the very beginning of His
career as Messiah, well knowing, even when things
around Him seemed to foretell a different issue, what
the end would be.
He tells the happy company that gathered around
Matthew's table that a day was coming when a
shadow should be thrown over their joy by the
taking away of Himself the Bridegroom. And as
the close comes nearer, He is still clear and certain
in His prediction of the same thing. He knows it
as truly in the heyday of His popularity as He knows
it when friends forsake Him and enemies are fiercest.
He takes His disciples aside and tells them what
was to be. He knows not merely the general fact of
His death, but its place, its circumstances, and its
instruments. He is to die in Jerusalem, for it cannot
be that a prophet should perish otherwhere. He
is to suffer many things at the hands of the elders
and chief priests and scribes. He is to be betrayed
to His death by one of His own apostles. He
knows the time ; not when Jewish hatred seeks to
destroy Him, but at the Passover, that He our
Passover may die then, and that then He may
institute that feast which is to fill up the long space
between the old rite and the perfect banquet of His
gathered children above. He knows the implement
of His death ; it is a Cross on which He is to be
lifted up.

The Prevision of the Cross 207
This prevision taken by itself involves much. To
all men, death is near ; to some, obviously very near.
But yet, when we begin to conjecture whose turn
it will be first, what feverish doubt, what baffled
conjecture ! How different from the unwavering
assurance and superhuman quietness of such words
as these: "He shall be delivered to the Gentiles,
and shall be mocked and spitefully entreated, and
spitted on ; and they shall scourge Him and put
Him to death " ! Again, how was it that He in the
very start of His ministry, and not without much
temporary encouragement, should be so sure of the
issue ? Had He lived to encounter the chills and
reverses of life, and especially such as come to a
reformer, we might in some measure have understood
it ; but the sworn apostle of a new great cause does
not begin his work in a spirit like that. In his young
hopefulness he says :
" They are tired of what is old,
We will give it voices new ;
For the half hath not been told
Of the beautiful and true."
And, generally, it is only after a long and heart
breaking experience that a man makes up his mind
that his work is to be a failure, and that his aim
is to be defeated ; but Jesus Christ knew that from
the very first. There is in Him none of that pathetic
confidence of a young reformer, on which we look
as on the white plumes and unspotted braveries of
an army in march for a field of blood. Again, a
reformer, when he saw that the end of all his labour
was to be death, might accept that death as a

208 The Incarnate Saviour
necessary incident in his career. He might say, " My
life is the price which I have to pay for uttering the
truth, and it so much concerns the world that the
truth should be uttered that I am willing to pay that
price rather than be silent. In order that my work
may be done, I am ready to give up my life." Jesus
Christ came into the world to bear witness for the
truth, but He did not give His life as a price for
the witness-bearing of the truth. If He had pleased,
He might have borne the most ample testimony to
truth, and delivered His message in its full integrity,
and yet kept His life. But He gave His life not
because the surrender of His life was the penalty
of doing His mission, but because it was the great
part of His mission, — the great work which He came
to accomplish, the centre of His work for the world,
and the indispensable condition of attaining the object
for which He came.
For Jesus Christ not only foresaw His own death,
— He foresaw it as attended with immense moral and
spiritual consequences. His visage was to be marred
more than any man's, and His form more than the
sons of men ; every face was to be turned away from
His ; but all that was to be in order that grief might
turn to Him at last, and that He might bear the
heavy load of human sorrows and human sins. He
saw clearly that this death of His was to be a creative
death, — that the Church was to be built upon it, that
pardon and cleansing and strength for the world were
to come out of it.
This appears in many things — most clearly in His
last Supper. " On the night in which He was betrayed,

The Prevision of the Cross 209
He took bread ; and when He had given thanks, He
brake it, and said, Take, eat; this is my body which
is broken for you : this do in remembrance of me.
After the same manner also He took the cup, when
He had supped, saying, This cup is the New-
Testament in my blood : this do ye, as oft as ye
drink it, in remembrance of me." We might speak
of the certain and supernatural prevision which this
event shows. Human knowledge could not, certainly,
declare that His death was at hand, for the Jews had
no power to slay Him, and He had done nothing to
excite the enmity of the Romans. This is a clear case
of supernatural knowledge. But even more remarkable
is the power which He attaches to that death in pre
dicting as He does that the bread and wine broken
and poured out then would become His body and blood
in some sense to future centuries.
" Both faith and art have given
To that one hour, a life of endless rest ;
And still whoe'er would taste the food of heaven
May to that table come a welcome guest."
There was here not only a lucid prevision of the
near future, but also a prevision, as wonderful, of the
remote future.1 How did He anticipate that men in
after days would show forth His death? His death
was a death of shame and violence. After a life spent
in teaching and in doing good, would it not have been
far more natural that He would wish to sink the fact
of His death, patent as the mark of shame, in the
memory of His miracles and of His words? And
might it not have been anticipated that His disciples
1 See Hutton's Essays, vol. i. p. 131.
'4

210 The Incarnate Saviour
would do the same thing? But what are the facts?
They actually revive the memory of His humiliation,
and make a sacrament of His shame. Century after
century His death is associated with His glory, both
in the history of the Church and in the experience
of Christians. And when He is commended to those
who are ignorant of Him, it is by the preaching of
His Cross.
I need not stay to point out all that this involves.
It involves, for one thing, the truth of the history ; for
who would ever have begun such an observance save
Jesus Himself? The thought would never have com
mended itself to men. Some thirty years ago an edict
against Christianity was issued in China, of which the
following is a part : —
"Were their tale fact, it would still be quite inex
plicable. Why should the worshippers of Jesus adore
the instrument of His punishment, and consider it so
to represent Him as not to venture to tread upon it ?
Would it be common sense, if the father or ancestor
of a house had been killed by a shot from a fowling-
piece or by a wound from a sword, that his sons or
grandsons should adore the fowling-piece or the sword
as their father or ancestor ? "
This is an instructive proof of how human wisdom
looks at the matter. But the foolishness of God is
wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger
than men.
"lam come," said He, " to send fire on earth ; and
what if it were already kindled?" When the vision
of -the work which He was to accomplish in the world
rose before the Saviour's soul, there came with it also

The Prevision of the Cross 211
the thought of the baptism which He had to undergo
before that work could be done. "I have a baptism
to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it
be accomplished ! " But He felt that without going
through that baptism the work could not be done, —
that He had to die before that fire could be kindled
which was to warm and purify the world.
2. Along with this prevision of the Cross there
was an obvious shrinking from it. This appears, we
believe, even at Cana; and in almost every reference
to the coming death the same thing is visible. When
He sat at the supper table, He could not bear the
shadow of Judas lying over the board, and said to him,
"That thou doest, do quickly." The words were
spoken, no doubt, to get rid of the traitor for the
moment, but was there not also the desire to have the
slow hours of His agony hastened — to have the time
brought near when all should be accomplished ?
In another place He says, "How am I straitened
till it be accomplished ! " as if He were a man held up
between two walls, who has no liberty, and who longs
to be free. He knows that He cannot be free — that
His spirit must be bound and shadowed till that
suffering comes, till that restraint is over.
Then, again, we read of Him on His last journey
from Jericho to Jerusalem striding up the rocky steeps,
with the timid disciples following Him, alarmed at the
intense resolve that was marked upon His face. He
struggles with and overcomes that reluctance finally at
Gethsemane, as we see farther on.
This shrinking also requires explanation, and only

212 The Incarnate Saviour
one explanation will meet the facts. Was it the mere
shrinking of the physical nature? We shall find it
hard to vindicate His manhood if we explain it ; but
the suggestion may be dismissed without ceremony.
No ; there is something more. Christ had every reason
to wish to be away. We know that He came from
the glory which was with the Father, and we know
that He was weary of the contradiction of sinners
here. " How long time," He said to Philip, "have I
been with you ? " although it had been but a few
months. "The happy hear no clock,"1 but He, an
exile, longed for His home. Why, then, should He
shrink from entering it, even though sharp pains had
to be passed through before the entrance was accom
plished? Why should He not say with His apostle,
only with far more clearness, " I am ready to be offered
up ; the time of my departure is at hand ; I have
fought a good fight ; I have finished the course ; I have
kept the faith " ? Why should He say, instead of that,
"My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death"?
Because He was bowed down by the burden of the sin
of the world.
3. We find that this shrinking is mastered by His
fixed and firm resolve. He died of His own free will.
Knowing all things that should come upon Him, He
nevertheless set His face stedfastly to go to Jeru
salem. He not only endured the sufferings that were
by the way, but every step was as it were an agony.
It was said of Wellington, "The long self-sacrifice of
life is o'er " ; but this is true strictly of Christ, and of
1 Schiller.

The Prevision of the Cross 213
Christ alone, for His life was a continual going forth
to the Cross. If He pleased, He might have escaped
it. He did not need to go to Jerusalem ; but He went
there, and everything that He could do He did to draw
attention to Him. He might have averted enmity
by silence ; but instead of that, He loads His words
more and more heavily with denunciation and rebuke.
He might have struck His enemies to the ground,
or rather kept them on the ground when they fell
after coming forward to seize Him. A very slight
concession to popular clamour would have saved His
life. Nay, even after He had been nailed to the Cross,
He might have lived had He pleased. " They bound
Him," says Jeremy Taylor, "with cords, but He was
bound fast by bonds of His own." He was held by
His Father's will, by love of the Father, by love of
the world, by ancient prophecies and mysteries of
love. Even at the last His death is voluntary ; for
He cries with a loud voice, — not gasping out words
for the strained ear of affection amid the awful silence,
— and says, "Father, into thy hands I commend my
spirit," and sends away the spirit, death being obedient
to Him even when He is obedient to death.
The processes of His mind are strikingly illustrated
by John, who describes Greek proselytes coming from
a distance asking to see Him. They were strangers
to the apostles, and were a testimony of how far and
how deep His word had gone. He saw in them the
first-fruits of a great harvest, but along with it the
augury which it gives of His own death, and comforts
Himself by saying, "Except a corn of wheat fall into
the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it

214 The Incarnate Saviour
bringeth forth much fruit." After He said that, His
soul was troubled with the dread of death. But a voice
from heaven strengthened Him, and He reasserted the
glorious results of His suffering. He was to become
the plague of death, and the destruction of the grave,
by dying. His death was to be the casting out of the
prince of the world, and therefore He set His face
stedfastly to go to the Cross.

XVI
JUDAS ISCARIOT

"3ubas Iscariot, Snfjtcfj also betrageb |§im."

"Judas, dost thou betray me with a. kiss?
Canst thou find hell about my lips, and miss
Of life just at the gates of life and bliss?"
George Herbert.

CHAPTER XVI
JUDAS ISCARIOT
THE character of Judas, and our Lord's choice of
him as an apostle, form one of the most difficult
problems of the gospel history. Without professing
to solve it, we shall endeavour to gather the scattered
lights, and to learn some of the lessons of this man's
life. He was of Kerioth, the only Judean amongst the
apostles, all the rest being Galileans. He might thus
look more than they to a temporal kingdom, and
the anticipation of a temporal reward would no doubt
be a powerful factor in bringing him to the side of
Christ. But, besides this, there must have been in
him something that was touched by Christ — an
emotional element in his nature which the words
of Christ reached and moved. Christ would choose
those as His apostles who showed outwardly the
greatest aptitude in absorbing and teaching the truth
of His kingdom, and Judas was in all likelihood
previously a disciple of John, and had thus made
considerable progress.
This impression is confirmed by the behaviour of the
disciples. At first Judas was pleased with Jesus. The
early ministry in Galilee, the multitudes, and the
217

218 The Incarnate Saviour
miracles, satisfied him. All seemed working towards
that end which he most desired ; all was harmony and
content in the little company, and Judas was made
custodian of the small means which all would be
expecting soon and greatly to increase. No doubt
Judas had this probable increase in view when he
sought and accepted the office.
So far all fared well. Judas was never true at heart,
but as yet he had not admitted to himself that he was
a traitor. All were deceived except Jesus. From the
very beginning He knew that Judas had not the root of
the matter in him. There was no visible sign of this ;
and as often an appearance of goodwill is maintained
between men who are separated in reality by a sense of
moral antagonism, though the rift was there, and daily
widening, outsiders supposed them to be good friends.
The first thing that embittered Judas may have
been the discourse of Christ on the bread of life, which
drove away determined believers, and staggered even
the twelve. By this time the process of deterioration
had begun, and the door had been widened by inward
corruption for the entrance of outward temptation.
Judas, being doubtful of a heavenly reward, had begun
to steal from the bag; and in the days of Christ's
popularity there may have been something to steal.
This suspiciousness of Judas, and his consciousness of
guilt, must have explained to him the predictions of
Christ's death, which the other disciples in their
simplicity could not understand. He understood, and
hated Christ with an intensified bitterness, because of
the downfall of his hopes. This downfall made him
desperate. The other disciples had to fight the battle

Judas Iscariot 219
between their old convictions and the new revelation,
and the true love in their hearts for Christ enabled
them to win the day. Judas, having nothing to resist
with, was easily conquered. When the woman, in her
lavish kindness, poured the great offering upon Christ,
we are told that the disciples said, " To what purpose
is this waste?" It was Judas who first made this
unworthy and ungenerous speech, and the rest followed
him in it, a fact which may be taken as showing both
his influence over them, and the imperfection which led
them to such a mean and unintelligent appreciation of
deeds of love.
Thus far we have seen that he was a thief, and that
his hopes were disappointed. Something more follows.
Judas was an able man, with a talent for organising,
but that talent was not recognised by his being put at
the head of the twelve. Peter, James, and John were
set above him, and were but ill able to bear this eleva
tion. Peter took the Lord to task because of His
announcement that He was to go to Jerusalem and be
killed. He evidently thought that Christ was the
victim of a morbid hour, — that His spirits had fallen,
and that He was forecasting all manner of gloomy
things which would never come to pass. James and
John tried to entrap their Master into granting unto
them whatsoever they should desire, as much as saying,
"Promise to give us whatever we ask, then we will
tell what it is we are wanting." A number of dissen
sions on this miserable subject of priority took place
amongst the twelve. On the way back from their
journey to Caesarea Philippi, where He seems to have
taken them to break to them, aside from all their

220 The Incarnate Saviour
wonted haunts, the tidings of His death, there was
such a dispute. When He got home, He asked them
what they had been disputing about. They made no
reply. Jesus took a child and set him in the midst of
them, and told them that without the spirit of little
children they could not enter into the kingdom of
heaven. Peter asked how often he should forgive his
brother if he sinned against him, and got for his
answer, " Seventy times seven." This question would
not have been put had it not been that some one had
been trying Peter's patience. Who more likely to have
done so than Judas ? and what more likely to have
been the reason than the place which was allotted to
Peter amongst the twelve ? 1
There was also a strife at supper amongst the twelve,
the occasion probably being that the whole Paschal
arrangements were committed to two, and that thus
jealousy was roused. Still Judas continued to keep his
character, and was sent to preach and heal like the
rest. Judas cast out devils, Judas preached the gospel
of the kingdom perhaps as eloquently and successfully
as any of the band ; but whatever were the wonderful
works which he wrought, he never truly knew the
divine Master.
Jealousy, covetousness, and resentment had been
opening the door for the devil. It would not be true to
attribute his downfall merely to the love of money.
Covetousness is a sin which always brings on others,
but here it did not stand alone. His heart was
ulcerated by the resentment he felt at Christ — resent-
1 See a very able paper on Judas by Principal Brown in the
Sunday Magazine, 1867.

Judas Iscariot 221
ment that Christ had not fulfilled his hopes, resentment
rising from the feeling that Christ knew him thoroughly
— the fierce hatred which an impure spirit bears to a
pure spirit that knows it. He was also jealous of the
rest of the disciples, and lonely in the little band, for
nothing isolates a man like a secret sin. These things
opened the door of his heart for the entrance of the
Wicked One. Satan entered first by inspiring a thought,
then by turning that thought into a settled purpose,
and last by giving an occasion for the fulfilment of
that dark resolve. The rebuke administered to him
by Christ in connection with Mary no doubt crys
tallised his evil purpose ; and just at that moment, when
the chief priests were discussing how Jesus could be
taken in the crowded city without rousing the ire of
the people, with whom He was popular, Judas pre
sented himself, and offered to do the deed for thirty
pieces of silver.
He had two days to reconsider it, and we find that
Jesus, who till now had encompassed him with His
serene though grave regard, began specially to deal
with his conscience. Still he did not quail. He sat
down at the supper table, and allowed Jesus to wash
his feet. The Saviour could scarcely endure such
hardened hypocrisy, and said, "Ye are not all clean."
He was troubled by the presence of Judas, wanted
him away, and said, "One of you shall betray me."
He gave him a sop, which the others interpreted as a
mark of affection. Judas was not even yet ripe, so
Satan entered into him. Jesus could bear it no longer,
and said, " That thou doest, do quickly." The disciples
did not understand ; Judas understood, and went out,

222 The Incarnate Saviour
and it was night — night overhead, and a deeper night
in his guilty soul.
Jesus was now alone with His disciples, and never
did He speak greater and sweeter words than those
which He uttered in that night of sorrow and weakness
and love. The many mansions of His Father's house
rose for them in their unfading serenity. He told them
of His own abiding presence, and of the gift of His
Spirit, and spoke words that are almost the dearest of
all to the Christian heart. He then went out, fought
the battle of Gethsemane, and won the victory in His
soul. It is Judas' time now: "Whomsoever I shall
kiss, the same is He; hold Him fast." Casting the
last particle of restraint away, he kisses Him. Even
then Jesus does not quite abandon him. " Comrade,
wherefore art thou come? Comrade," — striking on the
chord of old companionship, " by all the memory of our
time together, by all the memory of my deeds and
words, and your professions, I ask you, are you to
persevere in this?" Then, "Wherefore art thou
come ? " — striking the conscience, asking Judas even
yet to give his deed a name, in the hope that when
he had named it, he would shrink from a crime so
foul. In vain ; Jesus is betrayed ; Judas receives the
bribe. The bribe, instead of comforting, torments him.
There are quaint mediaeval stories written with a
recollection of this, — one of a sorcerer who gave bags
of gold to his tools, and when they went next day to
spend their gold, they found the bags full of leaves ;
another of a magician who used to receive men and
horses in his castle, and entertain them sumptuously,
but after their meal they were immediately torn with

Judas Iscariot 223
the pangs of hunger. Judas.' bribe ate his flesh like
fire. He came with it to the chief priests, and received
the answer, "What is that to us?" If he had but
gone with his sin to Christ, who never said to anyone
who came with his sin and burden, "What is that to
me ? " how different might the result have been ! But
his betrayers had no word of comfort for him, so he
flung the silver pieces on the floor of the Temple, and
departed, and went and hanged himself.
The character of Judas is no doubt a difficult
problem, but there are materials that help us to a
comprehension of it. He was, to begin with, a man
of emotion. How precarious that is let his history tell.
He had been touched by the words of Christ, and his
faculty of impressibility gave him a certain aptness
both to receive and to teach. But his fate shows how
little emotion is when not issuing from principle. He
was an able man, for he to some extent controlled the
rest of the disciples, and — a more difficult task —
largely controlled himself. What immense self-posses
sion and determination is shown in the record of his
life ! But he was covetous, and that sin eats away and
destroys all nobleness. There must have been some
thing singularly loathsome in the man who could
betray his Master for a bribe and with a kiss. Again,
he was an apostate, and there is not bitterness like the
bitterness of a traitor. And we touch an element
which we cannot explain, when we say that in this way
the doors were thrown open, for the devil came in, and
the unhappy man was led captive by Satan at his
will.

224 The Incarnate Saviour
An attempt has been made to show that the character
of Judas was much higher than has been commonly
believed — that he was the victim of a misconception,
and that he hoped to do Christ good by betraying Him.
Against this is the irresistible evidence of Christ's own
description. He says that Judas is a devil, and that it
had been better for him that he had never been born.
Words of " immeasurable ruin, of immeasurable woe ! "
The only colourable pretext for the theory is that Judas
committed suicide ; and it is said that this shows him
to be a nobler man than if he had remained an honoured
leader amongst the Pharisees, dying in the odour of
sanctity. But this rests on an assumption. It may
be admitted that the lowest type of criminal is the
callous wretch who commits crimes and justifies them,
or feels that they need no justification. Such a one,
however, is of a lower type originally than Judas,
who, as we have admitted, must have had originally an
element of nobleness and generosity in his character.
This original endowment does not make Judas' crime
less but more, because, if it is granted, Judas fell from
a greater eminence. Further, this theory assumes that
it is by inward workings of conscience that a man
perceives sin ; but are there not some sins so gigantic
as to force themselves upon conscience once they take
shape ? and was not this one of them ? There are sins
which, once committed, stand out in glaring and
appalling clearness to the dullest eyes. When he saw —
when the sin stared him in the face, it was so terrible
that Judas could not endure the sight, and he plunged
into the thick darkness of eternity.

Judas Iscariot 225
The character of Judas throws a vivid light on the
life of Christ. What must it have been for Him
constantly to endure the presence of such a one ?
Many a reformer, whose name outside has been a
lightning-rod for storms to strike on, has been upheld
by this, that he had a refuge at home, where all
things were looked on in the soft light of love. It
was part of Christ's suffering that He had no such
place, that He constantly had to endure the presence
of a traitor, that in His most intimate and confidential
moments this presence was there to mar the happi
ness. What patience is manifest in His treatment of
Judas ! Though He knew who should betray Him,
He teaches him, pleads with him, seems even to have
hope for him to the very last. Not till the very last
does He let him go. When His agonies are thick
upon Him, and His foes are near, He makes one last
attempt to win Judas' hard heart, "Comrade, wherefore
art thou come ? "
Then, what inexpressible force there is in the
testimony of Judas to Christ ! He had watched Him
with fierce, prejudiced, suspicious eyes. It might
have saved his life if he could have brought to mind
one word, one deed of Christ's, to give the least
excuse for his crime ; but he could find none. He
thought over all in vain ; and so he confesses,
" I have betrayed innocent blood." The confession
is extorted even from his lips, and if from his lips,
sooner or later it must be from all lips : "I find no
fault in Him."

15

XVII
GETHSEMANE

' aSSho in tfje bags of ?§is flesh, Snfjen f§e fjab offereb up pragers anb
supplications, Soith strong crging anb tears, unto ?§im that Soas
able to sabe |§im from beat!;, anb roas fjearb in tfjat 3§e feareb."

' Strange was His birth — His death and rising such
As to bear out that strangeness — and as much
May well be said of dark Gethsemane,
That sternest link in the great unity. '
Charles Turner.

CHAPTER XVII

GETHSEMANE

THE agony of Gethsemane is one of the most
prominent, and at the same time one of the
most mysterious, passages in our Lord's life. We
find it recorded in more or less detail in no fewer
than three of the evangelists. Besides, in the Epistle
to the Hebrews the narrative is commented upon,
and one vivid and impressive detail is added. We
are told that Jesus in the days of His flesh offered
prayers and supplications, with strong crying and
tears, unto Him that was able to save from death,
and was heard in that He feared. That strong
crying and tears were the accompaniments of His
prayers, we know only from the Epistle, and the
detail is used to show the reality of the Lord's
priesthood, and its help for us in our struggles and
sorrows. The explanation of the scene, however,
takes us much further, although this element must
not be omitted. Gethsemane was a place near
Jerusalem, where the Saviour often resorted to pray
with His disciples. His oratory was to be the scene
of His sharpest conflict and suffering. There still
stand olive trees which may have succeeded those
that saw the supreme agony of Christ.
229

230 The Incarnate Saviour
The suffering at Gethsemane was evidently of
peculiar intensity. Jesus was familiar with the varied
forms of suffering, and His biographers with their
recital. Many and keen were the pangs of the
chastisement of our peace that had gone before, but
apparently they were far transcended here. Very
unusual words are employed to describe this centre
and heart of His suffering, as if language were taxed
to convey an adequate expression. He was sore
amazed. He was very heavy. His soul was exceed
ing sorrowful, even to the point of death, as if any
addition to the burden would have been enough to
snap the breaking thread of life. He prayed with
strong crying and tears to Him who was able to save
Him from death, and was heard in that He feared.
This was no torture of the body, no physical agony,
but the far keener pains of the spirit. The fastidious
reticence of modern times must not prevent us looking
at the stern and naked reality which is with a very
gracious intent disclosed to us. The suffering was
so sacred, that, though He was glad to feel His
disciples near, He could not bear them so near that
they should see it, and said, "Sit ye here, while I go
and pray yonder." But we are taken into the most
sacred ground. It was needful that we should see
the agony of His spirit. Had we not witnessed this
great and solitary expression of pain, we would have
been in danger of supposing that His divinity made
the fact of His suffering less precious and less helpful
to us. We might have said, "God cannot suffer as
I suffer. His pains are not to Him what mine are
to me." And it is that this doubt should be for ever

Gethsemane 231
silenced that the veil is lifted, and our eyes behold
His awful agony, His bloody sweat, His great heavi
ness, His sore amazement, His strong crying and
tears. His suffering, though in one sense quite unique,
is, we are warranted in believing, a guide and a solace
for us when a sorrow comes which makes us solitary,
and renders unavailing the sympathy that helps us
in our common woes. As there come times sooner
or later when no human sympathy is enough, —
bereavements which no human love can supply,
wounds which the closest affection cannot stanch, —
when nothing really helps but the sympathy of Christ,
— this assures us that He can sympathise even as He
suffered, that He can go with us down the loneliest
road of sorrow and of loss, because His feet have gone
even farther, and His footprints are seen stretching
away to the darkness beyond it. There is a Roman
story of a husband and wife, who, weary of this tyrant-
ridden world, resolved to commit suicide. The wife
took the blade and plunged it into her breast, and then
drew it out, saying with her dying breath, "Take it;
it is not painful." So, when the dagger of sorrow is
plunged into our hearts, it is tinctured with the blood
of Christ. It has gone into Christ's heart before it
was plunged into ours, and this has robbed it of its
keenest agony. So, when we have no other companion,
we are able to flee to Him and to say, " He learned
obedience by the things which He suffered, and, being
made perfect, He became the author of eternal salva
tion to all them that obey Him." As the intensity of
the agony grew greater, and He felt Himself dying,
He asked whether the cup might not be foregone.

232 The Incarnate Saviour
He made His last appeal to the Fatherly love and
omnipotence of God: "Abba, Father, all things are
possible unto thee." He did not abandon the salva
tion of the world, but He asked whether this cup,
so bitter and terrible, must be drunk in order to
accomplish it. Three times He prayed, and as He
prays He grows more resigned. "He was heard,"
says the inspired writer, "in that He feared"; in
other words, He was heard for His piety — His sub
missive reverence. His submissive reverence appeared
in that He said, " Father, if it be possible " ; and again
in that He said, " Not my will, but thine be done. If
it be possible, in thine unlimited power, canst thou
not find another way? Nevertheless, not my will,
but thine be done." There is no revolt; He is ready
to accept the answer, whatever it may be. There is
the reluctance of the flesh, — the drawing back of
humanity — the resistance of natural instinct, — but
that is all. In all His purpose He never faltered,
never ceased to be the Son. The will of nature did
not for a moment escape from the law of the Spirit,
and after a struggle it was entirely absorbed in it. There
was the conflict between resignation and emotion.
Resignation does not mean the suppression of human
and natural feeling. There may be true reverence,
and humble submission, and a faithful acceptance of all
the sorrow and defeat that life brings, and that God
sends, and yet at the same time there may be sorrow,
and the distinct expression of sorrow, without sin.
There is no sin in the strong crying ; no irreligion
in the tears. It was right that He should suffer;
it was right to express the suffering, so that He was

Gethsemane 233
able to say in the end, "Not my will, but thine
be done." "I was dumb; I opened not my mouth,
because thou didst it, till the light came at last, and
I was able to say, ' The Lord gave, and the Lord
hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.'"
When we lose our friends, even though we know
that they have cast off for ever the burden of
humanity, and have entered into the peace of God,
we yet may rightly go to the grave in mourning and
weep there. Strong crying and tears are part of our
agony, and it is not God's mind that we should affect
a composure that we do not feel. He has patience
with our tears, so long as they mean no wandering
of the heart and will — so long as the sorrow is
bounded by submission, and does not become bitter
and rebellious.
Again, as there was a conflict between submission
and sorrow, there was a conflict between inclination
and duty. They ran counter, as they must often, and
there was no sin in the conflict. His nature rose up
within Him against the punishment. The body and
soul protested against the thought of suffering thus.
The fact of this natural shrinking is what makes it
possible for nature to become the real victim — an
offering in earnest. So long as the voice of nature
is at one with that of God, it may be asked, "Where
is the victim for the burnt - offering ? " Sacrifice
begins where conflict begins. But the conflict must
not be maintained until it turns away the will ;
and it was not maintained in this case. Duty
mastered inclination, submission sorrow — or sorrow
was bounded by submission ; and thus it was that

234 The Incarnate Saviour
the answer came, "He was heard because of His
piety." The cup did not pass from Him ; it had to be
drunk. Not even a drop could be spared. Yet
He was heard. The angel appeared from heaven
strengthening Him. There would have been not only
spiritual consolation, but physical help. The cup
was not made sweeter, but His lips were made brave
to drink it. The nature of the punishment was not
changed, but the thought of it was no longer the
same. He accepted the work, and was enabled to
walk with a firm step to meet the agony at which
He had staggered. Besides, not His will but God's
will was done, and that was what He prayed for.
By prayer and supplication He had made His request
known to God, and the peace that passeth under
standing came to Him.
While the incident thus illustrates the reality of
His priesthood, and shows with how firm a step He
could tread on the narrow and difficult ways that
part right from wrong, there needs something more
to be said in explanation of all this suffering. He
did not endure it merely that He might be able to
sympathise with us. How is it to be explained
when we look at Him there, shrinking, shuddering,
with great drops of sweat mingling with the hot tears
that fell on the ground ? Is there the demeanour
we should expect from the bravest of the brave —
from the leader of heroes and martyrs? Is He
shrinking under the mere anticipation of physical
suffering? If it be so, the servant is above his

Gethsemane 235
Master ; for many a poor martyr has gone to his
death as to a bed long desired, and many a delicate
woman has endured as much bodily suffering without
almost a tear or sob. Is He then agitated with all
this terror by the impending suffering which others
have borne bravely and calmly? If so, how was it
that He was able to carry Himself as He afterwards
did? How was He able to bear silently the insults
and the tortures of His enemies — to master, with the
calm ascendancy of His bearing, His hardened judges ?
He prayed, when the nails were driven through His
hands, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do." Why did He so shrink from death, which
meant to Him deliverance from the load of humanity,
and a resuming of the glory which He had with the
Father before the sinful world was ? We should have
imagined that the agony, great as it was, would have
been forgotten and overlooked in the thought of the
great bliss that was to follow it. If so, how was it
that He did not take a way of escape ? A word
might have saved Him. Pilate would have been glad
of an excuse to set Him free. Without violating
truth, He might, one would imagine, have escaped
all that which He seemed to fear so much. No, the
explanation is utterly inadequate. No mere dread
of pain could thus agitate a soul like His. "There
is no passion in the mind of man so weak but that
it meets and masters the fear of death. A man
would die if he were neither valiant nor miserable,
only upon the weariness to do the same thing so
oft over and over. It is no less worthy to observe
how little alteration in good spirits the approaches

236 The Incarnate Saviour
of death make, for they appear to be the same men
till the last instant." It cannot be explained, as
some have attempted, by the thought of the desertion
of His disciples. To state such an explanation is
to refute it. There is only one explanation that will
cover the facts: "The Lord laid upon Him the
iniquity of us all." He was forsaken by God, He
was enduring the punishment of our sins, He was
drinking the cup we should have drained, and be
cause our punishment was upon His sinless soul, the
waters of His baptism were so deep and chill and
black that He feared, and wept, and shuddered
before He entered them. Nothing will explain the
suffering of Gethsemane except the fact that He
died to bear the great burden of sin — our repre
sentative, the just for the unjust, that He might
bring us to God.
There was something more than anticipation. He
freely accepted death as the punishment of sin ; and
in order to distinguish Him from typical victims,
there was needed such an acceptance in the fulness
of His consciousness and liberty. But is it true to
say, that at Gethsemane Jesus did not drink the cup,
but merely consented to drink it ? Rather would we
say that Gethsemane is the soul of His suffering.
He laid down His life in the garden. No man took
it from Him ; He laid it down of Himself. There
was the inner suffering before the outward suffering
came. There had to be the outward suffering, for
the world could not understand Gethsemane. It
must have a historical fact capable of being tested

Gethsemane 237
by many witnesses. There must be something literal
and clear. So the Cross is lifted up on Calvary, and
men see Him nailed there, and His blood is poured
out. It is in this way that we are at first led to
understand His suffering. We begin with the story
of the Cross, and the nails, and the lifting up of the
victim, and the nerves quivering, and the life as one
pang. But we are led by and by into the inner
sanctuary — into the suffering of His soul. The soul
of His suffering was the bearing of our sins. And
He bore our sins in Gethsemane and on Calvary,
and we put the two together to understand His
work for us. He rose from Gethsemane when the
bitterness of death passed. Resistance is over ;
He gives Himself up to the ruffian band. Men
cross - question Him, buffet Him, drag Him about,
but He will never speak a word more. He is led
as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before
her shearers is dumb, so He opens not His mouth.
He goes on without flinching to bear the full weight
of His cross.

XVIII
THE TRIAL OF CHRIST

a sfjeep before fjer sfjearcrs is bumb, so %e openeb not ft? is
mouth."

1 My silence rather doth augment their cry,
My dove doth back into my bosom fly,
Because the raging waters still are high."

George Herbert.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TRIAL OF CHRIST

THE death of Christ was the execution of a capital
sentence proceeding upon a sixfold trial —
three trials at the hands of the Jews, and three at
the hands of the Romans. Out of the manifold
details given by the evangelists, it is somewhat
difficult to reach perfect certainty as to the precise
order of events, although the general truthfulness
of the narrative is apparent. We attempt to relate
the incidents of the successive trials, but every detail
cannot be certainly laid down.1
He was tried first of all at the hands of the Jews.
The Hebrew commonwealth and institutions were
pervaded by a deep sentiment of justice. In the
traditions of the fathers we read, that when a judge
decides not according to truth, he makes the majesty
of God depart from Israel. But if he judges accord
ing to truth, were it only for one hour, it is as if
he established the whole world, for it is in judgment
that the divine presence in Israel has its habitation.
1 See two articles by A. Taylor-Innes in the Contemporary
Review, vol. xxx. , and the brilliant narrative in Farrar's Life of
Christ. 16

242 The Incarnate Saviour
When Jesus was bound, He was led through the
sleeping city to the palace of the High Priest. On
the Thursday night He had been arrested, because
resistance was looked for, and He was first brought
before Annas, who seems to have occupied the High
Priest's palace jointly with his son-in-law Caiaphas.
Annas was by far the most influential man in the
Sanhedrim. He had been for several years High
Priest, but had been removed from that office twenty
years before, probably for stretching his powers to
the extent of executing capital punishment. But he
had been succeeded by his own relatives. Five of his
sons were members of the Sanhedrim, and either had
held, or were to hold, the office of High Priest, while
the acting High Priest Caiaphas was his son-in-law.
He was regarded by the Jews as High Priest de jure,
although not High Priest de facto. He viewed Jesus
with feelings of bitter contempt and hatred, and
endeavoured at the very outset to extort from Him
admissions which would involve His death. According
to the Jewish law, this examination was wholly illegal.
The accused was free from all personal investigation
until brought to trial before the assembly of his
brethren. By the Hebrew law there was no sole
judge, and no sole witness. Jesus therefore refused
to answer him. "I have in secret said nothing:
why askest thou me? ask them which heard me,"
thus taking His stand on pure Hebrew justice. The
minions of Annas felt the force of the reply, and one
of them struck Jesus on the face, saying, " Answerest
thou the High Priest so ? " The contrast between
Paul's sudden anger when similarly insulted, and the

The Trial of Christ 243
supernatural calmness of Christ, has been often marked.
He again took His stand on His legal rights, and said,
"If I have spoken evil, bear witness to the evil; but
if not, why smitest thou me ? " Annas was baffled,
and sent Him on to Caiaphas. Caiaphas, although of
the same mind as the father-in-law, was a man of
less force of will. He saw that there was no way
of getting Jesus condemned without seeking false
witness. This was utterly illegal. Hebrew judges
were eminently counsel for the accused. To seek
out witnesses was a scandalous violation of law. The
law was thoroughly violated already by the trial
taking place at night. Even an ordinary civil suit
should have been confined to the day, and a grave
criminal trial could be begun, continued, and finished
only in the light. The witnesses were not able to
agree. One reported that Jesus had said, "I can
destroy the Temple"; another, "I will destroy the
Temple." What He actually said was, If the Temple
be destroyed, He would build it up. The charge
which they were aiming to establish was eminently
one of conspiracy against the national institutions,
which with them was blasphemy, — a crime coming
under the same category as the claim to be the
Messiah, or the Son of God. Jesus allowed the false
witnesses to confound one another. Their crime was
all the greater because of the solemn adjuration the
High Priest had to pronounce to them: "In this
trial for life, if thou sinnest, the blood of the accused,
and the blood of his sin to the end of time, shall be
imputed unto thee." He held His peace, and His
silence maddened His accusers. He was perfectly

244 The Incarnate Saviour
self-possessed, for all this had been foreknown to
Him, and He had come to Jerusalem, not to perish
by mistake, but to die as a Priest. His enemies
seemed likely to be baffled, when Caiaphas, overcome
with anger and terror, strode into the midst of the
hall, and said, "Answerest thou nothing? What is
it that these witness against thee ? " The silence was
unbroken, and then the High Priest exclaimed, ' ' I
adjure thee by the living God, that thou tell us
whether thou be the Christ, the Son of the Blessed."
This was the question for which all had been waiting,
and the answer came. Looking at the man who had
lifted himself out of the crowd of aged and evil faces,
Jesus replied, "I am; and ye shall see the Son of
man sitting at the right hand of power, and coming
with the clouds of heaven." They tore their clothes,
the ordinance in Israel being that every man who
heard blasphemy should rend his garments into two
parts, never again to be united ; and the High Priest
exclaimed, ' ' Blasphemy ! What further need have
we of witnesses ? What think ye ? He is a man of
death." He had to be kept till break of day, because only
by daylight and by. a full session of the Sanhedrim
could He be legally condemned. It was far past mid
night, and the spring air was chill as they led Him,
with blows and curses, to the guard-room. As He
was led past, He heard Peter denying Him with oaths
and curses. This was at the very beginning of the
terrible derision, which we cannot bear to describe in
detail. Suffice it to say that the worst passions of
men were wreaked upon Him. When dawn came,

The Trial of Christ 245
probably about six o'clock in the morning, a full
session of the Sanhedrim, almost all against Him,
met. He was silent for a time, but again declared
Himself at last to be the Son of God. The third
condemnation followed, and a second derision re
sembling the first.
He suffered under Pontius Pilate. The man thus
condemned to eternal infamy was at that time the
governor of Judea. He had made himself obnoxious
to the Jews by a mixture of tyranny and weakness.
At the very beginning of his career as procurator, he
allowed his soldiers to bring with them the silver
eagles, and other insignia of the legions, from Cesarea
to the Holy City. This excited a tumult of rebellion,
to which he had to give way. Other foolish or
malicious deeds had made him very unpopular with
the people. He lived during his brief residence at
Jerusalem in the gorgeous palace of Herod, one of
those luxurious abodes on which skill and wealth had
been lavished. That morning he was sitting in his
praetorium to do business as usual. He was sitting
in his judgment hall, with the altars of the Roman
gods in the heathen chamber. The Jews, during the
Holy Week, would not enter the place, and he goes
out to them in the early sunlight, probably in no good
humour. "What accusation bring ye against this
Man ? " — the voice of Roman justice ; for the Romans
were distinguished for their instinctive righteousness,
their passion for justice. The insolent answer was,
"If He were not a malefactor, we would not have
delivered Him up to thee." Pilate, refusing to act

246 The Incarnate Saviour
as executioner where he had not been the judge,
contemptuously replies, "Take ye Him and judge
Him according to your law." He thus forces them
into the sullen confession that they could not put
Jesus to death. He was not to die by a Jewish
punishment, but by the awful Roman death of the
cross. There does not seem to have been any con
cordat as to the power of death between the Jews and
the Romans. They dropped the charge of blasphemy,
which would have availed them nothing before Pilate,
and urged that Jesus had perverted the nation, for
bidding to give tribute to Cassar, and saying that He
Himself was the Christ the King. Pilate took Jesus
into his hall, and asked Him, "Art thou the King of
the Jews ? " There might have been a pitying wonder,
and yet at the same time an instinctive reverence for
the nobleness of the prisoner in the question, "Art
thou, pale, spent, weary man, art thou the King
of the Jews?" Jesus replies, "Sayest thou this of
thyself, or did others tell it thee of me ? " evidently
meaning, In what sense is the expression used? "If
thou sayest of thyself as a Roman would use the
expression, I am not ; but if thou art using the
words of Hebrew prophecy, I have something further
to explain." Pilate replies, "I am not a judge.
Thine own nation and the chief priests have delivered
thee to me ; what hast thou done ? " Christ, in
reply, explained that He was a King, but that His
kingdom was not of this world. He acknowledged
that a kingdom of this world might be legitimately
attacked by the deputy of Cassar, but such a kingship
He did not claim. "Art thou a King, then?" said

The Trial of Christ 247
the Roman; and the answer was, "I am a King, and
I was born to bear witness to the truth." "Truth,"
replied Pilate, ' ' what is truth ? " — strange mixture of
impatience, sarcasm, and despair. The prisoner before
him, he thought, was not one likely to interfere with
any existing royalty. He was an innocent and high-
souled dreamer — nothing more. So Pilate went out
to the Jews, and emphatically acquitted Him: "I find
in Him no fault at all."
If he had but kept to this verdict ; but the fury of
the people burst out. Was the judgment of the High
Priest to be frustrated by this heathen ? Jesus had
troubled the people through the whole land, beginning
from Galilee ; and Pilate, eager to catch at every pre
text, sends Jesus to Herod Antipas, the tetrarch of
Galilee, who was then in Jerusalem. Jesus was
dragged through the streets before the bar of this
wretched debauchee, who had murdered John the
Baptist. Of Herod Jesus had used the only con
temptuous expression He ever employed. Now He
looked at him for the first time face to face. Herod put
many questions. He had no remorse for what had
been. He hoped that Jesus would amuse him by some
miracle. When Jesus confronted him with silence, the
savagery of the man broke through his voluble good
nature, and he and his minions treated Jesus with con
tempt and insult, and sent Him back again to Pilate.
It was right that a man accused of treason should be
judged at Caesar's judgment-seat. In the meantime
Pilate had received a message from his wife. She had
been visited in her dream by the thought that the blood
of that just person would be required of her husband,

248 The Incarnate Saviour
and in her restless anxiety she sent to let him know.
With the superstition that often goes along with
scepticism, Pilate was troubled, and sought again to
save himself from the guilt of condemning Jesus. He
summoned the priests and people before him, told them
that their charges had absolutely broken down, but,
willing to go half way with them, ordered Jesus to be
scourged publicly, and further proposed to set free at
the paschal feast, when a condemned prisoner was
always liberated, Jesus Christ. The people would not
accept the compromise. They clamoured for the
liberation of Barabbas, a murderer and a thief, whose
sedition had made him popular amongst them. Jesus
was rejected of men. "What then," said Pilate,
"shall I do with Him?" The mad cry came,
"Crucify Him, crucify Him! " Before that crucifixion
the awful agony of scourging had to come, according
to the cruel customs of the Romans, almost alone
among civilised nations in this. They put a crown of
thorns round Him, and arrayed Him in a purple robe,
putting a reed sceptre in His hands, and crying de
risively, "Hail, King of the Jews." Pilate even yet
hoped to save Him. He led Jesus — in the sad finery
with which they had tricked Him out, with the marks
of indignity upon Him — and showed Him to the people,
saying, " Behold the Man ! " Still they insisted, " We
have a law, and by our law He ought to die, because
He made Himself the Son of God." That word " Son
of God" startled Pilate. He took Him into the hall
again, and asked Him, "Whence art thou?" Jesus
was silent, and Pilate flashed out insolently with the
question, "Speakest thou not unto me? Knowest

The Trial of Christ 249
thou not that 1 have power to crucify thee, and power
to release thee?" Jesus replies gently, "Thou
couldest have no power at all over me, unless it were
given thee from above ; therefore he that delivered me
unto thee hath the greater sin." Jesus judges His
judge tenderly yet truly : " Thy crime is great, but the
crime of Annas, Caiaphas, Judas, the priests, and Jews,
is greater still." Pilate would make one more effort.
He brings Him out again, and cries, " Behold your
King ! " By this time the conflict had lasted some
hours, and the people were passionate and weary.
"Shall I crucify your King? " said he. " We have no
king," the reply was, " but Caesar ; and if thou let this
man go, thou art not Caesar's friend." Pilate was
paralysed with terror at the awful name of Tiberius.
Was he to be accused before that man, with whom the
accusation of treason was almost certain death — who at
that time, full of ulcers and fevers and leprosy, mad
dened by the treason of his only friend, was waiting for
opportunities for new infamies ? He yielded ; but his
conscience was reproaching him, and, in the vain
attempt to appease it, he went through the farce of
washing his hands: "I am innocent of the blood of
this just person; see you to it." They accepted the
burden of the awful guilt, and answered him back with
a yell, " His blood be upon us and our children ! "
Pilate delivered Him unto them that He might be
crucified. i. The great importance of the trial for our purpose
lies in the fact that the issue raised was Christ's claim
to be the Son of God, the Messiah of Israel, and a

250 The Incarnate Saviour
King. He was tried unfairly and judged unjustly, but
the true issue was raised. He died, then, because
before the Jews He claimed to be the Son of God and
the Messiah, and before Pilate to be Christ and King.
2. All generations since have felt that the judged was
the judge. The men were really standing before the
bar of Christ, and all appear in terrible distinctness,
revealed by the Light of the world. Pilate, with his
proud indifference to the superstitions of the Jews, his
contempt for the High Priests, his scorn for the mob,
his supercilious wonder at Christ's mysticism and im
practicability, his clear recognition of the nobleness
behind these, his uneasy attempts to get quit of re
sponsibility and pacify the conscience, which troubled
while it did not rule him, by catching at spray after
spray, and finally his yielding — overborne though un
convinced — of Jesus to be crucified ; firm only in
refusing to blot out the title written in scorn, and yet
with unconscious truth, over His head ; all these are
unmistakable. Caiaphas, seeing his occasion in the
terror of the nation that the Romans might efface them,
and urging that this victim would appease the suspicion
of their conquerors, and preserve the nation, — a con
sideration so important as to make it of no conse
quence whether He was innocent or not, — is a type of
one who misinterprets the divine covenant which he
represented. Herod, with selfish and sensual good
nature, thinly veiling ferocity and heartlessness, seeking
to have miracles performed to gratify his appetite for
physical marvel, and treating Christ's silence as a proof
of His imposture, shows the end of a man in whom

The Trial of Christ 251
conscience is dead. John the Baptist, if he thought of
him at all, would seem much superior to this dumb
coward, who could not make a king tremble.
And Jesus, what shall we say of Him? The great
characteristic of the history is missed in reading it, for
the events pass quickly in the terse narrative. It is the
almost utter silence before all the judges, and the com
plete passiveness in the hands of those who insulted —
all this, accompanied, as has been truly imagined, by a
look not of fortitude and tension, but rather of recollec
tion, as if there was nothing in all these insults and
questions to which any answer or expostulation was
appropriate, but rather a current of inevitable passions
which must be, but the moving spring of which is
beyond the reach of words. No morbid dejection, no
personal resentment, but a complete detachment from
all earthly passion, and at the same time a conscious
drawing out of deep springs of strength and consola
tion, which no human malice could reach to choke —
infinitely above them all, their Judge while they judged
Him.

XIX
THE SEVEN WORDS ON THE
CROSS

203

" SEruIg this Soas the Son of ©ob."

' In the wild heart of that eclipse
These words came from his wasted lips."
Alexander Smith.

254

CHAPTER XIX
THE CROSS AND THE SEVEN WORDS
WE do not attempt to describe the physical suffer
ings of Christ upon the Cross. Yet to
describe, and in certain cases even to dwell upon these,
is not only warrantable but dutiful. While it would be
utterly wrong and needless to add any touch or colour
of horror, yet it is not without reason that the Gospels,
which hurry over our Lord's life so rapidly, here take
the minuteness of diaries, describing every incident and
noting every word. The insulting voices, the racked
frame, the fiery thirst, the last atrocity of crucifixion —
these, and much else, are not described without reason.
They were foretold in prophecy. And though it might
seem as if human passion had been let loose to have its
will with Him, yet even in its madness it was controlled
by a divine hand, and could go thus far and no farther.
But we propose to omit these things, needful though it
be to make much of them at times to ' ' scarify cal
losities," and to teach sentimentalists, who see or wear
the Cross glittering in jewels, how terrible was the
reality, and how deep and awful is the meaning of the
commandment which bids us take up our cross. No
reaction from the sensational preaching once, at least,
prevalent in the Church of Rome, should prevent this.

256 The Incarnate Saviour
But we pass it by to dwell upon the seven words
uttered on the Cross, which are as seven windows
through which we may gaze at the soul of Christ.
Last words are always earnestly heeded —
' ' The tongues of dying men
Enforce attention like deep harmony ;
When words are scarce they're seldom spent in vain,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.''
Especially memorable and solemn are the last words of
Christ — the few utterances amidst the long silence of
that half day He hung upon the Cross. The absorbing
and confounding agonies of crucifixion do not disturb
the order and the calm which marked all His life. As
He had done all things fitly in the calmer spaces of His
life, and in the three years of conflict, so now He does
all things well in the midst of this awful battle on the
Cross. Seven times His lips are opened. Not surely
without a reason is the number chosen. There is
sevenfold completeness in His utterances. We trace
an order and progress in these seven utterances. All
His life through He had thought first of His enemies
and last of Himself. He came to call sinners to
repentance. When the pains of death got hold on Him
in the midst of His grief and trouble, He remained the
same. His first thought was for His enemies, His last
for Himself. We find Him thinking first of His
enemies, next of an enemy who had become a friend,
next of a friend, and so narrowing the circle, He comes
to Himself last of all.
1. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what

The Cross and the Seven Words 257
they do." He said it after a night of mortal agony,
after six successive trials, after Roman scourging and
mocking, while the rough nails were being driven
through His hands. The horror of it all overwhelms
Him. He has no thought of His own agony, but
much of His murderers' guilt ; and therefore are His
lips opened in prayer.
It is much to be able to pray in great agony of
body ; it is more to feel the Fatherhood of God as He
felt it. He had said "Father" in the morning of His
life, through it all, and now in the black midnight it
is "Father" once again. His faith does not fail, will
not fail for all the powers of darkness, howsoever they
enshroud Him. But most wonderful of all is it that
He prayed not for Himself, not for the mitigation of
His suffering, nor for any beloved friend, but for His
enemies, in the height of their crime. "Father," He
says, "forgive them," by that blood which is already
flowing through their cruelty, "for they know not
what they do." The awfully suggestive reason tells
us that we never see sin as He saw it from the tree of
the Cross. If they had known it, as Paul says in an
awestruck undertone, they would not have crucified
the Lord of glory. When we sin, we never know what
we do. We throw at a mark, and know not that the
missiles pass beyond our reach ; they go higher than
we meant — they strike God, and He from His Cross
saw them reach that goal.
"They know not what they do." He knew, and
He could pray for forgiveness. They were not guilt
less. Ignorance is not innocence, else they had not
needed pardon. They knew cruelty and torture to be
!7

258 The Incarnate Saviour
wicked, and they might have known more of Him
whom they were crucifying. Still, in the divine view,
their ignorance was some palliation. Indeed, it is not
too much to say that our ignorance is our hope. If
we had sinned like the rebel angels, in the full light
of heaven, our case would have been different. But
because we have not, we dare to hope that He says
for us, " Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do."
2. Having prayed for His enemies who were per
secuting Him and crucifying Him, He speaks to one
who had been a great enemy, but who was now a
friend: "To-day shalt thou be with me in Paradise."
Two thieves were crucified with Him ; one on His right
hand, and the other on His left. One reviled Him, but
the other rebuked his companion, and bore witness to
the innocent Lord by saying, ' ' We are paying for our
sins, but this man hath done nothing amiss." Then he
prayed, "Lord, remember me when thou comest unto
thy kingdom."
This story must be true, for it never could have
been imagined. These words so stand out as to be
their own best testimony. Who could have invented
such a prayer? "Lord," he said, seeing the Lord in
the victim. When all were mocking and deriding the
Saviour, and when the other thief was calling upon
Him to take Himself and them from the Cross, this
robber saw a greater nobility in His continuing to hang
there, read aright the words written over His head,
and trusted Him through all the scorn as " Lord."
At the very depth of His suffering this malefactor saw

The Cross and the Seven Words 259
Christ to be a King. He saw the crown through the
Cross, and declared, "He hath done nothing amiss."
When no mouth was opened to testify for Christ, His
defence was spoken by this strange tongue. Those
held their peace, and this stone immediately cried out.
But more : he knew the Lord not only as King, but as
Redeemer. "Remember me," he said. What a per
fectly brave word of love ! Throwing his heart at the
feet of the omniscient Lord, he said, ' ' Remember all
my spent, bad past : how I began to sin, how I went
on from one wickedness to another till I came where
I am; do not forget anything, but remember with it
all that I trusted thee." He was not afraid that the
Lord should know all things when He knew that He
loved him ; he had no doubt of the length, and
breadth, and depth, and height of the infinite love
which went beyond the robber's life. ' ' I have no
fear to tell you what I was, being what I am," says
an English poet; so the penitent thief says, "I have
no fear of all my past, being what I am, a penitent
believer." Besides, he saw the kingdom beyond the
Cross. He did not ask to be taken down from the
Cross, but, "When this darkness is over, and we
emerge into the light, Lord, remember me."
How grateful must this testimony and this prayer
have been to Christ ! The story is like a flower of
beauty amongst those dreary crags of agony. This
was the last tongue that had a word to say for Him.
On the Cross He saw somewhat of the travail of His
soul, and His dying eyes were satisfied ere they closed.
How quick was the answer, "To-day shalt thou be
with me in Paradise"! "To-day!" — that very word

260 The Incarnate Saviour
was a gospel. He was not to hang for long hours
in agony, as many did; but "To-day" — he was to
escape — "shalt thou be with me in Paradise"; Lord
and thief together. We may suppose that he did not
understand much of the word "in Paradise," any more
than we do; but he understood the word "with
me," and it was enough. Jesus said it from His
Cross: "But thus saith He that is holy, He that
is true, He that hath the key of David, He that
openeth and no man shutteth, and shutteth and no
man openeth." The prayer was great, but the answer
was greater still. If the prayer was like a river, the
answer was as a great sea.
3. Next He speaks to a friend: "Woman, behold
thy son ; son, behold thy mother ! " He looked from
the Cross, and coming from the outer circle, nearer to
His heart, He saw His mother and the beloved disciple
standing by, and He commended them to one another.
Every commentator has rightly pointed out the
tenderness of those words. But, as has been noted
before, there is something in the relation between
Christ and His mother which is not to be explained
on the supposition that He was merely her human
son. The mere affection shown her does not surprise
us : rather do we wonder at the reticence of His words.
She stood there, with the sword of prophecy piercing
her heart, in unutterable woe, and He says no more
than, "Woman, behold thy son." The hour of death
has been called —
"That dark hour when bands remove,
And none are named but names of love."

The Cross and the Seven Words 261
And we have all known how even the most stern,
unbending, and rugged natures have been broken
down, then in words of warm affection revealing
emotions which may have been sealed through a
lifetime. He said few words ; these words could
scarce have been fewer. It is true that a difficult
commandment for a religious person to keep is the
fifth, and that often for the sake of Christ, bonds
of affection have to be broken. Family life and
traditions have to be interrupted for the gospel's
sake ; but none had so completely to break with
old ties as Christ. He had to do the will of His
Father in heaven. The natural relationship vanished,
and only the spiritual relationship could endure. But
His mother's ministrations He could not have forgotten,
and He shows this by commending her to the disciple
He loved. Still, are we wrong in fancying that she
must have craved for some more unrestrained expres
sion of affection to live on when He was gone ? If
so, it was denied, and in that very denial we have an
instructive proof that He who hung upon the Cross was
more than man.1
4. We have seen how our Lord came gradually
nearer to Himself, beginning with His enemies, then
coming to one now His friend, then to His mother.
He speaks now not to any of the people, but to God.
1 I make these remarks with considerable diffidence, as an
opposite view has, so far as I know, been universally taken.
But one of our greatest poets makes a dying son say "Father"
over and over again on his deathbed, because he wished "to
gather up his sonship before he departed." Jesus says "Father";
He does not say " Mother."

262 The Incarnate Saviour
A deep darkness came over the land, in the midst
of which He remained silent, till at last He said, "My
God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken me ? " It
was dark, because the Light of the world was going
out, and there was darkness also in the Saviour's
soul. This was the crucifixion of His heart. He
felt shut out from the presence, from the face of God.
"Why hast thou forsaken me?" We cannot pretend
to understand the meaning of this great darkness that
enshrouded the Saviour's spirit, but we may point out
that He still remained the Son. Yet, not " My Father,"
He says, but "My God." Still it is "My God, my
God." There is no wavering, no distrust. He was
not actually lost, neither did God's wrath rest upon
Him for His own sin; it was "My God, my God."
The clasp tightens in the dark. The record of the
word is an instance of fearless candour. "That voice of
utter loneliness in the death struggle is entirely credible,"
says one, "because it never could have been invented."
We cannot give a reply to this question other than
the blessed old answer of the Scripture: "He was
wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our
iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon
Him." As with Gethsemane, the attempt to explain
the agony by merely natural causes is palpably
inadequate. Not the pain of His body, not the
desertion of His friends, could have wrapped Him
in darkness so deep and black. Our weighty sins
which He bare in His own body on the tree made Him
very heavy. And because of this His suffering escaped
Him in this thrilling cry : " My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me ? "

The Cross and the Seven Words 263
5. Having uttered to God the complaint of His soul,
He now utters the complaint of His body: "I thirst."
The tide of His grief had reached its limit, and began
to be assuaged. He was now able to note the suffer
ings of His body. It was eighteen or twenty hours
since He had tasted anything. He had hung six hours
on the Cross. Note the simple manliness of the utter
ance. He thirsted, and He was not ashamed to confess
it. An Indian brave, ringed in with fire, would refuse
to let a cry escape his black and swollen lips ; but the
Saviour of the world makes known His agony — "I
thirst." He condescended to ask a draught, though
He was on the very steps of the throne.
" I thirst." If He had chosen, He might have made
the land alive with the ripple of sweet water. He
created all wells and streams, and yet He thirsted with
a bitter, burning, raging thirst. As He had thirsted
before by the well, so now, but far more intensely, He
thirsted again, and there was none found to help. The
hour of thirst was an hour of danger. The adversary
plied Him with the old temptation. He was tempted to
say, "I will command these waters to quench my
thirst," but He refuses. He was to see to the bottom
of this mystery, and to drink the cup tb the dregs, and
to lay before His Father a will that had never swerved.
' ' I thirst — not for water only, but for rest, for home,
for the end of all this." With desire He desired to eat
and drink in the house of His Father. But the cup was
almost drained, and He opened His lips next in the
words —
6. "It is finished." There was still a little time

264 The Incarnate Saviour
before the soul of Jesus parted from the body which had
long been its troublous framework ; but the agony was
over, and the exulting sense of triumph and reward had
come in. He had finished the work that God gave Him to
do. Nothing had been left undone orunendured, and so
He looks back on all the past, and says, " It is finished."
The meaning of the pronoun we do not attempt to
expound in its whole blessed import. We take it
simply as referring to the work which God had given
Him to do. When we read it, we feel instantly how
great a distance there is between Christ's life and ours.
None ever spoke in that way. Our life is full of ragged
edges, of incompleted tasks. Dying, we long for a
little time to fulfil our dear dreams ; but it is not given.
" My book, my book," were the last words of a well-
known writer on his forlorn deathbed ; and all of us,
when it comes to the end, will long for a little season
more in which to put the finishing touch to something,
that we may leave some completed work behind us.
But we must die and leave things unfinished. He did
all things well, — at the right time, in the right place, in
the right way, neither too much nor too little. "It is
finished " — it was done, and He could rest.
" It is finished." The great sacrifice for the sins of
the whole world was offered. We who have broken
God's law, and finished nothing, have a new and living
way made open by His blood. When He said, "It is
finished," His joy was not for Himself, merely that His
suffering was over, but for His people — that the poorest,
and the most sinful, and the most imperfect, might now
come in all peace to God — that a door had been opened
which no man and no demon could shut.

The Cross and the Seven Words 265
From His earliest years He had been busy in the
things of His Father. His lifelong sustenance had
been to do the will of Him that sent Him, and to finish
His work ; and now that the work is finished, the con
fidence of faith utters itself in the joyous cry —
7. "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."
We who cannot say "It is finished," are fain to add
to these words, "For thou hast redeemed me, Lord
God of truth." "1 go," said one of old, entering a
monastery ; " I go to a logic that fears not the logic
of death." That logic is, "Father, into thy hands I
commend my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me." Not
till our sinful souls are cleansed and redeemed can we
commit them to the holy hands of the Father ; but He
who could say "It is finished," committed a perfectly
white soul to God. He needed not to speak of redemp
tion. He had fulfilled the law, and so the soul that
had done and borne all He committed into the sure un
wearied hands of His Father. It was a most blessed
thing to fall into those hands, and so He cries with a
loud voice, " Father, into thy hands I commend my
spirit." "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the
living God." It is a fearful thing to have to part
reluctantly from life, to be dragged out of it with sin
cleaving to the soul. It is a fearful thing to fall into
the hands of the tremendous energy of life and right
eousness, without being prepared for the meeting. But
it is a blessed thing to yield oneself in peaceful trust,
knowing that one has not to fall far, and the fall is into
the hands of the living Father. But Jesus used these

266 The Incarnate Saviour
words as none other could. He deepened them, and
with Him they mean : "I who do not, unless I choose,
need to lose hold of life, of my own will and by my own
act let it go. My soul is not required, but by my own
choice I commend it, my Father, to thee. No man
could take my life from me; I lay it down of myself."
Without claiming for ourselves the whole profound
meaning of these words, we may yet use them as
expressing the habitual temper of our lives, and,
supremely, our frame of mind at death. Not to a
tyrant, not to an unknown force, but to the God and
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ we belong, living and
dying. "Trust in God," says Faber, "is the last of
all things, and the whole of all things."

XX
THE BURIAL AND RESURRECTION
OF CHRIST

2C7

2Cfje Eorb is risen tnbeeb."

"One place alone had ceased to hold its prey,
A form had pressed it, and was there no more j
The garments of the grave beside it lay,
Where once they wrapped Him, on the rocky floor.
" He only with returning footsteps broke
The eternal calm wherewith the tomb was bound ;
Among the sleeping dead alone He woke,
And blessed with outstretched hands the hosts around.
"Well is it that such blessing hovers here,
To soothe each sad survivor of the throng,
Who haunt the portals of the solemn sphere,
And pour their woe the loaded air along." IX. Poems ly V.

26S

CHAPTER XX
THE BURIAL AND RESURRECTION OF CHRIST
IT is part of Paul's gospel that Christ was buried,
and there are circumstances of peculiar signifi
cance connected with the burial. His body after death
was not dishonoured as others were. Instead of being
left to hang on the cross to be profaned by the soldiers,
it was taken down and laid by loving hands most
reverently in the tomb. With that strange consonance
which marks all the history, He who was born of a
virgin was laid in a virgin grave. He was as a
wayfaring man that turned aside to tarry for a night,
and He was well lodged in that dark inn. His grave
was in a garden, amidst the springing flowers, beneath
the soft Syrian sunshine : there the Rose of Sharon was
laid amongst the roses. There is here a prophecy,
whether designed or not. Just as the flowers in
winter weather go down into their roots, and keep
house there till the breath of spring summons them,
so He lay down for the appointed time to rise again.
He saw, it is written, no corruption. The stone
which covered Him was more changed than He.
Everything in the world which His spirit had left
was changed save the body that lay sleeping in the
holy grave. There He lay, with the flowers around

270 The Incarnate Saviour
Him, wrapped in fine linen, waiting for the summons.
Yet it is to be noticed also that this tomb was a
borrowed tomb. He had died for our sakes poor, and
so, though the grave allotted Him was the best that
love could give, it was still a borrowed grave. We
mark also the condition of the grave when He left it.
The napkin about His head was not lying with the
linen clothes, but wrapt together in a place by itself.
All His life through, in every point, He had fulfilled
the will of God ; and so it was fit, when He arose
from the dead, that He should keep the fair order
still. The napkin was laid by itself. Every violation
of order, if not a sin, is yet something akin to sin.
Although it is hard to keep order in a world where
all things are gone awry, yet in the life of Christ
everything was done in perfect order, as we saw even
in the cry which He uttered in the agony of His
death. We see here also the calmness with which,
unflushed by His risen power, He begins His work. In
no flutter or perturbation He uses the resurrection
power put into His hands.
He rose again from the dead. That is the central
affirmation of the Christian faith. If this falls, all
the rest falls ; if this stands, all the rest will stand.
This may excuse us if we depart a little from the
plan of this book, and consider briefly the proof of
the Resurrection, before we look at the bearings of the
Resurrection on the work of Christ, and on our indi
vidual lives.
The proof of the Resurrection is the living Church
of Jesus Christ. The life of the Church proves the
life of the Saviour. When Jesus Christ died, His

Burial and Resurrection of Christ 271
disciples, as might be expected, were plunged in
profound despair. When the Shepherd was smitten,
the flock was scattered abroad. But no long time
had passed before a great revolution took place.
They were at first in despair, in spite of all that
He had said. His enemies were quicker to discern
the meaning of His prophecies than His disciples,
and their fears were stronger than His disciples'
hopes. No collapse could be imagined more complete
than that which took place at the entombment of
the Saviour; but in a little time all was changed.
The men who before had been cowards, slow of heart
to believe, were completely transformed. They be
came brave and strong, and full of the most resolved
faith. It was not that their outward circumstances
had changed. They were sheep in the midst of
wolves, and the beginning of their conflict with the
world might have been expected to disappoint rather
than encourage them ; but instead of that, they have
a new faith in the power of Jesus Christ — a faith
which transforms them and makes them men. What
explains this ? Something must have happened in
the interval to account for so marvellous a trans
formation. Nothing can explain it, save the Resurrec
tion of Jesus Christ. That Resurrection breathed into
them new faith, and hope, and strength, by virtue
of which they faced fearlessly the most formidable
odds, and most determined enemies. That is the
explanation of Paul. It has never been denied, even
by the extremest scepticism, that the First Epistle to
the Corinthians was written within thirty-five years
after the death of Christ. In that Epistle the whole

272 The Incarnate Saviour
gospel is built on the risen Christ. Jesus had broken
the fetters of the tomb — the Lord had risen indeed ;
and in the strength of that risen Lord His disciples
were henceforth to fight.
The truth of this explanation appears more clearly
when we consider the utter inadequacy of all others.
The old theory was that the disciples and Christ had
conspired to deceive ; but that is so impossible that it
must be said to be entirely surrendered. The dullest
must perceive that an institution like the Church of
Christ cannot be built upon deceit. Deceit so
enormous, so heartless, does not produce such fruit
as this. And now the explanation given is that they
were not deceivers, but themselves deceived. Had
there been a want of witnesses, had the witnesses been
few, had the facts to be explained been less numerous
and less significant, it might have been possible to
conceive of such an explanation ; but that all should
be befooled, that all should go harmoniously and
unalterably mad, that such a faith as theirs, — a faith
which shrank from no sacrifice, even from the sacrifice
of life itself, — that such a faith should come out of an
imposture, is utterly incredible. A sentence may serve
to dismiss the mythical theory. Events were too quick
for the slow growth of myths. No forcing frame could
have produced such results so speedily. So we can
rest on the truth that the Lord is risen indeed ; and
in that we find the only possible solution — a risen
Christ. Faith in the risen Christ has made the Church
what it is to-day.1
1 To say that the evidence for the Resurrection resolves itself
into an undefined belief on the part of a few persons, in a

Burial and Resurrection of Christ 273
We now look at the bearings of the Resurrection
on the work of Christ. The Resurrection is no mere
supplement to the work of Christ, but an integral
and essential part. He Himself always coupled the
two things: "The Son of man must go to Jerusalem,
and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests
and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the
third day." Though the light of the message of the
Resurrection was lost in the gloom of the announce
ment of His death, as it fell first on the startled ears
of the disciples, we are able to see that death was
not the end, but the centre of His work. Death,
it is true, as we have seen, was in a sense a vital
part of His work, but death had always to be thought
of along with Resurrection. He appealed to the
Resurrection as the final test of His work. ' ' Destroy
this temple," He said, speaking of the temple of His
body, "and I will raise it up in three days." In
other words, He claimed not merely that He would
rise, but that He would raise Himself. Again, He
told His disciples that the Spirit would convince
the world of righteousness, because He went to the
Father. In other words — If He did not go to the
Father, if He continued to lie amongst the dead, His
whole work was a failure, and He Himself a deceiver
of the people. If He really saw corruption, and
became subject to death as others do, the trust which
notoriously superstitious age, that after Jesus had died and been
buried they had seen Him alive (Supernatural Religion, iii. 522),
is to mistake the facts. The faith revolutionised expectation,
changed character, and expressed itself in the most vivid
symbols. 18

274 The Incarnate Saviour
He claims in life and in death cannot be given Him.
There may be a question as to what would be left
even then in His life and teaching for man to prize,
but there is no need that we should enter into the
mournful inquiry as to how much might be saved
out of so disastrous a ruin. If He was really God,
He must rise. If He be holden of death, and if
His dust sleeps to-day beneath the Syrian skies, then
out of His own mouth we condemn Him, and His
own words give us warrant for believing that His
work of redemption is no redemption at all. But
if, instead of that, we see the great stone rolled away,
if we find the grave empty, if we meet Him as He
was when He lay down, with no touch of corruption
or trace of death, hailing Him in that newness of life,
we see that the Father has set His seal upon His
work, and accepted it, and that His claims to be
righteous are verified by the voice from heaven. So
we go to the grave and look into its emptiness, and
listen to the angel message, "He is not here; He is
risen," and see the light of hope and joy passing
through the hearts of the disciples, and we are con
vinced of righteousness. All that is deepest in His
own words, all that is greatest in His works, is
utterly lost unless He be risen. But, having risen,
He is declared to be the Son of God by that divine
voice which aforetime had proclaimed Him to be the
beloved Son — the voice heard at His baptism, at His
transfiguration, and before His death. That voice,
clearer than ever, says, when He rises from the grave,
and sets death beneath His feet, "This is my beloved
Son, hear ye Him." But not only is the Resurrection

Burial and Resurrection of Christ 275
an attestation of His work, but it signifies that His
death is not the end of His work, but its centre. In
one sense His work was finished when He died, but in
another sense it was only carried into its centre, that
it might be completed in heaven. With all men
besides, death is the end of work for this world.
The work of Moses, for example, was before his
death, and we remember him, not for his death,
nor for his work in heaven, but on account of his
long, faithful, and patient labour before he died.
And so, when men die, and their work is over, their
influence begins to decrease. Others take up and
carry on the new work of the world, and these are
remembered and honoured. But the centre of the
work of Christ was His death, and his death was
not the completion of His work. His work is carried
on in heaven at the right hand of God, and this is
why His name must grow. The servants decrease ;
they have their day, and cease to be. They are
broken lights of God, and are caught up one by
one into the great splendour. But the name of
Christ grows brighter and greater continually ; for
although He called us by His death from the death
of trespasses and sins, and although He made it
possible for guilty men to be reconciled to God,
He has done nothing for us that is really enduring
unless He be risen to give us power to walk in
newness of life. If we have been called from death
simply to fall back again into death, we have been
mocked by a transient gleam, which left the darkness
deeper than it found it. But He calls us to newness
of life, and it is by His power working in heaven

276 The Incarnate Saviour
that we are guided in that risen life, and enabled,
in spite of the world, the flesh, and the devil, to
retain it. He was declared to be the Son of God
with power, and that power He is using in the upper
realm for the extension of His Church, and for the
upbuilding of His people.
Leaving this point to be touched upon more fully
when we come to speak of the Ascension, we pass on
to note the bearing of the Resurrection of Christ on
our own resurrection. If Christ be not risen, there is
nothing to preach and nothing to believe. If Christ
is not risen, there is no future life ; and if there is no
future life, our faith is vain and our preaching is vain.
We are, as the great apostle said, of all men most
miserable. The gospel is the gospel of the Resur
rection as much as it is the gospel of the death of
Christ. Is it then true that the Resurrection certifies
to us a future life ? We have to face, every one of
us, the last enemy, death. Ever since the world
began, all who have entered it sooner or later have
had this struggle, and the battle has always ended in
one way. Two indeed escaped, but they did not
escape by meeting and mastering their foe — -they
escaped by being taken away before the battle. We
all know that we shall soon meet with this great
combatant. We shall use in the struggle every
resource that the experience of the centuries has
suggested. All that love can do, all that skill and
science can do, all the power of tears and prayers,
will be tried, and yet the result is sure : we must
yield, he must be the conqueror. It is true that
advancing knowledge has probably prolonged for a

Burial and Resurrection of Christ 277
little the life of man ; yet even against that little
gain must be set the fact that death is often more
painful when life is continued in conditions where of
old it could not be maintained. Nor is this all. Not
only does death take all captive, but all whom he
has taken he appears, so far as we can see, to keep.
Every victory that he has gained he is able to retain.
The turf lies unbroken over those whom we laid
beneath it, and no device of man has been able to
take from death what he has conquered. There are
hours when we feel, even to anguish and despair, the
terror of the unbroken victory of death. Almost every
other struggle has its ebbs and flows — backward and
forward rolls the tide of battle. Hopes that were like
to die are suddenly and wondrously revived ; but in
this great battle of death there is one result, and only
one. What are we to say in the presence of this
mystery ? What did the people of God stay their
hearts upon before the coming of Christ? In reply
we do not think it can be questioned that in their
highest moments of faith and hope they saw that the
man created in God's image, and living in God's love,
must live again.1 "If a man die," said Job, "shall
he live again ? " And he answered his own question
after a fashion. "As for me," said another in a great
ecstasy of faith, "I shall behold thy face in righteous
ness ; I shall be satisfied when I wake with thy
likeness." Job looked forward to the time when he
would rise. Many days might intervene before the
summons came from heaven, "but all the days of my
1 See Note E.

278 The Incarnate Saviour
appointed time will I wait till my change come.
All the time between I will count nothing, if I only
know that I shall not be left for ever ; and I know
that the divine heart in its own time will move
towards me. ' Thou shalt call, and I will answer —
thou shalt have a desire to the work of thine own
hands.'" In other words: "Thou hast made me,
soul and body, fearfully and wonderfully, with those
longings for immortality and thee ; and the time will
come when thou wilt have need of me, and call me
from my slumber." That is the great achievement
of faith, and the very greatness of that faith made it
brief and rare. In supreme moments of vision and
power the Old Testament saints were enabled so to
believe and so to speak, but for the most part they
had to move on a lower level ; for their faith, though
founded on a true conception of themselves and of
God, was not able to build upon any explicit promise,
far less upon any divine fact ; and so, when hours
of darkness came, and the onward sweep of the victory
of death was unbroken, they sank down again. Only
a great hope in God could make them believe surely in
the resurrection life.
"If a man die, shall he live again?" Job's
question has been re-echoed by many a broken heart
not able to echo his victorious answer. Many
centuries passed before it was answered by Jesus.
But the answer when it came was complete and clear.
"I am the Resurrection and the Life," saith the
Lord : "he that believeth in me, though he were dead,
yet shall he live ; and he that believeth in me shall
never die." Upon this strong assurance we can now

Burial and Resurrection of Christ 279
fall back. We have gone to the grave with our dear
ones, and have seen the dust fall on the coffin lid, and
have asked whether the gate which we have closed
in our sorrow shall ever be opened again, and we
have been able to answer in these words of Christ.
But the mere assurance of words is not enough. It
is beautiful, and strong, and comforting ; but we need
something more ; we need to know that one has
actually faced the dread combatant and mastered him ;
that he has plucked the sting from death, and spoiled
the victory of the grave. And it is only when we
know and are sure that He who said these words has
verified them by His own victory, that the fearful
questioning of death and the grave receive an answer
which can satisfy. Jesus Christ rose from the dead,
and became the first-fruits of His sleeping people.
He overcame the sharpness of death, and rose and
revived ; and because He lives, we shall live also.
This thought of Christ's conquest for us over death
may be broken into two parts : — There is first the
continued life of the soul. If we are united to Christ
by faith, a life streams into our souls, which the grave
cannot touch, far less destroy. "He that believeth
in me shall not die." Death to such a life is but a
passing gloom, soon lost in the sunshine. It is not
able to interrupt,- far less finally to break, the tie
that binds to Christ. As a river runs through a lake,
and pursues its crystal way beyond, not lost by its
passing through the intervening waters, so the life
given through faith that is in Jesus Christ flows on
through the marshes and the swamps of death, and
comes out clear at the other side. Not only so.

280 The Incarnate Saviour
The fact that the essential life remains, guarantees
that by and by all else that is worth saving will be
saved. That is the meaning and the proof of the
resurrection of the body. Jesus Christ died to re
deem the soul in the first instance, but He also died
to redeem the body. And though we have to wait
long for the redemption of the body, and though
death does his dishonouring work, yet He who has
put His hand to the work will finally complete it,
and, having brought the soul to Himself, He will by
and by bring its companion also. Dearer than the
dust of Zion to the ancient saints is the dust of His
redeemed people to the Lord Jesus ; and though it
may be driven and scattered by the winds of centuries,
it shall be re-gathered, and all that is really precious,
all that is really part of ourselves, shall live. We
can say to death, "Thou hast no power at all over
my soul, and thou couldst have none over my body,
except it were given thee from above." The perfect
man shall be brought at last into the heaven where
the glorified Man Christ Jesus sits enthroned.
" The swallow leaves her nest,
The soul my weary breast,
But therefore let the rain
On my grave
Fall pure ; for why complain,
Since both will come again
O'er the wave?"1
It is impossible, then, to over-estimate the im
portance of the fact of the Resurrection. If this
miracle is credible, all the rest are credible. If Jesus
1 T. L. Beddoes.

Burial and Resurrection of Christ 281
be risen from the dead, He was and still remains the
Son of God with power; if He be risen from the
dead, then, in spite of all appearances, death is not
conqueror but conquered ; if He be risen from the
dead, then the souls of believers are at their death
made perfect in holiness, and do immediately pass
into glory, while their bodies, being still united to
Christ, do rest in their graves until the resurrection.
But no longer; for they then rise in the likeness of
His glorious body, and the long-parted companions
are joined together, and so are ever with the Lord.

XXI
THE RESURRECTION LIFE OF
CHRIST

'Kouch mc not, for E am not get aseenbeb.'

1 We were not by when Jesus came,
But round us far and near
We see His trophies, and His name
In choral echoes hear.
In a fair ground our lot is cast,
As in the solemn week that past,
While some might doubt, but all adored,
Ere the whole widowed Church had seen her Risen Lord.
Keble.

CHAPTER XXI
THE RESURRECTION LIFE OF CHRIST
THE great truth signified by Christ's Resurrection,
that death to those who believe in Him is not
an interruption, but an intensifying of life, not a separ
ation from God, but an entrance into the immediate
presence of the Father of spirits, has been already
dwelt on. But the significance of the fact is by no
means exhausted by this truth. Other raisings from
the dead recorded in the Bible were restorations to the
old conditions of earthly life ; the Resurrection of Christ
was the revelation of a new life. The daughter of
Jairus, the young man at Nain, and Lazarus, resumed
their places, and were to their friends what they had
been. Jesus re-entered the world under new and
glorious conditions.
During the forty days in which He was on earth,
He appeared at least eleven times. Of these appear
ances, nine are recorded in the Gospels. The first
appearance was to Mary Magdalene in the garden.
Out of her seven devils had been cast, and we find
her, along with the other women who crossed the
illuminated track, and are still visible, following the
285

286 The Incarnate Saviour
Lord, and ministering to Him of her substance. She
was last at the cross, and when all was over came
to the tomb with spices to anoint Him. Returning
in the dusk of the morning, she found the grave
empty, and ran for the rest. Jesus spoke to her,
calling her by name, "Mary." She did not know
Him at first, but supposed Him to be the gardener,
and asked where the dead body of her Lord had
been taken, offering, weak woman though she was,
to take it away herself. She then recognised Him,
exclaimed " Rabboni," and moved as if to clasp His
feet. He gently, but decisively, repelled her: "Touch
me not, for I am not yet ascended to my Father,
and to your Father; to my God, and your God."
He refused to be touched, not because He was
unclean, nor because His new dignity repelled advance,
but simply because her gesture and her word, "My
Master," showed that she was looking forward to
the old relations being resumed, and not to the
new and more glorious conditions that were to be
established. "Touch me not, for I am not yet
ascended. The time is coming when the old intimacy
of affection, the old unbroken companionship, may
be resumed ; but that time is not yet. Still it is
coming. This presence that you cannot have now,
will be yours in the future. When I am ascended,
you may cling to me. The spiritual clinging then
hereafter, and the fact that my Father is your Father,
and my God is your God, show that you and I will
at last be together." Still it was a disappointment to
her faithful love, and He gives her, of His rich mercy,
a compensation, "Go, tell my brethren." She was

The Resurrection Life of Christ 287
thus made an apostle to the apostles of the fact that
the Lord had risen.
He appeared next to Mary Magdalene and Joanna,
who came together to see the sepulchre, when He com
manded them to go and tell His brethren to go into
Galilee, that there they should see Him. He thus
imposed on the disciples a task of some difficulty,
sending them to the northern province, partly for their
own sakes, partly that the witnesses to His rising
might be diffused, and the proof of His death made
abundant, and partly, no doubt, because He wished to
gaze again on the haunts of His childhood — His old
home, the hills which He had climbed, the lake on
which He had sailed, the faces on which He had looked.
It was in obedience to a feeling, human, true, and
manly, that He sought His childhood's home.
The third appearance was probably to Simon Peter
alone ; and the fourth was when He joined His disciples
on the way to Emmaus. Two of them, who had
nothing that we know of to draw His company, save
their profound grief, were journeying together, talking
of the wreck and ruin which had overtaken their hopes,
when suddenly He joined Himself to their company.
He asked what they were speaking of, and, on being
told, opened up to them, in all the Scriptures, the
things concerning Himself. God was walking with
these ignorant men, though they knew it not, and as
He talked their hearts burned within them. They come
at last to the house, and He made as though He would
go farther — a touch of true and refined human feeling ;
"the first true gentleman," says an old dramatist,
"that ever breathed." He would not press Himself

288 The Incarnate Saviour
unasked upon their courtesy, nor even seem to do
so. As if to relieve them of possible embarrassment,
He made as though He would have gone farther,
but they constrained Him, and He enters with them,
and sits down to such poor fare as they were able to
set before Him. The meal goes on, and in the course
of it He takes and breaks the bread. Their eyes are
opened, and they know Him, and He vanishes out
of their sight. He had always been the head of the
little family. Always when He is a guest He becomes
the host, as at Cana, and now, and in the human
soul, so long as His work of ingathering goes on.
"If any man will open, I will enter in and sup with
him, and he with me." What had not been dis
covered by His words, this simple act revealed — they
knew Him. Possibly when He was handling the
bread they saw the marks in His hands of what He
had gone through, or more likely the way in which
He handled the bread brought all to mind — "they
knew Him." Often a little thing will bring back the
thronged and eventful past. A stray odour may restore
long vanished gardens and hands that have crumbled
into dust, a bit of blue ribbon bring back a life
we thought ourselves utterly done with, and repeople
it with the old forms. So they knew Him, and instead
of staying to enlighten them still farther with His
company, He vanished out of their sight. They had
work to do — to go to Jerusalem and tell the apostles ;
and so He departs.
He appears next to the ten disciples gathered
together without Thomas. They were sitting with
shut doors for fear of the Jews, when suddenly the

The Resurrection Life of Christ 289
thin air yielded His form. They were terrified and
affrighted, supposing that they had seen a ghost.
The strange dread of the spiritual world, which wit
nesses so impressively our sense of antagonism with
it, took possession of them. He allayed their doubts
by asking them to handle Him, and see that He was
not a spirit, but His old self. They ought to have
known Him. All His promises should not have been
so soon forgotten. Yet He does not upbraid them,
but seeks to satisfy their doubts. It would have
been better that they should have known Him ; and
thus souls are happiest who from childhood unto
death have offered Him the unbroken service of
intellect and will. But such are few, and to others
He will give all the proof that they can reasonably
require. These appearances occurred on the day of the
Resurrection. The fifth appearance took place on the
following Lord's-day, to the disciples assembled with
Thomas. Thomas was a doubter, as we have seen, of
a peculiar type. His love did not wander though his
intellect was not satisfied. His faith was shown in
act by his staying with the disciples. He had
evidently a deep and vivid recollection of the gaping
wounds. That death which he had anticipated when
the Lord was to raise Lazarus had come, but in a
worse form than his worst fears. Jesus offers him
the fullest opportunity of testing Him. The disciple
is broken down without availing himself of the proffer.
He shows how great and deep a faith the scepticism
of the intellect had for a moment paralysed, by saying,
"My Lord and my God," — an unreserved acknow-
19

290 The Incarnate Saviour
ledgment of the Saviour's divinity, and thus a great
advance upon Mary's "My Master."
He appeared next to the disciples — five named —
and others by the Sea of Galilee, where He held His
touching conversation with Simon Peter. There had
been the secret interview before, when the apostle was
again united to His Redeemer. How eagerly this
interview had been anticipated we may judge from
the character of Peter, a man who could not have
been content to rest in his denials, and whose agonies
would have been intensified when the thought shot
through him that he never would have an opportunity
of gaining the pardon of the Master whom he had
wronged. The outbursts of that great penitent heart,
the loving correction of the Saviour — these are too
sacred for outside observation, and accordingly this
interview, though explicitly referred to, is not given
in any of its details. But there had to be not only
the union of the man to his Saviour, but the restora
tion of the apostle to his place, and this was solemnly
done after a thrice repeated question, "Lovest thou
me ? " If he loved, all was well. He was able to
appeal to omniscience: "Thou knowest all things;
thou knowest that I love thee." The apparent
contradiction was understood, and Peter was restored.
What he was as an apostle after the Ascension we
know. His patience under wrong, his calmness in
controversy, his heroic martyrdom — these are proofs
that he was not unworthy of the great charge thus
solemnly recommitted to him.
He appeared again to the eleven on a mountain in
Galilee ; to five hundred brethren ; to James His

The Resurrection Life of Christ 291
brother; and to the eleven at Jerusalem, before the
Ascension ; and last of all at the Ascension.
These appearances are characterised by a strange
union of remoteness and clearness, depth and sim
plicity. The tomb where He was laid was found
empty. He appeared and disappeared at pleasure.
All that belonged to His humanity was preserved, and
at the same time all was transfigured. A sceptic puts
the following dilemma: "One or other alternative
must be adopted — if Jesus possessed His own body
after His Resurrection, and could eat and be handled,
He could not vanish ; if He vanished, He could not
be corporeal." But the very point of the revelation
is that these two things are reconciled. Nothing
is lost in the passage through death, and yet the
limitations of the present order of things are not
perpetuated. t. As regards His body, we are taught that the
crucified body and the glorified body are connected.
The wounds are there — these at least are common to
the two. Thus it is signified that through all eternity
He is a man, that in heaven the marks of His death
speak and plead, and that the future judgment of His
people is the judgment of their Redeemer.
Along with this it is taught that the spiritual body is
not trammelled as the physical body is. He has
entered upon a new state. At the very time when He
offers a material test of the reality of His presence, He
shows that He is not bound by the laws of matter. In
His life He very rarely departed from the ordinary ways
of motion, but after His Resurrection He moves from

292 The Incarnate Saviour
place to place without any apparent passage. He is
seen within shut doors ; He eats, but does not seem to
have need of food. This proves the possibility of a
spiritual body that shall be recognisable — a body which
we shall know and in which we shall be known, and at
the same time a body in which we shall not be burdened
— in which the outer frame will be a help and not a
hindrance to the spirit within.
2. Besides this, these appearances are instructive as
showing the abiding laws which govern the manifesta
tion of the Lord Jesus to His disciples. The Resur
rection was the beginning of a new and living relation
between the Lord and His people. The Lord who was
raised lives and manifests Himself to His disciples.
They needed, in the first place, to know that He was
really risen ; and they needed, in the next place, to
understand that the old earthly relationships were gone.
He weans them gradually from these, that He may
prepare them for doing without them.
Such facts as these are illustrated. Jesus Christ,
during the forty days, did not manifest Himself to or
communicate in any way with those outside of the
Church. His visits were exclusively to His disciples.
The continuity of His risen life may be seen from this —
" If a man love me, I will manifest myself to him."
Again, the manifestations are given to those who are
in special need, and are carefully adapted to supply
that need. To Peter, when the two were alone, and in
the presence of the rest ; to Mary, and to Thomas,
He manifests Himself. Tenderness and reproof are
mingled. There is a remarkable individuality in each

The Resurrection Life of Christ 293
interview, but the issue of each is the same — the com
munication of new strength and faith. Again, He
manifests Himself sometimes to one, sometimes to two
or three, more frequently to all assembled together ;
and the promise still holds : "Where two or three are
gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst
of them." " If two of you shall agree as touching any
thing ye shall ask, it shall be done for you by my
Father which is in heaven." Once more, it is manifest
that in all, Christ Himself, independent of other things,
is the all-sufficient happiness of His children.
So then, just as before His crucifixion He gives us
a prayer that helps us to understand His eternal inter
cession, so now we have in these forty days pregnant
instances of the precise way in which He is to be
present with His people for their comfort and refresh
ment even unto the end.
I need not say much of the divine originality of this
idea. The combination of truth between one-sided
Materialism and one-sided Spiritualism, a conception
for which the apostles had absolutely no precedent, and
which even yet men find a most difficult and strange
idea, cannot be explained on any other supposition than
the facts. Strange and difficult though the idea may
be, it is nevertheless the only one that will harmonise
the apparently antithetic experiences of our perplexing
life.1 1 See Note F.

XXII
THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST

" ffifjou fjast aseenbeb on fjujfj."

' If Christ was only six hours crucified,
After few years of toil and misery,
Which for mankind He suffered willingly,
While heaven was won for ever when He died; —
Why should He still be shown on every side,
Painted and preached, in nought but agony,
Whose pains were light matched with His victory,
When the world's power to harm Him was defied?
Why rather speak and write not of the realm
He rules in heaven, and soon will bring below,
Unto the praise and glory of His name ?
Ah, foolish crowd ! The world's thick vapours whelm
Your eyes, unworthy of that glorious show,
Blind to His splendour, bent upon His shame."
Michael Angelo.

CHAPTER XXII

THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST

WE have seen how Christ entered the world, how
He bore Himself in it, how He died and rose
again from the grave. How is He to leave the world
in a manner that shall harmonise with His entrance
into it and His life there ? There is, there can be, but
one answer — He ascended. Not much about the
Ascension is said in Scripture, and in lives of Christ
it is often dismissed in a few brief lines ; many large
and important truths, however, are wrapt up in the
story. He was not the first to go into the other
world by another gate than that of death. Enoch
was translated that he should not see death, and a
chariot of fire was sent to take Elijah home. But
these translations, instead of resembling the Ascension of
Christ, rather show His divinity by their contrast with it.
Jesus Christ ascended by His own power and His
own will. "I go to my Father" — "I leave the
world and go to my Father." There was no doubt
the power of the Father working along with that of
the Son. "After He had blessed them, He was
parted from them, and carried up into heaven." Still
the primary idea is that He ascended. How sharply
this separates Him from Enoch and Elijah ! Enoch,
297

298 The Incarnate Saviour
we are told, walked quietly with God, and one day he
was lifted gently by the divine Hand out of the
turbulences of sin that were round about him. He
did not ascend himself; God took him. Then, Elijah
was taken up to heaven by a whirlwind. He did not
fix the time or the way of his departure. But God
knew when his work was done, and when His pur
pose had been wrought to its last refinement, He
removed him. He sent for him a fiery chariot. As
He appointed the time, so He made the way. In fit
keeping with Elijah's fiery and impetuous life was
his departure in the chariot and horses that took him
up the track of flame to his home with God. It has
been strikingly suggested that the very force and
violence of the translation show the difficulty with
which mortal flesh can be taken into heaven. There
was a great and manifest expenditure of power in
bearing the prophet up, but nothing can be more easy
and tranquil than the Ascension of Christ. As His
life was gentle and His death calm, so without noise
or ostentation He rose up to His glory. He was
parted from them and carried up into heaven. They
watched Him ascending, and they might have seen
His shadow on the sward as He bore His way up
ward, until at last a cloud received Him out of their
sight. As He was God, it was more natural for Him
to ascend into heaven than it was for Him to come
down to earth. Descent is natural and only too easy
to man. It is for God to ascend ; and so, in obedience
to His own will, and in accordance with the Jaws of
His own nature, He rose out of their sight into heaven.
He ascended.

The Ascension of Christ 299
Again, Jesus Christ differed from all the rest in
leaving behind Him a finished work. He had died for
the sin of the world, and His offering was so complete
that nothing could be added to it. God alone finishes,
man never can. " Our best finishing is but coarse and
blundering work after all. We may smooth, and
soften, and sharpen till we are sick at heart, but take a
good magnifying-glass to our miracle of skill, and the
invisible edge is a jagged saw, and the silky thread a
rugged cable, and the soft surface a granite desert.
Let all the ingenuity and all the art of the human race
be brought to bear upon the attainment of the utmost
possible finish, and they could not do what is done in
the foot of a fly or the film of a bubble. God alone can
finish, and the more intelligent the human mind
becomes, the more the infiniteness of interval is felt
between human and divine work in this respect."1
Elijah left work which would be carried on after he was
gone. Before he departed he went round to the three
colleges of the prophets, and looked for the last time on
the young men, then studying the scrolls of Israel, who
were to succeed him. And so it is with all of us. We
die, leaving our work to others, and the great teacher
says to some beloved disciple, ' ' You will take the
banner I have been carrying for so many years, and
bear it on to victory over my grave. You will take the
message for which I have all my life been seeking to
win an entrance, and speak it more powerfully and
more tunefully, that the world may take from you what
it never took from me." So Elijah hands on his work
to Elisha— one prophet to another ; and thus, though
1 Ruskin.

300 The Incarnate Saviour
the worker dies, the work goes on through the years of
history. But Christ's work once accomplished was
done for ever. Had He even failed to utter the words
"I thirst," there would have been something incom
plete, for it is profoundly said that He spoke thus in
order that the Scriptures might be fulfilled. But no
work had been left undone, no word unuttered, of all
that He should do and say. So, while His apostles
had successors, He had none, but stands by Himself.
But while in one sense His work was finished, in
another it was carried on when He ascended. The
work in heaven, although distinct from the work on
earth, is nevertheless of one piece with it, and serves
to accomplish the same great end. This at once
marks Him off from every other benefactor of the
race. Others say, "What shall I do for thee before
I be taken from thee? While I live my life is thine
— thine even to the last breath, the breath which may
be spent in blessing you ; but after I am taken from
thee, my power is ended." Father and mother leave
their children young and defenceless, and die, and the
bitterness of death is that they can do nothing after it
for those who are left behind. But Jesus within the
veil carries on to completion the work which He began
in the outer world. The veil is lifted in various parts
of the New Testament, and especially in the Epistle to
the Hebrews. And it is well to look at it, for although
we can never think too often or too much about the
Cross, we may think too little about the Throne. The
finished work on which our faith reposes should not be
dissevered from the work which is continually going

The Ascension of Christ 301
on. Had He not taken His life up again for us, it
would have been of no avail that He laid it down.
He would have been only the victim of an enormous
wrong ; and it is because that He was not the victim,
but the priest, that He works out a complete redemp
tion. In heaven He is interceding for us. His prayers
rise like a fountain for us through the endless day.
Our intercessions rise and pause, His go on. Words
can but remotely approximate to the truth here, but we
are perhaps nearest when we say that His intercession
is the perpetual presentation of His sacrifice and its
claims before His Father.
Again, He is preparing a place for us. "In my
Father's house," He said to the bewildered disciples
that nestled near Him when the storm was darkening,
"are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have
told you. I have not hesitated rudely to dash your
hopes hitherto when you needed it, and I would not
have hesitated now ; but a place in these mansions will
be yours. I go to prepare it for you." Here again
we touch things that can be but dimly understood.
We may, indeed, conjecture this — God through many
thousands of years prepared for man his home during
the brief day of time, so it is not unworthy that
through mighty periods He should continue the pre
paration of the endless resting-place of His children.
But whether this be so or not, the presence of the
glorified humanity of Jesus Christ seems a necessary
condition and preliminary of our presence in heaven.
We could not be at home amidst those august and
terrible splendours unless we saw Him, our brother, in
the heart of all. As Joseph's brethren, who had been

302 The Incarnate Saviour
all their lives wild Arab shepherds, would have felt
ill at ease indeed in the proudest court of the world,
had it not been that their brother was there upon the
throne, so we would not have found heaven to be our
home unless we found it to be the place of the pre
sence of Jesus Christ. Heaven is no place for us unless
Jesus Christ be there ; and when we begin to shape our
thoughts of heaven into a whole, we are soon arrested
by incongruities and perplexities ; but one thought we
do not need to reject, one thought we repose in, that
Christ is heaven, and heaven is He.
"My knowledge of that life is small,
The eye of faith is dim ;
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all,
And I shall be with Him."
"To depart is to be with Christ." The simplicity of
the one thought is far better than a host of distracting
and disturbing conceptions.
It is the presence of Christ that will secure our
bliss in heaven, even as it secures our entrance. The
angels fell by their own transgression from the habita
tion of light to the nethermost gloom ; and if we are
saved, it is not because we are holier or stronger, but
because we have been united to Christ as the angels
never were. Our union to Him brings us through the
thorny mazes of life to rest, and our union keeps us in
the rest. Where Christ is, we are ; and were it possible
that Christ should leave heaven, we, His people, would
follow Him.
Elisha never asked from Elijah that he would
use for him his influence in the courts above. He
never said, "When you reach heaven, pray for me";

The Ascension of Christ 303
never asked him to look down upon his work and
to help it on, but, "Let me have now, before you
depart, something that will help me for the time I
linger here." One martyr, it is true, said to another,
"So long as I understand thou art on thy journey,
by God's grace I shall call upon our heavenly Father,
for Christ's sake, to let thee safely home ; and then,
good brother, speak thou and pray for the remnant
which are to suffer for Christ's sake, according to that
thou shalt then know more clearly."1 But these are
vague aspirations, hopes, conjectures. How different
from the clear and well-grounded certainty of Christ's
continual work for us !
Further, there is, corresponding to this, the thought
that Jesus Christ still works in the world. Though
He ascended, yet He descended again, and is in the
heart of the fight, battling along with His soldiers,
and leading them on to victory. Not merely does
He think of them away in heaven, working within the
veil, but says, " Lo, I am with you alway, even to
the end of the world." Enthroned as He is in
heaven at the right hand of God, He is not absent
from the conflict that never pauses here. We have
a wonderful picture of the Lord lifted up in heaven,
and at the same time working on earth with His
disciples, and giving them the victory. He sat down
on the right hand of God, and the disciples went
out everywhere preaching the word. Did He then
rest and leave them to fight? Nay; the Lord was
working with them, and confirming the word by signs
1 Bishop Ridley to Bradford the martyr.

304 The Incarnate Saviour
following. Not only does He work with the Church,
but He works with the individual members. He
helps us in our own special battle, in our own special
burden. If faith is almost dying in any soul, because
of the weight of grief, He will roll the stone away
and let in . the light. If corruption and temptation
are too much for any soul, He will succour it ere it
be overborne. If the little company of the militant
Church are tempted to give up the battle in the
face of the great hosts of evil, He, like those
mysterious horsemen who succoured the Romans
when the fight grew desperate, will interpose and
turn the tide of battle. He served in the ranks
before He became Commander, and He knows the
difficulty of every soldier, whatever it may be.
Especially is He with us by the gift of His Spirit.
No departing leader could give his spirit except
Christ. Elisha asked Elijah, "Let a double portion
of thy spirit be upon me." The answer was, "Thou
hast asked a hard thing." It was to ask for Elijah
twice over, as if God would allow him to depart to
heaven and leave the twofold energy of his life work
ing behind him. "Thou hast asked a hard thing. It
may be, it may not be, I cannot tell — if God wills it.
And the sign will be, if thou see me when I am
taken from thee, it shall be so unto thee ; but if not,
it shall not be so; the gift belongs to God." So,
many a dying leader prays that his spirit may
descend upon others, but he cannot pour out his
spirit. Christ differs from all others in being able
and willing to give His Spirit.
It is this chiefly which makes the name of Christ

The Ascension of Christ 305
so mighty in the world. All other names decrease;
His increases still. We worship the rising sun, and
it is the fate of all men gradually to fade. Their
places are taken and their work is done by others,
and their memory grows with the years more
shadowed and less frequent. It is true that their
work may be a permanent and recognisable force ;
but the years gradually separate from the worker,
and while the influence of the one remains, the
personality of the other grows more and more dim.
There is something pathetic in the ineffectual cen
tenaries and celebrations with which men struggle to
keep alive a great name. But the years that rob
other names of their brightness, only give new lustre
to the name of Christ. His name endures and shines
like the sun, because His work is continual. We
feel the effects of the work of men who are dead,
but there are no fresh discharges from the old centre
of force, and so the memory of the worker is merged
in his work ; but the influence of Christ on the history
of the race is permanently and steadily exercised,
and this it is that makes His personality more fresh
and vivid than that of any who are living and working
with us still.
The Ascension of Christ marks for us the way to
heaven. A track of light goes through the darkness
into the heart of heaven. As He rose, so we shall
rise. The ascension of Elijah left the way no clearer
for Elisha. He went with him from Gilgal to Bethel,
to Jericho, and to Jordan, but he could go no farther.
What the next stage of the journey was, he must die
20

306 The Incarnate Saviour
to know. The mystery of death was as dark as ever.
The transient light soon vanished, and was forgotten ;
but the Ascension of Christ is the pledge that the soul
shall ascend. When the last breath is drawn, and the
face settles into rest, we know that though the shell
grows cold in death beside us, the soul has ascended,
and is as distant as a thousand years. By the road
which Christ took when He went out of the world unto
the Father, do His people pass into Paradise.
He ascended, but He will come again. The Jews
looked for the return of Elias before the great and
notable day of the Lord, and perhaps the prophecy
has not been completely fulfilled. But we do not
look for the return of Elias. It is true that the
saints are to come again — He will come with the
saints and with His holy angels. When He comes,
the righteous shall blaze out like the sun in the king
dom of the Father. "Them which sleep in Jesus
will God bring with Him," and doubtless among the
thronging legions each will find his own. But still
that thought is notliing to the vast multitude — it is
scarcely even a distinct conception, far less a ruling
motive. How different with the coming of Christ !
That is the hope of the Church. Still her eyes are
turned eastward ; and if she were not looking and
hoping, faith and strength would fail. But He
received the kingdom, and He went to rule that king
dom, and also to return ; and although the years linger,
and many doubt, and generation after generation passes
away, we know that the heavens will break, the throne
will be set, and the Lord will appear. Amen. Even
so, come, Lord Jesus.

XXIII
THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST

807

" SKHfjosoeber sgeafteth a Soorb against the Son of man, it
sfjall be forgiben htm."

"By the light of burning martyr fires Christ's bleeding feet
I track,
Toiling up new Calvaries ever, with the cross that turns
not back,"
J. R. Lowell,

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST

WHAT think ye of Christ ? " What are we to
say of His character? He belongs to the
human race. Though born of a Jewish mother, He is
claimed by all races as their own. What judgment
must be passed of the universal Man ? First, He was,
according to His own claim, sinless. He tells us
Himself that He was unimpeachable by Satan. Before
men He could say, ' ' Which of you convinceth me of
sin ? " He could go farther./ Standing in the presence
of His Father, He could say, " I do always the things
that please thee.'V This claim men have never been
able to refute. It is witnessed to by those who are
friendly, by those who are indifferent, by those who
are hostile, — by Judas, by Pilate, by the thief, by the
centurion. But admit that the witness has come to us
through partial statements, declare that the evangelists
are untrustworthy, and still the fact faces us that they
have carried out this faultless character into the details
of life ; and in the details of life, as in the processes
of philosophy, error is likely to happen in descend
ing. But these facts have been examined, and many
attempts have been made to establish a charge of
moral culpability against Jesus. The cursing of the

310 The Incarnate Saviour
fig-tree, the destruction of the swine, the expulsion of
the traders, the harsh words to His mother at Cana,
the alleged collision of duties between religious and
political allegiance — these have been cited. It might
be enough to reply that sin when present does not
manifest itself in such homoeopathic quantities as
these. But, apart from that, careful examination has
shown in each instance that the charges break down,
that no soiling breath has been left upon the perfect
clearness of the mirror. We reckon upon no for
bearance from the enemy, and yet repeat again with
perfect confidence His own challenge, "Which of you
convinceth me of sin ? " The voice of criticism dies
away. It turns out that some fundamental circum
stance has been overlooked, or some unwarranted
assumption has been made ; and so again, as at the
first, there is silence.
Stronger even than this is His own witness of His
sinlessness. Moral progress becomes more and more
pervasive. Only a dull spiritual eye fails to see
deficiency. The greatest and holiest servants of God
all humble themselves before men and confess sin —
" I am a man of unclean lips " ; " O wretched man that
I am ! " The anthems in the Book of Psalms are
strangely mixed with misereres; but we have long
conversations and soliloquies of Christ, and we fail to
find in them even one half sigh of penitence. He
was not a Pharisee, for He was the scourger of
Pharisees, the friend of publicans and sinners, and
the lover of them who confessed their guilt. But He
cannot take His place along with them. He lifts up
His calm and trustful eyes to heaven, and says, "I

The Character of Christ 3 1 1
have finished the work which thou gavest me to do."
Even by the admission of Strauss, Jesus is in the
department of religion what Shakespeare is in poetry
and Alexander in war, and marks a limit which may
be attained, but cannot be passed. In His sight the
faintest speck would have been a fearful blot ; but He
knows of no blot. He cannot repent, however much
He feels for them who need repentance. He feels
sin, but does not do so as a sinner Himself, but as
one who bears the guilt of sinners. What hopeless
superiority to all missiles there is in the words, ' ' Who
soever speaketh a word against the Son of man, it
shall be forgiven him!" His claim to be the judge of
men involves His sinlessness. That claim is absolute,
not relative. He is ordinarily represented as having
no assistance, and even the angels are only His
attendants. Could the words, "Depart from me, ye
cursed, into everlasting fire," come from the lips of
one who had sinned? Besides, He claims to die for
sinners. He is the Good Shepherd, who will lay
down His life for the sheep. He will give His life a
ransom for many, to procure the remission of their
sins. How could such a statement be borne if He
was not absolutely sinless? If He had ever been
untruthful, vain, or cruel, what becomes of the atoning
character of His death? He claimed to die as a
Priest, to lay down His life of His own free will for
the world's iniquity. How could He have dared to
offer a stained life as a sacrifice for stained lives ? The
judge of souls and the atoner for souls must, in virtue
of these very claims, be sinless.

312 The Incarnate Saviour
2. His character is a positive as well as a negative
exhibition of goodness. His sinlessness means that
He was full of love to God and man, and that that
perfect love expressed itself completely. The difficulty
which the human imagination finds in describing a
perfect character is in making it positive. It is
comparatively easy to avoid introducing faults ; the
difficulty is to represent virtues. The character of
Jesus is faultless, but not exhibited like the faultless
characters of the human imagination, but, on the
contrary, full of positiveness, freshness, and force.
3. His character is marked by the balance as well
as the perfection of excellence. Great virtues are
nearly akin to vices, and in men we never find the
balance preserved. Dignity passes easily into pride,
reflection into coldness, sincerity into bluntness,
civility into insincerity — in short, a finite nature
exhausts itself by efforts in a temporary direction.
But in Christ there is no want of balance. The
character is one faultless in its perfection. Attention
has been called to the balance He observes between
severity and tenderness. None denounces evil with
such terrible force. The generation in which He lives
is adulterous, evil, sinful, wicked, perverse. And yet
He is profoundly tender along with it all. He weeps
over doomed Jerusalem, defends the condemned
adulteress against her accusers, and absolves the sinful
woman who bathes His feet with her tears. Some
thing might also be said of the balance He keeps
between manliness and womanliness. "The character
we call manly," it has been said with some truth, "is

The Character of Christ 313
not the normal type. We have had such struggles
with barbarism, and courage and firmness have been
so useful, that we have come to regard them as
distinctive of man, while in fact they are only dis
tinctive oi fallen man."1 His character is winning,
and His power of drawing affection, as well as His
power of enduring suffering, are feminine. But there
is no weakness in it all.
4. His character is perfectly simple. He makes no
attempt to dazzle or startle. He has none of the
eccentricities of genius. His mode of life, His dress,
His habits, are without a trace of pretension. His
life is all of one piece — the most wonderful events
and the most ordinary. He works a miracle, takes a
meal, speaks an imperishable parable, all as they come,
living His life quietly from hour to hour. Simplicity
is a mark of greatness ; none was ever so perfectly
simple as He.
5. He lays great stress upon hitherto unrecognised
virtues. Coming into the world at a time when force
was worshipped as virtue itself, He made much of
the passive virtues, and showed that to suffer well was
at least as much as to act well. When Peter com
mends His example, He lays special emphasis on this :
"Who, when He was reviled, reviled not again; when
He suffered, He threatened not ; but committed Him
self to Him who judgeth righteously." Patience,
humility, meekness — these were restored by Him to
their forgotten but true place. We are forbidden to
1 George Steward, Memoirs, p. 97.

314 The Incarnate Saviour
select any virtues as specially characterising Him, for
in Him all the virtues met in supreme excellence and
perfect harmony. But we may note the prominence
He gave to these.
He left us an example. "Always and everywhere
have Him devoutly before the eyes of your mind — in
His behaviour and in His ways, as when He is with
His disciples and when He is with sinners, when He
speaks and when He preaches, when He goes forth
and when He sits down, when He sleeps and when He
wakes, when He eats and when He serves others,
when He heals the sick and when He does His other
miracles, setting forth to thyself and thy heart His
ways and His doings, how humbly He bore Himself
among men, how tenderly among His disciples ; how
pitiful He was to the poor, to whom He made Him
self like in all things, and who seemed to be His own
special family ; how He despised none or shrank from
them, not even from the leper ; how He paid no court
to the rich ; how free He was from the cares of the
world, and from trouble about the needs of the body ;
how patient under insult, and how gentle in answering,
for He sought not to maintain His cause by keen
and bitter words, but with gentle and humble answer
to cure another's malice ; what composure in all His
behaviour, what anxiety for the salvation of souls, for
the love of whom He also deigned to die ; how He
offered Himself as the pattern of all that is good ;
how compassionate He was to the afflicted ; how He
condescended to the imperfection of the weak, how He
despised not success, how mercifully He received the

The Character of Christ 315
penitent, how dutiful He was to His parents ; how
ready in serving all, according to His own words,
' I am among you as He that doth serve ' ; how He
shunned all display and show, all singularity ; how He
avoided all occasions of offence, how temperate in
eating and drinking, how modest in appearance, how
earnest in prayer, how sober in His watching, how
patient of toil and want, how peaceful and calm in all
things."1 This is Christ as an example, and if He be allowed
to be the perfect example, the ideal of humanity, the
flower and crown of the creation, the region of the
miraculous has been entered. A sinless man is a
violation of the natural order. But besides that, there
is clearly traceable in the character itself a divine
element, which calls for worship on our part, as well
as for imitation. He is not simply a perfect man, and
those who saw Him did not build on His perfection,
which they took for granted, but upon His works. He
is not to be analysed as Paul, though Paul seems
nearer to Christ than we do to Paul. Between Paul
and Christ there is a space which we cannot measure ;
and the comparison of the Saviour, even with His
greatest apostle, makes us cry, "My Lord and my
God." This impression produced on those who knew Him
— the impression of a character by no means exhausted
when it was pronounced sinless — is confirmed when
we analyse particular virtues. He does not show the
ordinary lawful human emotions. He does not think
1 Rudolphus de Saxonia, quoted in F. Coleridge's Vita vitce
nostrce, and Church's Human Life, p. 192.

316 The Incarnate Saviour
of Himself at all ; He had no self-interest. He does
not seek to justify Himself. When He is awakened
in the storm, He exhibits no emotion of human terror.
When He stands before unjust judges, He utters no
words of natural wrath. When He withdraws Himself
from those who are ready to stone Him, it is not a
timid man crouching behind the pillars of the temple,
but one who wields superhuman power, passing with
the majesty of God through His enemies.1 When He
describes Himself as meek and lowly in heart, He
makes these words the groundwork of an invitation
for weary and sin-laden souls to come to Him. He
does not ask for favours, nor show gratitude for them
when they are received. These are works that are due
to Him. He is conscious of Kingship, Messiahship,
miraculous power, but has nothing of what we all call
self-respect. It is all power and no pride.
Is not all this the idea of God? And we close by
repeating the question of the beginning, "Whence
came He? how is He to be accounted for?" Jesus
Christ must be accounted for. He is the problem
of this age especially, and He will be the problem of
all the ages. What account of Christ will stand?
Was He dreamed into being ? Then the dreamer must
be equal to the man he dreamed. Those who make
this reply, must, it has been well said, account for the
man born in the imagination of some other man, who,
as a creature of imagination, has risen to the supreme
place in human history, and who to-day rules millions
of human lives and destinies. For this is the wonderful
thing about His character, that He has been the con-
1 See Aquinas, Sunima, xliii. 3.

The Character of Christ 317
stant standard of all the different ages. The best idea
of each age has been embodied in Him. He was seen
at first as the great Prophet and Teacher of mankind,
then as the ideal of a life of self-devoted poverty, then
as a great improver and reformer, then as the example
of humanity — all true ideas, but none complete. Each
age has been touched and swayed by Him, but He is
always above and before the ages, and still as they
go they find Him answering to their best thoughts
and hopes. As it has been, so it will be ; that model
will ever rise above the greatest thoughts of men,
and the greatest things even that have been said
and thought about itself. The generations may make
great advances, and find much that their predecessors
have never thought or cared for; but however great
their advances may be, that same figure will continue
to lead their march.

NOTES

Note A. — The Descent into Egypt
This suggestion was originally made in the Expositor
by the Rev. W. G. Elmslie, who connects it with the
sojourn of Israel in Egypt.

Note B. — The Baptism
On this subject compare Owen, Discourse concerning
the Holy Spirit, book ii. ch. 4. Owen admits that
Christ ' ' was probably acted by the Spirit in and unto
many extraordinary actions during His career of a
private life, but the fulness of gifts for His work
He received not until the time of His baptism."
Note C— The Temptation
Compare on this subject the Quarterly Review, 1874,
in a review of Farrar's Life of Christ; also a very
suggestive sermon by Dr. Maclaren in the Sunday at
Home, 1880. The significance of the temptation to
Christ is perhaps nowhere more profoundly treated than
in Mr. Maurice's Sermons on the Temptation.
319

320 The Incarnate Saviour

Note D. — The Miracle at Cana
A striking sermon on this subject will be found in
Mozley's Sermons: Parochial and Occasional. The
view of the words, " Mine hour is not yet come,"
given in the text, is substantially that presented in
the Expositor by Rev. Rayner Winterbotham. Dr. W.
G. Ward's essay, previously referred to, is instructive.
Note E. — The Resurrection
"This presentiment of a resurrection ... is too
feeble very materially and immediately to lighten Job's
sorrows. The momentary gleam is swallowed up by
the closing darkness, and the benighted wanderer's
blindness seems intenser from the supernatural glare
of the light that for a moment filled his eye." — A. B.
Davidson, A Commentary on Job, Introduction, p. 31.
Note F. — The Resurrection Life
The view taken throughout the chapter is that of
Canon Westcott in the singularly profound essay he
contributed to the Contemporary Review, vol. xxx. The
subject is carefully treated by Dr. E. Robinson in the
Bibliotheca Sacra, 1845. Compare also The Risen
Lords Interdict on Mary, by S. D. F. Salmond ; The
Resurrection of Christ, by R. W. Macan.

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