JESUS

AND

HIS BIOGRAPHERS;

OR THE

REMARKS ON THE FOUR GOSPELS

REVISED WITH COPIOUS ADDITIONS.

BV

W. H. F U R N ES S.

'A great deal jk said about the beauty of the Scriptures, without reference
to any just principles of taste.'' .^

PHILADELPHIA:
CAREY, LEA AND BLANCHARD.
1838.

ISnUxea, according to the Act of pongress, in the year 1838, by W. H.
Furnbss, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District
of Pennsylvania.

C. Sherman & Co. Printers,
19 St. James St.

PREFACE.

This volume varies from the " Remarks on the Four Gospels,"
by the omission of two chapters of that work, and the addition
of eight. The subject of the Miracles is discussed anew, not
that the former discussion is supposed to contain any material
error, but because it appears less satisfactory and more liable
to be misapprehended than that contained in the present work,
and also, because, since the publication of the Remarks, I have
been aided by the criticisms of some whom I greatly respect,
in giving, as I think, a better exposition of my views. Other
omissions, and additions to a considerable extent have been
made, (it is unnecessary to specify them,) by which the present
becomes a new work, rather than a new edition of the former
one ; and the adoption of another title is justified. It now makes
some approach, very distant indeed, to a life of our Saviour, and
might perhaps be entitled " Hints towards a Life of Jesus."
The additional matter contained in this volume might well, in
regard to quantity, have been published separately. But such is its
character, I was unwilling to let it go forth except in connexion
with the former work, lest it should be thought that I aim to pull
down, when I am striving to build up ; to explain away, when I
would reveal and establish the truth ; a misconstruction so erro
neous and unjust that I would take all pains to guard against it,

jv PREFACE.
and one to which it is my hope that the reader, however he may
dissent from me in particular instances, will not now be liable.
Still to the purchasers of the former volume an apology is due
for superseding it, as the present work does ; an apology, which
it might hot be easy to find, were pecuniary considerations the
chief concern with them or with the writer. As it is, he seeks
his justification, for the manner in which he has published what
he feels to be valuable truth, in the exceeding greatness of the
theme, which must cause treatises, far more elaborate than
any he has attempted, to be considered but as steps in the pro
gress towards clearer and still clearer light.
For the views presented in these pages the author is alone re
sponsible. The reader will look in vain for an exposition of the
peculiar opinions of any denomination of Christians. The work
makes pretensions to no such character. It is simply an attempt
to state the convictions of an individual mind upon a subject of
the greatest interest ; to give expression to a deep sense of the
vital truth of the divinest chapter in the history of the world ; to
bring home to other minds the reality of that momentous period,
when a full revelation was made by the Father of lights, and this
earth was honoured by the presence of a special messenger from
Heaven. To all who are seeking light — thirsting for a real, personal
knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ, the writer, with fraternal
sympathy and respect, proffers the aid of this volume. Whether
they assent to such of his statements as may be accounted pe
culiar, is not the chief concern. If the perusal of these pages
tends to refresh and increase their sense of the truth of those
matchless Records, to make them feel that there is far more
contained therein than they have yet dreamed, his labour will

PREFACE. v
not be in vain. The honour commonly paid to the Scriptures is,
to a very great extent, the hollow homage of prescription and
conformity. We cannot but remark the absence of a cordial,
intelligent sense of their worth. The common mode of comment
ing on them is technical, petty, childish. They are handled as if
it were feared that they would break, were they submitted to a
thorough examination ; as if, though made of ' true Asbest,' they
could not bear the searching fires of free inquiry. This thing
ought not so to be. This treatment of the sacred volume, our
anxiety on its account, is narrow, needless, and insulting. Vain
is the fear of what man can do unto it. It owes not the slightest
advantage to the forbearance of his boasted intellect, and holds
all such protection as beneath disdain. Charged with the inspi
ration of immortal truth, it shall in due time receive due regards,
and be treated with the generous respect and fearless confidence
which must accompany the recognition of its true character. In
the meanwhile, amidst much unbelief, and much indifference,
cheering signs are ^visible. The moral reforms in which men
are becoming interested, are incidentally disclosing the in
competency of the common methods of scriptural interpreta
tion. For his own part, the present writer abides in the
belief that the world is breathing a little more freely every
day; and, if he may refer to his own limited experience, he
knows not which has been most gratifying, the cordial assent
which has been given by some to his modes of viewing certain
scriptural subjects, or the candour with which he has been
judged by others, who could not agree with him, and for which
he takes this opportunity of nfaking his thankful acknowledg
ments. August, 1838.

CONTENTS

PART I.
CHAP. 1. INTRODUCTION 1
II. THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES 13
III. THE HONESTY OF THE GOSPELS 22
IV. THE SAME, CONTINUED 38
V. THE SAME, CONTINUED 53
VI. THE CONSISTENCY OF THE GOSPELS 70
PART II.
CHAP. I. THE NATIVITY _ *' 96
II. THE BAPTIST 127
III. THE BAPTISM 147
IV. THE TEMPTATION 166
V. THE COMING 184
VI. THE TEACHER 213
VII. THE MIRACLES, PART I. . 236
VIII. THE MIRACLES, PART II. 269

Viii CONTENTS.
CHAP IX. THE TRANSFIGURATION 315
X. THE PROPHET 332
XI. THE MAN 355
XII. THE CRUCIFIXION 387
XIII. THE RESURRECTION 406
XIV. CONCLUSION 431

PART I.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
" The first condition of success is, that in striving honestly ourselves, we
honestly acknowledge the striving of our neighbour ; that with a Will un
wearied in seeking Truth, we have a Sense open for it, wheresoever and
howsoever it may arise." — Edinburgh Review.
All denominations of Christians appeal to the Chris
tian Records to determine what Christianity is. Here
we are all united. But so numerous and discordant,
so narrow and unworthy are our representations of the
religion, which we insist to have come from Heaven,
that serious doubts have arisen as to the possibility of
knowing what the scriptures really do teach, and the
worth of their meaning, even were it ascertained. In
the confusion of opinions doubt has become denial ; and
whatever outward conformity may appear, it is not to be
concealed that numbers of intelligent and not ill-dis
posed men are all but fixed in the conviction, that the
Christian scriptures, like the creeds and dogmas which
they have occasioned, are the offspring of ignorance,
delusion or fraud, and that the study of them is labour
thrown away.
And yet, amidst " the discordant voices of wrangling
theologians,Ftones of a celestial melody have fallen on
the ears of the most heedless, and through the clouds of
doubt, raised by contending sects, traits of truth have
beamed out from the New Testament, so bright and
significant as to be recognised at the slightest glance
1

2 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. *
even by the most distrustful. The wisdom and benevo
lence of the precepts of Jesus Christ, the conspicuous
excellence of his character, and the pacific spirit of his
religion, are topics of commendation with friends and
foes, so that, after all, there are very few indeed who
are so ignorant or skeptical, as not to entertain a cer
tain feeling of respect for Christianity and the Christian
Scriptures. But this feeling of respect is vague and barren. It
is found to co-exist with an utter rejection, secret or
openly avowed, of all the historical details of the sacred
history. The worth of the precepts of Jesus maybe
conceded, and even insisted upon with considerable '
warmth, and yet nothing be admitted concerning the
particulars of his life beyond the simple fact of his
existence. ",
Observing this state of things, and conscious of the
need of a distinct, satisfactory, personal faith, I have
felt a simple «and strong curiosity to knowi, first of
all, what the Histories of the life of Christ are, what
they really contain ; to ascertain, if I may, their prer
cise character and claims. What are the four Gos
pels ? Are they mere collections of legends, composi
tions in which historical fictions are mixed up with a*
few choice grains of moral truth ? Or, are they honest
and authentic histories, relations of real events, of things .
that actually took place as they are represented, con->.
taining, it may be, some misstatements here and there,'
with regard to a few, subordinate particulars, but sub-*
stantially true and accurate, and in the highest degree
worthy of confidence and credit ? i
This fundamental question can never bVfully settled
but by a careful and critical examination of the" Gospels
themselves. We must .study them fearlessly and tho
roughly,, if we would know what" they contain, and A

PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 3
whether their contents be true. Accordingly, in all my
endeavours to discover their real character, I have
tried to forget the statements and interpretations of
others, all those interpretations, at least, which are dis
puted. I have wished to put out of view all that is
said and written about the authority and meaning of
these remarkable writings, and to read them, as nearly
as possible, with the freshness and freedom with which
they would be read by one who should now open them
for the first time. But it is not possible nor desirable,
nor have I attempted, to throw off the influence of
authority altogether. He must be deficient in sensi
bility for the truth, who takes up these books, de
sirous to know their contents, without a feeling of awe
inspired by the thought of the respect in which they
have been held for ages. The veneration, so long and
widely felt for them, furnishes in their favour a pre
sumption, to which it would vitiate all our investigations
to refuse great weight. There must be some powerful
element of truth in that which has taken so large and
strong a hold upon the human mind. The Gospels
must be approached therefore with a sentiment of re
spect, produced, not only by those obvious and acknow
ledged features of truth to which I have referred, but
also by the fact that they are circulated and honoured
throughout all Christendom, and through the vicissi
tudes of centuries, have maintained a high place in the
esteem of the world. He who does not recognise the
claim which they thus prefer to a serious and respect
ful consideration, lacks sympathy with the great bro
therhood of *his race ; and must be destitute of that
sensibility which is an indispensable qualification to the
perception of moral and religious truth.
This inquiry into the character and contents of the
Christian records is of commanding and universal inter-

4 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS.
est. If men have spent their lives in the study of the
changes of the globe, the aspects of the heavens, or the
mysteries of an insect, a plant, or a stone, we may well
deem it worth our time and toil to investigate these
books. To say the very least, their existence is among
the most curious phenomena of our condition. But be
sides, they are vitally connected with the history and
interests of our nature, with its deepest wants, its high
est happiness, its most sacred hopes. There are ques
tions concerning his own being and prospects, which
arise sooner or later in the heart of every man. They
cannot be suppressed, and we know not how much the
Christian scriptures may aid in their solution. No
thoughtful mind will question the interest and import
ance of the present inquiry.
In attempting the study of the four Gospels, with the
motives, and in the manner above-mentioned, I have
arrived at some results, which, to my own mind, are
satisfactory and most interesting. In addition to those
general evidences of truth, manifest to all, I have dis
covered others, not so obvious, but far more definite and,
decisive. They have become so abundant, as I have
proceeded, that I do not believe there is any work of
nature or art, more copiously impressed with the signs of
reality, than the accounts of the life of Christ are with
the characteristics of true and faithful histories. If
truth is apparent in the simplest case, then is it com
pletely, irresistibly manifest here. Some of these cha- i
racteristics it is my design to exhibit in the present 1
work. They consist for the most part of those uninten
tional, unconscious coincidences, which belong only to
truth, nature, reality, and which, when once fully appre
hended, produce a conviction of truth that no candid
and well-disposed mind can resist.
The general argument is in substance a familiar one,

PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS. 5
and so are some of the illustrations presented in the fol
lowing pages. But a considerable portion of the inter
nal evidence here detailed is new ; I am not aware that
it has ever before been adduced or observed. If so,
then how truly undesigned must these signs of truth be,
which have remained so long unnoticed ! Had they
been intended by the authors of the Gospels to produce
an appearance of truth, they would have been more
conspicuously arrayed.
But many of the coincidences, which I am to trace
in the course of this work, may be objected to as ima
ginary and fanciful. " Your observations are all very
well, quite ingenious," (so my readers may be pleased
to say,) " but these traits of truth, these curious corres
pondences that you note, are, perhaps, your own in
ventions, and not discoveries. You do not find, but
make : how do we know but that your suggestions are
the merest conjectures, having an existence in your own
mind only, and without the least foundation in the Gos
pels themselves ?" In reply to this query, I do not pre
tend to say that I have not been led in some instances
to mistake a mere fancy for a veritable token of truth.
But if cases of this description occur in these pages,
they may be pointed out and shown to be such. Is the
fanciful not to be distinguished from the true ? But this
is not all. While every department of inquiry, and re
ligion especially, is to be vigilantly guarded against the
intrusion of wild conjectures and random guesses ; in
all investigations, scientific, philosophical, and histori
cal, suggestions may be made, which, strictly speaking,
perhaps, must be denominated conjectural ; and yet
which, carefully weighed, are found to be so fully
authorised, nay, so distinctly demanded by the acknow
ledged circumstances of the case, that we cannot deny
them the force of the soundest logical deductions. Very

Q PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS.
often, what was at first a mere supposition, is found to
have been suggested, unconsciously it may be, by the
strictest analogies, and to be involved in the case under
examination, and justified by it as completely as if it
were legibly inscribed thereon. AH that is comprised
in a given fact is not at once visible to any man, nor
alike visible to all. Our powers of vision, bodily and
mental, are infinitely various and susceptible of great
cultivation. From some happy circumstance in his po
sition, by an unusual effort of attention, by previous
study, or by the blessing of Heaven in some unrecog
nised form, an individual may see what is unseen by
others. He may be the victim of an illusion ; but we
have no right to pronounce him so, solely because we
cannot immediately perceive what is evident to him.
If he is in an error, the error may be traced and ac
counted for ; at some one point or other, it will faifto
harmonise with reality, for nothing is throughout con
sistent with truth but truth. I do not pretend to any
remarkable powers of vision ; much lies invisible in the
Gospels, only because we do not look for it according
to our ability, our right, and our duty. Whenever in
these pages I appear to assume as probable and real,
things not fully stated in the record, I only ask that
they may be fairly considered, and so, perhaps, what at
first sight seemed a fancy may be a fact, made plainly
to appear by sound and legitimate inferences.
I do not undertake an enumeration of the charac
teristics whereby a history is shown to be true and au
thentic. It would be no easy task ; not because they
are either slight, incidental, or ambiguous, but because
they pertain to the very essence of truth, and to the
profoundest principles of thought and expression. Very
often the indications of truth are so delicate, that, al
though they may be instantly and fully felt, they cannot

CONCESSIONS. 7
readily be described, nor, without the finest powers of
discrimination, referred to general principles. And, be
sides, it is not necessary to my purpose. It will suffice
for the present, if I am able to point out as many of
these internal signatures of truth in the case of the his
torical books of the New Testament, as will cause their
substantial truth to be felt in something of its intrinsic
vividness. This, now, is my object in the following pages.
Taking up the first four books of the New Testament
as human compositions, forgetting as far as possible all
that has been said of their authority and inspiration,
cherishing only that respect for them which the most
imperfect acquaintance with their contents, and the ve
neration with which they have been so long and widely
regarded must inspire, and that candour which it be
comes us always to cherish, I propose to point out those
characteristics of these writings which have produced
in my mind a new and lively conviction of their truth,
— a new sense of their wonderful beauty and power. I
do not presume to furnish anything like a complete
analysis of their style and contents. I am deeply im
pressed with the idea that all which 1 can offer is ga
thered but from the borders of an immense field, in
which untold treasures of moral truth and evidence lie
buried. I wish only to state what I have seen with my
own eyes, and felt with my own heart; — to give some
of the results, such as they are, of my own humble
reading and study. I hope I shall be able to create in
minds better qualified to pursue the work, a belief in
the exceeding riches of a region, as yet so imperfectly
explored. The train of remark upon which I propose to enter,
admits of certain concessions which I wish to make
distinctly in the outset.

g CONCESSIONS.
1. I am willing to concede, that upon a first and cur
sory examination of these four histories, things of a
strange and improbable nature present themselves.
Extraordinary facts are stated, which we feel demand
extraordinary proof; and the suspicion is not unnatural,
that delusion may have had some share in the produc
tion of these writings. Admitting that these impres
sions may be made by some parts of the New Testa
ment history, I nevertheless hope to point out features
of truth, numerous and significant enough to create a
lively sense of reality ; and to induce an impartial mind
to draw from every portion of these books, however
obscure and difficult, such conclusions only as tend to
sustain their substantial credibility.
2. In the exposition of that beautiful argument for
the truth of the Scripture History of St. Paul, stated
with so much felicity by Dr. Paley in his Horse Pauli-
nse, he has this language : " The reader is at liberty to
suppose these writings (the Epistles of Paul and the
Book of Acts,) to have been lately discovered in the
library of the Escurial, and to come to our hands, des
titute of any extrinsic or collateral evidence whatever ;
and the argument I am about to offer is calculated to
show, that a comparison of the different writings would,
even under these circumstances, afford good reason to
believe the persons and transactions to have been real,
the letters authentic, and the narration in the main to
be true." I am ready to make a similar concession —
to suppose that the four Gospels, as they are called,
have just been discovered under some ancient ruins —
that the names even by which they are designated,
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, have been oblite
rated—that they are anonymous. Even if the reader
incline to the idea that the four Gospels are only differ
ent versions of one story— one original Gospel, it will

•THE ANTIQUITY OF THE GOSPELS. 9
not materially affect the present argument. Still I trust
it will appear that these books are the productions of
truth and honesty — that the accounts they contain were
drawn from persons present on the spot — in fine, that
they are not legends, fictions, romances, but true histo
ries of real persons and real events.
There is one thing, however, respecting these wri
tings, which, it is obvious, I intend to assume, — their an
tiquity ; not, however, because even this point may not
be very satisfactorily made out from their internal
structure. If they were now suddenly placed before
us for the first time, from what quarter we knew not,
there would be incontestable evidence that they were
not the productions of any recent period. There is no
work so general and abstract that it is not in innume
rable particulars indelibly impressed by the age in
which it appears. A biographical or historical work,
abounding in notices of places, persons, manners, cus
toms, and sentiments, in certain modes of thought and
expression, furnishes on its very face, the means of fix
ing its date with some approach to correctness. This
is the case with the writings which we are now to con
sider. They are antique in their whole costume. They
could not have been written in this age, nor at any time
very far removed from that at which they are generally
believed to have been composed, because they bear
none of the impressions of any such time. I do not in
sist that their date can be fixed with precision merely
from internal marks, but that they show beyond all
doubt that they were written very near the time to
which they are usually referred. It is not the direct
notices of time, found here and there in these writings,
which constitute indubitable signs of antiquity, because
such notices might easily have been forged and inter
woven with these narrations, even had they been pro-
2

|Q THE ANTIQUITY OF THE GOSPELS.
duced at a much later period. It is their numerous
and familiar references to the customs and opinions of
a certain age, their peculiar forms of expression and
thought, connected with the absence of all allusions to
modes of thinking and speaking prevalent in all subse
quent ages, that help us so effectually to determine the
period to which they should be assigned.
But it is unnecessary to undertake an enumeration' of
the evidences of aMiquity abounding on every page of
the New Testament, because there are hardly any so
ignorant or so captious as to question the age of these
writings. And if there are, there is one consideration
at hand which seems to me decisive. You need not go
back to the past to inquire about the existence of these
books ; consider a fact that presents itself before your
eyes — the wide, and I may say superstitious veneration
with which these books are now regarded. They lie
at the bottom of the faith of many nations, and a com
plicated structure of forms and institutions rests upon
their professed authority. How does their influence
pervade the whole fabric of society — our public esta
blishments, our systems of education, our modes of
thought and language ! The feelings of awe and sacred
ness which have gathered round these books cannot
have been the growth of any brief period. The reli
gious prejudices and associations of the human mind
are not the offspring of a day, but the slow formation
of centuries. The extensive circulation of the New
Testament — the present fact that it is every where a
familiar, household book, proves, I say, not its truth,
but its age. The gospels must be hundreds of years
old at all events.
But decisive as is the inference in favour of their an
tiquity from the position which they now occupy, it is
not all. Their existence can be traced back some four-

METHOD OF THE WORK. £ J
teen hundred years, to go no further, by a chain of his
torical evidence as strong and uninterrupted as the
most skeptical can demand. And the earliest notices
we have of them are not as of books then first published,
just appearing, but of works even then extensively re
ceived and copiously quoted. A great portion of the
literature that existed ages ago, bears incidental evi
dence not only to the existence, but to the influence of
these writings. So abundant are the quotations from
them in the works of early Christian writers, that it
has been said that if they had been lost in their present
forms, they might have been restored from the writings
of the Fathers. At the commencement of the fourth
century, Christianity was the religion of the Roman
Emperor. The Gospels must have had an existence
antecedent to this event, the conversion of Constantine.
Now, if we know that so long ago these books were
extensively read, quoted, and venerated, the conclusion
is inevitable that they were in existence years and years
before. To have won their way into so wide a circu
lation — to have become possessed of so large a space
and so weighty an authority, when no art of printing
was known, and the means of intercourse and commu
nication were so imperfect, must have been a work of
time. So that the Christian records must have been
old, even when we find the first notices of them in early
writings. Assuming the antiquity of these writings, without
further remark, I proceed to the proposed examination
of their style and contents, upon the principle, that from
every written composition, we may infer, more or less
confidently, the character and credibility of its author.
Every narrative, by the manner in which it is put to
gether, enables us to form some conception of the in
telligence, the amount of information, the spirit and the

in METHOD OF THE WORK.
particular motives and prepossessions of the individual
from whom it has proceeded. So that every history is
unconsciously and unavoidably a history of its author.
It is a virtual account of his mind and character, a re
presentation of his moral and intellectual lineaments,
of his qualifications for the work he has produced, of
his claims to be believed, — in fine, of the source whence
the history has emanated ; whether it be the offspring
of Truth, of Imposture, or of Delusion. It is true the
motives which a writer professes, the sentiments he
expresses, may not be his real motives and sentiments.
Still Affectation is one species of Falsehood, and, as
such, though it may not be as readily, yet is it as truly
distinguishable from Truth as any other form of error.
To different writings these remarks apply with different
degrees of force. A work may be so brief, so general
and so obscure, as to afford us but a very dim idea of
the spirit of the writer. I hope, however, to make it
appear that the books now to be examined are, to a re
markable extent, precisely of the kind which furnish
the most copious and satisfactory manifestations of the
spirit and aim of their authors. Indeed, I venture to
assert, that if we had authentic and minute biographies
of the writers of the four Gospels, we should still have
the most decisive illustrations of their characters in
the style and structure of the Gospels themselves. We
should still see in these their works, the strongest evi
dence that they were eye and ear-witnesses of the things
they record — men of good sense and sound hearts, pos
sessing excellent powers and opportunities of observa
tion, and inspired, to an uncommon degree, by that
singlemindedness upon which we always delight to re
pose our most cordial confidence;

13

CHAPTER II.

THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES.
" The Scripture is no one summary of doctrines regularly digested, in
which a man could not mistake his way ; it is a most venerable, but most
multifarious collection of the records of the divine economy, a collection of an
infinite variety of Cosmogony, Theology, History, Prophecy, Psalmody, Mo
rality, Apologue, Allegory, Legislation, Ethics, carried though different books,
by different authors, at different ages, for different ends and purposes.
" It is necessary to sort out what is intended for example, what only as nar
rative. * ¥ * * '' Burke — Speech on the Acts of Uniformity.
In looking over the four Gospels, the first and most
obvious feature that strikes us is their Historical cha
racter. They have been so long and so widely treated as
creeds or formulas of faith, made up of formal proposi
tions, each by itself affirming an independent and un
qualified article of belief, that we are apt to overlook
altogether this remarkable trait, their historical nature.
They are not argumentative, nor didactic. They be
long to the department of History, Biography, Memoirs.
They may be complete or imperfect, true or the gross
est fabrications, still they are not philosophical trea
tises, elaborate statements of principles more or less
important. They are evidently histories, narratives.
They are crowded with incidents. They abound in
notices, direct and indirect, of persons, places, and
events. They scarcely contain what with any propriety
can be called an abstract discourse. The circum
stances mentioned, too, are for the most part remark-

J 4 THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES.
able for their publicity, and even those portions that
approach nearest to the character of sermons are not
general in their style of thought, but are expressed in a
popular phraseology, and are filled with local and per
sonal allusions. The scene is not laid in a dark, re
tired corner, but the course of events is represented as
going oh over a vast extent of country, in the presence
of particular individuals and large multitudes. Cities
and villages with their respective localities are inci
dentally designated, wherein the facts narrated took
place. To speak more dramatically, the curtain rises,
and the first glance shows us Jerusalem and its mag
nificent temple, Judea, the River Jordan, the Sea
of Galilee, and the region round about ; and we stand
in the open air, and under the noonday sun, to observe
the progress of the events related. Multitudes are col
lected before us. Different individuals and whole
classes of men pass over the stage, Pharisees and Sad
ducees, Teachers of the Jewish Law, Roman soldiers,
Tax-gatherers, Centurions, and Magistrates, and all
has the air of the greatest publicity.
Now what is the natural inference from this obvious
feature of these writings ? If a book of a similar cha
racter were published at the present day, a book not
occupied with speculative discussions, not stating prin
ciples or opinions, but relating facts, purporting to have
occurred in some well-known country and within the
last fifty or sixty years, filled with circumstantial de
tails, abounding in allusions, local, personal, civil, intro
ducing the names of public functionaries and officers—
of parties, religious and political, how would such a pub
lication be regarded ? It would either be understood
at once and by all as a mere work of imagination, so
considered by the author himself, and published as a
fiction, not to be credited as true, but to exercise and

THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES. J 5
illustrate his own invention, and to procure for him
the fame of genius ; or, should we suppose that he
intended it to be believed, then it must 'be because
of its substantial truth, or else he must be among the
most absurd of men. Every man who has intelligence
enough to fabricate a story with a view to impose upon
the world, takes especial care how he meddles with
facts, circumstances, names ; " All things animate and
inanimate are combined against falsehood." In the
great system of Nature and Providence, nothing exists
alone and insulated. Every circumstance and every
object, however trifling apparently, are inextricably
related in innumerable ways to innumerable other cir
cumstances and objects ; so that every fact virtually ap
peals to an incalculable mass of testimony. He who
lays the scene of his story in a certain country, in the
presence of multitudes, in the midst of public affairs
and institutions, summons he knows not how many wit
nesses to testify to the truth of what he affirms. Every
circumstance that he introduces swells the cloud of
witnesses beyond all enumeration. If he relates what
has no foundation in reality, he exposes himself to de
tection at unnumbered points, and it is impossible that
he should not be instantaneously overwhelmed with the
shame and ridicule which he so urgently invites. He
is only spreading snares for his own feet, weaving a
web in which he is sure to be caught and entangled.
It is fairly to be presumed therefore that the authors
of the books under consideration never intended to
state what was false. If they had designed to deceive
— to relate what they knew was not true, 'they never
would have been so prodigal of circumstances, so pro
fuse in allusions to public persons, places, and events.
Some caution — some apprehension of their liability to
exposure would have shown itself in the manner in

jg THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES.
which they touch upon details. But we find nothing of
this kind. These writings are pervadingly narrative-
full of incidents. There is no trace of caution or con
straint. Whether true or false then, we cannot but
conclude that they were written in good faith — that
their author or authors believed them to be true. And
if so, the presumption is equally strong that they are
true in the main. Because although the most honest
of men are liable to be deluded, yet it is wholly without
example and utterly incredible that such a multitude of
particulars, as are recorded in these books, should be
mere delusions. They may be more or less misappre
hended; but they must be substantially founded in fact.
Such seems to be the obvious and natural inference
from the simple abundance of facts in these books, from
their character so eminently circumstantial.
Or, if the force of these remarks be not felt, then one
thing is very clear, that writers so unwise, so imprudent
— so reckless as to go blindly on, accumulating facts,
adding incident to incident, and these too of the most
public character, utterly insensible to the certainty of
detection, at every step made doubly sure, must evince
the same want of judgment and common sense in the
structure of these narratives ; and we may entertain
the most confident expectation that a closer scrutiny
will make the falsehood of their stories perfectly plain.
If they were so foolish as thus shamelessly to fabricate
such an abundance of facts, facts too of a public charac
ter, we may be sure of discovering the groundlessness
of their pretensions. For although events appear to
take place very much at random, and to be strung to
gether with very little order and connexion, and in
dividuals to speak and act from accidental and incon
sistent impulses, yet every real series of circumstances
of any length or number, especially if they involve the

THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES. 17
sayings and conduct of any number of individuals, or
even of only one individual, have a certain consistency
belonging only to Nature and Truth. In fact, in the
wildest appearances of the natural world, — in the clouds
when they are piled in the most irregular masses in the
atmosphere, there is ever a pervading and essential
harmony of light, and shade, and form, which the com
mon observer feels, though unconsciously, and without
the perception of which the efforts of the artist are ut
terly fruitless. In the scenes and phenomena of the
moral and intelligent world, a like coherence exists as
a vital and all connecting element. It may not be easy,
as I have already intimated, to show in what this keep
ing consists. But it is recognised and felt instantly by
every intelligent and ingenuous mind. We perceive
the absence of it continually in the ablest and most in
genious of the myriads of fictitious histories — of novels
and romances, with which the press teems. In certain
passages they always betray, even to unpractised eyes,
the hand of human art, and the want of that air of
truth, which though indefinable, is nevertheless real
and most affecting. Nature and truth have their own
marks which they impress upon every work of theirs,
marks which to some extent human art may counter
feit, but which after all transcend the reach of fiction
as much as the great Intelligence, that upholds all ob
jects and controls all events, exceeds the mind of man.
So, then, if the four gospels are mere fictions, and the
series of events related have no foundation in reality,
but only in imagination, to the extent to which this is
the case, they must be deficient in that naturalness
which is the accompaniment of truth only. It is im
possible that mere fabrications should be undistinguish-
able from facts founded in truth and nature. Espe
cially must the difference be apparent in the case of the
3

lg THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES.
Christian records if they are fictitious, because they
abound in facts, and are evidently put together without
any apprehension on the part of their authors of their
liability to detection. They who are so simple as to lay
the scene of their fictions amidst public transactions,
places, and persons, with so little perception of the
risk of exposure, must betray the same want of good
sense in the composition of their stories, and we may
be perfectly certain that it will require no extraordi
nary degree of penetration to lay bare the delusion.
It is departing somewhat from the course which I
have prescribed to myself, still I may be permitted to
remark in this connexion, that the simple fact that
these writings have obtained extensive credit, creates
a very strong presumption of their substantial truth.
That a thing is not proved because it has been long
and generally believed, is a consideration of great im
portance which should never be lost sight of. Still the
force with which it applies in any given instance, is de
termined by the nature of the subject proposed to us
for our assent. If it be a mere matter of speculation —
of opinion — a point upon which there is a peculiar lia
bility to error, prejudice and delusion, authority can
have but little weight. Yet, even in this case we can
hardly help believing that whatever a large mass of
men have for ages credited, must have in it some por
tion — some basis of truth. The extensive and enduring
preyalence of a certain conviction or faith, is a fact, an
effect, for which some cause must exist, and there is no
cause so universal as truth. Thus it is commonly said
and admitted that the universality of a belief in a God
and in a life to come, is one argument for these two
great doctrines, a presumption, at least, of their truth.
But this presumption is a great deal stronger when the
proposition demanding'credit states a fact, or a number

THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES. 19
of facts, and these, too, not insulated, not of a private
but of a public nature ; because facts of this description
must naturally and necessarily be associated and inter
woven "with myriads of other facts of universal noto
riety. And the evidences of their truth or falsehood
must be spread out in the greatest abundance in the
eye of the world. If there Were now just published a
narration of facts of a character public and remarkable,
like those recorded in the New Testament, and pur
porting to have taken place quite recently, within a few
years, in this, or in some neighbouring community, if
there were no truth in them, they could not gain credit
for a single moment, for their falsehood would manifest
itself at once to every man, so that he who runs might
read, in the entire absence of all that near and colla
teral evidence, which every real event carries with it
in the multiplicity of its public bearings and connexions,
and which does not require to be searched after, as it
is impossible fo be overlooked. The times, places, cus
toms, institutions, feelings and opinions alluded to, more
or less distinctly, presenting none of the traces or im
pressions which the facts reported must have left, would
by their silence immediately reveal the fraud. On the
other hand, if it were pretended that the incidents now
first published, had occurred a great while ago, the sim
ple fact, that in the present state of things no signs were
visible of the impression which they must have origin
ally made, would be decisive with every man, and they
never could command general credit. Therefore, I
say, the contents of the four Gospels being such as they
are, events public and extraordinary, it is difficult to
conceive how these books could ever have come to be
extensively believed, if, when they were first published,
whether soon or late after the things related took place,
they had not been accompanied and corroborated by

20 THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES.
that strong, indispensable, though unestimated and un
recorded testimony which every public event brings
with it through its connexions and relations with' other
matters of undisputed notoriety. I am not maintaining
as a general remark that a thing is proved to be true
because it is believed. This only do I say, that it is
hardly possible to imagine how the four Gospels could
ever have obtained credit if they were not substantially
true, because they are not accounts of abstract opinions,
they are narrations, not of private visions and secret
experiences, but of public occurrences, closely affili
ated with the public affairs, persons and institutions of
a certain period and a certain community. Their
character being thus eminently circumstantial, the fact
that they have been credited, is no faint presumption
that they are true — that when they were first published,
they brought with them that collateral corroboration
which is exceedingly powerful, although it is seldom
or never defined and estimated.
However, this is a digression from our proposed
course of remark. My present design is, without refer
ence to the authority or faith of others, to exhibit as
far as is possible the truth of the Christian records, that
quality in them which appeals to a deeper faculty than
the understanding, from internal indications alone.
With this view, we have now cast one hasty glance
over these books, and the first thing that has arrested*'
our notice, and furnished food for thought, is the ob
viously historical and public nature of their contents.
From this trait we have inferred that they are either
substantially true, or the most reckless fabrications ever
published to the world. If the latter, then, there is an
entire want of art in their composition. No one actu
ated by a design to deceive, would have strung together
so many details, since he would be thereby virtually

THE GOSPELS, HISTORIES. 21
collecting an untold weight of testimony to disprove
the truth of his relations. I have not entertained the
supposition that the authors of these books may have
been self-deluded. In some particulars they may have
been deceived. Whether they were or were not, re
mains to be seen upon a closer examination of these
writings. We have looked now only at the circum
stantial and public nature of the things they contain.
So far as this is their character, they are inconsistent
with delusion. Looking at the facts as they are given,
having occurred as it is professed in the open air, at
noon-day, in public places and amidst crowds, we hold
that these accounts must be true in the main, or else
such a want of art is evinced in their fabrication, as
will show itself in their whole structure, and render it
no difficult thing to settle fully their real character and
claims.

22

CHAPTER III.
THE HONESTY OP THE GOSPELS.
" So stands it, in short, with all forms of intellect, whether as directed to
the finding of truth or to the fit imparting thereof; always the characteristic
of right performance is a certain spontaneity, an unconsciousness." — Edin
burgh Review. *
I come now to the consideration of another and more
decisive characteristic of these writings. It is the same
trait upon which we have already remarked, but more
strikingly manifested, showing itself in other ways ; it
may be designated as Unconsciousness or Simplicity.
This feature reveals itself by luminous tokens. It ap
pears in the most impressive manner that the authors
of these books were wholly unconscious of any design
to make out a case — to do anything but state facts.
In the eleventh chapter of the fourth book, entitled
the Gospel according to John, we have a minute ac
count of a most extraordinary event, the raising of a
dead man, Lazarus, to life. It is represented as hav
ing taken place in a public manner. The stone which
covered the mouth of the tomb is removed. Jesus calls
aloud to the dead man to come forth. And he comes
forth in the presence of a number of persons.
Now what does the narrative immediately proceed
to inform us of? Why, that although some of the spec
tators were impressed and led to admit the extraor
dinary authority of Jesus, others did not believe, were
not impressed, but went away and told the enemies of
Jesus what had taken place ! We are told with great

THE HONESTY OF THE GOSPELS.

23

particularity how a most astonishing event took place,
and in the same breath we are informed that some of
those who stood by and saw it were unconvinced. And
this information is communicated without the slightest
appearance of reluctance or hesitation. Not an at
tempt is made — not a word is introduced to explain
why the miracle failed to produce upon some who wit
nessed it, what we should consider its inevitable effect.
It cannot even be said with propriety that they confess
there were some present who did not believe. The in
formation is not wrung from them. They give it freely,
without the least consciousness of the ground it might
seem to furnish for doubting the reality of the event.
Here, I say, is a manifestation of the unconscious fear
lessness of a true and honest mind, which beams out
upon me like light from heaven. I see here that the
writer thought of nothing but telling the truth, and tell
ing it too, as a matter of course, without the least pa
rade of frankness. The facts he states may be hard to
be believed, and difficult to be reconciled with one an
other ; still he cannot help that, and he does not even
think of helping it ; he gives them without hesitation,
without comment, without any anxiety about the effect
of the narration. Here is it that the true inspiration of
these writings begins to be discernible, the inspiration
of a single mind, unconscious of itself, stating the truth
in the freest, simplest, most natural manner possible.
Again. In the twenty-eighth chapter of the Gospel
of Matthew, we have an account of the resurrection of
Christ himself— of his appearing alive to his friends
after he had been crucified and buried. " Then," so
we read in the 16th and 17th verses, " the eleven dis
ciples went away into Galilee, into a mountain, where
Jesus had appointed them. And when they saw him,
they worshipped him, but some doubted" — doubted

24

INSTANCES.

whether it were indeed he. The most important event
in the whole history, so we are explicitly informed, was
doubted by some of those who had the best opportunity
of ascertaining its truth ! What is this but another in
stance of that perfect fearlessness, that indifference to
effect, which truth alone can have.*
Once more. In the twelfth chapter of John, we read
that when Jesus fiad uttered the words, " ' Father, glo
rify thy name,' there came a voice from heaven, say
ing, I have glorified it, and will glorify it again. The
people, therefore, that stood by and heard it, said that
it thundered; others said, an angel spake to him."
What can be more manifest, than that the writer had
no thought here but of stating facts. He relates a most
extraordinary occurrence — the utterance of a voice
from heaven, and, at the same time, without a word of
explanation, tells us that the people who stood by and
heard it, said that it was thunder .t It is these pas
sages and others like them, that satisfy me that the
narrators were honest — that they aimed only at relating
things just as they took place. I see no shaping or ac
commodation of the events related to a particular de
sign. There is a quiet, unobtrusive confidence in their
mode of narration, which seems to me identical with a
perfect conviction of truth — with a true spirit. I have
given only a few instances ; enough, however, to define
and render prominent the characteristic of these wri
tings upon which I am now remarking. Throughout,
the same peculiarity is apparent.
* The conclusion of Matthew's Gospel exhibit signs of being hurried. We
may suppose that on the above-mentioned occasion there were many others
present besides the eleven. It is said elsewhere, that Jesus was once seen,
after his resurrection, by five hundred of the brethren. In so large a crowd
there must have been some who were unable to approach him near enough to
be sure that it was he.
t For further remarks on this passage, see Chapter X. Pt. II.

THE UNBELIEF OF THE JEWS. 25
It is very often objected to the truth of the New
Testament history, that if the wonderful things therein
recorded actually took place, how is it possible that
they should not have convinced the great body of the
people. ' They must have been irresistible,' it is said,
' and we cannot conceive that they really could have
occurred, or they would have produced a greater im
pression. We find that they were not believed — that
the multitudes in whose presence Jesus is said to have
done these astonishing works, clamoured for his blood,
and joined in putting him to death.'
From a careful examination of the history, we may
find reasons, although they are not ostentatiously thrust
forward, to suspect that the unbelief of the Jews was
not so great nor so general as this objection supposes.
In one passage we are expressly told that many of the
chief men believed in Jesus, although their fear of
their equals did not allow them to confess it.* We are
informed also that his enemies once and again dared
not lay hands on him, because he was so generally fa
voured by the people. And then the seizure of his per
son, which took place in the night, and the disgraceful
hurry of the Jewish court, by which he was pronounced
guilty of blasphemy, create the idea that he fell a vic
tim to faction. The priests knew well enough that if
they could only present him before the people in the
condition of a prisoner and a criminal, the association
of such circumstances with his pretensions as the Mes
siah would shock the public mind and exasperate a
mob against him. Shortly after his final disappearance
we read of the conversion of three thousand persons to
the Christian faith.t This is usually represented as sud
den and miraculous. But surely it is more natural to
suppose that this large body of converts was composed
* John xii. 42. t Acts ii. 41.

26 THE UNBELIEF OF THE JEWS
mainly of those who had listened to-, .the words and
witnessed the works of , Jesus. The tide of popular-
feeling was setting strongly in his favour, and the priest
hood saw that his success must be their destruction ;
and I cannot but think that he was put to death by
means of a sudden revulsion of feeling which the
priests succeeded' in producing.
But allowing the unbelief of the Jews to have been
as inveterate and universal as is commonly represented,
it may be perfectly accounted for, I apprehend, upon
the known principles and constitution of human natura
Experience and observation bear witness that when
men are swayed by any inveterate bias or passion, they
are impregnable to the strongest evidence contradictory
of their idolised notions. Every day we see men unaf
fected by facts and considerations, whose force miracles
could not increase. The slave of intemperance, for
instance, sees his wife and children perishing before
his eyes. Shame and ruin and death stare him in the
face, and still he persists in his darling indulgence, and
keeps on in the downward path of destruction. The
love of power intoxicates in a similar way. The Jews
were burning with the thirst of national glory — of
earthly prosperity and success. They had long con
sidered themselves a sacred people — the peculiar fa
vourites of heaven ; and they were stung to madness
at the thought of the foreign domination under which
they had been brought — of the insolence of the Gen
tiles — " the sinners — the dogs," as they were wont to
call them, who had enslaved them. They longed for
triumph and revenge. They had set their hearts, like
spoiled children, upon the appearance of a temporal
prince and warrior to lead them on to victory and
boundless renown. While absorbed by these passions,
they could not bear to listen to one who, like Jesus,

STATED WITHOUT EXPLANATION.

27

breathed peace and love and forgiveness. They could
not endure to have those hopes disappointed which they
had so long cherished, and which; as they believed,
their religion encouraged and sanctified.
In fact the unbelief of the Jews not only admits of
the explanation at which I have briefly hinted, but,
duly considered, it becomes an indirect and invert*
ed evidence of the power manifested by Jesus. It
could not have been any ordinary thing that wound
them up to such a degree of exasperation. There
must have been no little weight in the words and works
of Jesus, or they would never have raged against him
with so much violence.
But it is not my object now to give a full account of
the unbelief of those in whose presence the wonderful
works related in the Gospels were wrought. There is
one thing upon which I wish to fasten the attention of
the reader. Where is it that we learn that the Jew
ish people were unaffected by what was said and done
by the man of Nazareth ? Who is it that has told us
that he was doubted and gainsaid by the mass of those
among whom he lived and taught ? It is the authors of
the Gospels themselves — it is they, who without the
slightest equivocation have recorded the fact that the
majority of the people, including the teachers of the
Law, the leading men of the time and community, nay,
even the members of his own family, gave no credence
to the pretensions of Jesus. This fact they have re
corded so unreservedly that they cease to appear as
his friends and adherents. They rather seem like im
partial and uninterested spectators, having no feeling
for the one side or the other ; no feeling, at least, that
for a moment disturbs their determination to tell the
truth. I say their determination. And yet this does
not seem to be the proper word. For there is no appear
ance of effort, of constraint or labour, as if conscious

28 THE GOSPELS, NOT EULOGIES.
of a temptation to unfairness they had to guard them
selves accordingly. They write straight on as natu
rally as they breathe, stating with equal explicitness or
with equal brevity, the words and works of Jesus, and
the objections and incredulity of those around him,
making no explanations, betraying no anxiety to influ
ence the mind of the reader. In fine, their candour is
for nothing more remarkable than for its unconscious
ness. They do not seem to know that they are candid,
or that they are actuated by a spirit in any degree re*
markable and praiseworthy. Their honesty has no ap
pearance of being put on. It is rather a part of their
nature, the breath of their nostrils. If after all there
is any mind so diseased with doubt as to fear that this
character may have been assumed, I observe that it
not only strikes me as utterly impossible, but if it
were possible, then, for such deep laid and incredible^
cunning, there must have been the inducement of some,
most selfish and corrupt design, for the existence of
which hot a shadow of proof appears. But it is abun
dantly enough to say that if this is not candour, —
honesty, there is no telling what honesty is ; there can
be no indubitable tokens of its presence, and we can
have no ground for faith or confidence in man.
The honesty of these narratives reveals itself in
another way.
It is evident that Jesus Christ is theirj principal sub
ject. They are histories of his life. Their authors
obviously considered him worthy of profound reverence
and implicit credit. And yet their accounts have not
the faintest shadows of the character or style of eulo
gies, panegyrics. How truly has it been said that
"biographers, translators, editors, all, in short, who
employ themselves in illustrating the lives or the works of
others, are peculiarly exposed to the Boswellian disease

JESUS NOT UNDERSTOOD— A CASE. 29
of admiration." Whether the individual described be
a creature of the imagination, or a real personage, he
becomes the hero of the writer, and the utmost pains
are taken to set him off in the most glowing colours —
to magnify his least excellence — to be silent about
every trace of imperfection in him — to guard every
thing he says or does against misconstruction, or the
slightest impression of an unfavourable nature. No
thing of this sort appears in the Christian Records.
No attempt at embellishment can be detected. There
are no expressions of admiration, no prompting, no
challenging of the applause of the reader. All is calm,
direct, and simple.
Indeed, in some cases it would appear that, so far
from being conscious of any endeavour to heighten the
effect of the things they relate, they not only do not do
justice to the great subject of their biographies, but
absolutely do not seem to have understood Jesus in all
his elevation. There are passages from which one
may incidentally, but on that account not the less fairly,
infer that the conduct and meaning of Jesus were
more beautiful than they have represented or even un
derstood it. There is one curious case in point, which
I proceed to consider. I do not affirm that the follow
ing view of it is necessarily the true view. I only say
that it admits of the construction I put upon it.
In three of the Four Books we have accounts of
obviously the same incident. I refer to the case of
the woman who went behind Jesus in the crowd and
touched his garments, and was instantly cured of a
disease under which she had long suffered. In the
Gospel of Matthew, this circumstance is related
thus: "And behold a woman who was diseased with an
issue of blood twelve years, came behind him and

30 THE WOMAN WHO WENT BEHIND JESUS
touched the hem "of his garment. For she said within
herself, if I may but touch his garment I shall be made
whole. But Jesus turned him about ; and when he
saw her, he said', ' Daughter, be of good comfort ; thy
faith hath made thee whole.' And she was made whole
from that hour."
Mark's relation is this. " And a certain woman whb
had an issue of blood twelve years, and had suffered
many things of many physicians, and had spent all that
she had, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew
worse, when she had heard of Jesus, came in the press
behind, and touched his garment. For she said, ' If I
may touch but his clothes, I shall be whole.' And
straightway the fountain of her blood was dried up ;
and she felt in her body that she was healed of that
plague. And Jesus immediately knowing in himself
that virtue had gone out of him, turned him about in
the press, and said, ' Who touched my clothes ?' And
his disciples said, ' Thou seest the multitude thronging
thee, and sayest thou who touched me V And he
looked round about to see her that had done this thing.
But the woman, fearing arid trembling, knowing what
was done to her, came and fell down before him, and
told him all the truth. And he said unto her, ' Daugh
ter, thy faith hath made thee whole, go in peace, and be
whole of thy plague.' "
According" to Luke, " a woman having an issue of
blood twelve years, who had spent all her living upon
physicians, neither could be healed of any, came be
hind him and touched the border of his garment, and
immediately her issue of blood stanched. And Jesus
said, ' Who touched me V When all denied, Peter,
and they that were with him, said, ' Master, the multi
tude throng thee and press thee, and sayest thou, Who
touched me V And Jesus said, ' Somebody hath touch-

AND TOUCHED HIS GARMENT. 31
ed me, for I perceive that virtue is gone out of me.'
And when the woman saw that she was not hid, she
came, trembling, and, falling down before him, she de
clared before all the people for what cause she had
touched him, and how she vvas immediately healed.
And he said unto her, ' Daughter, be of good comfort,
thy faith hath made thee whole ; go in peace.' "
Now, although we perceive in these three accounts
such variations as we commonly find and naturally ex
pect in the different statements of honest and indepen
dent narrators, relating the same event, yet they all
agree in one thing. They all tell us that when the
woman came forward, Jesus addressed her in a cheer
ing tone, assuring her that her faith had cured her.
By this assurance, as 1 conceive, he intended to correct
the impression she had evidently entertained, that there
was a miraculous power of healing in his very gar
ments. It was through the power of her own faith —
the influence of her own mind, that so instantaneous a
cure had been effected. It was not, as she had evi
dently surmised, through any medical virtue in his
clothes, but through the energy of her own conviction,
that she had been made whole. This seems to be the
natural and obvious meaning of the few words he ad
dressed to her.
But, and here is the point to which I wish to direct
the attention of the reader, he does not appear to have
been understood by at least two of the narrators. For
Mark says that Jesus discovered that some one had
touched him, by the departure of a healing virtue from
his person. And Luke represents Jesus as declaring
in so many words that he had felt a miraculous virtue
go out of him. That he really made any such decla
ration, his assurance to the woman that her faith had
made her whole, forbids me to believe. It is much

32

NO DESIGN IN THE GOSPELS

more natural to suppose that it was purely the inference
of the historians that Jesus ascertained that some one
had touched him, by the departure of a medical virtue
from his body. They concluded that this was the way
in which he found out that he had been touched : and
one of them (Luke) has represented him as expressing
himself to this effect. If these remarks are correct,
then it follows that the narrators did not reach the true
import of the words of Jesus, when he. said to the
woman, " Thy faith hath made thee whole." His repre
sentation of the ease was more simple and spiritual
than they supposed. I mean to say, in short, that they
undertake to account for his knowing that some one
had touched him, in a way which he evidently intended
to disallow, when he bade the woman consider her own
faith as the cause of her cure.
It is natural to suppose that the woman, agitated by
the most powerful emotions, did not merely touch his
garments, but seized them with a quick, convulsive
grasp, and so he felt something peculiar and significant
in the movement, and, surmising the truth, was induced
to turn round and ask who it was.
If the account given above of this incident is admitted,
how decisive, by the way, is the proof that the incident
must actually have taken place.* The narrators could
* It is curious to remark, and it tends to corroborate the view here taken
of the three passages that relate this incident,
1. That the comparative authority of the three narrators corresponds with
the variations in their several accounts. According to the mode above proposed
of regarding these passages, the simplest statement is Matthew's, and he was
a personal disciple. The next in order of simplicity is Mark's, who was not a
personal disciple, but the friend and relative of one, the Apostle Peter. . The
third, and least simple is Luke's, who Was neither a personal disciple, nor the
associate of a personal disciple, but the friend of the Apostle Paul. This
coincidence may be merely accidental, still it is worth noting.
2. Adopting this account, we have in these three passages a very natural
illustration of the manner in which, without any ill design,' facts come to be

TO PUT THINGS IN A STRIKING LIGHT. 33
not have recorded what they did not understand, if it
were not real.
I beg the reader not to permit the miraculous
character of this occurrence to prevent his surren
dering his mind to a full and candid consideration of
the case. Upon the miraculous nature of many of the
things related in these books, I propose to remark at
length in the sequel. In the meanwhile, the reader is
at liberty to regard this incident as furnishing one of
the cases, by no means rare, in which an immediate
and extraordinary effect has been produced upon the
physical frame, through the power of a strong mental
impression. Whether the view I have taken of this case be cor
rect or not, or whether there are any other instances in
which the historians have fallen short of understanding
the words and conduct of Jesus, in their real greatness
and simplicity — one thing is plain enough. They evince
no disposition to magnify him. They do not show him
off. They make no comments, suggest no explanations,
calculated to place what he said and did in a striking
light. In their simple and brief sketches they appear
oftentimes to have omitted the mention of important

related in different forms. Matthew relates the incident just as it occurred.
How natural it is that some of those who were present, should infer that Jesus
knew that some one had touched him by feeling the healing virtue go out of
him, and should state what appeared to them an inevitable inference as a fact!
Thus arose the account as it stands in Mark. When the event had been
related in this shape, it is equally natural that some of those who heard it told
in this way, should receive the impression that Jesus had said that he felt the
virtue go out of him. And so we have Luke's account.
Luke mentions at the commencement of his gospel, that numerous accounts
of the life of Jesus, gospels, more or less brief, more or less correct, were then
in circulation. And the structure of his work gives us strong reasons to
believe that he availed himself of these publications. Having had the best
means of information, by personal intercourse with the friends of Jesus, he
selected such as he knew to be authentic. 5

34

INSTANCES.

circumstances illustrative of his words and works.
They seem to have been so fully possessed with the
reality of the things they relate, that the idea of their
ever being disproved never crossed their minds. They
show not the slightest misgiving, lest others may fail to
see and understand what is as clear to them as the sun
at noonday. They betray no apprehension that the
truth will not speak for itself, or that it needs any pains
on their part to make it manifest. Hence the artless
and careless brevity of their narrations.
At one time, as they tell us, an individual said to
Jesus, " Master, I will follow thee whithersoever thou
goest." Jesus replied, " The foxes have holes and the
birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not
where to lay his head!" Again, another offered to join
Jesus, but begged permission first to go and bury his
father. To him the reply was, " Let the dead bury
their dead." On these occasions Jesus is represented
as using a roughness inconsistent with his usual mild
ness and consideration. We may suppose that the
individual first mentioned was actuated by a mercenary
feeling in offering to follow Jesus, that he hoped for
some worldly advantage, and that Jesus, seeing or
fearing that such was his motive, gave him timely
warning not to expect any thing of a worldly nature
from him. With regard to the other, who desired first
to be permitted to go and bury his father, we may with
great probability conjecture that he made his filial duty
a mere pretence for temporizing. He was not per
fectly sure that Jesus was the expected Messiah; and
while he wished to wait awhile until the true character
of Jesus should be more satisfactorily ascertained, he
desired to secure the advantage of an early profession.
His father, we may even suppose, was not yet dead, but
only very aged and infirm, and the request was in effect,

THE SNEERS OF THE ENEMIES OF JESUS. 35
" Let me first discharge my duty to my father, and then
I will come and be your disciple." To him, therefore,
the reply of Jesus was most appropriate, " Let the
dead bury their dead," that is, let those, and they are
numerous enough, who are dead — insensible to the
claims of truth — to the import of what I say and do,
perform the necessary offices for the dead. Such are
the explanations of which these passages are suscepti
ble. They certainly appear natural and probable. But
observe, they are not hinted at by the narrators ; they
are only indirectly, undesignedly suggested by the gen
eral tenor of their stories. They take no pains to guard
against misapprehension, or to place the conduct of
Jesus in the best light. Here I behold the boundless
confidence of truth.
There are even more striking instances of the entire
absence of any disposition to exaggerate the things re
corded in these books. Circumstances are related
with the utmost brevity, and without any indication of
fear, which seem to be palpably inconsistent with the
greatness and power ascribed to Jesus. We are told,
for example, with an all-unconscious frankness, of the
powerful appeals made to him by his enemies after he
was fastened to the cross. They shook their heads at
him, and cried, " If thou be the Son of God, come
down from the cross. He saved others, himself he can
not save. If he be the king of Israel, let him now come
down from the cross and we will believe him. He
trusted in God ; let him deliver him now, if he will
have him, for he said I am the son of God." Who has
ever paused over these words for the first time, without
feeling that they contained a bitter force — without
secretly saying to himself, 'O why did he not come
down ! If he had power to heal the sick and raise the
dead, why did he not descend then from the cross and

36 THE TRUSTWORTHINESS
dissipate all doubt for ever!' Upon reflection, it is true,
we recollect that he is never said to have used his ex
traordinary gifts for his own sake. It was not physical
power that he sought to exercise, but moral power;
the power of a love which no insensibility on the part
of its objects could exhaust — of self-forgetfulness — of
fortitude — of meek and patient endurance. He sought
to show how one might do and endure, not from neces
sity, but voluntarily, to disclose the before unrevealed
energy of a generous and self-denying free will. And
had he relieved himself, had he shrunk from suffering
pain and contempt, he must have forgotten his great
spiritual purpose.
But, although this explanation is at hand, the narra
tors, be it remembered, do not suggest it. They record
the sneers of his enemies, in all their naked force, un
relieved by a single word of comment. But I must
pause here for the present. \
Many a one, I imagine, when disturbed with doubts
about the truth of the New Testament history, has
secretly wished that he had been permitted to live in
those days— to be present on the spot, and then how
easily might he have satisfied himself. For my own
part, I confess, I shrink at the thought of such"a trial.
A trial it must have been, as every one ^vill perceive,
who is aware of his own weakness, and knows the tre
mendous power of the example of a multitude. I fear
I should have wanted courage and candour to resist
the accumulated authority of the rich, and great, and
learned, of the mass of the people, and have fallen in
with the general insensibility, or participated in those
prepossessions which presented so effectual a barrier
against the force of the words and works of Jesus.
One thing does seem to me most desirable. Could I

OF THE GOSPELS. 37
only have an account of those events from persons, or
from only one person, whom I know, in whose good
sense, integrity, and fairness, I have perfect confidence,
then I should have a ground for my faith, than which
none could be surer. Could individuals of this charac
ter have been present, and could we have their testi
mony, nothing would be wanting. I open the Four
Gospels, and I feel that this want has been supplied
most amply. When I read these books in the way in
which I am now attempting to do it, I care not what
names they bear, I see — I know — that they are the
work of an honest and impartial spirit. Nowhere in
the writings of the dead, or in the conduct of the
living, do I discern evidences of integrity and single
ness of mind so luminous and affecting. I see none of
the art of a fraudulent design — none of the incohe
rence of self-delusion. These histories command my
cordial confidence. They are to me full of inspiration,
not a vague mystical inspiration, but the inspiration of
truth and honesty, the same spirit that breathes in
every honest man, in every true word, the Holy Spirit.
God give us this spirit without measure !

38

CHAPTER IV.
THE SAME, CONTINUED.
"  1 only speak right on."
We have remarked upon the honesty of the Chris
tian historians, particularly as it is evinced in the man
ner in which they speak of the principal personage of
their narratives, the great object of their reverence
and faith. They make no attempt to show him off.
They manifest no apprehension about the impression
that may be made by what they record. I am strupk
with the exhibition of their free, unguarded honesty, in
the case which I am now about to mention.
We are given to understand with the utmost expli-,
citness in these books, that Jesus was possessed of the
most extraordinary powers— that he could heal the
sick, give^ sight to the blind, and raise the dead, by a
word. Numerous instances are detailed with remark
able particularity, in which, in the most public and
satisfactory manner, he exercised these miraculous
gifts. But on more than one occasion we are told that
some of the principal men of the community came to,
him, and requested him to perform a miracle — to give
them a sign, thus affording him an opportunity, as it
would seem, of convincing them of his authority as a
messenger from Heaven. " How long," said they, with
apparently great plausibility, " how long dost thou make
us to doubt ? If thou be the Christ, tell us plainly."
On these occasions, as the historians have not hesitated
to inform us, he directly and uniformly refused to com-

A SIGN DEMANDED AND REFUSED. 39
ply with the request made to him. They give us no
explanation of the reasons of his refusal. They leave
him open to the charge of having evaded an appeal
apparently very fair.
It is not my immediate purpose to state the grounds
of the conduct of Jesus in these cases. Still, as it ad
mits of an explanation at once sound and rational, not
only in accordance with but illustrative of the dignity
of his character and the spirituality of his object, I
may be permitted to hint at it in passing. The Jewish
nation, as I have already had occasion to state, cher
ished the fond expectation of the appearance of a
military leader and king, who should deliver them
from Roman bondage, and place them where, as the
peculiar people of God, they fancied they belonged, at
the head of the human race. The existence of this
expectation is proved incidentally, and therefore the
more satisfactorily, by the Christian records. So we
need not resort to other witnesses to establish this
point, although they are not wanting. How tenaciously
this hope clung to the minds of the Jews may be gath
ered from the conduct and feelings of the adherents of
Jesus. They evidently expected him to establish a
worldly kingdom, and to distribute among them its
chief offices and honours, and out of this expectation
there frequently rose among them jealousy and strife.
After all that he had said and done to the contrary,
they still cherished this hope to the very last. And just
before his final disappearance their language is, " Lord,
wilt thou now restore the kingdom to Israel ?" As con
fidently as the Jews looked for a Messiah, they looked
for him to be a temporal Prince and Deliverer.
Seeing then that this expectation existed so widely
and deeply, is it not natural to infer that those who de
manded of Jesus " a sign from heaven," failed of being

40 THE NATURE OF THE SIGN REQUIRED.
convinced by what he did actually say and do, because,
although it proved him to be no ordinary man, still it
did not carry out and realize their darling idea of the
Christ 1 They wanted him to assume a character and
to perform miracles, conformable to their cherished
and pre-established notions. So that although at first
sight it may appear that when they asked of him "a
sign," they meant merely a display of miraculous power,
no matter of what description, we may suppose that
they intended a sign of a particular sort, a sign which
should correspond to and justify their prepossessions.
Indeed, it may be gathered from the Jewish writings,
that an idea was entertained that the Messiah, when
he came, would give some peculiar token or signal-
some extraordinary display of power — a luminous ap
pearance in the heavens perhaps, for it is not distinctly
defined, which should be a credential of his authority,
to point him out to the people as the Messiah, beyond
the possibility of mistake. The Apostle Paul, in his
first Epistle to the Corinthians, observes, that the Jews
seek after " a sign." And the inference is thus con
firmed, that the sign sought was of a peculiar character,
a sort of signal corresponding to the universal idea of
the expected Deliverer. The demand for a sign, there
fore, was equivalent to a demand for evidence that he
was such a personage as was expected. But Jesus didu
not present himself to the nation as a military Leader.
The office he assumed was infinitely superior to that of
the most brilliant conqueror. Evidence therefore was
demanded, of which the very nature of the case did not
admit, and which he could not give. The grandeur
and dignity of his aim prevented it. It was not he that'
made the Pharisees to doubt. Their doubts resulted
from their own false prepossessions. These it was that
led them astray or stopped them short of conviction.

THE HONESTY OF THE HISTORIANS IN THIS CASE. 4 J
He could not speak more plainly than he had already
done by word and work. And if these failed to satisfy
them, it was in vain that further evidence was asked
for. He had nothing else to offer — nothing different in
kind, nothing that those who Were as yet unconvinced
could appreciate, if they were not impressed by what
he had already done. There were other things about
to take place fitted to vindicate his authority. Events
were approaching, as he intimated, — his death and
resurrection, — which in th'eir significance and conse
quences would, like signs from heaven, attest that he
was sent by God.
But although the refusal of Jesus to comply with the
demand of those who sought from him a sign admits
of so ample a justification, yet it is not obvious ; neither
is it urged by the historians. And here again is the
characteristic to which I wish to direct particular at
tention. They have not shrunk from recording, with
simple and fearless brevity, the fact that, on different
occasions, when Jesus was asked to exercise his mira
culous gifts, he refused to accede to the request. They
show no apprehension that the motive of his refusal
may be misunderstood, or that he would come under
the imputation of shrinking from a fair test of his power.
They interpose no explanation to guard him against
misconstruction. I can account for this characteristic
of their narrations only by supposing, either that the
explanation was so obvious to them that they never
thought it could be necessary to give it, or else, that
their confidence in Jesus was so perfect and entire, an
unconscious feeling of their bosoms, that they never
once dreamed that he could be suspected of an un
worthy motive, however inexplicable his language or his
conduct on certain occasions might appear. Whether
his words and works were understood or not, they
6

42 THE CONSISTENCY OF THE PASSAGES
do not appear to be aware that an injurious construc
tion could by any possibility be put upon them. I know
not what others may think, but it seems to me there is
something so genuine, healthy, and natural, both in this!
state of mind, and in the way in which it manifests
itself, that I cannot but refer it to truth and reality.
There is a consistency so remarkable and evidently
so wholly undesigned, on the part of the narrators, in
the passages in which mention is made of " a sign from
heaven," that I cannot help 'taking notice of it in this
connexion, although it does not properly come under
our present head.
On one occasion we read, that just after Jesus had
cured a demoniac in the presence of a multitude, some
of the Pharisees asked him for a sign. He replied that
he could give them no sign but his death and resur
rection. At another time, immediately after he had
driven the money-changers from the temple, he was
asked to give a sign — to produce his credentials for the
authority he had assumed. In this instance, also, his
reply is an obscure allusion to his death and resur
rection. " Destroy this temple, and in three days I will
build it up." Once more, just after he had fed a large
multitude in a miraculous manner, the people followed
him demanding a sign, intimating that he had not done
as much as Moses, who had given their ancestors bread
from heaven, alluding to the manna gathered by the
Israelites in the wilderness. To this request Jesus
answers at length, and obscurely, but the main points
of his reply are his death and resurrection.
Now, we cannot fail to observe that the authors of
these histories appear to be wholly unconscious of any
remarkable keeping in these passages, and yet it is
most curious. The circumstances upon these three
occasions are entirely different, and so is the language

IN WHICH THE "SIGN" IS MENTIONED. 43
of Jesus. But the ideas expressed, the feelings evinced,
are in perfect harmony. On each occasion, the demand
for a sign was made just after Jesus had performed a
remarkable work. So that it would seem as if those
present had really been in some degree impressed with
his extraordinary power, and only wanted to be satis
fied that he was such a person as they were looking
for, to give into his claims at once. His reply is inva
riably the same in substance, though differing entirely
in form. He will give, he declares, no stronger evi
dence of the divinity of his mission, than would be
expressed in events shortly to occur, his death and
resurrection. These, he intimates, would furnish the
most imposing proofs of his authority.
I confess I want words to express the sense of reality
produced by these passages, so different in detail, so
singularly consistent in substance. Of the consistency
here, the writers do not appear to be at all conscious.
They have taken no pains to make it apparent. It is
perfectly natural and easy, but it is not obvious. I do
not know that it has ever before been remarked upon.
I alluded just now to the driving of the money
changers from the temple. It is related that " when
Jesus found in the temple, those that sold oxen, and
sheep, and doves, and. the changers of money sitting,
he made a scourge of small cords, and drove them all
out of the temple, and the sheep and the oxen, and
poured out the changers' money, and overthrew their
tables, and said unto them that sold doves, ' Take these
things hence ; make not my Father's house a house of
merchandise.' " This incident certainly appears, at
first sight, to be inconsistent with the usual gentleness
of Jesus, and that abstinence from all violence which
he so emphatically inculcated, and on all other occa
sions exemplified. The reader has probably seen a

44

THE MONEY-CHANGERS.

picture representing him in the temple, with out
stretched arm, wielding the scourge with great vigour ;
I need not say how offensive it must have been.
Without the least violation of probabilities, we may
suppose, that on this occasion Jesus went into the
temple attended by a large concourse of people ; and
that, upon the first intimation of his will, the traders
and money-changers, overturning the fables in their
precipitation, fled before one who had the populace
with him, as Jesus then had. The "scourge of small
cords," so far from being an instrument purposely
fashioned for violence, we may conjecture, was nothing
more than a piece of cord found on the spot, and origin
ally used, for obvious purposes, by the dealers in oxen
and sheep, and taken and folded up into a soft of whip
by Jesus, not perhaps with reference to the men, but
the cattle. It is not by any means necessary to suppose
that he even struck these animals, or that he assumed
any attitude inconsistent with what we feel must have
been the habitual dignity of his deportrnent. Candour
justifies us in putting such a construction upon this in
cident, involving, certainly, no improbability. But the
narrators do not hint at it. They have not feared to
relate this event in the briefest and most careless man
ner. They have not told us how the dealers in oxen
and sheep and doves, and the money-changers came to
be in the temple ; although upon reflection it is clear
that they were there to supply the demand for sacrifices
and offerings for the temple-service, and to accommo
date those who, coming from distant places, were under
the necessity of exchanging their foreign money for the
currency of Jerusalem. The authors of the Gospels
have not told us these things, obviously because it never
occurred to them that they needed to be told. Now,
their confidence in the reality of what they were re-

A SENSE OF THE GREATNESS OF JESUS 45
lating, and in the correctness of the conduct of Jesus,
is precisely like their knowledge of these circumstances,
so settled and familiar a feeling with them, resulting
from such obvious realities, so perfectly natural, that it
does not occur to them that others may be deficient in
these respects, and may require explanations. In the
familiarity of their own information, and in the uncon
scious fulness of their own faith, they forget the possible
ignorance and incredulity of others. Who can fail to
recognise here the simplicity and integrity of their
minds ?
Once more. It is obvious that the authors of these
writings must have considered Jesus as possessed of
extraordinary spiritual strength, great firmness or forti
tude. If in the composition of their narratives they
have had any earthly object but a distinct and honest
statement of what they had seen, known, and believed,
if they have fabricated, coloured, or even selected inci
dents for any particular purpose, we may suppose that
it was for the sake of showing the superiority of Jesus
to every human infirmity. The suspicion of such a
purpose becomes exceedingly natural when we consi
der two things.
1. In the Epistles Jesus Christ is spoken of in the
most exalted terms. He is described as the image of
God and the brightness of his glory. In him, it is said,
dwelt the fulness of the Divinity. And again, in him
it pleased the Father that all fulness should dwell. But
it is unnecessary to specify passages. The Apostles
appear to exhaust language in expressing their sense of
the excellence of their master.
2. But not only do the Apostles in their letters ex
press in the strongest manner possible, and by the
loftiest figures of speech, their sense of the greatness of
their master, — at an early period, the idea sprung up,

46 LEADS TO THE USE OF LOFTY TERMS.
and it has almost universally prevailed ever since, that
the man of Nazareth was a super-human being — super
angelic, — nay, the Supreme Being himself, the very
God. He has literally been deified for ages.
Believing Jesus Christ to have been a man, a man
indeed of miraculous gifts, and of unequalled moral
greatness, I see nothing either in the lofty language
concerning him which we find in the Epistles, or in the
prevalent faith of the Christian world, that does not
admit of an easy and natural explanation. When I
consider what power moral goodness has, even in its
most imperfect manifestations, to touch and thrill the
heart, and kindle the imagination, and inspire the
utterance, I do not wonder that the Apostles used the
boldest forms of speech to express the sense they had
of the dignity and greatness of their Master. I do not
content myself with referring to the strong and figura
tive character of the language of the East, although
this is a circumstance not to be lost sight of. But I say
it would have been strange indeed, had they employed
cold and qualified terms when they spoke of Jesus. I
honestly avow that I can find no epithets, no titles ap
plied to him in their Epistles, which, with my views of his
nature, I cannot cordially go along with. Had I been in
their situation — had I cherished that fervent sense of
his moral greatness, which they must have entertained,
I am convinced I should have used language like theirs,
and even stronger language, I might almost say, if that
were possible. They apply no title to him, which, upon
the supposition of his simple humanity, does not seem
to me to have an appropriate significance.
And then too, as to the general belief of Christians
in the supreme divinity of Christ, it does not surprise
me. In all times the tendency to deify the great and
good has shown itself. Man has always been disposed

NO SUCH BIAS SHOWN IN THE GOSPELS. 47
to recognise the brightest manifestation of God in his
own nature. What were the gods of the ancient Pagan
world but deified men, individuals of extraordinary
energy ? This popular doctrine, therefore, respecting
the nature of Christy which has so long prevailed, is to
my mind a most expressive tribute to the transcendent
excellence of his character.
But the object of these brief allusions to the lan
guage of the Epistles and the common belief of Chris
tians concerning Christ, is, to show how very natural
is the supposition, that the authors of the New Testa
ment narratives, if they had had any earthly purpose
beyond a simple statement of facts, would have been
desirous of representing Jesus as superior to every
human weakness, as impassible to every form of tempta
tion and grief. This has ever been the strong tendency,
to exalt the great and good above the common attri
butes of humanity. But every suspicion of such a bias
on the part of these writers, singularly impressed though
they must have been with the greatness of Jesus,
vanishes the instant we open their narratives. For we
find that without the slightest attempt to explain, re
concile, or soften the apparent inconsistency, they have
mentioned in the plainest terms repeated instances of
human weakness in Jesus. I would not needlessly
shock the reader, and therefore I observe in advance,
that these instances, so far from obscuring the beauty
of his character, heighten its effect. Upon this point,
however, I will remark as I proceed. For the present,
we have only to observe, that the instances referred to
are there, on the records, expressly detailed, and un
qualified by a single word of explanation.
On one occasion, and this too at the very opening of
his history, when, if they had had any anxiety about
the effect of the things they were going to relate, the

4Q JESUS TEMPTED.
writers would have taken care to place Jesus in the
best light, they represent him as tempted. It is true
the temptations that assailed him are described as the
suggestions of another, the Evil One. But it must be
remembered that this representation is made in ac
cordance with the rude philosophy, if so it may be
termed, of the age, with the universally received idea,
not that men were tempted by a malignant being as
suming a visible shape, for under such circumstances
the temptation of the weakest would be impossible, but
that the evil thoughts and inclinations, arising in men's
own minds, were to be attributed to the agency of an
evil spirit. Agreeably to this opinion, the temptation
of Jesus is described as the wOrk of such a being. And
in the same way any individual living at that time and
in that region would in all probability have represented
his own temptations, if called upon to relate them.
Although it is thus described, I see no reason for sup- ]:
posing that the authors of the Gospels had any idea
that the temptation of Jesus would be understood to
differ essentially from the temptations to which other
men are exposed. If tempted then, as we are, he had
thoughts and imaginings, which it became him to resist
and banish, and thus the common weakness of our na
ture is, made visible in him. This his biographers have
unhesitatingly recorded.
Once when he was speaking to his disciples of the
sufferings and death that awaited him, Peter, who was
shocked at the thought that one, whom he believed to
be the Christ, should be exposed to ignominy and vio
lence, exclaimed, " Be it far from thee, Lord ! This
shall not be done unto thee !" Jesus replied with great
warmth and severity, and, by the strength of his lan
guage, showed that he was aware of the moral danger
to which the suggestion of his warm-hearted friend ex-

JESUS WEEPING AT THE GRAVE OF LAZARUS. 49
posed him. "Get thee behind me, Satan, thou art
an offence unto me." As if he had said, ' Hush ! thou
art my enemy ! Wouldst thou tempt me V
But he is placed before us, not only as tempted, but
as moved by indignation, as shedding tears, nay, as
overcome by the prospect of suffering, and disclosing
his emotion by exclamations of distress and groans of
agony. Twice is it particularly mentioned that Jesus wept.
In both cases most needless is the mention of the fact,
if the writers had had any purpose beyond a straight
forward account of the things they had seen and heard.
Jesus wept at the grave of Lazarus. But why did he
weep there ? Does not the narrative give us distinctly
to understand that he had determined to restore the
dead man to life ? We should rather have expected
that his whole deportment would have been expressive
of joy and triumph, at the near prospect of dissipating
the sorrow of his friends, and that the air of gladness
produced by his secret and benevolent purpose, would
have been made to appear in a striking contrast with
the lamentations of those around him. But as it is, the
historians tell us that he wept and groaned in spirit,
and was troubled. They barely state the fact. They
offer no interpretation of it. Indeed it would seem to
bear no explanation but that which those present put
upon it. " 'Behold,' said they, ' how he loved him.' And
some said, ' Could not this man, who opened the eyes
of the blind, have caused that even this man should not
i have died ?' " So it appears that the narrative not
only represents Jesus as giving way to tears, but as
yielding to this weakness, when he had but little reason
to weep, in morbid sympathy, for so we must esteem
it, with a grief which he knew in his own heart was
about to be turned into the most extravagant joy — a
7

50 HIS MELANCHOLY ON THAT OCCASION,
grief, which, seeing as he did, what was about to take
place, must have appeared to him almost groundless.
Certainly, the fact of Jesus weeping under such circum
stances never would have been suggested nor recorded,
if the writer had thought of any thing but telling the truth.
When we duly consider it, the grief of Jesus at the
grave of Lazarus, is susceptible of an explanation, not
quite so obvious as that just alluded to, but an explana
tion which, so far from marring the character of Jesus,
gives us a new impression of its extraordinary elevation.
If the narrative had mentioned only 1;hat he shed tears
upon seeing the tears of Mary and those who were with
her, we might refer his grief to the mere impulse of
sympathy. But it was no slight or transient emotion
by which he was affected. He appears to have been
in a state of great depression. We have three several
notices of his tears or sighs on this occasion. And if
we bring fully into view what he was — what were his
aims and prospects, we may conjecture a probable and
adequate cause of his melancholy. That he was a man
of great tenderness of feeling, is evident enough from
the whole genius of his religion. Even though we had
no direct information concerning him, we might confi
dently infer from the pacific and gentle character of
Christianity, that its author must have been possessed
of no common degree of sensibility. Peculiarly formed
by nature to appreciate the delights and consolations
of human sympathy, he was cut off from all these, so
far as the objects and purposes nearest his heart were
concerned. There were individuals, it is true, who
were affectionately attached to him, but they did not
understand him. They did not enter into his lofty
views and sympathize with the great aim of his life.
He was deprived of all human aids. It was impossible
that he should be unconscious of his loneliness — of* the

CONSIDERED. 51
profound and appalling solitude of the heart in which
he stood — a stranger in the world which he loved and
yearned towards with a new and unwonted love. When
he stood at the grave of Lazarus, his own fate was
near its consummation, and how natural is it that the
tokens of human feeling and sorrow, and the ^ight of a
grave, should bring over his mind, with peculiar vivid
ness, a sense of his own melancholy situation — the
thought of that rapidly approaching hour when he
should suffer and die, without a single heart beating in
unison with his! When, a few days after, Mary poured
over his person the precious ointment, merely as an
expression of her profound personal reverence, he im
mediately connected it with the thought of his death
and burial. The perfumed ointment had to him the
odour of the grave, and seemed as if intended to em
balm his body. So, when I consider what he was, and
how he stood in the world, I cannot wonder that he
sighed deeply and was distressed, when the images of
death and sorrow came thronging around him. That
such should have been the feelings which caused him
to sigh deeply and repeatedly, was touchingly natural.
Besides, what a sense does it give us of his superiority
to all selfish weaknesses — to every emotion of self-
complacency, that he should evince such a state of
mind just when he was about to work a stupendous
miracle, and exercise the most astonishing power !
What an idea of his greatness dawns on us, when we
perceive that he was not in the slightest degree elated at
the thought of the mighty work he was just about to do !
Such is the account that may be given of the melan
choly of Jesus at the grave of Lazarus ; and so the
fact harmonizes with his character and situation. But
the authors of the gospel have not breathed a single
explanatory word.

52 JESUS WEEPING OVER JERUSALEM.
When Jesus approached Jerusalem, attended by an
immense multitude, shouting Hosannas, then too he
wept. And then, too, it was, most probably, that he
uttered the words, " Now is my soul troubled : and
what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour."
How does his distress at such a time exalt our idea of
him! Not for a moment was he blinded by the im
posing demonstrations of popular favour. The whole
city was moved to meet him. The excitement was so
great and the exciting cause so powerful, that he de
clared that if the people could have been unmoved and
silent, the very stones would have cried out. Harder,
then, than the stones, must have been the hearts of
those who remained unaffected by all that Jesus had
said and done. The populace lavished upon him the
most striking expressions of respect, spreading their
garments before him. And he was weeping ! He
wept because he looked above and beyond the hour,
because he was so completely elevated above the weak
ness of being imposed upon by the dazzling prospect of
success, which his popularity at that moment may well
have suggested to his mind. He saw that he was en
tering the city there to be condemned to death, and
that the tide of popular feeling was shortly to be turned
against him. The cross which he had long borne in
imagination, now began to press with a close and op
pressive weight upon his mind. He saw, too, the inev
itable ruin of his country, and he broke forth into the
pathetic cry, "O that thou hadst known, in this thy
day, the things which belong to thy peace ! but now
are they hid from thine eyes !" This incident, how
ever, is recorded with the greatest brevity, and the
narrators leave it to speak for itself, never pausing to
think whether it make for their master or against him.

53

CHAPTER V.
THE SAME, CONTINUED.
" While he suffers, the spirit of God and glory rests upon him. There is a
glory and a freshness sparkling in him by suffering, an excellency that was
hidden.  He that doth and can suffer shall have my heart." — Anon.
There is one instance in which I cannot divest my
self of the impression that Jesus is represented as
speaking in a tone of haste and irritation. At least
the historians in their fearless frankness have not
breathed a word to guard us against such an impres
sion. I refer to the exclamation, " Who is my mother,
and who are my brethren !" Let us endeavour to ap
preciate the occasion on which these words were
uttered. In the most public manner Jesus had, by his word,
relieved a man, who had lost the powers both of sight
and of speech, and who, according to the current be
lief of the times, was under the influence of a malignant
spirit. Certain Pharisees, who were among the spec
tators, charged Jesus with ¦ being in league with the
very prince of the evil spirits. By this charge, they
virtually admitted that the cure he had just wrought
transcended the power of man. One cannot but feel
that such inveterate perverseness of mind must have
shocked him deeply. After replying to the charge in
various ways, he went on to make those solemn decla
rations which have so often struck terror into the

54 THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY SPIRIT.
minds of readers : " All manner of sin and blasphemy
will be forgiven unto men, but the blasphemy against
the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven unto,, men. And
whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of man,
it will be forgiven him, but whosoever speaketh against
the Holy Spirit, it will not be forgiven him, neither
in this world, nor in the world to come." Now in
the very form of these sentences, I think I perceive
that they must have been uttered with great feeling —
with the deepest emotion. They are in the shape of
general propositions. They are couched in unqualified
language. Deep feeling always craves this mode of
expression. It delights to leap at once, from the parti
cular circumstances which have excited it, to the an
nunciation of a general or universal truth, or rather,
such is its magnifying power, that it immediately swells
out the incident or object which has awakened it,
whether it be joyous or otherwise, into a world-em
bracing light, or an all-obscuring darkness. It loses
sight of all qualifications of time or circumstance.
And here I cannot but mourn, to think how the
thrilling life of the Christian scriptures has been con
cealed through the Precognition of this mode of ex
pression, so characteristic of intense feeling. Passages,
from being expressed in universal terms, have been
understood as cold, formal, creedlike statements of
theological dogmas, when in fact they assumed their
peculiar form because those by whom they were origin
ally uttered or written, spoke or wrote from hearts
bursting with emotion. Thus, for instance, a dry,
doctrinal character has been given to the language of
the Apostle Paul when he says " In Jesus Christ neither
circumcision availeth any thing nor uncircumcision, but
a new creation." And yet, when I consider the con
nexion of these words, I cannot help feeling that in this

FEELING EXPRESSED IN GENERAL TERMS. 55
general way, he was giving expression to his own burn
ing experience. He exclaims just before, " God forbid
that I should glory, save in the Cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me,
and I unto the world." And then, he adds, " For in
Jesus Christ, neither circumcision is of any importance,
nor uncircumcision, but a new creation."* What an
immense change had taken place in the mind of Paul !
The Cross, that instrument of suffering — that symbol
of the deepest shame, had become, in its spiritual
aspects, its moral manifestations, his central light, and
a glory streamed from it, which was as the glory of
God ! Well did he say, and he must have uttered it
from the fervent feeling of his own soul — ' To be a
Christian, is to be ushered into a new creation.' In
eyes, illuminated by the moral light of the Cross of
Christ, all things are changed. The old world with its
artificial standards of judgment and thought, its super
ficial distinctions, vanishes utterly away, and a new
world appears, a world, not of outward observance, but
bound together by the moral influences, and irradiated
by the spiritual light of the Cross of Christ.
But to return. On the occasion mentioned above,
they who cavilled at the astonishing work wrought by
Jesus, betrayed a moral blindness, hopeless to the last
degree. A work which they confessed to be superhu
man, and in which power and benevolence were mirac
ulously displayed, they refused to refer to the agency
of God. As I conceive, and as I have already said,
Jesus was shocked at the impenetrable hardness of
their hearts. And it is as if he had said, 'any other
sin or blasphemy, of which men may be guilty, they
may be forgiven, for they may repent of it ; but you
are past repentance, you, who speak against the Spirit
* Not ' a new creature.'

5g THE SIN AGAINST THE HOLY SPIRIT.
of God, so overpoweringly manifested. There is no
hope of you. You cannot be moved, and of course you
cannot be forgiven. Your conduct is unpardonable.
He who speaks against me as a man, without knowl
edge of my words or works, as, no doubt, many do, may
be forgiven, for he may repent ; but when a man sets
himself against God, against the most striking exhibi
tions of God's presence and agency, there is no hope
for him, now, or ever.' Such I believe to be substan
tially the meaning of this passage. It was uttered with
direct reference to a peculiar case, and in that general
and unqualified manner, which the deep feeling, excited
by the case, naturally prompted.
The Pharisees immediately ask Jesus for a sign. And
this request in connexion with the peculiar circum
stances, intimates, as I have suggested in another
place, that the Pharisees were momentarily impressed
by what he had done, and were ready to believe in
him, if he would only do a work which should prove
him to be such a Christ as they expected. That this
was their state of mind is implied by what follows:
For, after saying that no sign of his authority would be
given them except his death and resurrection, he goes
on to describe the condition of a man suffering under
one of those violent maladies, which in those days
were ascribed to evil spirits, and which come on by
paroxysms ; evidently hinting in this description at the
moral condition of the Pharisees. They might appear
for a little while to be forsaken by the evil spirit of un
belief which possessed them. But its departure was
only temporary. It would return like other diseases
with seven-fold fury and violence.
We come now to the point which I wish to make
prominent. The narrative proceeds to inform us that
while he was speaking, speaking, as I have represented,

INSTANCE OF HUMAN FEELING IN JESUS. 57
with the greatest earnestness and solemnity, one said
to him, " Thy mother and thy brethren stand without,
desiring to speak with thee." Some thoughtless indi
vidual, insensible to the import of his words and to
common decorum, or, it might have been, some one,
who disliked the direction his remarks were taking and
was glad of an opportunity to break them off, inter
rupted him, telling him that his mother wanted to see
him. Now it seems to me he was disturbed at the in
terruption, (" segre ferens interpellationem," says Kui-
noel) and that the exclamation, " Who is my mother,
and who are my brethren !" reveals a momentary ex
citement of mind. So full was he of what he was
saying, and so offended, if I may be allowed the expres
sion, that he utters himself at the instant as if he had
forgotten that he had either mother or brethren.
I am unable to understand the feelings of those who
can consider this incident, thus regarded, as indicating
any defect in the character of Jesus. It reveals his
humanity, it is true, but in so doing, in showing hirn
affected by human feelings, — weaknesses, if you please,
it heightens our reverence for him and makes him live
more vividly in our faith and affections. With not a
trace of human weakness, his character might have
been beautiful, but its beauty would have been unreal
and visionary, appealing only to the imagination. It
could have had no foundation in nature, no power over
the deep and active sympathies of the human soul.
There is none absolutely good but one, God. We want '
not a character absolutely good in the person of a man,
for that would be an inconsistency in the nature of
things, but we want a specimen of the perfection of a
nature, still seen and felt to be a human nature, possess
ing the inherent, ineradicable principles of humanity.
My mind does not pause with the least regret over the
8

58 COINCIDENCE BETWEEN THE GOSPELS.
hasty feeling which prompted the exclamation, " Who
is my mother, and who are my brethren !" but I feel
all the more deeply the touching manner in which he
corrects himself, the evidence he immediately gives of
the tenderness of his filial and fraternal affections,
when, extending his hand towards his disciples, and, as
if he could say nothing more affectionate, he adds,
" Behold my mother and my brethren ! For whosoever
will do the will of my Father in Heaven, the same is
my brother and sister and mother."
In commenting upon this passage I have followed
the Gospel of Matthew. Luke relates the circum
stances of the same occasion, but he does not mention
that the mother of Jesus desired to see him. He only
mentions that a woman of the company lifted up her
voice and said unto him, " Blessed is the womb that
bare thee, and the breasts that gave thee nourish
ment !"* Is there not a probable coincidence here
between the two narratives ? Some one, as we learn
from Matthew, told Jesus that his mother was waiting
* To this benediction, Jesus replied " Yea, rather blessed are they who
hear the word of God and keep it." Here, by the way, we have an instance
of that mode of speaking, upon which I was just remarking — a proposition
general in its terms, but prompted by, and applying to a particular case. It
was not a formal declaration, but a spontaneous and sudden exclamation.
We cannot doubt that when Jesus uttered these words, he fastened his eyes
upon the woman whose language had called them forth. And it is as if he
had said, " Dost thou deem my mother happy 1 Rather most blessed art thou
if thou but know thy present privilege, and hearing what I say, bear thyself
accordingly." How deeply absorbed he was with what he had just been say
ing, we may infer from the sensitiveness he evinces to the least disposition
on the part of his hearers to think of any thing else.
When the woman uttered this benediction on the mother of Jesus, little did
she dream that she uttered a sentiment to which, in the worship of the Virgin
the world was for ages to respond ; and which was to be embodied in the
finest efforts of Art. In the adoration of the infant Jesus and his mother
have we not a touching tribute to the power with which Christianity has ap
pealed to some of the best and tenderest affections of our nature 1 With the
manhood of Jesus the world has yet to learn to sympathise.

CONDUCT OF JESUS IN VIEW OF DEATH. 59
for him. Upon the mention of his mother, a woman,
herself probably a mother, exclaimed in effect, " Thy
mother ! what a blessed woman thy mother must be !"
The whole passage is redolent of nature and life. Is it
looking at it too curiously to see in the introduction of
the word, " sister," a little fraction as it were, a bright
but delicate hue of truth ? Observe, according to
Matthew, Jesus says, " Whoever will do the will of my
Father in Heaven, the same is my brother and sister
and mother." Bringing before the imagination the
whole group, keeping in view the sensibility of the
woman who had just broken forth in blessing her who
had borne such a son, may we not suppose that he was
led, unconsciously as it were, to increase the point and
emphasis of the sentiment, by the introduction of the
sisterly relation — turning his eyes as he spake towards
the woman?
But my present object is to illustrate the honesty of
the Christian historians, evinced in the unconcern with
which they record repeated instances of human weak
ness in Jesus. The most striking case in point, and
the last I shall mention, comprehends all the notices
of his conduct and bearing at the prospect and in the
agonies of death. The narrators have not hesitated to
mention words and actions of his, expressive of the
greatest distress at the thought of the fate that awaited
him. And the extravagant explanations to which
Christians in subsequent times have had recourse in
their anxiety to avoid what certainly appears to be the
most obvious inference, namely, that Jesus was smitten
with horror at the thought of dying, only serve to place
in the most striking light the simple honesty of the his
torians who have related the facts without one expla
natory remark. Once at a comparatively early period

gQ INSTANCES OF GREAT EMOTION.
he is said to have exclaimed, " I have a baptism to be
baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be ac
complished !" In other words, I have a terrible trial
to go through, and oh ! the agony till it be over !'
Again, "Now is my soul troubled, and what shall I
say!" Surely these are expressions of mortal suffering.
To his betrayer he is represented as saying, " What
thou doest, do quickly." Do not these words show that
he felt the intolerable wretchedness of suspense ? And
then in the garden just before he was seized and led
away to trial, what a scene of misery is disclosed ! He
went to that, his favourite place of resort, accompanied
by the Eleven. When he reached the spot, he took
his three intimate friends, bidding the rest remain
where they were. In the company of these three " he
began to be sorrowful and very heavy." He said to
them, "my soul is exceedingly sorrowful even unto
death," in other words, ' The anguish of my mind is so
great I feel as if I should die.' Shortly he left these
three and went apart and threw himself prostrate on
his face, and prayed that if it were possible, the torture
to which he was about to be put, and which he was
already suffering in anticipation — the bitter cup of
mortal agony, which he was about to exhaust to its
very dregs, might be put aside. He returned to his
three friends, and then went away again, and prayed
in an agony of mind so intense that the sweat poured
from him as if it had been his life-blood, and again he
returned, and again he went apart by himself, uttering
the same prayer every time — that he might be excused,
if it were possible, from the dreadful hour which was
at hand. No doubt he said much more to the same
purport, but his disciples, who were exhausted probably
with watching and excitement, fell asleep, awaking
only for a few moments when he approached them,

HIS AGONY IN THE GARDEN. (JJ
and therefore catching only a few words.* Thus we
are not only explicitly told that he was in an agony,
but in going away by himself and returning to his
friends, as he did again and again, it seems to me a
state of mind is disclosed almost bordering on distrac
tion. He turned repeatedly from man to God — from
Heaven to Earth, seeking some relief, some support
amidst the horrors that environed him, and for awhile
seeking it in vain.
Here, surely, is a revelation of human weakness.
This passage in the life of Jesus, has given occasion
not only to the captious and cavilling, but even to some
serious and well-disposed minds to question his forti
tude, and deny him that perfectness of character which
his followers have ascribed to him. Comparisons un
favourable to him, have been suggested between him
and the Grecian sage, who drank the deadly hemlock
without the least agitation. And Christians, it would
appear, from their far-fetched explanations of this por
tion of the history, have been greatly embarrassed by
it. It is common to say that the agony of Jesus in the
garden, arose from his having then the sins of the whole
world laid upon him. In this account of his suffering,
there is a pretty distinct figure of speech, and that is
all. It is scarcely necessary to say that there is not a
whisper of any such theory of the facts, nor indeed of
any explanation of them whatever. The circumstances
are given with the utmost simplicity. They are not put
* It is painful to hear it asked, as it has been often, how the disciples
could have seen what Jesus did, if, as they say, they were asleep; it is so
easy and natural in common candour to suppose that when Jesus approached
they awoke, and when he went aside they observed him for a few moments,
and then their drowsiness returned. Instead of suggesting such captious
queries, it becomes us to admire the unsuspecting confidence of the narrators,
who were unable to conceive that any one could be so narrow — so devoid of
candour, as not to supply the necessary explanations.

62

THE MOST NATURAL ACCOUNT

together in a shape to indicate any particular solution.
They show no design on the part of the narrators to
make out a case one way or another. So possessed do
these appear with one simple object, namely a narra
tion of facts, that so far from being on their guard
against unfavourable impressions, the thought of mis
construction seems never to have occurred to them.
They place Jesus before us in the greatest agony, and
leave us no way of accounting for it, but by resolving
it into the dread and anguish produced by the prospect
of death, and its attendant horrors. The reality of
this scene of suffering alone accounts for its being nar
rated. Had the historians been any other than the
truest and most single-hearted of men, had they been
conscious of any feeling but that calm and perfect
confidence which truth alone can produce, they would
have omitted these passages, as they might have done
very easily. Can we discern such manifest inspiration
— the inspiration of the Spirit of Truth, and not have
every doubt superseded by a living faith ?
At first view, the agony of Jesus at the thought of
the terrible death that awaited him, may seem to indi
cate a great want of fortitude. But candidly meditated,
it discloses the unparalleled greatness of his character.
O compare him not with Socrates ! The Grecian
philosopher was an old man, meeting death in a form
comparatively mild and easy. The peasant of Judea
was in the bloom of life, and a fate peculiarly excru
ciating and ignominious was before him. The former
was surrounded by adoring, idolizing friends, who felt
with him and for him, and so helped to inspire him
with the requisite strength. When a man feels that
there are those about him who enter into his spirit,
and understand and honour his purposes, and applaud
him for what he is doing, be they few or many, they

OF THE AGONY IN THE GARDEN. 63
become all the world to him, and they communicate
to him, unconsciously it may be, a world of spiritual
force; such are the mysterious sympathies that con
nect man with man. ''And such was the support of the
Athenian philosopher. But the Man of Nazareth had
no human aids. With a nature of almost feminine
tenderness — a heart all alive and glowing with the
most generous affections, yearning towards humanity
with a more than fraternal interest, he had not a single
being on earth to whom he could unbosom himself. It
is true there were those around him who were warmly
attached to him. But they understood not the great
object for which he had lived, and for which he was
about to die. So far as that was concerned, the dear
and sacred purpose of his being, they were to him no
more than the dumb brute, who, with blind affection,
follows his master. I might almost say they were less,
for sympathy could not be looked for from the brute.
To them it was all darkness and mystery. Jesus stood
alone in the world in the profoundest sense. Peculiarly
constituted to appreciate human sympathy and to be
sustained by it, he saw that this prop was stricken away
from beneath him. Every earthly source of strength
and encouragement was closed against him. He was
to suffer, suffer fearfully and alone, without having been
able to make a single human being so far understand
what he was to suffer for, as to derive comfort and
support therefrom. To the very last, his nearest friends
misconceived his purpose altogether ; as the conten
tion which arose among them at the last Supper showed
only too plainly. It was, I believe, this utter loneliness
that constituted the peculiar severity of his trial. Here
was the bitterness of death. This it was, that made
the still and lonely hour of midnight, just before his
crucifixion, the hour when the soul is left to itself, un-

64 HIS AGONY, A REVELATION
distracted by external sights and sound, so awful to
him .* Human sympathy surrounds and sustains a
man insensibly. It is like the unfelt pressure of the
atmosphere, or the force of gravitation.
Had Jesus, therefore, been otherwise than most
deeply affected by the circumstances in which he was
placed, I confess I should have painfully felt that there
was in his character a want of sensibility. It might
then have been suspected that his mind was in a state
of unnatural excitement — that it was deriving its
strength from some stimulus provided by a diseased/'
imagination— that he saw things around him not as
they were, but in some false light. The agony he suf
fered satisfies me that the fortitude that followed it
was the pure unadulterated quality, without any earthly
admixture. The calmness which others have shown
in dying, may have been produced by no higher cause
than a mere sentiment of honour, more or less dis
guised. But in Jesus, I am now convinced that the
composure, which it cannot be denied after all, he did
habitually exhibit to an astonishing degree, was not a
matter of temperament, or of an excited imagination,
but the offspring of the purest and most elevated spirit
uality. He saw his condition in all its horrors, nay, he
felt them acutely, and in agony of spirit, and yet he
went calmly forward, to do and to endure all that was
necessary. He presented himself on that memorable
night with a demeanour so collected and so dignified
before the persons who came to seize him, that they
were for a moment overawed, and, like the soldier sent
* " Truly night was made for sleep; since to its wakeful hours belongs an
oppression unknown to the very dreariest hours of day. The stillness is so
deep, the solitude so unbroken, the fever brought on by want of rest so
weakens the nerves, that the imagination exercises despotic and unwholesome
power, till, if the heart have a fear of sorrow, up it arises in all the force and
terror of gigantic exaggeration.— Anon.

NOT SO MUCH OF WEAKNESS AS OF STRENGTH. 65
to assassinate Marius, they shrunk back unable for
awhile to lay hands on him. Utter insensibility to pain
is scarcely any thing more than a physical quality.
True fortitude is that virtue which a man exhibits
amidst the consciousness of great suffering. He who
is overcome at the prospect of pain and shudders at
death, and yet for some generous purpose exposes
himself to both, awakens in the mind a far deeper
sentiment of power than he who shows himself wholly
unaffected by these things.
Such, briefly, are some of the considerations which
help to explain the agony of Jesus, and to put this part
of his history in its true light — where it may be seen
as a manifestation of the purest spiritual power, and
not an exposure of weakness. I do not, of course, pre
tend to give a full account of the deadly anguish which
he endured. No one can do this fully, until he has en
tered deeply into the mind and spirit of Jesus, and
learned to appreciate the great spiritual purpose of his
life. I cannot fathom the depths of that agony. Great
as it was, his piety was greater still, and secured its
perfect victory.
There remains only one particular to be noticed in
this connexion, and the remarks already made render
it unnecessary to dwell upon it. I allude to the lan
guage ascribed to Jesus on the cross, " My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me !" The explanations
usually given of this language, and by which it is at
tempted to avoid the impression that it was an excla
mation of momentary agony and despair, seem to me
forced and unnatural, altogether too refined for the
physical condition in which Jesus was. It has been
interpreted, not as an expression of agony, couched in
the devout language of Scripture, but as a formal and
deliberate argument, as if by quoting the language of
9

66 THE NARRATORS SHOW NO ILL WILL
David, Jesus wished to intimate to those around him
his own Messiahship ! I cannot but regard it as an
ejaculation, wrung from him by the intense suffering of
the moment. How does it enhance the beauty and
pathos of the piety — the forgiveness, the filial affection
which he manifested in that terrible hour, when we
consider that these touching qualities were evinced by
one so acutely sensible of pain — of a temperament so
susceptible, that, for a moment, he was overwhelmed
by the frightful agonies of crucifixion !
But the circumstance that arrests my attention and
impresses me most powerfully, is the artless and honest
brevity with which the narrators have put this excla
mation of pain and despair on record. Had they not
been raised above every thought of embellishing the
character of Christ, they never would have mentioned
a circumstance of this kind, at least without some ex
planation. As the narrators are thus free from any design to,
show off, and exaggerate the great subject of their nar
ratives, so is it equally clear, on the other hand, that
in the composition of these stories, they were uncon
scious of any angry or malignant feeling towards the
opposers of Jesus. They betray no desire to excite the
passions of the reader against those who persecuted
him. This point has been happily illustrated by Dr.
Campbell, in the Dissertations preliminary to his trans
lation of the Four Gospels. The absence of all bitter
ness, in the minds of these historians^ is shown by their
indifference about the names of the enemies and per
secutors of Jesus. It is remarkable, as Dr. Campbell
has observed,* that the names of the High Priest and
his coadjutor, of the Roman Procurator, of the tetrarch
* The Four Gospels, &c. by G. Campbell, D. D., Diss. 3. Sec. 22.

TOWARDS THE ENEMIES OF JESUS. 67
of Galilee, and of the treacherous disciple, are all that
are mentioned of the^many who, no doubt, took an ac
tive part in the prosecution and death of Jesus. In re
gard to the first four, the omission of their names could
have made no difference, for their offices were so public
and eminent, that the official title was equivalent to the
designation of the individual. And the part that Judas
took was altogether too prominent and notorious, to ad
mit the suppression of his name. " Whereas of those
Scribes and Pharisees, who bargained with Judas, of
the men who apprehended Jesus, of the officer who
struck him, of those who afterwards spat upon him,
buffeted, and mocked him, of those who were loudest
in crying, ' Away with him, crucify him — not this man,
but Barabbas;' of those who supplied the multitude
with the implements of their mockery, of those who up
braided him on the Cross with his inability to save him
self; or of the soldier who pierced his side with a spear,
no name is given by any of the historians." It may be
said, that the names of these individuals were not
known to them. It is very probable they were not.
But had the narrators been acting the part of partisans,
in the accounts they have left us, had they been con
scious of any angry or vindictive feeling, they would
have sought the names of those who made themselves
prominent in these cruel and disgraceful acts.
" This reserve, in regard to the names of those who
were the chief instruments of the sufferings of Jesus, is
the more observable, as the names of others, to whom
no special part is attributed, are mentioned without
hesitation. Thus Malchus, whose ear Peter wounded,
and who was, immediately after, miraculously cured by
Jesus, is named by John ; but nothing further is told of
him, than that he was present when our Lord was
seized, and that he was a servant of the High Priest.
Simon the Cyrenian, who carried the Cross, is named

68 NAMES OF FRIENDS GIVEN BUT NOT OF FOES.
by no fewer than three of the Evangelists;* but we are
also informed that in this service he did not act volun
tarily, but by compulsion. Joseph of Arimathea and
Nicodemus are the only members of the Sanhedrim,
except the High Priest, who are mentioned by name ;
but they were the only persons of that body who did
not concur in condemning the Son of God, and who,
though once fearful and secret disciples, assumed the
resolution to display their affection, at times when no
one else ventured openly to acknowledge him.
"Of the Scribes and Pharisees who watched our
Lord, and on different occasions, dissembling esteem,
assailed him With captious and ensnaring questions —
of those who openly ascribed his miracles to evil Spirits,
called him a madman, a demoniac, and, what they
esteemed worse than either, a Samaritan, who accused
him of associating with the profligate— of Sabbath-
breaking — of intemperance and blasphemy, and of
many others who put themselves in attitudes of opposi
tion to Jesus, no names are ever mentioned, nor is the
young, but opulent magistrate named, who came to
him with the question, 'What shall I do to inherit
eternal life,' for, though there were some favourable
symptoms in his case, yet as by going away sorrowful,
he betrayed a heart wedded to the world, the applica
tion did not terminate to his honour. But of Simon
the Pharisee, who invited our Lord to his house, of
Jairus and Bartimeus and Zaccheus and Lazarus and
his sisters Mary and Martha, and some others, of
whose faith, repentance, gratjitude, love and piety, the
most honourable testimony is given, aj very different
account is made.
"As to the disciples of Jesus, in recording their
* There appears to have been a particular reason for mentioning this indi
vidual. He was the father of Alexander and Rufus, the latter of whom ap
pears at a subsequent period to have been a Christian of some eminence at
Rome. — See Rom. xvi. 13.

NO ANXIETY ABOUT APPEARANCES. 69
faults, no secret is made of their names. Of this, the
intemperate zeal of the sons of Zebedee on one occa
sion, and their ambition and secular views on another,
the incredulity of Thomas, the presumption of Peter,
and his lamentable defection in the denial of his Mas
ter, not to mention the prejudices and dulness of them
all, are eminent examples. These particulars are all
related with the same undisguised plainness which they
use in relating the crimes of adversaries, and with as
little endeavour to extenuate the former, as to exag
gerate the latter."
And yet, after all, there is nothing studied in the
style of these narrations, no appearance of care or
pains taken to suppress one name, or introduce another.
There is throughout an impressive forgetfulness of
effect. It is common to speak of the authors of the
four Gospels, as witnesses. But the idea of a witness
conveys the impression of one speaking guardedly, as
upon his oath, and as in the presence of individuals
ready to cross-examine, and to doubt. But there is no
appearance of this kind about these historians. When
the mind is fully impressed and completely filled with
any truth, whether of opinion, sentiment or fact, we
find it impossible to think that others cannot see things
just as we have seen them. What is so obvious and
present to us, we imagine must be equally so to all.
This appears to have been the predominant feeling in
the minds of the writers of the Christian narratives.
To therii, the reality of the facts they record, was as
indisputable as that of the sun in heaven, and abidingly
filled with this conviction, they could not sympathise
with the doubting, and the incredulous. They lived,
and moved, and spoke, and wrote, with the truth of the
things they relate filling and surrounding their minds
like an atmosphere.

70

CHAPTER VI.
THE CONSISTENCY OF THE GOSPELS.
" I should have laid little stress upon the repetition of actions substantially
alike, or of discourses containing many of the same expressions, because that
is a species of resemblance, which would either belong to a true history, or
might easily be imitated in a false one. Nor do I deny, that a dramatic writer
is able to sustain propriety and distinction of character, through a great variety
of separate incidents and situations. But the evangelists were not dramatic
writers; nor possessed the talents of dramatic writers; nor' will it, I believe,
be suspected that they studied uniformity of character, or ever thought of any
such thing in the person who was the subject of their histories. Such uni
formity, if it exists, is on their part casual." Paley.
In these histories there is one personage who holds
the first place, and of whose words and acts and suf
ferings they are obviously sketches. There are other
individuals introduced more or less conspicuously. And
they are as easily distinguishable as so many personal
acquaintances. Now it is the remarkable peculiarity
of these writings that the vivid and consistent ideas
which they give us of the persons whom they mention,
are communicated without the least appearance of de
sign, or even of consciousness on the part of the narra
tors. They do not seem to be in the slightest degree
aware that they are enabling the reader to form clear
conceptions of the personal characters of those of whom
they speak. This is a characteristic of these writings,
which admits of copious and striking illustrations, and
which to my mind establishes their authority as true

THE CONSISTENCY OF THE GOSPELS. 17 j
histories beyond all controversy. Their authors have
related a number of incidents in the briefest and most
sketchy manner, unaccompanied by comments, and
with no special regard to any sort of order, even to
the order of time. So true is this that there is hardly
any thing more difficult to determine than the precise
period occupied by the events which they relate. And
yet by means of these incidents, thus carelessly strung
together, we come at distinct, harmonious ideas of the
persons presented in the scene. In this respect, these
narratives resemble those curious pictures that we
sometimes see, which^at first view appear to be nothing
more than representations of landscapes, composed of
trees, rocks and ruins. But on closer inspection, we
discover that the objects depicted are so grouped as to
form complete and symmetrical figures, in attitudes of
life, grace, and motion. And this effect is so successful
that although not obvious, yet when once perceived, it
can hardly by any effort be lost sight' of. Only in the
case of these histories, the several forms of moral life
resulting from the incidents related are, let me repeat,
produced wholly without design. The writers betray
no sort of suspicion of what they were doing.
That this harmony of character should have been
the work of accident or cunning is entirely out of the
question. Material objects, or the representations of
material objects, may be so put together as to form
momentary and chance resemblances of living forms
and features. The fantastic combinations of the clouds
of a summer sunset may present the rude appearance
of a castle, a warrior, or some huge animal; and this
only for a little while. '
" That, which is now a horse, even with a thought,
The rack dislimns ; and makes it indistinct,
As water is in water."

72

MARY AND MARTHA.

But those occurrences must have an existence in truth
whose keeping is so natural as to create in the most
natural manner in our minds individual and complete
and permanent ideas of intellectual and moral;, life.
From a mere disjointed collection of falsehoods and
fables such a result could never flow. They might be
circumstantially, but they never could be morally and
intellectually consistent. ,
Does it not constitute the chief miraculousness of
the genius of Shakspeare, that adopting a form of com
position, the Dramatic, Which allows little or no room
for the direct and elaborate delineation of character,
he has been able somewhat in the way now referred to,
to construct spiritual forms consistent with themselves
and standing out individually before us, through the
words they are made to speak, and the scenes, acts,
and sufferings in which they are represented as con
cerned. But even in the case of Shakspeare's crea-
tions^ the moral consistency which renders them so
wonderful is wrought out, not indeed with any apparent
labour on the part of the artist, but only by means of
numerous and diversified illustrations. The characters,
which his genius creates and inspires, are made to do*
and to bear and to say much in order to their full un
folding. Whereas, in the New Testament histories,
character is developed, as we shall see, by the briefest
word and the slightest incident, and if they are fictions,
then as works of genius, they leave the productions of
Shakspeare as far behind as these excel all others.
Without farther preliminary remark, I proceed to
illustrate my meaning by examples, the consideration
of which will suggest appropriate reflections.
There are two females, Mary and Martha, men
tioned three or four times very briefly in the course of
these narratives. Once, as we read, Jesus " went to

MARY AND MARTHA. 73
a certain village, and a certain woman named Martha
received him into her house. And she had a sister
called Mary, who also sat at Jesus' feet and heard his
word. But Martha was cumbered with much serving,
and came to him and said, ' Lord, dost thou not care
that my sister hath left me to serve alone, bid her
therefore that she help me.' And Jesus answered, and
said unto her, ' Martha, Martha, thou art careful and
troubled about many things. But one thing is needful.
and Mary hath chosen that good part that shall not be
taken away from her.' " Again these two sisters are
mentioned more particularly in the account of the
raising of Lazarus. They are introduced once more
in the next chapter of John, where we are told that
Mary came and poured very precious ointment upon
Jesus, while he sat at meat.
Now, there is no attempt to describe the distinctive
qualities of these two individuals. They occupy only a
small place in the scene. They appear before us but
for a moment at a time, and they say and do but little.
And yet they stand out with wonderful distinctness.
Their images are not blended and intermixed. Their
characteristic features are unveiled in the most inci
dental manner — by a word ; a breath lifts the veil, and
their faces once seen are never to be confounded.
From the first notice of them we gather that Martha
was possessed of an active, matter-of-fact temperament,
and that if not by age, by right of her peculiar charac
ter, she took the lead in household concerns. She set
herself immediately at work to provide an ample en
tertainment for her beloved guest, and had so little
sympathy with Mary, so imperfect an appreciation of
the real greatness of Jesus, so little of the -sensibility
whch was so prominent in her sister, that she com
plained of Mary, and invoked the authority of Jesus, to
10

74 MARY AND MARTHA.
obtain her sister's aid in her domestic labours. I pray
the reader, now, to mark the beautiful correspondence
of the other notices of the sisters with their characters
thus incidentally developed;
When, upon the death of Lazarus, their brother,
Jesus approached Bethany, the village where they
dwelt, and the rumour of his coming preceded him, it
was Martha that first heard it, and went .forth to meet
him. Mary sat still in the house. Martha, we may
suppose, was engaged in the active concerns of the
•household. How naturally the report of the approach
of Jesus came to her ears first ! Mary, with her
greater tenderness of mind, was in a retired part of.
the house. The custom of the age and country allowed
the afflicted to spend seven days in the indulgence) of
grief, and in receiving visits of condolence. With the
disposition of Mary this custom harmonised, and she
naturally availed herself of it. On any other occasion
— under any other circumstances, Mary, we may sup
pose, would have been the first to hasten to meet Jesus.
As it was, Martha went first, because she first heard that
he was coming. Mary went as soon as she was informed
of his approach. If Mary had heard that Jesus was
coming, before she learned it from Martha, then her
friends from Jerusalem, who were with her, must have
known it also, and they would have suspected whither
she was going, and not have supposed that she was
going to the grave to weep there.
And then how characteristic the manner in which
the sisters meet their venerated Friend. They both
addressed him in the same words, and the coincidence
is very natural, because the thought which they ex
pressed must have been continually uppermost in their
minds. They had perhaps said the same thing to each
other and to themselves a thousand times. " If thou

MARY AND MARTHA. 75
hadst been here, nry brother had not died !"* But
while Martha was able to enter into conversation with
Jesus, unembarrassed by her feelings, Mary as soon as
she saw him uttered a few words, and then fell at his
feet in an agony of tears.
When he directed the stone to be removed from the
mouth of the sepulchre, observe it is Martha, and not
Mary, who interferes, questioning the propriety of the
direction, and betraying the coarse turn of her mind ;
" Lord ! by this time he is offensive, for he hath been
dead four days !" Such a suggestion, we perceive,
came naturally from her. Mary's reverence for Jesus
was too profound to permit her to object to any thing
he might propose. While Martha, constitutionally in
capable of as deep a feeling, presumed to speak as if
he knew not what he was doing,
We have only one mention more of Mary and Mar
tha. Shortly after Lazarus had been raised from the
dead, Jesus again visited Bethany. ' Martha served.
But Mary Ibrought a quantity of costly ointment and
poured it upon his person.'t By this act, she simply
intended to express her personal reverence for Jesus.
How like herself is the attitude in which she is here
represented ! Perfumes and ointments formed a part
of the offices of hospitality. But the use of an ointment
so precious was a mark of extraordinary respect, and
showed how deeply Mary reverenced Jesus.
Let the incidents just briefly specified be pondered
well. Mark their exceeding brevity, and the accidental
manner in which they are introduced. And yet how
* This coincidence is no slight evidence of the unsuspecting integrity of
the narrator. If the story were fictitious, its author would scarcely have ven
tured, without some explanation, to put the same words into the mouths of
the sisters, as it would certainly appear at first sight to want verisimilitude.
t See Chap. X. Part II.

76

MARY AND MARTHA.

clear are the impressions we receive from them of the
characters of the two sisters. Two or three— and as
to any design on the part, of the narrators,— random
strokes, and the moral features of Martha and Mary
are before us in all the freshness of nature. The out
lines are complete, never running into each other, and
formed not purposely, but by the combination of a few
brief incidents. Let those believe who can, that the
circumstances related from which we have this result,
are matters of fiction and not of fact.
It will help us to estimate the characteristic of the
New Testament histories, which I am now illustrating,
to glance at the works of imagination abounding at the
present day, and observe how striking is the contrast
between them, and the writings under consideration,
in this respect. There is no department of Literature
in which human genius is so active and triumphant, as
in the composition of fictitious narratives. Within a
few years, through an alliance with history, an extra
ordinary revolution has been produced in this class of
writings. The novelist nowadays prepares himself for
his work by the acquisition of an extensive and familiar |
acquaintance with the customs, the opinions, the whole
condition of the period at which he lays the scene of
his story, and is thus enabled to throw over it an im
posing air of truth. And yet, after all, how much pains
do the most gifted, — does the great Northern Story
teller himself, take to impart to his readers distinct
and consistent impressions of the characters in which
he aims to awaken interest ! How continually are we
made to feel that incidents are either fabricated or
coloured in order to bring out character, or els^e, for
the sake of the story, occurrences are introduced which
violate the consistency of the characters portrayed. I
am reminded in this connexion by the force of the con-

PETER. 77
trast of the well-known romance of ' the Pirate.' If so
familiar an illustration may be allowed, we have only
to observe the care which the novelist has taken to
discriminate the characters of Minna and Brenda, to
perceive how immeasurably more striking is the brief
scriptural representation of Mary and Martha. In the
novel, every thing is done to assist the conceptions of
the reader by a minute personal description of the two
heroines, and they are thrown into circumstances cal
culated to bring out their respective peculiarities in
the most prominent manner. Whereas in those rapid
sketches of the New Testament, the incidents which
so consistently and admirably unfold the characters of
Mary and Martha are told with the utmost brevity,
and if for the sake of showing off any one, it is with a
view to the character of Christ. But natural even as
such a design might be, it does not appear to have
been entertained. The occurrences related, with all
the light they throw upon the moral features of the
individuals concerned, seemed to be mentioned for no
reasori but their simple truth. They had taken place.
They were real and therefore they were related.
The character of Peter is developed in a similar
way. Not the shadow of an attempt to describe him is
visible. But we cannot take up these narratives at
any passage where he is mentioned, without recognising
him as readily as we recognise the countenance of a
familiar friend.
For the sake of illustration, let me crave the atten
tion of the reader, while I endeavour to revive an inci
dent that occurred at the last Supper, mentioned in the
thirteenth chapter of the Gospel of John. Let us for
a moment leave the world in which we live, and go
back some eighteen hundred years into the past, and

70 PETER.
enter Jerusalem, the capital of that nation, which, of
all the nations of antiquity, was the only one that
worshipped one God, using no similitudes— no idols.
It is the season of the Passover, a great national
festival celebrating the ancient providence of Heaven.
The city is crowded with Jews from all parts of Judea,
and from remote regions. Its numerous dwellings are
now occupied by friendly and family parties, observing
the appointed ceremonies of the occasion, which con
sisted principally of a social entertt/nment, at which
the mercies of God in times past were commemorated
with appropriate forms. In a large upper room are
assembled thirteen individuals from Galilee. Extra
ordinary circumstances, as their looks and tones indi
cate, have given a peculiar interest to the occasion.
They have the air of men excited by strange events,
and high but vague expectations. One among them is
clearly shown to be their chief, by the deference which
is paid him. They seem to regard him as a prince
in disguise, a being of no common authority. He takes
the principal place at the table, and as they also seat
themselves, there is a struggle for precedence.* They
are evidently jealous of one another ; and a contention ,
* The strife at the last Supper is not mentioned by John. A notice of it is
found in Luke. But even if there were no mention of it in any of the Gospels,
we might infer that something of the kind took place from what is related.
The words and actions of Jesus were almost always suggested by some pass
ing incident. And I cannot but suppose that the striking lesson which he
gave his disciples when he washed their feet, was prompted by some evidence, :
afforded at the moment by their conduct, of their need of it. The nature of
the contention, which, I suppose, arose among them, also appears to be indi
cated by the very form of instruction which their master adopted — the per
formance of a menial service for them. In taking their places at the table, a
dispute probably arose, and jealous looks were exchanged. And to show them
how entirely out of place such feelings were, he performed for them the
lowest ofiice at a social entertainment. This view of the case seems to reveal
the propriety and significance of the symbolical act, by which Jesus sought
to convey a moral impression.

PETER. 79
arises among them which shall be the first. They are
inflamed by the prospect of the wealth and honours
which he, whom they acknowledge as their master, is,
as they conceive, shortly to distribute among them, and
the desire of these worldly advantages then, as always,
awakens feelings of animosity and ill-will. With these
earthborn passions, however, the countenance of their
Leader betrays no sympathy. A sublime purpose — a
singular and mysterious destiny has thrown over his
whole appearance an expression of unearthly greatness.
There in that face, in wonderful harmony, the melan
choly cast by the shadows of Suffering and Death is
blended with a peace kindled by light from an invisible
source. In the midst of the strife of his followers,
which evidently pains him deeply, for it seems to show
that all he had yet said and done, and it was not a
little, had been of no avail, — he quietly rises from the
table, lays aside his principal garments, takes a towel,
pours water into a basin, and then kneels and begins to
wash the feet of one of the company. Immediately
the harsh sounds of discord are hushed. Silence
reigns through the apartment. Every angry passion
.dies away — every angry glance is lost in the looks of
questioning and amazement which the disciples ex
change with one another. He goes from one to the
other, washing their feet; and they, struck dumb with
the awe which he habitually inspired, offer no resist
ance, until he comes to one who, unable to repress his
feelings, shrinks back, exclaiming, " Lord ! dost thou
wash my feet ?" The Master replies, " What I am
doing thou dost not understand now, but thou shalt
know shortly." " Thou shalt never wash my feet,"
rejoins his follower. " If I wash thee not," says Jesus,
"thou hast no part with me." "Lord, not my feet
only, but also my hands and my head !" cries the

80 PETER-
disciple, accompanying the words, no doubt, with a
movement full of expression.
The character of Jesus is not now our topic. Still I
cannot avoid a brief allusion to the agreement of this
passage with all that we elsewhere learn of him. How
perfectly in character the method by which he sought
to teach his friends to defer to one another ! Since all
that he had already said and done had failed to inspire
them with a generous spirit, it would seem as if he
adopted this method as a last resort, intending, we
might almost think, to shock them by the attitude he
assumed, the office he discharged, resolved to make
an impression upon their minds never to be effaced.
And then, too, how wisely and characteristically did
he manage his resisting follower, melting him down
with the words " if I wash thee not," i. e., if I do not
cleanse thee, (to thy heart's core,) " thou hast no part
with me." Thus he avoided an explanation of what
he was about, until he had gone round and performed
the same menial service for all, and so rendered the
impression as strong as! possible. "If," the disciple
exclaims, in effect, " if thou put it on that ground— if
my place in thine heart be in question, then wash me
all over."
Who now requires to be informed that it was Peter
with whom this short conversation took place ? His
speech bewrayeth him. As in the Hall of the High
Priest's house, his accent proved him to be a Galilean,
so all that he says and does shows him to be Peter, and
no other. We discover here the same individual who
a little while after, when Jesus told his disciples they
could not follow him then, (through the rugged and
bloody path by which he was to be perfected,) protest
ed, " Lord ! why cannot I follow thee now, I will lay
down my life for thy sake," and yet, shortly after, upon

PETER. 8£
a change of circumstances, denied all knowledge of
Jesus. This is he — the very man — we know him at
once — who can help recognising him? — that, upon
another occasion, after Jesus had commended him for
the explicit avowal of his faith, exclaiming, " Blessed
art thou, Simon son of Jonas," and pronouncing him
the rock upon which he would build his religion, was
so emboldened by the praise, that, when his master
immediately afterwards was telling his disciples how he
was about to suffer and die, he had the forwardness to
contradict and rebuke Jesus, saying, " Be it far from
thee, Lord, this shall not be done unto thee," and so
incurred a reproof as severe as the previous com
mendation was warm. This is the same individual
who, yet at another time, when he saw his master
coming on the water toward him and his fellow-dis
ciples, who were in a vessel on the Lake of Galilee,
cried out, " Bid me now come unto thee on the water,"
and when, at the bidding of Jesus, he had left the ship,
and the waves were rolling around him, was so over
powered with terror, that he exclaimed, " Lord ! save
me, or I perish !" In all these instances we see the
same moral individual — the same self-confidence — the
same sudden fluctuations of feeling. It is not putting
the case too strongly to say, that if the name of Peter
were stricken out in all these passages, and, instead,
we were merely told that one of the disciples said or
did so and so, that one disciple would stand forth to
our minds in bold and unmarred individuality. We
could not mistake him. No one could suppose that the
writer or writers of the New Testament had any inten
tion — any thought of communicating to us an idea of
Peter. And yet such an idea is received far more
vividly than it could have been from the most minute
and laboured description. No one has ever read the
11

go PILATE.
New Testament with any degree of attention without
gathering from it an impression of Peter, distinct and
peculiar. And yet, let it not be forgotten, no care is
taken by the historians to produce this impression. It
is the direct but undesigned result of a simple record
of a few simple facts. This is that divine harmony
of nature, (that truthful consistency, which infinitely out
weighs all the discrepancies of words and dates, and
which the most transcendent genius may imitate, but
never equal.
The impression derived from the Gospels of the
moral character of the Roman Procurator, Pontius
Pilate, is wonderfully vivid and consistent ; especially
when we consider how brief is his appearance in the
Divine Drama. He had degenerated greatly from the
old Roman nobleness. Want of moral strength was
his chief trait. This defect continually produces re
sults as disastrous as those that flow from a determined
malignity of purpose. Men of good feelings, but desti
tute of the guidance of a good principle, bring calami
ties *upon themselves and others, as heavy as if they
were actuated by the basest motives, and had delibe
rately said unto evil, ' Be thOu our good !' Of the truth
of this remark, Pilate affords an ever memorable in
stance. That such was his character is most evident
from the Christian records. Almost every word attrib
uted to him is in keeping with it. He appears to have
been persuaded of the innocence of Jesus, but he had
not courage to resist the mob headed by the priests.
And the miserable expedients to which he had recourse
to throw off his inevitable responsibility, all betray the
same imbecility.
He first tried to get rid of the case altogether^-to
make the Jews settle it themselves.

PILATE. 83
Failing in this, he caught at the mention of Galilee,
and as soon as he was told that Jesus was a Galilean,
he sent him to Herod who was then at Jerusalem, and
within whose jurisdiction Galilee was. But Herod re
turned the prisoner upon his hands.
As the next resort he attempted to persuade the
populace to bestow their mercy upon Jesus, rather than
Barabbas. I am aware that it was customary among the Romans
to scourge those condemned to be crucified, just before
execution. But from the different accounts we are led
to infer, that Pilate caused this part of the punishment
to be inflicted on Jesus under the idea that it would
appease the Jews. He brought the prisoner forth,
bleeding under the recent tortures of the scourge, and
called the attention of the mob to him, as if he hoped
thereby to induce them to relent. Is not this precisely
the course a weak man under such circumstances
would adopt, as if by yielding he would not inflame and
encourage the cruel passions of the people instead of
subduing them ?
When Jesus, seeing that words were of no avail,
and that the magistrate had no strength to withstand
the priests, preserved a dignified silence, Pilate at
tempts to make him speak by reminding him of his
power. " Speakest thou not unto me ? knowest thou
not that I have power to release thee, and have power
to crucify thee ?" How palpable here is his cowardice
in the idle vaunt of a power existing, as he must have
known in his own soul, only in name !
He was awed too, as indeed a much stronger man
might, and so weak a man must have been, by the look
and bearing of the prisoner, connected with the rumour
of his extraordinary career, which could not have failed
to reach his ears; with the dream of his wife, whose

84

PILATE.

imagination, no doubt, had been excited by reports of
the words and works of the remarkable person ar
raigned before her husband, and with the declaration
of the priests that Jesus had called himself the Son of
God. And then again, the symbolical act of washing his
hands before all the people, to which the numbers and
uproar of the mob compelled Pilate to have recourse,
to signify that he had nothing to do with the death of
Jesus, expressive though it was, was utterly vain. He
could not throw off the responsibility of his office as he
dashed the water from his hands ; and only a weak-
minded man could have found any satisfaction in such
a device. When the Jews indirectly menace him with an ac
cusation of a want of loyalty to the Roman Emperor,
he is evidently alarmed and overborne. And he en
deavours to conceal the effect of the threat under a
ridicule, which he dwells upon so long that we may
well suspect it to be affected. " No man," Dr. John
son has somewhere observed, " thinks much of that
which he despises." Thus Pilate repeats the title of
King in application to Jesus, too often to allow it to be
believed that he really ridiculed and despised the
charge which the Jews threatened to allege against
him. " Behold your king !" he said to the Jews. And
when they shouted, "Away with him, crucify him," he
replies, " Shall I crucify your king ?" And the inscrip
tion which he caused to be affixed to the Cross in He
brew, Latin, and Greek—" This is the King of the
Jews," and which he refused to alter, was partly dic
tated we may suppose by this state of mind, and partly
by the mean desire of ridiculing the Jews and so re
venging himself upon them for the painful fears they
had awakened in his breast. That a suspicion of his

JOHN— PHARISEES. 85
loyalty should have made such an impression upon Pi
late, cannot surprise us when we bring into view his
subsequent fate, — banishment upon a charge of trea
son, — and the distrustful character of the reigning Em
peror, Tiberius. With this prince, as Tacitus informs
us, the charge of treason was the sum of all charges.
In the instance of Pilate, as in the other cases men
tioned, how all-unconscious are the narrators of the
consistency they have preserved ! They have thought
only of giving a simple relation of the things they had
seen and heard. And the keeping, discernible between
the details of their histories, is the natural result and
accompaniment of real facts, a portion of that harmony
pervading all real objects, all actual occurrences. In
short, we behold here the presence of that Divinity that
not only shapes our ends, but impresses and moulds all
realities, abrupt, rough-hewn, and disjointed as they
may at first seem.
I cannot altogether omit a brief reference to the dis
ciple John, as an example of that trait which we are
now considering. From all the Gospels we gather that
he was one of the three favourite friends of Jesus. Not
much is told of him, but he speaks of himself as the
especial object of the Master's love. But he shows no
consciousness of the evidence he gives in support of
this character when he tells us that he sat next to
Jesus at the last supper and leaned upon his bosom.
How beautiful too is the correspondence between his
intimacy with his venerated Friend, and the benign
and spiritual tenor of his Epistles !
A similar consistency is maintained in the notices,
not only of individuals, but also of whole classes of men.
The Pharisees are represented as attaching the first

86 THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS.
importance to forms, to external rites, disregarding the
moral requisitions of the Law, cherishing without re
straint the most selfish and corrupt passions. Every
thing ascribed to them, accords with this represent
tation. At one time they are on the watch to see
whether Jesus would perform a cure on the Sabbath.
Zealous for the sacredness of that day, they had no
hearts for a work of mercy. At another they pro
nounced him a Sabbath-breaker, because on that day
he had not only given sight to a man born blind, but
had done it in disregard of that tradition, which re
garded it as a profanation of the Sabbath to use any
medicaments on that day, even so much as to put
saliva on the eyes. Again they deem it a serious charge
against the disciples of Jesus that he did not require
them to observe frequent fasts, and that, regardless of
the danger of uncleanness, they did not scrupulously
wash their hands before eating. When they carried
Jesus before the Roman magistrate, thirsting for his
blood, the Pharisees refused to enter the Gentile Hall
of judgment, lest they should contract ceremonial pol
lution and be unfitted for the observance of the Pass*
over. And once more, they could clamour for the
blood of the innocent, but they could not endure that
the bodies of the crucified should remain upon the
Crosses, exposed to public view, defiling the Sabbath
and the Festival. All these things are related briefly
and incidentally, without any effort to point out their
agreement, nay, without any consciousness that this
agreement is at all worthy of note.
So also the words and feelings attributed to that
little band, the personal followers of Jesus, harmonise
wonderfully, but most naturally with one another, with
all that we know of human nature, and with the pro-

THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS. 87
bable circumstances of the case. They were evidently
men possessing no small degree of ingenuousness.
Their hearts were open to the spiritual power and
beauty of the instructions and character of Jesus. He
impressed and won their affections. Still they shared
in the universal expectation of the times. And while
they venerated and loved him, they still clung to him
with mixed motives, in part with worldly views and
hopes. At quite an early period, upon being interro
gated by him as to what they supposed him to be, they
avowed through Peter, that they believed him to be
the Messiah. To have come so early to such a con
clusion manifested great openness of mind. It showed
how much they had been impressed by the moral
wisdom he had uttered, the deeds of mercy he had
wrought. By these they were convinced, although he
had neither declared himself to be the Messiah, nor
had he done any thing conformable to their idea of
that expected Deliverer, nor did his external appear
ance present any thing of the magnificence which they
had identified with that illustrious personage. Still
they did not relinquish the darling hope of a splendid
kingdom. They are continually betraying the tenacity
with which they cling to it. Once they asked their
master, " Who is the greatest in the kingdom of Hea
ven ?" — a generalquestion apparently. But when we
observe that a little while before they were quarrelling
among themselves, who among them should be the
first in the approaching empire, — when we consider
the reply of Jesus, who beckoned a little child to him,
and told them they could never so much as enter the
heavenly kingdom (a moral kingdom) until they gave
up all their prepossessions and became as docile in
his hands as that little child, — we perceive that, al
though they couched their question in general terms,
their object was to ascertain who among themselves

88

THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS.

was to be the chief officer under the new dispensation.
Again, when Jesus declared that it was easier for a
camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a
rich man to enter the kingdom of God, meaning obvi
ously by this declaration, that it was next to impossible
for one accustomed to the self-indulgence of wealth to
descend voluntarily to the despised and persecuted
condition of those who sought with him to effect a
grand moral revolution, — the disciples were exceed
ingly astonished, and exclaimed, 'who then can be
saved !' The salvation they were thinking of, was a
political deliverance, and they could not understand
how there could be any salvation, any kingdom, if the
rich were to have no part in it. Jesus perceiving that
they were not yet able to bear a further disclosure of
the true character of the approaching dominion, forbore
to shock them any more, contenting" himself with as
suring them, that although it appeared to be impossible
to them, for the heavenly kingdom to be established
without rich men, yet it was very possible with God.
Still they are uneasy, and Peter, no doubt expressing
the wishes of his fellow disciples, and deeming it high
time to come to an understanding, immediately asks,
" And what shall we have therefore, we, who have left
all and followed thee ?" So deep was their impression
that he would establish an external kingdom, that after
his death, they sorrowfully exclaim, " We had thought
it had been he who was to redeem Israel." And just
before his final disappearance their inquiry is, " Lord,
wilt thou now restore the kingdom to Israel ?"
With these coarse, worldly expectations, it is beau
tiful to see how there was growing up in their minds a
deep sentiment of reverence and affection for Jesus,—
a disposition to defer to his authority before which
their earthly hopes were destined slowly to recede,
and, if never to be formally abandoned, yet to lose all

THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 89
vital influence. It was their hearts that were first
touched, and that were gradually expanded, until the
narrowing bands of their prejudices were broken. The
evidence of their personal attachment for Jesus is seen
in the fidelity with which they adhered to him, despite
the example of the great and powerful, and the con
tinued inconsistency of his words and conduct with all
they had so confidently expected. Once and again
they were afraid to question him, so great was their
awe of him. And their great respect for their master
is incidentally shown at the Last Supper, as we once
heard it finely remarked by a friend. When their
master declared that one of them would betray him,
they did not resent the accusation, but in the spirit of
a touching self-distrust, which their experience of his
better wisdom had taught them to cherish, the cry
broke forth on every side, " Lord, is it I ?" " Is it I ?"
When one whom we deeply reverence charges us with
an evil design, we suspect ourselves of it, rather than
him of a wanton accusation. So was it with the per
sonal friends of Jesus.
But all this appears in the narratives in the most
accidental manner possible. It may be said that it is
all a matter of inference. I acknowledge freely that
it is so. On this very account, because it is so plainly
undesigned, it is affecting and decisive. That the
Gospel histories admit of inferences so accordant with
nature, so consistent one with another, is to my mind
an irresistible sign of truth; It is a sign from heaven.
To truth alone can such perfect harmony belong.
Of the unconscious consistency which is so distin
guishing a feature of the New Testament narratives,
there is one illustration, in comparison with which the
instances already mentioned, striking as they are, sink
12

90

THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST.

into insignificance. I allude to that great moral won
der, the character of Jesus Christ. The other charac
ters brought into view in the Christian records are, in
their prominent traits, of no peculiar and uncommon
kind. They indeed stand out before us fully and indi
vidually, without any pains taken by the narrators to
produce this effect. Still they may be severally as
signed to classes, with which trie daily intercourse of
life and our common observation of human nature have
rendered us familiar. Who has not often met with
persons resembling Mary and Martha, Peter, Johii
and Pilate in their principal features ? But the char
acter of Jesus stands alone, without precedent or
pattern. It constitutes a specimen — a model by itself.
The history of the world furnishes us with no other
instances to be classed along with it. Here the lofties|
and loveliest attributes of humanity meet, fully, de
veloped in one individual. In his person, not only
are conjoined in the profoundest harmony those re
markable qualities, which have been exhibited by dif
ferent men at remote intervals, " every creature's best,"
but we discern new forms of virtue, a new manifesta
tion of greatness.
Although through the extravagant errors which have
prevailed concerning the nature of Christ, his character
has been but very partially apprehended, still it has
generally been felt to be the grand argument for Chris
tianity. But it appears to me that the very remarkable
manner in which it is bodied forth in the Four Gospels
has never arrested the attention which it deserves.
For my own part, I am at a loss to say which is the
most astonishing, the character itself, or the way in
which it is exhibited by the historians of the life of
Jesus. In him we have a new and original specimen of

THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 91
human nature. If he never had an existence — if he
were a fictitious personage, it is evident that the
writers of his life had no model to go by. But while
he is original, he is at the same time perfectly natural.
He is an harmonious whole, a self-consistent individual.
This is abundantly enough to satisfy me of his reality.
For it is not for minds deluding or deluded, and one
or the other we must suppose the New Testament
authors to have been if we do not admit their truth, it
is not for such minds, nor is it within the ability of any
human mind to produce a new creation, — to make a
new form of humanity, stamped all over with the truth
and naturalness which characterize only the works of
nature and of God.
But this is not all. The crowning wonder still is the
manner in which the character of Jesus is placed
before us. At once, in the highest degree, new and
natural, it is nowhere elaborately described in the four
Gospels. There is not the slightest appearance of an
attempt at minute description or analysis. That the
writers felt most deeply the force of the character of
Jesus, is not to be doubted. But, (and perhaps for this
very reason, because they felt it so deeply,) they do
not endeavour to define its force, or to point out
wherein its peculiar greatness and beauty lay.* In the
briefest and most rapid manner they have related a
variety of occurrences in which he bore a conspicuous
part. Their narrations show no traces of care or
* "To analyze the characters of others, especially of those whom we love,
is not a common or natural employment of men at any time. We are not anx
ious unerringly to understand the constitution of the minds of those who have
soothed, who have cheered, who have supported us; with whom we have
been long and daily pleased and delighted. The affections are their own
justification. The Light of Love in our Hearts is a satisfactory evidence that
there is a body of worth in the minds of our friends or 'kindred, whence that
light lias proceeded."— Wordsworth, Essay on Epitaphs.

92 THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST.
labour, no pains to put things together in a way to
assist the reader to form, I say not a consistent idea
of Jesus, but so much as any idea of him at all. They
seem to be possessed with only one very plain and
natural purpose — a simple relation of the things they
had seen and heard, as they appeared to them. The
reader may find a sufficient exemplification of these
remarks, in the instances which I have already ad
duced in another connexion. Still one case occurs to
me so strikingly in point that I must mention it here.
Once, as we read, a young man, of a very winning
appearance, came and knelt before Jesus, saying,
" Good master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life !"
He is rebuffed with the reply, " Why callest thou me
good? There is none good but one, God." Again,
when a woman, with an amiable sensibility, broke forth
in blessing the mother of Jesus, his language is, " Yea,
rather blessed are they who hear the word of God, and
keep it." Now these instances would seem to imply
in Jesus an extreme sensitiveness to any disposition on
the part of those around him, to magnify him personally.
And yet, when Mary came and poured that costly oint
ment upon him, an act whereby she expressed the
greatest personal reverence, he upheld the propriety of
the apparent waste, and paid no respect to the very
plausible suggestion — " Why was not this ointment
sold, and given to the poor ?" A consideration of the
respective circumstances of the three occasions alluded
to will satisfy us, that the language of Jesus, on each
occasion, was expressive of, and consistent with, a
healthy sensibility of mind. We shall recur to these
passages of his life more particularly hereafter. In the
meanwhile it is interesting to observe, that for all that
appears in the letter of the narratives, there is a down
right inconsistency. Looking only at what they ex-

THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST. 93
pressly mention, we scarcely recognise the same indi
vidual in him who so willingly received the costly
offering of Mary's reverence, and yet so promptly re
jected the respectful address of the young ruler at one
time, and at another, sought so instinctively to give a
different direction to the sensibility of the female who
poured out her benedictions upon his,mother. Here is
most impressive evidence, to my mind, that the writers
of his history were wholly unconscious of any attempt
to portray his moral features, or to communicate an
individual idea of him. They are entirely occupied
with the facts, the particulars that fhad passed before
their eyes, and they leave all conclusions and inferences
to take care of themselves.
Now this, I say, is the great and all-satisfying mira
cle — that from histories of this description we are able
to form in our minds a distinct and consistent concep
tion of an individual, such as the world has never seen
before nor since. If, indeed, instead of being what they
are, the Four Gospels were careful and laboured de
scriptions of Jesus Christ, profound critical analysis of
his moral traits, even in this case I should be at a
loss to understand how so grand a moral idea could
ever have been suggested to the human mind but by
reality. In its reality I should find the most obvious and
sufficient cause of its existence. But as it is, it is im
measurably more surprising that from such books as
those of the New Testament, for the most part the
merest record of particulars briefly told, we should
come at a result so novel, sublime, and yet so perfectly
natural. Thinking only, as it appears, of relating what
they had seen and heard, with such faculties and op
portunities as Providence had granted them, the au
thors, of these histories have furnished us, without
appearing to know it, with the means of forming an

94

THE CHARACTER OF CHRIST.

idea of individual character, the most harmonious and
the most kindling, — an idea that appeals to our best
sentiments, animates our noblest springs of action, and
transfigures our whole nature, through the veneration
it commands, the imitation which it urges us to at
tempt. Surely an idea so generous in its influence,
possessing so practical a power, so accordant with the
highest nature of man, must be founded in reality. A
mere fiction, the offspring of ignorant delusion or sel
fish cunning, never could have such an effect. Other
wise, all distinctions between the true and the false are
broken down and obliterated.
The character of Christ, as I have already remarked,
has as yet been very imperfectly understood. It would
almost seem to require another Messiah to do justice
to the first. It is not for this age, far less for this
feeble pen, adequately to portray his pure spiritual
glory. That I approach this subject, therefore, with a
diffidence almost amounting to despair, I pray the
reader to believe. Happy shall I be, if to a single
mind I can communicate one quickening impression,
impart one inspiring glimpse of Him, in whom are hid
treasures of life, and truth, and good. If on any occa
sion it is appropriate to invoke the inspiration of a
higher power, — if my heart ever heaves with unuttered
prayers for light and grace* — for the sanctifying influ
ence of the Holy Spirit, it is when I approach this
theme with a desire to depict its glories. What eye,
dimmed by mortality, shall behold Jesus Christ as
he is !
In the foregoing pages, my principal aim has been
to illustrate the style and spirit of the New Testament
historians. But in fulfilling this purpose it is impossible,
even were it desirable, to speak of the character of the

FIRST PART, CONCLUDED. 95
writers without remarking also, more or less at length,
upon the character of their subject. They naturally
illustrate each other. Thus far I have kept this last
topic, secondary and incidental. I shall now reverse
the relation, making the life and character of Jesus,
the principal theme, and illustrating the style of his
biographers only incidentally. Thus the present work
divides itself into Two Parts, the first of which is ter
minated here.

96

PART II.
CHAPTER I.
THE NATIVITY.
" Can it at all lessen the credibility of the two Evangelists, (Matthew and
Luke,) that each admitted into his history (of the Nativity) some passages
not purely historical 7 Certainly not with a candid judge, who considers
that all this serves still only as a prelude to the proper subject of the
history, which was the Public Life of Jesus.'' Schleiermacher, Critical
Essay on the Gospel of St. Luke, English Trans, p. 51.
In the examination of the notices of the Birth of
Jesus of Nazareth, there are certain considerations to
be attended to, which, although they may not lead us
near enough to the truth to enable us to discern its
precise form, are nevertheless indispensable guides, so
far as they go.
Receiving the sketches, that have come down to us,
of the life of Jesus as simple human histories, the pro
ductions of honest and intelligent men, while we ac
knowledge their substantial truth, we cannot possibly
avoid admitting the liability of their authors to error.
To hold the Gospels to be human compositions and to
maintain their absolute freedom from mistake are ideas
wholly irreconcilable. For it is of the nature of every
thing human to be marked with imperfection. But
because these writings, being human, are necessarily

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 97
imperfect, to assert that they lose all claim to trust
worthiness, is a very precipitate and dangerous conclu
sion. A perfect human work is, in strict terms, not an
impossibility, but an absurdity. We might as well
speak of a perfect imperfect work. The pretension
therefore in behalf of any book to absolute perfection,
might justly provoke skepticism and " cast ominous
conjecture on its whole success." On the other hand,
the very imperfections of any human work, taking their
form from the time and place of the writer, from his
character and the nature of the subject of which he
treats, aid us in determining the extent of his credi
bility. The strongest argument for the truth of the
Gospel narratives is found, as I have endeavoured in
the foregoing pages to show, in the marks of human
nature, in the traces, every where visible throughout
these remarkable histories, of human minds, honest
and intelligent, and yet impressed by the institutions,
partaking of the opinions and prejudices of a certain
period and country, and affected, in various ways, more
or less powerfully, by the very facts they narrate; We
are not then to be dismayed at the slightest appearance
of misstatement in wqrks which we acknowledge to be
productions of men. The thing is inevitable. But not
only so, the mistakes that appear, produced in part by
the very truth of the facts related, not only do not im
pair, they may confirm our faith, and more powerfully
than any direct external evidence.
It is true the errors discoverable in a given work
may be so numerous, and of so serious a character, as
entirely to. destroy its credibility. It is none the less
true, none the less to be considered that,, as no man is
so honest and wise as to be placed, beyond the possi
bility of misapprehension, so some degree of error may
consist with sterling integrity of purpose and first rate
13

98 RUMOURS OF APPARITIONS
powers of observation. An individual may relate to us
an event, ordinary or extraordinary, in such terms,' in
such a manner, with such an air, as to satisfy us per
fectly that he must have witnessed it.. Such may be
his relation, that, upon the closest examination, we may
be convinced, beyond the possibility of doubt, that it is
founded in reality. He may tell us at the same time
of another event, equally remarkable and as confidently
believed in by him, of which, however, he neither pro
fesses to have, nor, from his own showing, could he
possibly have, the same direct personal knowledge as
in the former instance. Are we to receive both rela
tions with the same confidence ? Or because we hesi
tate to admit one must our faith in the other waver?
Perhaps the very reality of the first fact related has
occasioned misapprehension in the other case.
For example. Matthew relates that at the cruci
fixion of Jesus " many bodies of the saints who slept
rose, and after his resurrection, came into the holy
city and appeared unto many." I suppose that Mat
thew believed this statement. And his believing it is
a strong reason why it should be considered well and
decided upon with care. But my confidence in his
integrity, and intelligence is not to be questioned be
cause I hesitate to admit it, nor, without a violation of
common charity and common sense, can it be inferred
that I doubt the truth of the other and more important
parts of the narrative. Did I not fully believe the
other facts, the works, death and resurrection of Jesi*s,
did I not perceive the numerous and decisive evidences
to his competency as an eye-witness, which Matthew
has given in the whole structure of his narrative, I
should not see the reason that I do for pausing over
the passages referred to. As it is, I cannot help ob
serving that Matthew does not say, nor imply, that

AFTER THE RESURRECTION OF JESUS. 99
either he himself or any of the immediate disciples
saw the saints who rose from their graves and came
into the city. He simply states what 'many' affirmed.
And precisely in proportion to the vividness of our faith
in the miraculous career of Jesus, as narrated by Mat
thew, in the thrilling impression which his extraordi
nary life and death and the rumour of his resurrection
must have made on the public mind, we shall perceive
how very natural it was, under the circumstances, that
'many' should see visions and dream dreams, that
throughout the city, the scene of the great catastrophe,
rumours should be rife of ghosts and apparitions, ru
mours communicated by one to another with white
cheeks and lips and glaring eyes, and that in such an
excited state of public feeling, these things should be
told as actual facts, unquestionable visitations from the
world of spirits. As such they are represented by
Matthew. And we may suppose that he believed them
without questioning his good sense or his honesty. Let
a man of no ordinary soundness of judgment and purity
of purpose be placed in Matthew's situation, and wit
ness the things which the Evangelist had seen, and we
may easily conceive that he. would have been impressed
more or less deeply by popular reports, and disposed
to give them credit. It does not weaken a rational con
fidence in Matthew that in this instance he has stated
a rumour as a fact. On the contrary, our confidence
in the soundness of his judgment may well be increased
when we observe how little of fiction is mingled with
his narrative, and what abounding internal evidences
are presented that the things he relates, are not illu
sions but realities, not matters of hearsay, credited
upon inadequate grounds, but facts, which the writer
knew. I am persuaded that he was a man remarkably
sound in head and heart, protected against false im-

jQQ THE DELIVERANCE OF PETER
pressions by a mind of singular truth. Neitherhe nor
his brother historians give us the slightest reason to
regret, that wiser and better men were not present to
be the witnesses and narrators of those great events.
Taking all things into consideration, I am unable to
conceive how the work could have been better done.
The aim of these remarks is best shown by instances;
and I mention another. In the 12th chapter of the
Book of Acts, there is an account of the deliverance of
the Apostle Peter from the prison into which he had
been thrown by Herod. "Peter therefore was kept
in prison ; but prayer was made without ceasing of the
church unto God for him. And when Herod would
have brought him forth (to put him to death), the same
night Peter was sleeping between two soldiers, bound
with two chains ; and the keepers before the door kept
the prison. And, behold, the angel of the Lord came
upon him, and a light shone ih the prison; and he
smote Peter on the side, and raised him up, saying,
Arise up quickly. And his chains fell off from his
hands. And the angel said unto him, ' Gird thyself and
bind on thy sandals:' and so he did. And he saith
unto him, 'Cast thy garments about thee, and follow
me.' And he went out and followed him ; and wist not
that it was true which was done by the angel; but
thought he saw a vision. When they were past the
first and the second ward, they came unto the iron
gate that leadeth into the city ; which opened to them
of its own accord ; ahd they went out, and passed on
through one street ; and forthwith the angel departed
from him, and when Peter was come to himself, he
said, ' Now I know of a surety that the Lord hath sent
his angel and hath delivered me out of the hands of
Herod and from all the expectations of the Jews.' "
Now, without casting the slightest suspicion on the

FROM PRISON. . 1Q1
Apostle's head or heart, we may suppose that he mis
apprehended the circumstances here stated. That he
was a man " of an incorrigible and losing honesty,"
the statement itself shows. He relates that he was
' asleep' when the angel came to him, and that when
he was awake, 'he wist not that it was real which
was done by the angel, but thought he saw a vision.'
And when the angel left him, he speaks of ' coming to
himself.' Is it for a moment to be disputed that the
testimony of an individual to the things, which he sees
in such a state of mind, is to be taken with some
abatement ? He may be eminently discreet and honest,
yet as he is a man he is liable in such a state to misap
prehend what passes before .him. There are no mortal
powers of observation so strong as not to be disturbed,
more or less, under such circumstances. We are per
mitted, nay, we are required, in all truth to suspect a
mistake, especially since our knowledge of the state of
things intimates with the greatest probability the true
account of this incident. Let us look at it more
closely. We have a very imperfect sense of the magnitude of
these things which Peter had witnessed, of the singular
powers of Him with whom the Apostle had been asso
ciated as a friend and disciple, if we overlook the
effect which the recent ministry of Jesus must have
had on Peter's mind. What an experience had been
his! Having witnessed the wonders wrought by his
master, having held converse with one whom God had
sent and whom the grave had restored, having come
himself to be engaged in a great Work, a work which
enjoyed the special providence of Heaven, could he
have possibly avoided being swayed by all that he had
seen and felt? Suddenly aroused from sleep in the
prison from which he looked to be liberated only by

102

THE STATE OF PETER'S MIND,

death, was it not natural that his first and absorbing
impression should be, that God had specially inter,
posed for his deliverance, and that the person, who led
him out, was an angel from Heaven ; and was it not
equally natural that every thing that occurred should
be coloured by this impression ? >t
And further, do we really believe that the events,
recorded in the gospels, actually took plaCe 1 Do we
believe in that miraculous Man of Nazareth, in the in
stantaneous restoration of the sick, lame, and blind, in
the raising «of Lazarus, and in the awful death and re
appearance of Jesus himself, and can we conceive that,
at such a spectacle, the like of which had never before
been exhibited on earth, the minds of all who came
within sight and sound thereof, did not stir and quake
to their inmost depths ? Why, enough had happened
to shake the very world out of its place. The whole
history of Jesus gives evidence that he wrought on the
public mind With unprecedented power. The common
people heard him gladly, and thronged around him by
thousands, and, but that they were cowering slaves, they
would have risen in a mass against the spiritual tyrants
who oppressed them, and put him to death. At the
time of Peter's imprisonment, there were thousands of
Christians in and around Jerusalem. He would, not
have been thought worthy of Herod's notice, if the
cause in which he was engaged, was not making
alarming progress. Thousands were praying fervently
for his deliverance. It is not to be doubted that there
were hundreds, thousands more, secret friends and
Well-wishers of the Christians, persons imperfectly ac
quainted with Christianity, neither considered, nor call
ing themselves, disciples, and yet ready to help the
Christians, or at least, to connive at their success. Se
cret favourers of the cause, it is natural to suppose,

TO BE TAKEN INTO ACCOUNT. JQ3
were to be found every where, even among the minis
ters of the law, and official servants of the government.
These things being so, and we must shut our eyes to
all history and observation, and to all we know of
human nature to suppose otherwise, is it not highly
probable that the Apostle was liberated by a plan con
certed by persons who were either unknown to him
and his immediate friends, or were anxious for their
own safety to keep themselves concealed, and who,
through some address, had obtained the means of en
tering the prison ? The two chains by which he was
bound to the two guards sleeping beside him, and
which to the wondering, half-awake Apostle seemed to
fall from him, were probably unfastened softly before
he awoke, that ,the guards might not be aroused. The
gate, that appeared to open of itself, was opened by a
human, though an unseen, hand. It is easy to con
ceive how such a plot may have been laid and exe
cuted. And if it were, nothing is more natural than
that it should have appeared to Peter precisely as it
did. Had he viewed it otherwise, it would have ar
gued a lack of sensibility in him, and shown that his
mind had not been impressed by the exciting experi
ence of the few years previous, as it must have been,
were thajt mind human, and that experience, real. I
cannot imagine how an honest, devout man, a witness
of the life of Jesus, a prisoner expecting death, and a
Jew, in the bewilderment in which he declares himself
to have been, could have avoided the misapprehension
into which he fell.
This account of the mode of Peter's escape from
prison, may or may not be the true account. But he
who objects to it that it affects the authority of Chris
tianity, knows not the impregnable foundations upon

104 THE GOSPELS, TRUE.
which our religion, as an historical fact, rests. The
above account presupposes the substantial truth of the ,
history of Christ. It is the reality of all that preceded
the imprisonment of Peter that makes this view of the'
case probable.
These observations are wholly, misapprehended if
they are thought to imply, or to have a tendency to
produce, a distrust of the historical truth of the gos
pels. The ground here taken is plainly this : supposing
these narratives to be true, the best histories ever
written, still, as they are the compositions of men, they
cannot be devoid of error. We must make up our
minds to find mistakes here as in every human work.
A book may contain many errors, arid yet, all circum
stances considered, make pretensions to no ordinary
degree of accuracy. < No charge of error brought
against the Gospels alarms me. If it be sweeping and
unqualified, if it be said that they are full of errors;
that the main faets are wholly misstated, I deny it ut
terly, and demand proof without fear. I know better.
I see that the whole texture of these books was woven
in the loom of Truth. But if it be meant onlyvthat
there are errors with regard to a few subordinate par
ticulars, the answer is, some degree of error was to be
expected, especially when we consider to what untried
and powerful influences the minds of their authors were
exposed. It could not be otherwise. Calmly and fear—
lessly then, nay, with confidence and hope let us exa
mine the probable errors, and see to what they amount.
I venture to assert that in every case as in the two in
stances I have adduced, it will be found that the error
was occasioned by the stirring truth of the principal
facts recorded ; that whenever the writers have misap
prehended certain particulars, it was because they had

THE ACCOUNTS OF THE NATIVITY. 105
been eye-witnesses of the life of Jesus, participants in
its wonderful scenes.
The foregoing remarks have a direct bearing upon
our inquiries into the circumstances of the birth of
Christ. The History informs us that he was conceived
in a miraculous manner, that an angel appeared to his
mother, a virgin, and announced his birth, and that he
was accordingly born without a human father, the off
spring of the Holy Spirit of God.*
Now there is an improbability of the truth of this
account, arising from its very unusual and extraor
dinary character, which, however, is not decisive. We
cannot conclude upon this ground alone that the ac
count is false. It justifies us in demanding very power
ful evidence, but no more. We are not at liberty to
reject the story altogether. If the fact proposed, how
ever strange, is not an , absurdity, a contradiction in
terms, a nonentity, it may admit of proof, although it
might require the very strongest. Whatever is pos
sible is probable. I use this word, not in its most
common sense as implying an actual and admitted pre
ponderance ' of evidence, but, in a stricter sense, as
.equivalent to ' capable of proof.' And with this use of
the term, I say again, whatever is possible is probable,
because we live, and move, and have our being, in the
midst of a Power of inexhaustible resources and cease
less activity. Thus situated, seeing what we see, it is
natural and right for us to expect new manifestations
* It is well known that the genuineness of the passage in Matthe\y from
which the above account is derived, has been, and is disputed. But the prin
cipal objections to it rest upon internal considerations, and will of course lose
their weight, if it should appear that its internal character has not been rightly
apprehended. See Norton on the Genuineness of the Gospels, additional
notes, p. liii. 14

10@ UPON WHAT GROUNDS,
of power, transcending all our experience. ' But then,'
it will be said, ' men are so apt to be deluded ; to mis
take the fictions of their own imagination for miracles,
that we must be cautious.' Yes, we must be cautious,
very. But to decide against a reported fact off-hand,
only because it is unprecedented, is not caution, but
pure rashness. Why are men so prone to delusion, so
ready to believe, so apt to mistake fiction for fact?
Because they know themselves to be environed with
things new and strange, mysteries above and below,
around and within, and the wonderfulness of an event
is with them no reason for doubting it, even if it be not
a positive reason for admitting it. The excesses of
superstition are numerous and deplorable. Still in a
condition like man's, teeming with awful and ever-
varying displays of Power, there is not only more of
nature, but more of reason, of wisdom, in faith than
in skepticism.* The very readiness of mankind to
mistake the marvels of their own creation for facts
shows that wonders actually abound, that the marvel
lous is in the course of nature. At the same tiniest
admonishes us to use care. Be it then borne in mind,
that the strangeness of the account of the birth of,
Christ is a reason why we should demand evidence and
weigh it cautiously, but it is not a reason for rejecting.
it at once.
There is an improbability in this account, resulting
from another and more specific cause. It arises from
* The respective evils of superstition and skepticism do not admit of being
compared. The latter is so much more injurious than the former, that nature
herself has provided against it. Unbelief never has prevailed extensively,
nor for any long period. Mankind can better exist with the grossest excesses
of faith, than without any faith at all. It is a remark of Hume's, that if a
nation can be found without any idea of a God, it must be nearly on a level
with the brutes.

AND HOW FAR1, IMPROBABLE. 107
the common disposition of the world to magnify the cir
cumstances of the birth and childhood of distinguish
ed men, to believe that, upon their first coming on the
stage of life, supernatural appearances were visible,
unearthly agents busy, that
"  at their nativity,
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets; and at their birth,
The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shak'd like a coward."
Alexander would have had it believed that he was
the son of Jupiter, and Pythagoras was reported to be
the child of Apollo.
Now admitting the reality of all that is related of the
public ministry of Jesus, of his powerful teaching, his
miracles, death, and rising from the dead, is it not very
natural that wonderful stories should be told of his
birth and early years ? And, aware of the disposition
to magnify the birth of great men, can we help thinking
that the accounts of the nativity of Christ should be
received with some hesitation ? These accounts may
prove true to the letter ; and it may be that the univer
sality of the disposition to exaggerate the origin of extra
ordinary persons, is owing in part to the fact that their
birth is generally attended by striking circumstances ;
and if so, then the existence of this disposition may
afford some presumption of the truth of this account.
At the same time, knowing how eager men are to find
or create something marvellous in the origin of those
by whose greatness they have been moved, we are
certainly to examine the relations of the birth of Christ
with great care.
Should this consideration so far weigh with us as to
lead us to reject the notices of his birth as wholly fabu
lous, or to regard them as too imperfect to command

108 THE CREDIBILITY OF THE GOSPELS,
our assent, still our faith in his public acts and official
career could not by any possibility be endangered. It
would be strengthened. Not the slightest doubt of the
actual existence of Alexander and Pythagoras is pro
duced by those fables concerning their parentage to
which I have alluded. On the contrary, we are con
vinced that they must have lived, and lived no common
lives, or such extravagant stories would never have
been told. So pronounce the account of the birth of
Jesus a fable, only the more direct and inevitable* is
the inference, not only that he had an existence* but
that he must have lived and spoken and wrought with
power. If a fable, whence had this story its origin?
How came it ever to be thought likely ? The charac
ter of Jesus, the facts concerning him which were well
known and indisputable, must have given it its air of
probability. No room is afforded for any inference un
favourable to the, truth of the other portions of his his-,
tory, which record his public acts and ministry. On the
contrary, their truth is directly confirmed, and a strong
presumption is created that these must be true, or such
a story of his birth never would have had an existence*
In this connexion I would remark in passing, that
the doetrine of the Supreme Divinity of Jesus Christ,
which has taken so large and strong a hold upon, men's
minds, is an attestation to the indescribable power of
his life. If he had been ' a mere man' — if he had not
done such things as man had never done before, and
spoken as never man spake, how would it have been
possible for men, in the very face of the records, to
suppose that he was a superhuman, superangelic being.
There must have been a divinity without njeasure in
his life as it was spent on earth, or the opinions of his
nature, that have so long and widely prevailed, never
would have arisen.

AND THE AUTHORITY OF JESUS, CONFIRMED. 109
As the way of viewing the subject now suggested
does not affect the divine authority of our Lord's public
character, the reality of his miraculous ministry, neither
does it diminish the trustworthiness of the Evangelists:
That they believed the account given of the birth of
Christ is a fact that should Weigh with us. We are
not lightly to regard the authority of men so single-
hearted, and of such good sense withal. But it is
showing them no disrespect to consider that they were
still men, and men whose minds were exposed to dis
turbing influences, such as we can scarcely form an
idea of. They could not have had, nor do they profess^
to have had, the same personal knowledge of the
circumstances of their Master's birth that they pos
sessed of his public life, his miracles, death and resur
rection. His nativity comes first in the order of time
in their narratives ; but it was the last thing about
which they Were likely to be interested in obtaining
information. It was not until after they had come to
believe in him as the Christ, and they had witnessed
his works and listened to his living words, that they
turned their attention to the circumstances of his birth.
Had they had direct knowledge of these before, and
given them full credit, they must have been believers
in Jesus long before they became his personal followers.
But it was not until years after his birth, and some
time after they had waited on his public teaching, that
they Were brought to acknowledge his divine authority.
Then, when they owned him as the long-expected and
heavensent,- arid he had risen to a height in their esti
mation far above all other men, and they regarded him
with the profoundest awe, as man never was regarded
before, then, in looking back, they may have felt some
curiosity about his early life and his nativity. How
ever wise and true, they surely were not prepared to

110

STATE OF THE NARRATORS' MINDS.

question and sift the accounts they received of that
distant period. It is unreasonable to suppose, that,
after what they had seen and heard, with the overflow
ing reverence and faith produced by personal inter
course with Jesus, they were cautious and critical
in obtaining information respecting his early circum
stances. They must have been disposed to receive
whatever was told them, if it were not obviously,
glaringly inconsistent with what they already knew.
They had themselves witnessed the greatest miracles.
They had seen blind men restored to sight, the sick
healed, and the dead raised by the word of Jesus ; and
with the deep impression of these wonders > fresh in
their hearts, it would have been unnatural, had they
been slow to believe what might be related of the
origin of their Master. In this way minds of remarka
ble soundness and truth may have received a bias.
An individual" may be disposed to receive certain things
upon hearsay, without careful examination, and yet his
personal testimony to such events as make up the man*
hood of Jesus, may be so clear and satisfactory as to
allow no room for doubt. Because his mind is biassed
with respect to one fact,- it does not follow that he is
disqualified to testify to other facts, and especially to
those facts which occasioned the bias. The bias itself
is the most decisive evidence of their reality.
My object is, not to prove the history of the birth of
Christ to be false, but to show, supposing it to be fabu
lous, conceding all that an opponent of Christianity
may assert in regard to it, viz : that it is one of those
fables so often circulated about the origin of great
men, that this supposition affects neither the divine
authority of Christ, nor the competency of his biogra
phers. It does not diminish but strengthen our faith in
both. The account of the birth of Christ may be

LIFE OF JESUS— TWO PARTS. HI
rejected, and yet the Evangelists continue men of a
rare truthfulness, and he remains the divinely-taught
Teacher, a Doer of miracles, an Utterer of prophecies,
the Inspired and Anointed, the Crucified and the
Risen. Nay, for all that this rejection proves, he may
be what the prevalent faith of Christians represent
him, a divine being, a person of the Godhead. To say
that a disbelief of his miraculous conception is equiva
lent to a denial of the divinity of his mission, or even
of his nature, is to imply that his words and works, the
events of his manhood, furnish no sufficient evidence
to the divinity of his office or his person. It is giving
an altogether undue weight to a portion of his life, to
which neither he nor his apostles ever appealed as evi
dence of the justice of his claims.
Another thing to be considered when we take up the
subject of the nativity of Jesus is this. His life natu
rally divides itself into two parts, one extending from
his birth to his baptism, a period of about thirty years,
the other embracing the comparatively brief duration
of his public life, from his baptism to his final disap
pearance shortly after his resurrection, a period of not
more than three years, perhaps but a little more than
one year.
Now of these two periods, the latter is so far superior
in importance to the former, that it may be considered
as the only important one. Turn to the New Testa-*
ment, and you find that two of the Evangelists, Mark
and John, have not recorded a word about the birth
and early circumstances of Jesus. If any one of the
four had knowledge of his nativity, it was John. But
whatever he knew or believed, he has not thought it of
sufficient importance to be recorded. And how small
a portion of the other two Gospels, Matthew's and

112 GOSPELS, DEVOTED TO THE LAST PART.
Luke's, is occupied with notices of our Saviour's
birth ! i l
It is plain also on the very face of these records, and
from the very nature of the case, that it was not until
his public career had commenced that the disciples
were drawn to him. The persons, from whom our
accounts of him are derived, became his personal
adherents after he had presented himself to the world
in a public character, From their own showing, their
direct knowledge of him did. not fairly begin until .about
the time of his baptism or shortly after, when thirty
years of his life had elapsed. From that period to the
termination of his course their knowledge of him was
direct and personal. Their histories are confined almost
entirely to these few last, crowded years, or months, and
there are no marks or signs of truth which these nar
ratives do not bear. All that they knew of their master
before they became his intimate and professed fol
lowers, was derived from indirect sources, and all that
they have told us Of that previous period has1 the
character of such an origin^
I have said that it was not until after they had be
come personally attached to him, and acknowledged
him a^ the Messiah, sent from God, that their curiosity
was awakened concerning his birth and early years.
But it may be questioned whether, even then,, they had
the time or ' the inclination to think of any thing else
but those great and stirring scenes in which they had
been personally concerned. They were wholly taken
up with these and with the active labours to which
they were devoted, as the witnesses and publishers of
by far the most important part of his life. For the
indulgence of a speculative curiosity they had neither
leisure nor disposition. What they had themselves
witnessed was transcendently interesting, and they

THE LAST PART, TO BE STUDIED FIRST. H3
listened probably with comparative indifference, if not
with ill-disguised impatience, to what others might
have to tell of other and less important matters. Could
we only enter into the state of their minds, and under
stand the effect which their intercourse with Jesus
must have had, we shall see at once how little disposed
they must have been to entertain curious questions
about his birth, or to investigate the circumstances of
his childhood with any considerable care. What was
generally reported and believed of his nativity, they
probably assented to with comparatively little thought
and feeling; their whole souls being occupied with
what they themselves knew, events, which, as with a
blaze of light, vindicated the greatness of their master,
and were enough, and more than enough for them.
Accordingly, in their records of his life, they have given
little or no attention to the circumstances of his birth
and childhood. They omit them altogether, or notice
them very slightly, and pass on to those events of which
they had personal knowledge, and which of course
were chiefly interesting to them ; and when they come
to these, their narrations show the most affecting
marks of being the work of men who knew what they
relate, who had seen with their own eyes and heard
with their own ears.
Such being the state of the case, although the ac
count of the birth of Christ comes first in the order of
time, the proper method of inquiry is to begin with the
history of his public life. Having established the truth
of this, then we occupy the true point of view, whence
to estimate correctly the history of the nativity. Then,
when the great facts of his public career have become
real to us, when we perceive what an impressive and
all-engrossing influence they must have had upon the
immediate spectators, we shall see the reason why so
15

H4- LITTLE IS TOLD US OF THE FIRST; WHY.
little is related by the Evangelists of his early years,
and why that little is, in all likelihood, only the record
of the current belief of the time. There is no serious
and intelligent reader of the New Testament, who has
not at times wondered and regretted that so little is
told of the early and private life of Christ. But if the
tenor of the foregoing paragraph is correct, an inte
resting and satisfactory reason appears, why the per
sonal witnesses of his public course should have said
little or nothing of his previous history. Their minds
were taken up and filled with the great things they
had themselves beheld. The extraordinary events in
which they had participated engrossed their feelings to
the exclusion of other and less important matters.
They would have told us more of his birth and youth,
had they not seen what they had seen. Their silence
about that portion of his history is scarcely to be re
gretted, since it is so expressive of the reality of the
facts which they narrate. It is traceable to a state
of mind naturally produced by their experience.
Were our faith in the truth of their statements one
half as strong as theirs, we should immediately see
why they have paid so little attention to the early life
of their Master. That portion of his life may seem
important to us, whose faith is so feeble and requires
every support. But it could not have appeared so to
those, whose faith, produced by the actual sight of the
divine scenes of his ministry, was overflowing and all-
engrossing. Our curiosity in his early and private
circumstances may not be lessened with the increase
of our faith, because our faith necessarily grows slowly,
and, of course, leaves us time and disposition to attend
to things comparatively unimportant. But could a full
conviction of the truth of all that is told us of the
public life of Jesus be as directly borne into our minds,

TRACES OF JEWISH NOTIONS. 1J5
as it was into theirs, who have given these relations, it
would act upon us with instantaneous and indescribable
force, and we should start up and pour ourselves out
in the glorious labour of proclaiming the kingdom of
God. As it is, our faith in the great facts of the life of
Jesus is, it may be hoped, sufficiently strong to enable
us to perceive the comparative unimportance of the
early and private period of the life of Jesus, and to
appreciate the great probability that the Evangelists
took no particular pains to obtain precise information
of his nativity, and that the accounts which are extant,
such as they are, were such as were commonly re
ceived at the time.
When we proceed to examine these accounts, we
are struck with the traces which they bear of Jewish
and Heathen notions.
Matthew's narrative of the birth of Jesus is re
markable for the quotations which it contains from the
Old Testament. The Jews regarded their Scriptures
with superstitious veneration, and were wont to quote
them in a very peculiar manner. To their study and
exposition the labours and lives of the learned were
devoted. These writings constituted nearly the whole
of their literature. The very letters of the Sacred
Book were counted, and studied as a series of mystical
symbols. Every text was supposed to have a multitude
of meanings; and if, by any ingenuity, a passage of
Scripture could be applied to a passing event, the
occurrence so described was considered as a fulfilment
of a Scriptural prophecy. An able and interesting
account of the manner in which the Jews regarded
and used their sacred books may be found in Mr.
Everett's Defence of Christianity, to which the reader

H0 THE VISIT OF THE MAGI.
is referred. It will suffice to remark here that the
instances of the Jewish fashion of quoting the Scrip
tures, which occur in the first chapters of Matthew
are peculiarly striking ; as, for example, when the
sojourn of Joseph and Mary with the young child in
Egypt is mentioned, it is said, " that it might be fulfilled
which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying,
' Out of Egypt have I called my son.' " The passage
from the Old Testament, here adduced, obviously has
no reference in its original connection to the Messiah,
but refers to the Israehtish nation called out of
Egyptian bondage.
It must be recollected that the great body of the
first Christians were Jews, and that their conversion
to the Christian faith did not imply their complete
emancipation from Jewish modes of thinking. They
believed in Jesus of Nazareth because they regarded
him as fulfilling the divine promise to their nation.
And they were naturally and strongly disposed to dis
cover and magnify every possible correspondence be
tween him and the declarations of their sacred books.
That Jewish conceptions, then, may have had a strong
influence in giving to the accounts of the nativity their
present form and fashion, is by no means improbable.
The actual truth, without any wilful misrepresentation,
may have come to be materially distorted by Jewish
modes of thought, although we may not be able to
trace and measure their influence with any precision.
The account of the visit of the wise men, found in
Matthew, bears strong marks . of a Heathen origin.
The word, translated ' wise men,' MAroi (Magi,) is of
Persian extraction. It denotes an order of men who
flourished throughout the East, but in Persia particu
larly, where the worship of fire prevailed. They were

THE VISIT OF THE MAGI. H?
devoted, among other things, to medicine and astro
logy ; and, in accordance with the generally received
idea of a connection between human interests and the
stars, were accustomed to consult the heavens and to
predict from the aspect of the heavenly bodies national
revolutions, the advent or death of extraordinary men ;
and their predictions were received with faith ahd
awe, oftentimes no doubt, by their effects on men's
minds, working out their own fulfilment. That there
were individuals of great depth of learning and insight
among the magi is hardly to be questioned. And yet
as a class they were deluded, we may suppose, by the
fictions of their own imagination, and by ' science
falsely so called.' That a special revelation of the
birth of Christ should be made to these men by means
of the superstitious art of astrology is incredible. And
it would be ascribing quite an undue efficacy to magic
and the art just named to suppose that, through these
means, the wise men were enabled to discover the
Saviour of the world, the heaven-sent Deliverer, in the
child of Mary. But it is very natural that the general
reverence with which they were regarded should attri
bute to them a prophetical knowledge of the birth of
the Messiah, or even that they themselves, taking a
hint from the popular feeling, should have announced
the appearance of a new star in the Heavens, the sign
of a new and extraordinary man. We know upon the
united testimony of Josephus, Suetonius and Tacitus,
that about the time of the birth of Christ, an expecta
tion of the appearance of an extraordinary personage
existed not only in Judea but throughout the East.
This popular hope may have produced the prophecy of
the magi. And as Judea was the country in which this
expectation was most confidently entertained, the wise
men may also have announced that the star which they

118 LUKE'S ACCOUNT OF THE NATIVITY,
had discovered, hung over that land, — pointed to that
spot. If they went no farther than to make this general
annunciation, it is easy to see how, in the course of
time, thirty or forty years after the birth of Jesus,
when the world had witnessed his wonderful life, this
prophecy of the magi should have been exaggerated
into such a story as we find in Matthew, and that it
should come to be understood not only that the magi
had discovered the star of Jesus, but had sought him
in obedience to its guidance — had seen him as well as
his star.
It is not improbable that Herod, stained with the
blood of his children and kindred, alarmed for the se
curity of his throne by the popular expectation of a
Deliverer and Prince, and driven by the consciousness
of guilt to superstitious acts, consulted certain of the
magi. There may have been some communication be
tween them and him, out of which arose in part the
story of his having employed them to discover the child
to whom the popular hope pointed, and whose birth he
had so much reason to dread.
The Jews, we know, expected " a sign," some lumi
nous display of power to designate the Messiah when
ever he should appear. This expectation would natu
rally dispose those inclined to Jewish ways of thinking,
to give easy credence to such a narration as is extant
in the gospel of Matthew. It confirmed and gratified
their demand for a sign.
Another feature of the notices of the birth of Jesus,
is the interspersion of poetical compositions— hymns, in
Luke's account. Such is obviously the character of the
beautiful sentences represented as uttered by Mary
when hailed by her cousin Elizabeth as the mother of
the Messiah, beginning with —

P0ETIC0-HIST0RICAL. H0
My soul doth magnify the Lord,
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
For he hath regarded the low estate of his hand
maiden: for, behold, from henceforth all genera
tions shall call me blessed, SfC. (i. 46 to 55, incl.)
In the same chapter, (67 — 80) Zacharias, the father
of the Baptist, is described as breaking forth in a simi
lar manner, in a psalm, borrowed, in reference to its
phraseology, from the devotional poetry of the Jewish
Scriptures. These passages give a mixed, poetico-his-
torical character, to this portion of the New Testament.
And it takes in part the air of a devotional effusion.
And thus regarded, it is finely in keeping with the
truth of the subsequent history, and the probable state
of the historian's mind. The case may be stated thus :
When the Evangelist set himself to record in order
these great events of the mature and public life of Je
sus, of which, from his opportunities, he had perfect
knowledge, he found in circulation certain compositions,
relating to the period of the birth of Jesus, embodying
certain incidents concerning the mother of our Lord
and others of his relatives, which incidents were proba
bly founded upon some vague traditional information.
These publications were not, and did not profess to be,
accurate narratives, but compositions of a devotional
cast, modified in part by the very faith and reverence
which the wondrous life and ministry of Jesus had pro
duced. It was perfectly natural that the Evangelist
should have made a selection from these records and
connected them together as a fit introduction or prelude
to his history. Feeling that he had enough to relate
about Jesus which none could question, it was not
likely that he would stop to sift these early accounts.
He saw that their spirit and effect were good. They
were consistent with his own feelings ; and, with such

j 20 DREAMS AND VISIONS.
an amount on hand of indisputable truth to relate, he
could afford to adopt these compositions for the sake of
their spirit, without regard to the precise degree of
truth they might contain. This trait of Luke's narra
tive of the nativity, its poetical, devotional character,
so far from lessening his credibility as an historian of the
public life of Jesus, tends indirectly to increase it. For
such compositions respecting the birth of Christ owed
their origin and the place they obtained in the record
of the Evangelist to a state of feeling, to those sentiments
of reverence and enthusiasm towards Jesus and all that
concerned him, which could hardly have had an exis
tence, had not the public and known acts of his life
been of a kind to produce them.
It cannot fail to arrest attention that the accounts of
the nativity abound in notices of Dreams and Visions.
" The angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a
dream," warning him not to put away Mary, " for that
which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit." It
was, as the history explicitly states, while he slept that
he received this communication. The wise men were
warned of God in a dream, " that they should not re
turn to Herod." Again Joseph went into Egypt with
the young child and his mother, " the angel of the Lord
appearing to him in a dream.'''' In the same way he
was directed to return into the land of Israel after the
death of Herod, in a dream. So also Zacharias,the
father of John the Baptist, saw a vision of the angel of
the Lord in the temple who announced the birth of John.
Once more, the angel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin
Mary, declaring to her that she should be the Mother
of the Messiah.
Now if I venture the remark that this multiplicity of
dreams reveals the character and claims of these rela-

DREAMS, MYSTERIOUS. 121
tions, it is because I am emboldened thereto by the
knowledge which the gospels have given us, in the
public life of Jesus, of true, genuine, God-ordained
miracles. The works which he did are strange and un
precedented, lying far beyond the boundaries of human
experience. Still they are broad noon-day facts, stand
ing in the eye of the sun and the, world, and invested,
by his manner and the circumstances in which they
occurred, with a moral light, commending them intui
tively to our full convictions. With these divine models
before us, we may be qualified to decide upon all other
miracles; and we cannot help thinking that dreams
prefer but a doubtful claim to be ranked with those
great facts.
The laws by which dreams are produced are wrapt
in darkness. That the visions of sleep are for the most
part traceable to foregone states of mind, none will dis
pute. Yet it may be that the constitution of our na
ture is such as to allow of direct communications in
dreams from the Father of spirits and the world of
spirits. In all times dreams have been a startling mys
tery; and they have discharged high offices in the
various courses of providence, by the impressions they
have made, the energy they have inspired or repressed,
changing the whole order of affairs. If they have sprung
out of the mind, they have wrought upon it in return;
and we cannot but account them among the veiled
ministrants of the Invisible, obeying his word.
That Mary and Joseph and Zacharias should have
had remarkable dreams or visions, making powerful
impressions on their devout minds, is altogether proba
ble. Consider what a time it was, and how the human
mind was heaving in mysterious anticipation of a com
ing angel from Heaven in the shape of a man. The
birth of a consecrated One, the anointed of God, was
16

122

THE VISION OF MARY.

the glad tidings which all were breathless to hear. Did
not many a mother's heart beat quick and swell high
at the thought that she might be the chosen one, the
Mother of mothers, blessed to the last generation ? If
not a word about the mother of Jesus were to be found
in the Christian Records, we should infer from the
character of her son that she was no ordinary woman—
that she must have been possessed of a holy sensibility,
of a high religious character. Jewish wives deemed it
a sore affliction to be childless. Consequently the pros
pect of becoming mothers was hailed by them with a
sacred joy. There was every thing in the sentiments
of the time and country, and in the probable character
of the mother of Jesus, to exalt her imagination ; and,
in view of her approaching marriage, to cause her to
dwell upon the idea of the Messiah, until the thought
wove itself into her nightly visions, and she dreamed
that she was the destined mother of that divine per
sonage, and even that she had conceived before her
espousals. That a woman of the devout old Hebrew
lineage, related to the priesthood, of the loftiest reli
gious character, betrothed, and to an individual who
traced his descent to that illustrious line of David which
was expected to produce the Messiah, and at a period
when the whole nation was waiting eagerly for the
birth of the heaven-sent deliverer, should have been
visited with vivid dreams — that she should have a vision
of an angel hailing her as the favoured mother of the
Messiah, and even that she should dream that she al
ready bore that Holy One within her — all this is very
natural; and, so far from breathing a breath against
the virgin purity of her spirit, such a dream we may
regard as a touching indication of a spotless mind, of
that " saintly chastity, so dear to heaven,"

THE SUM OF THE FOREGOING REMARKS. 123
"That when a soul is found sincerely so,
A thousand liveried angelslackey her,
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt,
And in clear dream and solemn vision,
Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear."
The influence of the mother upon her child before it
has seen the light will not be questioned. If her frame
is often agitated by violent emotions, heating the cur
rent of her blood and unstringing the nerves, the
delicate organization of her child must be disturbed
in the still process of formation. On the other hand,
the maternal mind, inhaling ever the serene air of
religious thought, daily exalted by holy aspirations, and
visited nightly by the celestial visions of a tender and
innocent imagination, must exercise an informing power
upon the babe which she bears,
"In the deare closet of her painefull side."
We know not the mode nor the extent of the influ
ence. It is a divine mystery. Still we must believe
that the angel-thoughts and dreams of the blessed
Mother of our Lord must have ministered, a part of
the grand discipline whereby he was prepared and
sanctified, even in her sacred womb, to be the Son of
God and Redeemer of man.
The sum of the foregoing observations is simply this.
When that extraordinary succession of events which
begun with the thirtieth year of the life of Christ was
terminated, there naturally arose a desire for informa
tion concerning the birth and early circumstances of
the Wonderful Man of Nazareth, and certain incidents
pertaining to that period, certain remarkable experi
ences of his mother and others connected with him,
came to be published abroad. Viewed through the
magnifying medium of the faith, veneration, and enthu-

124 EXAGGERATION, SUPPOSABLE.
siasm, which the remarkable life that was just closed
had produced, they were shaped and exaggerated
thereby. In a little while they assumed a written form,
and were, without doubt, among those many fragmen
tary accounts, more or less imperfect, of the life of
Jesus, of the existence of which Luke informs us in
the commencement of his Gospel. When the Evan
gelists undertook their histories, they selected from the
generally received relations concerning the nativity,
such as appeared to them, consistently with all that
they knew and felt, to be nearest to the truth. They
entered into no laborious investigation of the truth of
these accounts, oral or written, pertaining to the birth
of Jesus, because they were comparatively of little
moment, and the minds of the historians were princi
pally bent upon relating what they themselves knew,
and what was of the greatest value and importance.
I have thus hinted at what appears to me to have
been the most probable state of the case. The sup
position of a natural and common degree of exaggera
tion, the consequence of the miraculous career of
Jesus, accounts without violence for the difference be
tween the representations given in the records, and the
view which I have suggested of this portion of the
history. I have said nothing inconsistent with the be
lief that his birth was miraculous. Nor am I prepared
to say that he was not created in an extraordinary
way. That he was inspired and endowed as no other
man ever was, his words and works bear witness. He
stands at so unapproachable a height above the rest of
the children of men, that, supposing not a word were
extant respecting his birth, one could scarcely help
feeling that there must have been something very pe
culiar in the mode of his introduction into the world.

THE EXACT TRUTH, NOT ASCERTAINED, 125
His life and death and resurrection speak the divinity
of his mission. And were there any evidence of the
divinity of his person, it would be furnished rather by
his public life than by the history of his birth. Neither
the authority which he claimed as the Son of God, nor
the doctrine of his supreme divinity, is affected by the
foregoing views.
In these remarks upon the history of the Nativity, I
have not professed to say precisely where the fact ends
and the exaggeration begins, to separate from the
tissue of the narrative the filaments of truth. I have
sought only to set forth certain considerations of indis
pensable importance to a right approach to this inte
resting portion of the history. They may not assist us
to form a distinct picture of the Nativity, but may tend
only to make us feel that this part of the record is im
perfect, more or less a misstatement of the truth. Still,
so far from weakening our faith in the divine authority
of Christ, the reality of the subsequent events of his
life, they tend incidentally, and, therefore, all the more
powerfully, to its confirmation. The views now sug
gested have force only as his public ministry, the
history of his manhood and of the close of his career,
is felt to be true. It is the clear light, which this, con
fessedly the important period, pours forth, that casts all
that goes before it in the shade. If the account of his
origin is unsatisfactory, it is because the narrative of
what afterwards occurred, when he appeared reno
vating the world, is so lucid and decisive, so copiously
marked with the signatures of reality.
Finally, admitting the notices of his birth upon this
view of the case to be distorted and exaggerated state
ments, in which it is hardly possible to ascertain the
exact amount of truth, it does not follow that they lose
all value and interest. On the contrary, they are in-

126 THE OPENING AND CLOSE OF THE HISTORY.
teresting because, all circumstances considered, they
are precisely of the character we should expect. It
was not for men before whose eyes, the impressive
scenes of the manhood of Jesus had passed, to revert
to the origin of this wonderful being with minds curi
ous, critical and unbiassed. Accordingly, upon all the
known principles of our nature, we should look for
accounts like these. It is an impressive fact that, while
the wonders of the life of Jesus stand out in broad day,
dreams artd visions preceded his advent, and dreams
and visions followed his final disappearance, like clouds
heralding the approach and following the departure of
a great luminary. When all minds were filled with
the exciting expectation of a heaven-sent Prophet and
Prince, how natural was it that dreams of a startling
and exalting character should be rumoured ! And
equally natural was it, after the wondrous spectacle
had passed by, that such visions should occur as are
found in the book of Acts. The state of feeling imme- ,
diately preceding and following the appearance of him,
whose coming was as with wind and fire from Heaven,
attests the reality of his power and illustrates the mys
teries of man's nature. The opening and the close of
the New Testament history wonderfully accord with
the truth of the great central facts. In the first we see
the agitation of an extraordinary hope; in the last, of
an unprecedented experience.

127

CHAPTER II.
THE BAPTIST.
"  to his great baptism flocked,
With awe the regions round." — Milton.
About thirty years of the life of Jesus had passed
away, when he appeared on the banks of the Jordan,
there, by a solemn baptism, to express his high resolves
and commence that divine career which was the fulfil
ment, the complete manifestation of righteousness. The
notices we have of him before that period are, as we
"have seen, brief and imperfect. Where was he, and
how was he employed during those thirty unknown
years? I presume not to form the faintest conjecture
concerning the childhood and youth, to which so won
drous a manhood succeeded.
One thought, however, occurs. Although so large a
portion of his life was spent in retirement, yet, when
he did publicly appear, as he manifested a divine force
of character, we cannot suppose the long period of his
seclusion to have elapsed without powerful influences
on the souls of men. No loftier angel from heaven
ever alighted on our earth ; and he could not have so
journed so long in the abodes of men, however obscure,
without becoming " a creative centre" of life. His un
surpassed knowledge of all that is deepest in man was,
in great part intuitive, the light of God in his being, the
Holy Spirit. Still his whole style of thinking and
expression shows that he had been no unconcerned

128 JESUS, AN OBSERVER OF LIFE.
observer of Nature, and Man. His illustrations were
uniformly drawn from the most familiar sources. From
the common earth on which he stood, what wells of
truth did he cause to gush forth !
There is one passage upon which I would dwell for
a moment, partly for its beauty, but principally because
it shows that the Map of Nazareth cast no vacant
glances around him — that there was no point, however
lowly, in the vast spectacle of life, that did not attract,
his regards.
" To what," said he On a certain occasion, " shall I
liken this generation ? It is like children sitting in the
market-place, and calling unto their fellows, and say
ing, we have piped unto you, and ye have not danced;
we have mourned unto you, and ye have not lamented,
For John came, neither eating nor drinking, and they
say, ' He hath an evil spirit.' The Son of Man came
eating and drinking, and they say, ' Behold a man
gluttonous, and a wine bibber, a friend of publicans
and sinners ;' but wisdom is justified of her children."
The children of those days, children-like, were wont
in their plays to imitate the usages of their elders, and
' make believe' "A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral." * 4
Nuptial occasions were celebrated with minstrelsy and
dancing and gay processions. While at funerals it
was the custom to employ certain women, whose busi
ness it was to attend at those seasons, and by a cun
ning imitation of all the outward signs of sorrow, such
as beating the breast, and mournful cries, to produce
sadness and tears in all beholders. The groups of
children, imitating these customs in their plays in the
market-places, had not escaped the eye of Jesus. He

THE CHILDHOOD OF JESUS. 129
had looked upon the little imitators, and seen resem
blances deeper than those which met the common
observer. How naturally is the thought he expresses
incorporated with these familiar circumstances and
illustrated by them ! What significance do they give
to his meaning, which is, in effect, as if he had said,
" There is nothing that will suit the men of this gene
ration. Like wayward children, refusing to accede to
the proposals of their playfellows, unwilling to play
either a funeral or a wedding, they will listen neither
to John nor to me. John came, austere, joining in no
festivities, and immediately the cry is, " He is mad.
He hath an evil spirit." I have come mingling with
the world in its common walks and ways, and they de
nounce me as one given to wine and pleasure. Neither
the mournful nor the joyous will please them. But the
wisdom that was in John and my wisdom, the children
of wisdom (i. e. the wise) will discern and justify."
But this is only one out of the many instances, of
which the Gospels are full, that show how Jesus had
lived among the scenes and interests of human life,
seeing all and feeling for all. And, however retired
his. habits, we are persuaded that he must have mingled
to some extent with men. If so, then the impressions
of his own peerless spirit were made upon those with
whom he associated. He must have been seen and
felt to be no common person. We are told by Luke,
and the account lacks no mark of correspondence with
what we elsewhere learn of Jesus, that, when only
twelve years old, he went to Jerusalem with his parents
in observance of one of the national festivals, and at
tracted the notice, and excited the wonder, of the
teachers of the law and others about the Temple, by
the intelligence of his questions and replies. We read
that on that occasion, his parents set out upon their
17

130 THE APPEARANCE OF JOHN
return home without him, presuming that he was with
some of the numerous company with whom they tra
velled, and feeling no anxiety on his account, until the
second day of his disappearance; a striking proof of j
the confidence which, at that early age, he had inspired
in his natural protectors. They returned to the city in
search of him, and, upon visiting the Temple, found the
extraordinary child surrounded there by the Scribes
and learned men, and when they reproached him for
the anxiety his absence had awakened, he replied,
" know ye not that I must be about my Father's work ?"
words which show how early the consciousness of his
destiny awoke in his bosom, while the place in which
they found him, and the manner in which he Was en
gaged, also show that he could not live among men
without a marked and powerful influence. But, except
this little incident, we have no direct evidence of the
impression he must have made. We are naturally
prompted to look for indirect traces of his existence in
that hidden time. So few are they, that we conclude
that the first thirty years of his life were spent in close,
although not absolute, retirement.
The sudden appearance of John the Baptist may be
regarded as an indirect attestation, not merely to the
existence, but to the moral power of Jesus, previously
to the period when he came forth publicly to lift up a
world bowed down by ignorance and sin. That strange
vision in the wilderness, that human form, clad in
camel's hair, that voice, crying, " Prepare ye the way
of the Lord" — these were, in part, an indirect, uncon-
certed, embodyment of the irrepressible power which
Jesus shortly afterwards put forth in diviner and more
decisive ways. The fervid heart of the son of Zach'a-
rias caught a portion of its fire from his divine Kinsman.

ATTESTS THE POWER OF JESUS. J31
The prophetic cry, ringing in the desert, incidentally
inspired by Jesus, was the first outburst, heralding the
overflowing fulness of the Godhead dwelling in him.
Had he had no existence in this world, no participation
in its scenes, no association with its dwellers, before he
appeared on the banks of the Jordan, then the Sun of
Righteousness would have blazed forth suddenly, start
ling the darkness. But for thirty years that light was
gradually rising, and although hidden from the public
gaze by the obscurity of a low condition, though it shot
forth no direct, far reaching, beams, still some rays
must have broken from it, and been reflected from other
hearts. The appearance of John corroborates this sug
gestion. His brief but stirring career was the gray
dawn, the lighting up, that preceded the full-orbed
glory of the man of Nazareth.
Not that John acted by the command of Jesus, not
that there was any concert between them, any under
standing, that diminishes, or does not increase rather,
our conviction that the Baptist spake from a divine
impulse, as he was moved by the Holy Spirit, but my
meaning is that his intercourse with Jesus had wrought
upon his susceptible mind with great power, refining
and quickening. Could I only convey to the reader
any just idea of the circumstances in which the child
hood and youth of these two were passed ! All I can
say will fall far short of the reality ; still let me attempt
to express my own impressions.
Jesus and John were both Hebrews, both of direct
Israehtish descent.
What a world of reflections does this one fact sug
gest ! When we speak of the Jewish people, we speak
of a people altogether the most extraordinary on the
face of the globe. I am not going to discuss the claims

132 CHARACTER OF THE NATION,
of the religion of Moses. It bears the visible impress
of divinity. But in order to comprehend with some
distinctness the state of things, into which Jesus and his
Precursor were ushered at their birth, and the influ
ences, under which their early years were spent, let us
look at this great nation for a moment from the lowest
point of view, in the simple light of History.
Considered then in the simple light of undisputed
history, the Hebrews are the most singular of the
nations. And their singularity consists in the elevation
and force of their religious sentiment. Of all the races
of men, they are pre-eminently the religious race. To
substantiate this assertion, the appeal is not made to
their ancient history, contained in their sacred books?
but to their more modern fortunes. There is an iden^
tity of nations as of individuals; and whatever this
people have shown themselves to be since the days of
Christ and of John, they wete the same in their pro
minent traits then. Two things, their present condir
tion, and their relation to the rest of the world, show
most impressively that the Hebrew temperament has
ever been a religious temperament, that the Jews have
been the sacred, priestly race. Not that the religious
principle has always acted beneficently upon their
characters, not that they have not sunk repeatedly
into great moral degradation, but that the Hebrew
mind has evinced the strongest affinity for religion, for
spiritual ideas and the deepest religious convictions,
this I say.
What a phenomenon does this people present ! Upon
every considerable spot on the face of the earth, we
find the scattered branches of the stock of Abraham.
Every where persecuted, the objects of contempt and
prejudice, either pursued with menaces or allured by
brihes, every where under the most urgent pressure to

WHENCE JESUS AND JOHN SPRUNG. 133
repay the injustice of opinion by overreaching and
fraud, still every where exhibiting an unfaltering reli
gious loyalty, neither betraying their faith, nor disho
nouring it by a spirit of proselytism. Without a particle
of national power, or a solitary civil institution, the
Jewish nation survives and numbers its thousands and
tens of thousands. Other nations far more extensive
in territory, far mightier than the Jews ever were,
have risen and vanished. With the decay of their
civil institutions, they have rapidly melted away into
the vast ocean of life. But the Hebrew national ex
istence, unprotected by national forms, has proved an
insoluble element in the world's population, in im
portant respects, not merely floating hither and thither
like a worthless weed, but controlling the current of
affairs, obtaining a commercial supremacy upon which
kings wait, and at whose bidding the sword rusts in
the scabbard. A nation crushed and scattered, to
every national purpose annihilated, yet a nation still !
Distrusted, scorned, and vilified, yet neither deserting
the ark of its ancient faith, nor attempting to bear it
onward, but gathered round it in mute, immoveable,
patience, standing, amidst the revolutions of the world
and the wrecks of empires, like their own priests
amidst the swelling tide of Jordan. Whatever else
may be laid to their charge — to whatever dishonoura
ble causes you may attribute their extraordinary thrift,
however perverted and defective their religion may
have been in its practical influence, still of indifference
to that they cannot be accused. They have clung to
it with an indomitable temper, claiming no credit for
their loyalty. Here it is, still in the world, the ancient
religion. And this cannot but strike us as the promi
nent feature of the Jewish mind, the depth and the
power of the religious sentiment. Considering how

134 RELATION OF JUDEA TO THE WORLD.
peculiarities of appearance and character are handed
down from age to age, even if the early history of this
singular people were hid in darkness, we should still
infer from their later fortunes, from their present posi
tion, that they were of no common parentage — that the
ancestors of such a race, the Hebrew Patriarchs, must
have been men of an exalted religious temperament.
But there is another thing that leads to the same
conclusion. The religion of Europe and America—
those portions of the globe, which we call the civilized,
came according to the flesh from the bosom of this
people, which as a people, then, stands to the rest of
the world in a relation far more commanding than that
of any other nation. We turn from our earliest child
hood with enthusiasm and reverence to Greece and
Italy. These have been our guides in literature, law
and art. But there is a loftier eminence than either
Athens or Rome, and Zion towers high above the
Acropolis and the Seven Hills. In reference to that
interest, unspeakably the most momentous, religion,
Judea is the mistress of the world, and well may that
spot, where the Daughter of Zion once sat in her
beautiful garments, be called for ever the Holy Land.
The head of Christendom was of Hebrew extraction,
born on Hebrew ground, nursed by a Hebrew mother.*
* When we consider what deep and angry prejudices have rolled for ages
between Jews and Gentiles, we are struck with the fact, that, in the chief
respect, the former are the guides and benefactors of the latter. The most
wonderful of books has been handed across that black gulf. The world has
been united against the Jews. Greek and Roman held them in contempt as
a strange and superstitious people, and they have returned scorn for scorn.
Nevertheless it was Jews who toiled and died to bestow, and it was from
Jews that the world has received, the greatest of benefits. The Christian
Scriptures, so widely received and honoured, are the works of Jewish hands,
the gift of a people whom all the world has shunned. What a presumption
of the truth, aye, and the divinity of these books does this one fact furnish !
Were they cunningly devised fables, or mere delusions, it is incredible that
theyiehould have been received by those who were watching their authors with

THE PARENTAGE OF JOHN. 135
These considerations may seem too general in their
nature to possess any particular bearing on the subject
in hand. But they are fitted to refresh our impressions
of the high character and standing of the Israehtish
nation ; a sacred nation, — ' a nation of priests,' ' a royal
priesthood,' such it was the design of Providence,
through their illustrious Lawgiver, to make them, and
however false the generality of this people may have
been to their great destiny, yet, from among them has
issued One, a Priest for the whole world and for all
time, Priest, Prophet, and King! Keeping in mind
their national character, we turn to any one period of
their history with awakened interest, and regard any
prominent individual with new curiosity and respect,
when we look at him in connexion with the imposing-
character of his country, and the extraordinary social
influences radiating around him. Jesus and John were
both, according to the flesh, of the great line of Abra
ham. John was doubly connected with the priesthood.
His father Zacharias was a priest. His mother Eliza
beth was of the daughters of Aaron. And according
to the high standard of Jewish piety, they were per
sons of blameless lives and eminent devotion. Their
the deepest distrust and shrinking from their very touch as contamination. If
the Christian history had not in it the all-victorious force of truth, Gentiles
never would have listened to it from those hated Jewish lips. If a fraud was
to be practised on the world, were those whom the world was the first to
suspect, most likely to attempt it, or to succeed in it when attempted 1 Had
the world's best book issued from an association of renowned philosophers,
then there might be reason to suspect that the rapid credit which it gained
was to be attributed to the blinding influence of prejudice. But as the case
stands, they who obtained the world's faith, were not the world's favourites but
her foes, ' the very filth and offscouring of the world,' so the first teachers of
Christ were esteemed, men, whom none would believe but on overwhelming
evidence. There was every disposition in the Gentile mind not to believe.
And Christianity offered no bribe to selfish passions. It had nothing to give
but truth, and this attended by disgrace, privations and tortures.

136

HIS EARLY YEARS.

only child, John, was born when they were advanced
in years. And they had hailed his approaching birth
with the profoundest religious thankfulness, the birth
of a child being always, to the Hebrew's mind, invested
with peculiar sacredness. Thus there was much in
the parentage and early circumstances of the Baptist
to exalt his nature. He was born and brought up,* as
it were, within the hallowed precincts of a temple so
venerable in the eyes of the nation, that the religious
teachers declared that to consecrate one's possessions
to the enriching of that edifice, was a more acceptable
service than to devote them to the declining years of a
father and mother. How must such a mind, as the
whole history of John reveals, have been kindled as he
stood before that altar, over which no majestic idol
frowned or smiled, but where men came to adore the
Unseen ! A divine spirit communed with his spirit
through all the awful associations of the splendid sanc
tuary and its multitudinous ceremonies. Upon the
early history of the nation and its wonderful fortunes
the ardent mind of the priest-descended youth was fed.
The solemn forms of the old prophets swept before his
illuminated vision. Their sacred words sounded in his
ears. He saw them as they pointed into futurity. He
listened to their predictions of a more than golden
age, a celestial era yet to come. He caught the
flame of that hope which, burning in the heart of
Israel, was now mounting higher and growing more
vivid as the period of its fulfilment drew nigh. By
such training his spirit was led up to the Mount of
* Luke gives us to understand (ch. i. 80.) that trje( early years of the
Baptist were spent 'in the deserts.' But the record is brief and indefinite.
And we are not required to suppose that he was wholly a stranger to the city
and the temple, or that no space of time elapsed after his birth before the
wilderness became his residence.

HIS REVERENCE FOR JESUS. 137
Vision, where he heard the voice of God and received
power to execute a divine mission.
But the circumstance, which, of all circumstances,
must have wrought on him most powerfully, was his
relation to Jesus. His mother Elizabeth was the cousin
and friend and associate of Mary, the Divine Mother.
With Jesus then we cannot but suppose that he held
frequent communion. He listened to the young Son
of God, the destined Ruler of generations and ages.
Think you, he caught no inspiration from such a com
panion ? He knew not, before the baptism of Jesus,
that he was the Man who was to come. " I knew him
not," he declares. Of course his meaning is that he
did not know Jesus as the specially sent of God. That
he was personally intimate with Jesus before his bap
tism is clear, from the manner in which he addressed
him, when the latter came to be baptized and before
the manifestation of the Holy Spirit. His exclamar
tion, " comest thou to me ? I have need to be baptized
of thee !" shows that he not only knew Jesus per
sonally, but had conceived for him the greatest re
verence. As John had long known Jesus, and felt
his great superiority, we obtain a satisfactory meaning
of John's words when he says, " After me cometh a
man who is preferred before me ; for he was before
me." John had appeared first in public ; yet he had
always felt that Jesus was far in advance of him. He
had always looked up to him as his superior. He had
not inspired Jesus, but had been inspired by him.
Jesus always from the first was before him. And the
knowledge he had of his great Kinsman, and the reve
rence, with which he regarded him, (there is no feel
ing so quickening as veneration,) had contributed to
deepen his conviction that the blessed era was close at
hand. Not until after the baptism of Jesus, did John
18

138 HIS ALLUSIONS TO JESUS.
feel fully authorised to avow his belief in him as the
Expected. And even then his faith faltered once, as
we infer from the message which he sent to Jesus
from prison by two of his disciples, " Art thou he that
shall come, or must we look for another ?" But before
Jesus appeared in public, he was regarded with the
deepest veneration by the Baptist, who knew that a
character of such quiet, but unequalled power, was
destined to act with unknown force upon the world.
When he had himself produced a great sensation by
his appearance in the wilderness, and the whole coun
try was moved by his voice, the people caught the idea
that he was the Christ. But he disclaimed the office.
For he knew that a far greater than he was near
him. His own exalted mind had been stirred by the
living words of Jesus. Again and again they had
caused his heart to burn and tremble within him.
They had so raised the whole tone of his being, that
he had reached that spiritual eminence which touches
Heaven, where angel-harmonies may be overheard, and
where he listened to the voice of God, and received
the divine command to announce the approaching
kingdom. He had descried its coming already, within,
in his own heart. He declared to the people that he
was only the herald of the king, not the king himself,
that there stood one among them, so glorious and ex
alted, that he himself, highly as they thought of him,
" was not worthy to unloose the latchet of his shoe." I
understand this expression as prompted not by the
general idea which, as a Jew, he had formed of the
coming Messiah, but by his personal reverence for
Jesus whom he knew. And so it was, I conceive,
with all the allusions which he makes to him who was
to succeed him, and which possess a new force when
thus regarded, as prompted by his personal knowledge

THE LAST OF THE HEBREW PROPHETS. 139
of Jesus. He had Jesus in his mind. He had felt in
his own soul, — he knew, the searching, burning, power
of his illustrious relative, and therefore he said, " I use
only water as a sign and means of inward cleansing,
but he th^t will shortly appear will purify you, pene
trating your inmost hearts with a holy spirit* and with
fire." John was the last of the Hebrew prophets. " The
least in the kingdom of Heaven was greater than he."
The whole mode of his appearance, austere, ascetic,
was in accordance with Jewish ways of feeling. Like
the prophet Elijah, and all those who, in the ancient
days of the nation, aimed at the strictest sanctity, he
was clad in the rudest manner, in a garment of camel's
hair bound round him with a leathern girdle. His food
was the simple and scanty produce of the desert where
he appeared. He announced himself in the conse
crated language of one of the old prophets. Of those
who resorted to him, he required the observance of a
rite, already familiar to the Jews, baptism. He im
posed fasts upon his disciples. All these things were
fitted to arrest the Jewish eye and ear. And accord
ingly we read that ' all held John to be a prophet.'
* It is impossible to convey the full force of this word ' spirit' in a transla
tion. The original word is much more comprehensive than the word, 'spirit.'
It signifies also ' air,' ' wind,' and the meaning of the Baptist is, ' water is the
symbol of my office, but the power of him who is coming after me may be
signified by far subtler and more searching elements, ' wind and fire.' That
the Baptist used this word (translated 'ghost,' and- 'spirit,') with this signi
ficance, appears from the connection. He instantly likens his successor to a
husbandman prepared with his fan to blow the chaff out of the wheat, and
with fire to consume it. ' Not this baptism, this water that I use, will cleanse
you ; but One is coming who will purify you as with a wind and a fire from
Heaven. He will stand among you, like a husbandman with his fan in his
hand, amidst his heaps of unwinnowed wheat, and thoroughly sweep the floor,
garnering up the wheat, and casting the chaff into unquenchable fire.'

140 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN JESUS AND JOHN.
That teachers of the law and supercilious Pharisees
went with the whole country and were baptized by
him, acknowledging his authority and confessing their
sins, is significant of the congeniality between the ap
pearance of John and Jewish modes of thought.
The difference between John and Him who came
after him is obvious in all these things, and it is other
wise marked. From the prison into which he was
thrown by Herod, John sent two of his disciples to
inquire of Jesus, who had then appeared publicly,
teaching, and working miracles, whether he were the
Messiah, or another was to be looked for. It has been
thought that the Baptist sent his disciples on this
errand for their satisfaction, not his own. But if he
had no misgivings himself, he might easily have satis
fied his disciples, with whom the authority of their
master was supreme. Had his confidence in Jesus as
the Christ beeh entire, he could not have endured him
self, nor would he have suffered his disciples, to put a
question to Jesus implying the least dissatisfaction. In
implicit faith he would have waited, and enjoined it
upon others to wait, for Jesus to vindicate his own claims
in his own way. He would have perceived all the force
of the evidence which Jesus was giving in his works
of power and mercy, and in the proclamation of the
Gospel to the poor ; and directed the attention of his
disciples to what Jesus was doing, as furnishing deci
sive attestations to the truth of his pretensions. We
are justified therefore in supposing that John sympa
thised in a degree with the popular impressions re
specting the Messiah's Kingdom and glory. It was, no
doubt, on account of his defective ideas on this point
that Jesus declared that ' the least in the kingdom of
Heaven was greater than he.' And for this reason

THE GREATEST OF THE HEBREW PROPHETS. l£\
also, because he looked for the Christ to assume an
outward dignity, he became impatient of his own im
prisonment, and began to be disturbed because Jesus
had done nothing towards his liberation, and no tidings
came of such events as should accompany the appear
ance of the Messiah. It is from the message which
he sent to Jesus from prison that we infer the imper
fection of his views and pronounce him still only a
Hebrew prophet.
But while we rank him with the Jewish Seers, we
account him the greatest of that illustrious line of which
he was the last. If the least in the kingdom of Heaven
was greater than he, before him there had not arisen
a greater. While in his garb and whole proceeding
he breathed the spirit of Elijah, and his heart glowed
with the old prophetic fire, his ideas of the coming
kingdom, though they corresponded in a degree with
popular notions and he looked for a political revolution,
were still eminently spiritual. The preparation for the
expected kingdom to which he summoned his country
men was of a moral nature. He aimed principally to
reach their hearts and reform their manners. He saw
how hollow were those grounds upon which they ex
pected the blessing of God. " Think not to say in
yourselves," said he, " we have Abraham for our father.
Make not your descent from the great patriarch your
merit. For I tell you, God is able of these stones to
raise up children unto Abraham. If you expect to
share in the honours of the coming reign, let not your
repentance be a form but an act. Let it produce works
corresponding thereto." He saw too through the
pretended saints of the day, and without hesitation or
fear poured out upon them his indignant denunciations.
His high authority as a moral teacher is seen in his

142 THE POWER OF THE BAPTIST.
bold rebuke of a powerful prince for marrying a bro
ther's wife, that brother being still living. Upon John,
of all the prophets, the near glory of the kingdom of
Heaven had fallen, and he had caught far more of its
spirit than any of his predecessors. This, as I con
ceive, was attributable in great measure to the influence
of Jesus with whom he had associated.
The various notices of the Baptist furnish a striking
instance of the consistency for which the Gospels are
remarkable, and which, as I have observed, is one of
the indubitable signs of Truth. Every thing told of
him is in character. His austere mode of life, his re
quiring his disciples to observe fasts, the prominence
he gave to the use of water as a symbol of inward
cleansing, an external form, oriental, Jewish, his bold
denunciation of the Scribes and Pharisees, his uncom
promising tone, and his faithful rebuke of Herod — all,
briefly but distinctly stated, help to individualise his
character to the imagination. Although, as we gather
from the record, his career was of short duration, yet
while it lasted, it was full of power. The whole coun
try was moved at his appearance, at the rumour of that
Voice sounding in the wilderness. Men started up as
if the van of the august retinue of the Messiah had
visibly appeared, approaching from the Desert. We
are told in the strong language of the East, that all
Jerusalem went forth to be baptized of John in the Jorr
dan, there to confess and wash away their sins, and
array themselves in sabbath-attire of the soul to hail
their coming Deliverer. The Baptist drew around him
a peculiar body of disciples, who long cherished his
memory and acknowledged him as their Head. Long
after his decease, after the final disappearance of Jesus,

HIS INDEPENDENCE. 143
the Apostle Paul found at Ephesus, a far off city of
Greece, certain disciples of John, who appear to have
known but little of the ministry of Jesus.*
Although, as we have seen, John cherished the deep
est reverence for Jesus, and acknowledged his great
superiority, yet the Baptist preserved a peculiar and
independent character. Their aim was the same. They
both appeared announcing that the kingdom of God
was at hand. Still, beyond a unity of spirit, there is
not the slightest trace of a pre-arranged concert of ac
tion between them. The holy spirit of Jesus gave
much of its life to the lesser spirit of John. But it did
not prescribe his rules nor dictate his methods. These
are characterised by his own peculiar temperament.
He spake at the bidding, not of Jesus, but of the voice
.. of God ; though all he had known of Jesus and all he
had felt towards him had tended to qualify him for the
office of a Heaven-sent messenger.
Jesus, in his own way, original and matchless, has
given us a description of John, not an elaborate por
trait, but a bold and impressive sketch — two or three
lines, and the likeness comes before us, vivid and pow
erful. There is a significance in the passage referred
to of which readers in general have had no adequate
impression. After the two disciples, who had brought
the message of their Master to Jesus, had left him, he
turned to the crowd and spoke of John, " What," said
he, " went ye out into the wilderness to see ? A reed
shaken with the wind ? But what went ye out to see ?
A man clad in soft raiment ? They that wear soft
clothing are in king's houses. But what went ye out
to see ? A prophet 1 Yea, I say unto you, and more
* See Michaelis's Introduction:

144 PORTRAIT OF JOHN BY JESUS.
than a prophet. For this is he of whom it is written,
' Behold, I send my messenger before thy face, who
shall prepare thy way before thee.' Verily I say unto
you, among them that are born of woman, there hath
not risen a greater than John the Baptist ; notwith
standing, he that is least in the kingdom of Heaven is
greater than he." Here, by the suggestion of strong
contrasts, Jesus causes the prominent features of the
Baptist to stand out in the boldest relief. I conceive
the meaning of this passage to be, " When a little while
ago you flocked in such crowds to the desert, what
drew you thither ? What went ye to see ? A reed
shaken by every wind ? One of Lebanon's own cedars
rather ! A reed ? No, a man, a man of no bending, but
of the sternest, spirit. But again I ask what did ye go
to see ? A man daintily arrayed ? Oh, no ! John's garb,
the rudest, his present dwelling, a dungeon where he
has been cast for his fearless rebuke of sin in high
places, show that he cares not for the blandishments of
a palace or the menaces of a tyrant. It was neither of
these that drew you in such multitudes into the wilder
ness, no man of a yielding, reed-like temper, no delicate;
flattering inmate of a king's house. You went to see a
prophet ? Yes, and more than a prophet, one who has
completely fulfilled the prophetic declaration of Scrip
ture, and shown himself to be sent by God to prepare
the way of the Lord. I solemnly declare to you that
of all mortal men, there hath not arisen a greater than
this John ; yet still the least in the kingdom of Heaven
is greater than he." In declaring John to be the
greatest of all mortal men that had yet appeared, Jesus
gives expression to his own deep sense of the powerful
character of the Baptist, and the warmth of personal
confidence and friendship gives colour and boldness to
his language. We misunderstand him if we consider

THE BAPTIST, A JEW. 145
him as laying down a formal proposition that John was
the greatest of men. Our Saviour spoke naturally and
strongly under the deep impression of the moment.
Deep feeling seldom stops to limit and qualify and gukrd
its utterances. ,
The attempt, which I have now made to describe the
relation between Jesus and John, to show how the
spirit of the one was kindled and exalted by the wis
dom and holiness of the other, is, I am aware, very
imperfect. The influence of Jesus upon the Baptist
will be recognised by the thoughtful reader of the
Scriptures. If we only knew what it is to be associated
with a being thoroughly pure and true, we should be
qualified to appreciate this topic. We are compelled
to witness, in those whom we most respect, great imper
fections that necessarily lessen our confidence and their
influence. Still none are insensible to the stirring
power of a wise and just man over those who enjoy the
privilege of his friendship. The feeble representations
of goodness that we meet, with all their defects — how
powerfully do they move us, and to what strong lan
guage do they prompt. Listen to men as they speak
of those who have commanded their admiration and
respect. Observe the warmth of their words and tones.
In what exalted terms do they express their reverence.
By some effort of mind" we may conceive how the ori
ginal, religious, nature of the Son of Zaeharias was
moved by converse with his inspired relative and
friend. To doubt whether an influence so holy and
penetrating was felt by the Baptist, is to discredit, not
only the whole history of the New Testament, but
human nature itself.
In the appearance and procedure of John the traces
19

146 JESUS, THE SON OF GOD.
of his Hebrew origin, his priestly descent, of his place,
and his age, are very obvious. In this respect he stands,
with all other mortal men at the greatest distance be
low Jesus. Jesus of Nazareth was a Jew in his garb
and speech. But in all other respects, he had ' walked
forth into universality,' unimpeded by local and tempo
rary associations; by Jewish prejudices. His being
dwelt and shone with divine, unborrowed light, in the
sphere of Universal Truth and Rectitude and Love.
His visible features;, his vpice, his speech, may have
been the features, the voice, the speech, of a Jew. But
his spirit, the central life of him, as it is revealed in his
utterances and acts, was divine, heaven-born, , the
manifest offspring and Son of God.

147

CHAPTER III.
THE BAPTISM,.
" The visible heavens and earth sympathise with Jesus." — Nature.
"Then cometh Jesus from Galilee to Jordan, to be
baptized of him. But John forbad him, saying, I have
need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me ?
And Jesus answering, said unto him, suffer it to be so
now: for thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness.
Then he suffered him. And Jesus, when he was bap
tized went up straightway out of the water ; and lo, the
heavens^ were opened unto him, and he saw the spirit
of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him.
And, lo, a voice from heaven, saying, This is my be
loved Son, in Whom I am well pleased."
It is of manifest importance that what we see, we
should see clearly. We are not indeed to reqtiire, as
an absolute condition of faith, that We should be able to
see, or even to image distinctly to the mind, the thing
in which we are to believe. Because there are things,
which, from their very nature, do not admit of being
pictured even to the imagination, such as God and
one's own soul.* But when the matter proposed is
confessedly an object of sense, a scene that addresses
the eye, clear vision is supremely desirable; l We may
not ask to see those things which eye hath never seen
* See Edinb. Rev. vol. 46, p. 339. English ed.

148

WHAT APPEARED AT THE BAPTISM?

and can never see. But of that which professes visi
bility, let us have the distinctest sight. Accordingly, it
it necessary to a due faith in the Baptism of Jesus with
its attendant circumstances as a Fact, that it should
be distinctly represented to the mind. With this un
derstanding, "and a single desire to apprehend the actual
state of the case, what it was that occurred on this oc
casion, let us examine the above account.
To the literal acceptation of the passage^ which I
have quoted from Matthew, and with which Mark and
Luke agree in substance, a strong objection presents
itself in the outset. If we suppose that the visible
heavenly vault was actually opened, and that out of the
abyss an apparition in the shape of a dove issued, and,
descending in the way represented by the painters,
alighted upon Jesus, then are we compelled in a man
ner to localise our idea of Heaven, and sanction is
given to the belief that the peculiar residence of God
is above. Now was it not the grand and steady aim
of Jesus to teach1 us otherwise, to lead us to look for
Heaven and for God not in space but in the spirit, here,
within, in our own inmost being ? His express language
and the whole point of his teaching is, u Ye shall not
say, Lo! here, or Lo! there, for the kingdom of God is
within you," Can any one, who has caught the spirit
of Christ in the humblest degree, avoid perceiving a
want of consentaneousness between the account of the
Baptism of Jesus, taken literally, and the eminently in
ward, spiritual, nature of his religion ? The grand
attestations to his authority are found in those words
of his, full of spirit and of life,* and in those miracles
which also were words, divine signs of invisible things,
power, meekness, and love. Accordingly, the best coni-
* Jolnvvi. 63.

A REAL DOVE ALIGHTED ON JESUS. 149
mentators, and many Christians with them, give up the
idea of the actual appearance of a preternatural dove
at the Baptism, and venture no further towards a dis
tinct apprehension of the fact than to suppose that there
was some luminous appearance, a formless body, (so to
speak,) of light, that descended upon Jesus, resembling
a dove, not in shape, but only in the manner of its mo
tion. But to this interpretation there are decisive
objections. It is directly contradicted by Luke, who
states expressly that that which descended upon Jesus
was like a dove "in bodily shape." Besides, although
it apparently spiritualises the incident, it is still essen
tially material, and by its vagueness, loses more than it
gains. While one observes that the light (or lightning,
as some of the learned seem to consider it,) descended
gently, slowly, like a dove, another remarks that it
descended rapidly.*
Upon a thoughtful examination of this portion of the
great history, I am inclined to believe that a real dove
flew down and alighted upon the person, probably on
the head, of Jesus. Whence it came, and how so ex
traordinary an incident happened to take place, are
points of which there may be no specific solution. The
simple fact is all that I am now anxious to settle. And
that there was a dove actually there, seen to fly down
and rest on our Saviour, the construction of the lan
guage, the manner in which it is mentioned, furnishes
a strong reason for believing. The narrators do not
say directly that a dove descended and rested on Jesus.
<\
* Rosenmuller says that the " fulgor" was seen descending not suddenly
but by degrees, as doves are wont, adding that the flying of a dove, especially
when descending, " has in it something peculiar." And yet Kuinoel charac
terises the motion of a descending dove as "celeriter et leniter auram
perstrepens."

150

GROUNDS OF THIS BELIEF.

The phrase, in the use of which they all concur, is,
" the Holy Spirit descended like a dove," — " in bodily
shape," adds Luke. There are two things that lead
to the idea that an actual dove was visible.
1. A dove is mentioned in all the accounts; Now if
no dove were visible, and the writers meant only to say
that something appeared, in some degrei resembling a
dove, there is a probability that in one or another of
the narrations, the similitude would have been varied.
The distinct mention of a dove in four different ac
counts without any variation, implies that the appa
rition was peculiarly, strikingly, to all appearances, like
a dove, and like nothing else; and, therefore, there is
room to suspect that it really was a dove. If a number
of different relations of some remarkable appearance all
united, in describing it as resembling a certain object,
it certainly would be a fair, although not a decisive,
inference that it was that object.
2. If we suppose that if actually was a dove that
was seen, then the fact is described precisely as we
should expect under the circumstances.
We must try, imperfect as the attempt will be, to
enter into these circumstances. We are wont to read
this passage all too coldly. We do not fully consider
what a great occasion, what a moment it was, that is
thus simply described, and the common idea of it is
vague and superficial. We must concentrate our best
strength upon this portion of the history, in order to
see all that was going on there, visibly and invisibly,
upon the banks of the time-honoured Jordan. That
Person, who has just been baptised, and who is
ascending out of the water, is one, the like of whom
the world has never before seen, and whose name is
destined to fill the earth, and to be foremost among
the world's most sacred symbols. In him there is a

STATE OF THE BAPTIST'S MIND. J5|
miraculous spirit, the fullest effluence and the brightest
reflexion of the Almighty. None born of woman have
ever received such gifts as God hath endowed him
with without measure. That eye penetrates into the
heart of things ; and to him the mystery of Being is an
infinite harmony. A man all-divine. And how does
the Baptist look upon him ? With a quiet and com
posed countenance, as he would regard an ordinary
person or thing ? Had he not already conceived for
Jesus the unspeakable reverence with which such a
being must have inspired the high-souled Baptist ? Did
we not see him just now refuse to baptise one, before
whom he felt himself as nothing, with the exclamation,
" I have need to be baptised of thee, and comest thou
to me !" Has he not again and again confessed the
vast superiority of the man of Nazareth, saying, that
he himself was ' not worthy even to unloose the latchets
of his shoes?' The baptiser must have gazed upon
Jesus with, breathless awe, with eyes kindled with the
deepest emotion. The moment must, then, have been
to John, a moment of solemn, soul-thrilling excitement,
one of, those moments which seem, from the intensity
of the feelings awakened,; to be the concentration of
ages. And. When we turn from the baptiser to the baptised,
shall we imagine for a single instant that to Jesus
himself the occasion was any other than one of tran
scendent, indescribable interest ? Whatever it may have
been to others, not to him was the rite of baptism a mere
formality. His whole great soul was engaged in it.
We cannot tell, nor scarcely in the faintest degree
conceive, what at that instant must have been his
feelings. Then it was, that, binding himself irrevo
cably and in spotless pureness of spirit to his own holy
idea of duty, giving himself up without the slightest

152 THE BAPTISM OF JESUS, A GREAT SOLEMNITY.
reservation to the perfect will of God, he had, instan
taneously formed within him, a perfect conviction of
his great destiny. Then his self-knowledge was made
entire. In coming to be .baptised* to perform an out
ward and public act significant of inward self-consecra
tion, he took the first step towards realising those feel
ings which had previously existed only in the silence
of his own bosom. This was the first formal embodi
ment of the divine life which was in him. " Conviction,
were it never so excellent, is worthless till it convert
itself into conduct. Nay, properly speaking, convic
tion is not possible till then, inasmuch as all specu*
lation is by nature endless, formless, a vortex amid
vortices ; only by a felt, indubitable certainty of ex
perience, does it find any centre to revolve round,
and so fashion itself, into a system. Most true is it,.
as a wise man teaches us, that 'doubt of any sort
cannot be removed except by action.' On which
ground, too, let him who gropes painfully in darkness
or uncertain light, and prays vehemently that the
dawn may ripen into day, lay this other precept well
to heart, which to me was of invaluable service: 'Do
the duty Which lies nearest thee,' which thou knowest
to be a duty ! Thy second duty will already have be
come clearer."* In quoting this passage as illustrative
of the history of the mind of Jesus, let me not be sup
posed to imply that before his baptism, he was dis
turbed by doubts, or that he " groped painfully in
darkness," but simply this, that the light which shone
in him before that public act, mild, steady, and in
creasing as it was, was only less clear and strong than
that which flowed in upon him, when he had performed
that service,, taken that one step forward. Then 'by
*- Qarlyle.

1 1 'I

THE DOVE, TRANSFIGURED. 153
a felt, indubitable certainty of experience,' conviction,
being converted into conduct, into an act, was trans-'
formed into knowledge. Now the slightest shadow of
uncertainty was no longer possible. He had put his
long cherished convictions to the last, infallible, only
remaining test, and by the ineffable peace that filled
all his soul, the divine assurance that he received of
approbation and love, he knew himself to have been
appointed from the foundation of the world to the most
godlike of labours.
If such were the feelings of Jesus, they must have
appeared in his whole mien and in his countenance.
An illumination must have beamed from his features
which no art could portray, no imagination conceive.
And in the burning gaze of the fervid Baptist he must
have been transfigured. «
Suppose a dove at this moment to have appeared
hovering over him and alighting on his person, how must
it have startled John, seeming in his eyes nothing less
than an apparition from heaven! A simple bird it
was, but in the glow of. the beholder's mind it was
glorified. It lost its familiar appearance and seemed
unearthly ; and in the lofty state of his mind John could
not say, nor could he have thought at such a moment,
that it was only a common dove. He could only de
scribe it as ' like a dove.' It had to the outward eye
' the bodily shape' of a dove, but to the eye of the soul
gazing upon the spiritual lineaments, the heavenly
glory of Jesus, it was irradiated by the halo which
encircled him, and converted at once into a special
apparition, the sacred symbol of the Holy Spirit, the
present God.
Is there not here the divine touch of nature ? How
frequently do strong emotions invest with a character
corresponding thereto, the most familidr objects, strip-
20

J 54 THIS EXPLANATION, NATURAL.
ping them of all meanness and converting them into
spiritual significations ! So it was, by the over-mastery
of the mind, that reptiles and things without life be
came objects of religious fear, and man, in a passion of
awe, ceased to .see the world in its coarse work-day
garb. It every where, through all its parts, even the
lowest, became sacred to him, and the mind, exalted
to bewilderment, ' darted out its forked flame on What
ever came in its way, and kindling and melting it in its
own fire,' moulded it into correspondence with its own
emotions, until it saw itself surrounded by gods, moving
in all motion, speaking through all sounds. But this,
it will be urged, was superstition. It was human na
ture, and it reveals the principles of human nature, the
spirit we are of. And what is more, there was truth
in it, infinitely more of truth than there is in the sensual
tendency of the present times, which gives a dead,
mechanical, aspect to all nature. It is infinitely better
that the solid universe should be fused into an ethereal
spirit by the force of the imagination, than hardened
by the understanding, compressing all things into lo
gical forms, into a machine grinding steadily indeed,
without derangement, but without life. But letting
this go, the fact remains indisputable. Outward, ob
jects are continually receiving significance from the
mind, and in the simplest movement an excited imagi
nation may behold the very finger of God, and the
most familiar thing may appear (what indeed it is) an
angel from heaven.*
* To Lear the meanest things became conspirators in the great league in
which all things, the very heavens themselves, had united against him. See
Hazlitt's Plain Speaker. For a splendid and thrilling illustration of the power
of the mind to give a meaning to outward nature correspondent to its own im
pressions at the moment, see "Nature," (page 24 et seq:) an extraordinary
work, in the perusal of which it becomes the reader to remember Coleridge's
rule, ' When you cannot understand an author's ignorance, account yourself
ignorant of his understanding.'

THE DOVE, A HEAVEN-SENT WITNESS. 155
These things being so, the account given above of
the extraordinary appearance at the baptism of Jesus
may not seem wholly improbable. Whence the dove
came, and how it happened to alight on him, are ques
tions that may be asked, but they are of very little
interest comparatively. The simple fact of the ap
pearance of the dove and the manner in which this
appearance was interpreted, these alone are the points
which rivet my attention, and it is interesting to take
the view of the case now suggested, because it lets us
into the spirit of the occasion, shows us how elevated
the mind of John must have been at the moment, since
he saw an awful significance in the appearance of a
simple dove, and thus furnishes indirect testimony to
the divine force of the character of Jesus which had
produced that elevation. For my own part I find no
insurmountable difficulty in the belief that the gentle
creature was drawn, through that mysterious sympa
thy which pervades all things, towards Jesus, his coun
tenance, as he ascended from the water, being upturned
in prayer and glowing in every feature with infinite
blessedness. We know that when men have visited
newly discovered regions, never before tracked by hu
man feet, birds and beasts, exhibiting no signs, of fear
or distrust, have regarded them not as foes but as
friends. And if, as it is blessed to hope, this earth is
destined to witness a holy era when men, at peace
with themselves, shall return into full communion and
fellowship with universal nature, why may we not sup
pose that the whole appearance of Jesus, his effulgent
countenance especially, represented, at that elevated
moment of baptism, this divine condition of humanity ?
He looked then as man is destined to look hereafter,
when the inferior creatures shall confide in his inno
cence, and fly to him for protection. The dove then

j 50 THE OPENING OF THE HEAVENS.
may have been drawn to Jesus by that invisible Spirit
without whom not a sparrow falls to the ground. If
so, then was it a heaven-sent witness to the divinity of
his character and claims. ' , i
But there were other imposing concomitants of the
baptism .of Jesus. 'The opening of the heavens, and
the heavenly voice.
Rosenmuller, Schleusner and Kuinoel understand
the phrase, " and the heavens were opened," as signi
fying that it lightened, lightning producing the appear
ance of the skies being rent. But although instances
of a similar mode of speaking are adduced from pro
fane authors, these learned commentators refer to no
instance of the same kind in the Scriptures,' and to for
tify their interpretation resort to Epiphanius, who,
upon the authority of the Gospel of the Ebionites, de
clares that, at the baptism . of Jesus, " straightway a
great light shone round the place," and to Justin
Martyr, who states that ' a fire was kindled (on the
same occasion) in the Jordan.' These authorities, it is
evident, afford but very feeble support to the idea that
the opening of the heavens is a phrase employed merely
as descriptive of the effect produced by lightning.
It is worthy of note that in the Baptist's own account
of the Baptism of Jesus, as it stands in the Gospel of
John the Evangelist, no mention is made, of the heavens
being opened. If the Baptist had witnessed any extra
ordinary miraculous phenomenon in the firmament, it
is not easy to account for the omission. In Connection
with this omission, it is also to be remarked that the
grammatical construction of. the language in the other
three gospels authorises the idea that the heavens were
opened not to John but to Jesus. The passage in Mat
thew reads thus : " And Jesus when he was baptized,

THE OPENING OF THE HEAVENS. 157
went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the
heavens were opened unto him." Violations of the
rule, however, concerning the relative and antecedent
occur in the Scriptures. Therefore the pronoun does
not necessarily refer to Jesus. It may relate to John.
I conclude, however, from the other notices, and from
a consideration of all the circumstances, that Jesus is
the antecedent, and that the meaning of Matthew is,
" And Jesus when he was baptized, went up straight
way out of the water : and, lo, the heavens were opened
unto Jesus, and John saw the spirit of God descend
ing, &c." The grammatical question, however, is of
very little importance. Two modes of explaining the
phrase " the heavens were opened" suggest themselves.
If John believed, as, under the circumstances, and in
the exaltation of his feelings, he could not help doing,
that the dove was a celestial messenger, sent down at
the moment from heaven, then was it his natural and
instantaneous inference that the heavens opened to
give egress to the bird. It may be therefore that an
inference is stated as a visible fact. But the following
appears to be the most probable explanation of this lan
guage. ,
According to Luke, Jesus came up out of the water,
after he was baptized, "praying." I have already
intimated how unspeakably impressive this act of Bap
tism must have been to him. It was the consecration
of his whole being to God, the divinest offering ever
presented to heaven. On all occasions his prayers were
the truest that ever ascended to the throne of Infinite
Goodness. And when he ascended out of the river,
praying, his countenance, glowing with the lofty emo
tions that filled his great spirit, must have shone with
a brightness like the sun. Had the, veil of the visible

158 THE OPENING OF THE HEAVENS.
heavens been rent in twain before him, and a beatific
vision of Majesty and Love been spread before his eyes,
his countenance could not have borne more expressive
testimony to his inward exaltation. His sense of the
Divine Presence was at that moment as vivid and in
timate as if the very heavens were opened and hebeheld
the Everlasting Throne and Him who sitteth . thereon
smiling on him with fatherly love. His countenance
was as of one communing with the revealed glories of
the better world, and John beheld there in that Face a
brightness, the reflection of Heaven, and Jesus seemed
like one, looking with his bodily eyes at angelic spirits,
and at the Father of Spirits. He, who commanded
the light to shine out of darkness, shone into the heart
of John, and gave him the. light of the knowledge of
the glory of heaven in the face of Jesus Christ.
This explanation is corroborated by a passage in the
very same chapter of John, in which the Baptism is
recorded, (i. 51.) When Nathaniel, upon witnessing
an instance of the miraculous knowledge of Jesus, exr
claimed, " Rabbi, thou art the Son of God, thou art the
king of Israel,' Jesus answered andv said unto him,
' Because I said unto thee, I saw thee under the fig-tree,
believest thou ? thou shalt see greater things than
these.' And he saith unto him, ' Verily, verily, I say
unto you, hereafter ye shall see heaven open and the
angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son
of man.' " That this language is figurative will not be
doubted. But when I consider what and how wonderful
those things were, which are here described as the
opening of heaven and the ascending and descending
of angels, and which those, whom he addressed, subse
quently witnessed, — his miracles of power and mercy,
his sufferings, and his rising from the dead — this figure

THE OPENING OF THE HEAVENS. 159
of speech seeuis to me neither violent nor too strong.
What with Jewish modes of thought and expression,
this language, vivid indeed, is natural but still inade
quate. It could hardly have been stronger. Yet, after
all, it does but imperfectly describe what took place
thereafter, and what the disciples saw. Had the skies
parted asunder, had visible angels ascended and de
scended, they, who witnessed what Jesus did, and heard
his inspired words, could not have had in the spectacle,
however imposing, such decisive evidence of the inti
mate communication between him and the heavenly
world and the Almighty Father, as they possessed in
the miracles they actually beheld. The spectators of
his life, the hearers of his teaching, did indeed see
heaven open and the angels of God ascending and de
scending. And they saw more. For in him they saw
God. " Whosoever hath seen me, hath seen the
Father," said Jesus to the very Philip who was with
Nathaniel when that impressive promise was made to
him. If those then, who beheld the works and listened
to the word of Jesus, are said to have seen " heaven
open and the angels of God ascending and descending
upon the Son of man," with how much greater signifi
cance may it be said, that the heavens were opened
(at his Baptism) unto him, who felt the divine presence
in his own spirit and beheld the glory of heaven, and in
whose illuminated face the vision and the faith were
expressed. It will be seen that there is no inconsistency in the
different explanations which I have proposed of the
phrase, " the heavens were opened." The sudden ap
pearance of the dove, conjoined with the inspired looks
of Jesus, coming up out of the water in prayer, con
spired to lift up the spirit of the Baptist and to produce
the vivid impression that the very heavens were opened

10Q THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN.
at that moment to Jesus. In that divine countenance
heaven was thrown open to John also.
" And, lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ' This is my
beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.' " In the
first -chapter of his Gospel, John the Evangelist has
given us John the Baptist's own account of the occa
sion, as follows : " And John bare record, saying, ' I
saw the Spirit descending from Heaven like a dove,
and it abode upon him. And I knew him not : but he
that sent me to baptise with water, the same said unto
me, Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending,
and remaining on him. the same is he who baptiseth
with the Holy Spirit. And I saw and bare record that
this is the Son of God.' " Now it is observable that in
this account of the Baptist's there is no mention of a
voice from Heaven. Had an audible voice from Hea
ven been heard, it certainly would have been the
principal and most direct testimonial to the divine
character of Jesus. It would have been the circum- *
stance which would most powerfully impress* and de
cide the mind of John. But he declares that he knew
Jesus to be the Son of God, not because he heard a
voice declaring the fact, but because he saw the Spirit
of God, descending and remaining on him. This was
the token by which Jesus was designated to the Bap
tist as the Son of God. \h
Such being the character of the Baptist's account,
it may be inferred that no voice was audible, at least
to John or to any of the bystanders. Jesus alone heard
the voice from heaven. And this inference is somewhat
confirmed by the fact that two out of the three other
narratives give us the words as addressed directly
to Jesus, " Thou art my beloved Son, in thee I am
well pleased."

THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN. 101
But was an articulate voice actually heard vby
Jesus ? Let us keep in view, as we are able, the
character of his feelings at the moment. It was a
moment of inexpressible exaltation. Frequently be
fore, during the previous years of his life, his spirit had
*nounted into communion and intercourse with his
Almighty Father. Many a time and oft, we must
believe, he had heard ., the voice of God in the re
cesses of his own soul, summoning him to his great
work. Visions more and more vivid, voices more and
more clear had visited him. The purest spiritual emo
tions had become habitual with him, and he had been
daily and hourly approaching to that elevation of mind
and will of which his baptism was the crowning con
summation. Then he rose to the loftiest height of self-
devotion, and his whole being was given up to whatever
the divine voice might call him. No vow so divine and
sincere had ever before been made on earth or re
corded in Heaven. Never before had a human will
been raised into such entire harmony with the divine
will or man approached so near to God. As he came
up out of the water in which he had cleansed himself
of every selfish weakness, and where he had given him
self up to the purest of aims, an ineffable peace filled
his bosom and caused his face to beam. The fullest
assurance of divine favour fell at once upon his heart,
and he knew himself to be an object of infinite appro
bation. This was the voice from Heaven, infinitely
more distinct and satisfying than any audible voice,
which spake to him with unearthly melody, and caused
him to know that he was the beloved Son of God, in
whom God was well pleased. Could any. articulate
sounds addressed to the outward, fallible ear, have pro
duced a conviction of divine favour so complete and
21

162

THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN.

intimate, as this which was formed within him by the
Holy Spirit of God mysteriously communing with his
spirit? If, as we may suppose, Jesus described the
feeling of that moment to John the Baptist or John
the Beloved, or to any of his friends, it seems to me he
could hardly have avoided describing it precisely as it
is stated in the records. He must have felt as if a
.spiritual voice sounded through his whole being, de
claring him to be regarded with a love like the love of
an Infinite Father for a faithful Son.
In illustration of this view of the case, I do not
allude to the boldness which characterised the lan
guage of the time and the place, although this is a
consideration, which, when faithfully meditated, will
help us to a better apprehension of this and of all parts
of the Sacred History. But I would rather refer to
the fact, that almost always, in all times and .places,
men speak of the deep and sudden impressions made
on them, the seasons of mental exaltation, as produced
by a voice or voices. I took up the other day a tract *
which had been thrown in at my door, and which re
lated the experience of an individual in whom a deep
sense of sin had been awakened. In his distress he
states that he heard a voice saying to him, ' Repent of
thy sins and thou shalt be forgiven.' The thought,
thus expressed, was by the Holy Spirit so distinctly .
fashioned to his mind that he. started as if an audible
voice had addressed him. A short time since, I was
reading in a daily print an account of the deaths of
Marshal Duroc. It appears that he had a presenti
ment of his approaching end, and he asserted solemnly
to a friend that he had heard a voice, assuring him
that the jiext day's battle would be fatal to him. Ex
amples might be adduced without number, all showing

THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN. 103
how natural it is to represent sudden and powerful
convictions of mind as produced by a voice. God
forbid that we should be so blind to the mysterious
heights and depths of man's nature as to pronounce all
these, delusions ! It is true, articulate voices, literally
speaking, may not have been heard on such occasions,
but the fact of impressions (beyond the power of any
sound to produce,) made on the mind and made too by
the Infinite Spirit who is every where around and
within us, cannot be questioned without denying the
presence and providence of God.
Especially have they, to whom it has been given to
entertain high resolves, to put forth the loftiest powers
of the will, felt in their own pure consciousness an
indisputable persuasion of a superhuman influence on
their being. ¦ The conviction of heavenly communica
tion was far stronger than if it had been produced by
the ministry of the eye and the ear and the hand.
And they have expressed themselves accordingly, aver
ring that they acted at the bidding of a voice from
Heaven — that they were guided by the finger of God.
The world, blinded by sense, has derided their pre
tensions or driven them away as insane fanatics. But
gradually controlled and moulded by their power, it
has at last bowed down to them, and borne record
that it was the divinity by which they were sent and
moved. The strength of this faith as it has appeared
in prophets and apostles and martyrs, the fulness in
which it exists in a mind elevated by the practice of
truth, and quickened by virtue, and its beneficial in
fluences — all conspire to make us feel that it is founded
in reality — that a divine power is actually present in a
holy will, and a divine voice is heard in the peace of a
true heart. Men have laboured to reason themselves,

104 THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN.
(but their subtleties and sophistries are all in vain) out
of the faith, that here in the inner and unfathomed mys
tery of their own soul is ' an opening, an avenue, a
sense, call it what you will, whereby a power tran
scending all ordinary power comes near to them, and,
according to its own perfect pleasure, elects certain
individuals to bd prophets and apostles, workers of
miracles, utterers of divine truth, saviours of gene
rations and of worlds. All tongues and languages
have forms of speech suggested and modified by this
divine faith. In the humble emergencies of daily life
how often are we made conscious of a new and unex
pected force, ' a strength not our own— a reason above
reason.' It comes over us, and it acts through us like
the inspiration of a God. Alas for us ! that it comes
so rarely and its stay is so brief. It is the pure in
spiration of Heaven. I am not now using figures, but
endeavouring to state what seems to be a truth of
indescribable moment, the foundation of all truth, of
all belief, of all hope.
Herein is the unspeakable worth of Jesus Christ.
Beyond all others he was created in a likeness of God.
No other has ever been gifted as he was. He always
spoke and acted upon the fullest faith that he was sent
and empowered by God. What in others is. a dim
and occasional faith was in him knowledge. In him
self he recognised the Holy Spirit. Of himself, he
affirmed, he could do nothing. The Father dwelling
in him, He did the works. This was his consciousness.
He was born with it. It was the gift and endowment
of Heaven. He had acted upon it from the earliest
period of his life. But in the new and perfect peace
which instantly filled his whole being upon the per
formance of his first public act, of self-consecration at

THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN. 105
his baptism, he felt the inspiration of God stirring
within him as he had never felt it before, and he heard
the divine voice in his soul declaring him to be the
object of Infinite Love. Henceforth there was no
delay. Immediately, after the briefest pause, he com
menced his high career, and was obedient to the word
written upon his heart, to the voice speaking there as
from heaven, even unto death.

166

CHAPTER IV.
THE TEMPTATION.
" Evil into the mind of God or man
May come and go, so unapproved and leave
No spot or blame behind." — Milton.
The Baptism of Jesus, being such as I have en
deavoured to describe it, the Temptation follows imme
diately thereupon as a natural consequence.
From the nature of the human mind, seasons of new
and uncommon exaltation are succeeded by periods of
exhaustion. When one has long meditated a great
purpose, and has at last, formally, irrevocably, bound
himself to its execution, there frequently occurs a tem
porary recoil of the spirit. He finds himself in a new
position, and looks at his situation from a new point of
view ; and its duties and perils rise before him in a
distincter and more imposing light.*
The habitual tone of the mind of Jesus was singularly
elevated. Still we cannot doubt that he experienced
variations of feeling, and that at times his spirit was
unusually raised. There were occasions when the holy
spirit, which dwelt in him as it never before nor since
* Scott glances at this fact in the human constitution, in the tale of the
Black Dwarf, where he describes the flagging spirits of the seditious assembly
at Ellieslaw Castle. " They experienced the chilling revulsion of spirits
which often takes place when men are called upon to take a desperate resolu
tion, after having placed themselves in circumstances where it is alike diffi
cult to advance or recede."

VARIATIONS OF FEELING IN JESUS. 107
dwelt in flesh, descended upon him to overflowing. He
was always conscious of the arms of Infinite Love
thrown around him, but at times he felt himself reposing
on the bosom of his heavenly Father. The history
bears direct testimony to the truth of these remarks.
Once, when, exhausted by hunger and thirst and
fatigue, he chanced to enter into conversation with a
woman of Samaria, he was so exhilarated thereby that
he cared not to eat or drink. His soul ascended at
once the mount of Vision and found immortal suste
nance in gazing upon the moral harvest waving in
ripeness before him. By the nature of things these
celestial visitations, when they ceased, were succeeded
by something like depression. When the intensest light
of the Divine Countenance had beamed upon him for
awhile, it was not followed by absolute darkness, but
there was a temporary dimness produced by the excess
of light. So also these periods of exhaustion and temp
tation were in their turn succeeded by new strength.
It is observable that the last and sorest trial, the
agony in the Garden, occurred just after a superhuman
and long-sustained elevation of mind. At the last Sup
per, when Judas went out to execute his base purpose,
the nearness of his fate broke with new force upon the
heart of Jesus. But his first sight of that event, from
so close a point of view, was not of its dark and suffer
ing aspect. It did not produce horror, but the sub-
limest joy. " Now," he exclaimed, " is the Son of Man
glorified, and God is glorified in him !" In that catas
trophe, which, to all human seeming, involved himself
and his cause in hopeless ruin, he beheld a blaze of the
Divine Glory. This was the first impression caught
from a nearer prospect of his fate. The next thought
was of his friends and disciples from whom he would
be severed by death. And he instantly devotes himself

108 THE BAPTISM AND TEMPTATION, CONNECTED,
to the office of preparing and comforting them. With
the fourteenth chapter of John, the record o£ these
generous consolations commences, and it continues on
through the three following chapters. Review the cir
cumstances of this occasion. Mark particularly how it
was that' these discourses to his disciples were sug
gested, and you cannot but be deeply impressed with
the unequalled elevation of his mind. Judas had just
left him to go and consummate his treachery; and
already the enemies of Jesus were getting ready to
seize him. The thickening plot was beginning to give
forth busy notes of preparation. The first thing that he
thinks of is the Divine Glory to be revealed in his
death. Then his thoughts turn to his disciples, and he
forgets himself in his endeavours to sustain them. Not
until after he had parted from them, and only twb or
three remained with him, and he was all but alone, at
midnight, did the dark and suffering side of his near fate
arrest his notice. Then for awhile, in the utter want of
all human sympathy, his spirit sunk within him, and he
fell prostrate on the earth in' an agony of prayer for
himself. Is it not natural that it should have been so 1
That an hour of weakness should have come is not sur
prising. The wonder is that it did not come sooner—
that for so long a while after he was made to feel that
death was close at hand, he should have kept off all
selfish thoughts, and that, when the season of personal
suffering did come, it was but of brief duration, and was
succeeded by the sublimest self-possession, so that the
last and most awful scene of his eventful career was the
most glorious, glorious for his abiding serenity, for the
perfect triumph of his piety and love.
Now the same naturalness appears in his baptism
and temptation considered connectedly.

JESUS, DEEPLY INTERESTED IN HIS WORK. 10Q
It is important to bear always in mind that Jesus
of Nazareth was no blind, unconcerned, instrument in
the hands of Providence, but was personally interested
in his work as no other man ever was in his — that the
power of exercising the miraculous gifts bestowed on
him was consequent upon the elevation of his will.
One of the great truths which he announced and to
which he continually referred, is, that all the blessings
of Heaven, all power, light, and life, all depend upon
the condition of the individual will. " If any man will
do the Divine will, he will know of my teaching,
whether it be of God or not." " He that doeth truth,
cometh to the light." " Every one that is of the truth,
heareth my voice." Why may we not look for an
illustration of this great principle in the case of Jesus
himself? Why may we not believe that, agreeably to
the representation given in the foregoing chapter, his
conviction of his destiny was not perfected until the
moment when he ascended out of the water after hav
ing been baptised ? And that then it followed naturally
upon the previous state of his will. The view I take
is simply this. Holy as his life had been before that
hour, his baptism was the holiest season he had ever
experienced. Then the energy of his purpose was the
greatest. Never before had he been conscious of such
high thoughts and aspirations, such determined re
solves, as filled all his soul at that moment when,
coming forth in a formal manner, in the eye of the
world, through the rite of baptism, he made a solemn
vow of self-consecration. A new experience, far sur
passing all his previous experiences, was his ; and he
knew; as he had never known before, the infinite bless
edness of a true spirit. Heaven was opened to him,
and he heard a divine voice pronouncing him the be-
22

17Q THE LIFE OF JESUS, PROGRESSIVE.
loved Son of God. He was pre-eminently single-hearted'
before, but then so vivid were the divine persuasions
that sunk into his heart, that they were new and
strange even to him. They had lifted him above him
self. But from the nature of the human soul, dwelling
in flesh, they couid not last always at the same degree
of intensity. Upon no spirit on earth does heaven in
all its brightness dawn at once and abide for ever. The
vision and the glory would overpower.
There are heavenly bodies so distant that they seem
to be stationary, and we cannot discern their motion,
and yet their velocity is the greatest. So was it with
the Man of men. To us he appears to have always
been from the first the perfect being that he was. And
compared with all others, he was so. Still the Scrip
tures expressly say that he grew in favour with God,
that he Was made perfect through sufferings, that he
learned obedience by the things that he suffered. If
so, then the office which he filled had for its end, not
only a world's salvation, but his own spiritual growth;
and we are authorised from considerations of reason
and human nature to infer that there was progress
in the life of Jesus, and that the first visits of these
divine thoughts, which daily become more habitual
till they filled his whole heart and were the most
active springs of his being, all but overpowered him.
In the full conviction of divine favour at his bap
tism, there was a peace new and unutterable. But
the joy and the glory of the office to which he then
knew himself to be divinely summoned, brought with
them the sense of its greatness and responsibility. The,
consciousness of his destiny was now settled and ine
radicable. There it was, fixed for ever, thrilling, burning
in his heart, and nothing was wanting to its confirma
tion. The irrevocable step, had been taken. There

THE PURPOSE OF THE TEMPTATION. 171
was no power in the universe that could make him
otherwise than as he was. He had passed through a
great crisis. Years of prayer and devout meditation
had gone by, and daily and hourly his aspirations had
been growing purer and mounting higher. Now he
had been brought to concentrate the whole divine force
of his being in a solemn act of the will, prompting him
to a public vow of self-devotion. And this act had
been followed, in the unchangeable truth of things, by
unspeakable peace, the divine testimony, the voice of
God. But then also the thought was brought home to
him that now there was no retreat. The knowledge
of himself could not be escaped. He could not un-
essence his being. And, being what he was, what he
knew himself to be, what a career was before him,
what awful relations did he sustain to God and to the
world ! Well do we read, (in Mark) " And immedi
ately he was driven by the Spirit into the wilder
ness." So profound was the sense he now had of his
destiny that it gave him no rest. He recognised it as
the voice of God, the impulse of the Holy Spirit ; and
it so moved him that he forsook the common ways of
life, or rather was carried away by the force of his
feelings into the deepest retirement, leaving the abodes
of men, and wandering into the wilderness in oom-
m union with thoughts such as has never visited any
other spirit. ,
The history represents the temptations by which he
was assailed in the Desert, as the end and purpose for
which he Was led thither by the Spirit. But in the
Scriptures, .certain and inevitable consequences are
very often represented as the results specially intended.
Thus Jesus himself says, " I come not to brirtg peace
but a sword." The purport of this declaration is

172

INCREASE OF STRENGTH.

merely to state impressively how certain it was that
discussions would ensue. They would as surely arise,
and be as bitter and fierce, as if he had come expressly
to produce them. He was impelled to seek the^ seclu
sion of the desert for relief from the pressure of the
exalted thoughts which thronged in upon him. They
rushed upon him almost to overwhelming, and drove
him away from the haunts of men. And it is obvious
that he went into the desert to seek, not temptation,
but relief, support, strength. And the Spirit drove him
thither not to tempt but to confirm him. But in the
solitude of the wilderness, in the weakness of his body
after long fasting, and the exhaustion of a mind borne
down by a sense of things invisible, temptations arose
so naturally and unavoidably, that in accordance with
popular modes of speech, they are represented. as the
express and final cause of his being led into the wil
derness, when they were only the incidental conse
quences. The chief result of his temporary seclusion was an
acquisition of great inward strength, and this may be
regarded as the end and object of the Temptation. In
his subsequent career, nothing is more impressive than
the habitually calm and self-possessed deportment of
Jesus. In intimate union with the Infinite, in the exer
cise of divine powers and the enjoyment of such gifts
as had never before been bestowed on man, he main
tains a uniform composure. He did indeed give way
at times to the expression of strong emotion. But then
these seasons of excited feeling were very brief. His
uniform appearance is of a man quiet and composed./
And we cannot but marvel at his calmness. We won
der that the sense of his own greatness; of his vast
superiority to all around him, continually forced in the
most imposing manner upon his notice, never disturbed

THE TEMPTER COMES. 173
him — that he remained so simple and collected when
thronged by multitudes, and when thousands of hearts
were beating and thousands of eyes kindling at the
wonders wrought by the touch of his hand and the
word of his mouth; and he read his own greatness in
the countenances of all men as in a mirror. But the
Temptation explains the marvel in a degree. We find
that it was not always so with him, that there was a
time when he was well nigh overwhelmed by the con
sciousness of his unequalled destiny. When the spirit
of truth and power descended upon him in new and
abundant measure, as it did at his baptism, and the
knowledge of himself as the chosen One, which had
been gradually dawning on him, at last rose full upon
his soul, and was made perfect and entire, wanting
nothing, then was he impelled to forsake the world for
awhile, to plunge into the desert, so exceeding was the
weight of glory. Thither he fled, borne, " driven by
the spirit" to ponder his extraordinary situation — to
consider his high office, to calm and command his
spirit. This was no ordinary task. It demanded effort.
It was attended with struggles. And it was in the
strictest course of nature that, in that wild solitude,
with a physical frame worn down by fasting, the
tempter should come to him. He not only gained the
victory but he reaped lasting advantages therefrom.
In this great struggle at the threshold of his career, he
collected the strength that afterwards bore him di
vinely through the blackness that gathered round him.
We perceive now that his subsequent composure was
no constitutional insensibility, but the heavenly fruit of
effort, of self-resistance and self-mastery.
' The Tempter came to him.' The temptations that
assailed him were nowise different from those which

174 THE FIRST TEMPTATION.
assail all other men. He was tempted as we are. But
the evil thoughts that rose in jhis mind are represented
as the prpposition of an evil being. This representation
is in accordance with the universal belief of the place
and the age. Moral evil was attributed to the agency
of a malignant spirit. It is of little moment how we
suppose it to originate, if we only recognise its existence
and influence. However it comes, whether out of our
own nature, or by the instigation of a malignant being,
its relation to the human will is the same, and " it has
no more power over man than he chooses to give it." -
But there appears to be a peculiar significance in
ascribing the temptations of Jesus to an evil spirit.
To his holy nature, evil thoughts must have indeed
appeared foreign, and we cannot wonder that they
should have been regarded and represented as the sug
gestion of another, not indeed personally visible, but
whispering in the ear of the soul. I have said that
this representation was conformable to the belief of
those times. Who shall presume to decide that it is
not conformable to truth ? The origin of evil is an un-
fathomed mystery. Clouds and darkness rest upon it.
Were it not so repugnant to our feelings to believe
that there are in the universe of God beings so in-
veterately opposed to him as to find delight in tempting
and corrupting others, I know not why evil thoughts
may not be attributed to malignant influences from
without. So subtle, so active and so perilous are they,
that, if we were indeed encompassed by viewless foes,
our condition could not be more exposed. At all
events, as I have just remarked, we cannot help per
ceiving a peculiar propriety in describing the tempta
tion of Jesus as originated in this way.
The first temptation came in the shape of Hunger.

WANT. 175
He had fasted forty days, subsisting on the scanty pro
duce of the wilderness. ' Why/ said he to himself, or
said the Tempter to him, ' why shouldst thou bear this
painful craving for food ? If thou art what thou knowest
thyself to be, the Son of God, then use the power which
belongs to thee as such, and convert these stones into
loaves and satisfy thy hunger at once and without more
ado." But this suggestion is instantlv silenced by the
thought that bread, physical subsistence, is not man's
only or chief want. Bread alone cannot sustain the
Jife of a Son of God, which lies in something infinitely
higher. ' If so,' we may suppose the blessed Saviour
to have communed with himself — ' if I am the Son of
God, then a mere animal life is not the end of my being
to which I am to devote my powers. The divine facul
ties and gifts of the Son of God are destined not for
private and finite uses, but for vast and comprehensive
purposes correspondent to gifts so great and rare. They
have not been bestowed on me merely to support this
perishing clay, and to exercise them for an object com
paratively so worthless would be sacrilege. The life
of the Son of God is not in the life of the body but in
the life of the godlike soul, and that is sustained by the
consciousness of being true to the Divine Will, the
word written on the heart. No, I will not desecrate
my power by putting it to a mean use. Better were it
for me to perish than to forget my true destiny. My
dependence is not on bread alone, or principally, but on
the consciousness of being true to God.'
This temptation, in an infinite variety of forms, lays
in wait for the children of men, and over what hosts
does it gain the victory ! In comparison with the other
creatures on this globe, the meanest man that fives is
verily a son of God. He is furnished with faculties,
moral and intellectual, whereby he is qualified for god-

j«0 THIS TEMPTATION, UNIVERSAL.
like aims and labours. But want— hunger, presses him,
and instantly he uses the miraculous power he possesses
over nature to furnish himself with bread, merely to
feed and pamper the body. Not only the stones which
lie around him, but the very bowels of the earth, the
silver and the gold hidden there, h6 digs up to convert
them into bread. He might do the work of a god in
the world, spread abroad the glory of truth and virtue,
cause knowledge and righteousness to abound, and
transform the wilderness into the residence of angelic
beings, but he is false to this high office. He perverts
his great qualifications and toils only to supply his
animal wants, and to multiply the means of self-gratifi
cation, and so he forgets that the true life of man does
not consist in the bare continuance of his animal ex
istence but in the wellbeing of the soul, whose suste
nance is the consciousness of fidelity to the high and
holy word of God. We defile our heaven-tempered
weapons in the low strife of the senses, fighting only for
bread. How often are the rarest talents desecrated in
this way ! How often do We see men who possess powers
fitting them to be the reformers and benefactors of
thousands, sacrificing every thing for bread, or for the
wealth and place which will secure bread enough and
to spare ! Sons of God, they are insensible to the divine
relation, to the lofty dignities and expectations that be
long to the offspring of Heaven and the heirs of immortal
possessions. " They must live," say they. But where
is the necessity ? No mere life of any man is indispen
sable to the world. But it is necessary that every man,
be he the highest or the loyvest, should hold fast to his
integrity— to the law of rectitude; that Word of God,
even if instant death be the penalty. He must devote
his powers, whatever they may be, to their true purpose,
even if he die in the warfare. No life is so precious as

THE SECOND TEMPTATION. 177
a death incurred through devotion to duty. The bloody
and lifeless corpse of a true martyr hath in it an im
mortal life, and it will give life to him that only looks
on it, whereas a body is dead, even though every pulse
is beating and every nerve strung, if it contain not a
true heart, listening ever to the divine word. So felt
the Son of God in the wilderness. He knew his rela
tion to God» And knowing that, he knew also that he
had far better die instantly, miserably, for lack of bread,
than live by the abuse of his sacred gifts, by putting
them to a false end. " The Divine voice hath assured
me," thought he, " that I am the Son of God. I will
act then as becomes the Son of God, in a godlike man
ner, even if it be at the immediate cost of my life. I
will be true to this great dignity, come what may."
" Then the devil taketh him up into the holy city and
setteth him on a pinnacle of the Temple, And saith unto
him, If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down : for
it is written, He will give his angels charge concerning
thee ; and in their hands they will bear thee up, lest at
any time thou dash thy foot against a stone. Jesus
said unto him, It is written again, Thou shalt not tempt
the Lord thy God." Such is the record of another of
his temptations.
Observe how, as in the former case, the tempter be
gins with, " If thou be the Son of God." This was the
thought which recurred continually to the mind of
Jesus. It was calculated to exalt him, and there was
danger lest he should be too much elated by it. Let
it be borne carefully in mind that at his Baptism, shortly
before, this lofty and soul-thrilling conviction of his re
lation to God had been borne in upon him with new
and all-satisfying force. Son of God! Ponder it,
child of Mary, humble dweller in the town of Nazareth,
23

178

PRIDE.

thou art the Son of God, and the special favour of the
Infinite One resteth on thee ! In the first and exciting'
consciousness of this unrivalled dignity, elated for a
moment by the height to which he was raised, he pro
posed to himself questionable trials of his power. His
mind recurred most naturally to all those passages
which the Jews considered, and which the Son of God
was justified in regarding, as addressed to him. ' If I
am,' thought he, ' what a divine voice hath just assured
me, the beloved Son of God, then hath he giVen his
angels charge over me. Invisible protectors are mus
tered to be my guards and guides, to watch over my
every step. I cannot stumble over the meanest stone
but that unseen hands will be extended to hold me up.'*
Could he avoid a transient elation of mind at the thought
of this special protection — of angelic hosts attending his
steps ? And then the thought arose in his mind of trying
his invisible guardians. For the pleasure of being in
stantly surrounded and borne up by angelic messengers,
" why," he asked, " why may I not go and throw my
self from one of the pinnacles of the Temple ?" In
imagination — in the spirit, he stood there and saw him
self encircled by an angel company hovering around,
and ready to save him from all harm, and the delight
of being thus protected suggested itself to his mind.
Here was the tempter creeping on him under the guise
of vanity and self-display. But he instantly penetrates
and resists the evil. Another passage of Scripture
* Is it a conjecture altogether groundless, that this particular passage of
the Old Testament, " He will give his angels charge over thee ; and in thk
hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against &
stone," was suggested by his having at that moment misstepped, or at least
by the spot where he stood. Exhausted by fasting, he was wandering, lost
in meditation, in a rugged, stony wilderness. To a spirit so deeply and
habitually devout, the meanest incident was suggestive. At all events, the
fact that stones are mentioned in both the first two temptations is a coinci
dence that arrests notice.

NO STRANGE TEMPTATION. 179
occurs to him and exposes the error — " Thou shalt not
tempt (try) the Lord thy God." And he sees the
irreverence of using the privileges given him that he
might act the part of a Son of God, merely to gratify a
vain curiosity, a selfish vanity. The Divine Providence
is too sacred to be relied on for any but sacred ends.
God sends his angels, not to minister to the caprices
and vanity of man, but to aid him in the achievement
of heavenly labours ; and if we seek to avail ourselves
of their ministrations to gratify ourselves rather than to
serve God, we do it at our peril, and are chargeable with
the impiety of thinking to induce God to do evil, to
give up his perfect will for the sake of our corrupt pas
sions. There is an Eastern story which relates how a
man, having obtained knowledge of a magical spell
whereby he could summon certain genii to his service,
in his haste to avail himself of supernatural aid, forgot
a part of the charm, so that when the genii appeared,
instead of obeying his behest, they drew forth instru
ments of violence from under their robes, and, having
beaten him till he was lifeless, vanished, carrying with
them the talisman which alone they obeyed. So is it
with the means and opportunities which God has placed
at our disposal, and which may be regarded as angels,
appointed to be our servants. Summon them aright,
and they will lend all needed assistance, but trifle with
them, put them on a derogatory errand, and they will
rend and tear us. This was no strange temptation then
that assailed the Son of God. It has lain in ambush
for man from the beginning of the world. Whether
guardian spirits are set to watch over us, we say not.
But our own powers, and the powers of nature made
obedient to our will, are so many ministering angels.
In these we possess exalted privileges, and are continur

180 THE THIRD TEMPTATION,, AMBITION.
ally tempted to employ them for the gratification of our
self-love, merely to display our power, to indulge our
vanity or pride. How rarely do we recollect with
Jesus that our opportunities are the sacred gifts of
Heaven, entrusted to us for the fulfilment of God's will,
not ours. Prone to put them to our own selfish and
idle uses, we do, in a manner, tempt or try the Lord
our God. We act as if we thought to induce him to
forget and suspend his perfect purposes for our low
sakes — to tempt him to join and aid us with his angels
in promoting our vain ends, in doing evil.
" Again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding
high mountain, and showeth him all the kingdoms of the
world and the glory of them ; And saith unto him, All
these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and
worship me. Then saith Jesus unto him, Get thee
hence, Satan : for it is written, Thou shalt worship the
Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve." It is
not necessary to suppose that these various temptations
occurred in immediate succession. There may have
been considerable intervals, and they may have been
suggested in various forms. But these which are re
corded were the chief. First came Hunger, the
representative of the animal nature. The tempter re
sisted in this shape, next appealed to a less sensual, or
less obviously sensual, feeling — to the pleasing idea of
gratified self-importance. Again baffled, he returns
once more, and seeks to conquer through ambition, the
great desire of universal possession and conquest, 'the
last infirmity of noble minds.' - 1 am the Son of God,'
said Jesus, ' This I know. I am so by the irreversible
appointment of Heaven. I cannot but be what I am.
My bosom heaves with the consciousness, of greatness

THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 181
and power. I have the ability to make myself master
of the world, the destined field and sphere of my office.
Why should I not will it ?' In the glow of his imagi
nation, earth lay at his feet, and all its magnificent
empires passed in review before him. He had only to
say the word and surrender himself to this object, and
all would be his. At once he might ascend above all
conquerors and kings. But he rejects the idea with
indignant emphasis, for it demanded the utter renun
ciation of the only true object of worship. He knew
that his gifts were rare and great because they quali
fied him to serve the Lord his God, and Him only, as
God had never been served before. ' Away,' he does
in effect exclaim, ' away with the impious thought ! I
can possess myself of earthly kingdoms only by a devo
tion to my own glory, which would be a gross violation
of the express, written law, which binds the creature to
serve not himself but his God.
When he had resisted the allurements of ambition,
there was no avenue left by which evil thoughts could
approach him. Accordingly we read that then the
devil left him. Matthew and Mark add, " that angels
came and ministered unto him." The term, 'angel,' was
by no means synonymous, in the Hebrew use of the
word, with a visible, personal, shape. Whatever ap
peared at the moment to be an instrument in the hands
of Providence was considered and spoken of as an
angel. There was great truth in this mode of thought
and speech. All things are the angels of Heaven to
an eye that looks on all things in a religious light and
from the true point. To a spirit, filled with the ele
vated consciousness of duty discharged, and self sub
dued, the universe puts on aspects of glory and loveli-

182 THE ACCOUNT OF HIS TEMPTATION,
ness, and no heaven, thronged with countless hosts of
seraphs andv sounding with celestial music, is one half
so beautiful as this very world, in which we live, to such
a spirit. When the great struggle was over and the
tempter had fled, and the bosom of Jesus, no longer
darkened by evil shadows, was filled with the serene
triumph of moral victory and endowed with new force
wrought out by the recent strife, then the ineffable light
of God beaming within, irradiated every thing around
him, and the desert smiled, and the sun grew brighter
in the heavens, and grace and beauty invested the
meanest things, until they overflowed with a divine
presence and spirit, and seemed to be living, speaking,
ministers of God. In this divine frame he quitted the
desert, and " returned in the power of the spirit to
Galilee." There remains only one question to be noticed. How
came the particulars of our Saviour's temporary sojourn
in the wilderness to be known ? There is only one
answer. They must have been communicated by him
self to some one or to all his disciples. We have no
account of his return from the desert. Much is obvi
ously omitted at this point of the history. His disap
pearance for forty days and upwards must have
awakened some curiosity, if not anxiety, among his
kindred and friends. And when sooner or later he in
formed them of what had passed in the wilderness, the
account he gave was so interesting that they never
deemed it of sufficient importance to state the circum
stances under which this communication was made to
them. They have told us simply what they had gath
ered from him. It could not have occurred to them as
a matter of any moment that their listeners or readers

COMMUNICATED BY JESUS. 183
would be anxious to know how and when they learned
from him the circumstances of the temptation. Much
of the private intercourse which he had with those con
nected with him, with his mother and the favourite
disciple especially, was not likely to be made a matter
of public record, particularly while there was so much
else to be told of a nature interesting and important
to all.

184

CHAPTER V.

THE COMING.

"In teaching or enforcing truth, the language of error may be used in order
powerfully to affect the feelings ; because it has associations with it which
no other language will suggest. Such use of it implies no assent to the error
on which it is founded. He who employs the epithets ' diabolical,' or
' fiendish,' affords from that circumstance alone no reason to suppose; that he
believes in the existence of devils or fiends. There is much language of the
same character. We still borrow many expressions from imaginary beings
of ideal beauty and grace, from fairies and sylphs, beings whose real existence
was once believed. We have no reluctance to use words derived from the
false opinions concerning witchcraft, possession, and magic. But this fact has
been disregarded in reasoning from the language of Christ. Expressions^-
founded upon the conceptions of the Jews, and used by him because no other
modes of speech would have so powerfully affected their minds, have been
misunderstood as intended to convey a' doctrine taught by himself." Norton.

From the meditations and conflicts of the wilderness,
Jesus came forth among men, 'in the power of the
spirit,' announcing the approach of the Heavenly
Reign, and accompanying the annunciation with mira
cles of mercy and words of unwonted authority, the
rumour of which spread rapidly throughout Galilee,
the country where he first appeared, producing a great
sensation, " and he was glorified of all."
Here was no teacher appointed by men, no member
of an ancient and regular body, observing established
rules, and wearing a time-honoured badge. He pre- >

THE METHOD OF JESUS. 185
sented himself before men, not in the name of any hu
man authority, but in the power of a divine spirit ; and
had he been elected by the world's acclamation, he
could not have borne more impressively the air of a
man having an unquestionable right to speak. Not the
child and pupil of institutions was he, but their reformer
and creator, whom teachers and priesthoods of count
less names and orders were to honour as their Head.
His method of proceeding as the world's king and
leader elect, of God to fill a God's office, is most re
markable, and deserves the closest attention. It is as
natural as it is original.
It is common to speak of the Christian scheme, as
if the founder of our religion had pursued his great
work with a constant and , formal reference to a pre
viously devised plan. The Christian records give no
countenance to this idea. Nothing can appear more
unsystematic than the whole proceeding of Jesus. Al
though general principles are directly deducible from
the language he uttered, and his language itself is not
unfrequently general in its form, yet, as I have had
occasion more than once to observe, he almost always
spoke and acted with reference to local and particular
circumstances. Even when he expressed himself in uni
versal terms, and appeared to be enunciating abstract
principles, there is reason to think that this very mode
of speaking was suggested by some special instance, to
which his language particularly refers. His utterances
seem, almost without an exception, to have been unpre
meditated and occasional. "No inference, however,
unfavourable either to the comprehensiveness or the
consistency of his purposes, is to be drawn from the
absence of all traces of system in his ministry. For
although it may at first sight appear to intimate that
24

186 NO APPEARANCE OF SYSTEM.
he taught and toiled without law or order, it really re
sults from the very clearness and greatness of his aims.
When, in any department, whether of art, literature,
politics, or religion, an individual formally announces a
theory, and keeps it industriously in sight, there is al
ways produced the impression of something circum
scribed, narrow. Whereas the highest achievements
of man — the productions of genius seem always at first
sight, erratic and lawless. But when closely studied,
they exhibit the greatest perfection of purpose, illus
trate the most comprehensive laws of nature, and show
that, either consciously or unconsciously, there has been
the finest observance of method. The wildness of genius,
as it has been termed, has turned out to be the purest
wisdom. What has appeared a random impulse has
in the end tended to demonstrate consummate policy.
" Where the true poet seems most to recede from hu
manity, he will be found the truest to it. From beyond
the scope of nature if he summon possible existences, *
he subjugates them to the law of her consistency. He
is beautifully loyal to that sovereign directress even
when he appears most to betray and desert her."
It proves nothing against the divine authority of '
Christ — on the contrary it directly attests the perfec
tion and unity of his purpose, that he proposed no sys
tem, carefully framed and set forth with logical preci
sion. Were there any appearance of this kind, it *
would be impossible to avoid an impression of narrow
ness, let the terms in which his scheme might be
announced, be ever so general and unqualified. We
should see the difference and the contrast between a
plan thus conceived and followed and " the infinite
complexities of real life," between his system and the
boundless system of nature, and an air of artificialness ;
would be more or less discernible in the former. The

HIS PURPOSE, STATED GENERALLY. 187
very idea of a scheme, as I have said, implies some
thing mapped out and bounded. But as the case ac
tually stands, we see no traces of system in the ministry
of Jesus ; to the ever-changing details and relations of
life, to the unnumbered occasions of Providence, he
adjusted himself, his words and works, without a mo
ment's hesitation, and with the most admirable effect.
The coincidence between his spirit and the great laws
of life and providence is an impressive attestation to
the truth of his purpose. It shows that his life and
work were conducted upon a method so perfectly iden
tical with the grand method of nature, that he was
scarcely conscious of it. He laid down no formafand
elaborate plan of benevolence, but his whole being
lived, moved, and wrought, in a sphere of universal
love. This was his element, in which his affections
flourished with that silent and unconscious ease which
accompanies all genuine and healthy vitality. His de
sign is no where minutely defined or laboriously deve
loped ; not because he had no definite object, but
because it exceeded the power of the understanding to
comprehend, and the resources of language to describe
it. Still the heart may feel its greatness and consis
tency; and, although it cannot be fully set forth in
words, like the great system of nature, it may be par
tially penetrated.
It may be stated generally that he came to awaken
the world to its deepest wants and to supply them ; in
other words, to communicate the knowledge of the
only Living and the True, the unsleeping Witness, the
swift and just Judge, and to make this knowledge an
active principle in the heart of man, the hope and
fountain of eternal life. His purpose may be defined
by an endless variety of terms, according to the ever-

188 HE DID N0T DECLARE HIMSELF THE CHRIST
changing modes of human thought and speech./ In his
day and in the place where he uttered himself there
existed a deep and wide expectation of an approaching,
heaven-founded empire— of a deliverer and guide to
be raised up andH consecrated by God. This form of
thought modified the speech of Jesus, as, in whatever
age he had appeared, his mode of expressing the mes
sages he was sent to deliver, would have been affected
by the prevalent modes of that age. Accordingly, ap
pearing as he did among the Jews, among a people
cherishing certain fixed ideas, he spake in terms
corresponding thereto, and represented the infinite
good, which he was sent to impart, under the image of
a heaven-anointed king and a divine kingdom, then
close at hand. It is the aim of the present chapter to
explain this mode of speech, what is meant by the
coming of the kingdom, or, which is the same thing, of
the Son of Man.
Conscious of the fulness and authority of divine grace
and truth, knowing himself to be born and qualified to
answer not only the expectation of his country but, the
desire of all nations, the Man of Nazareth yet did not *
declare himself formally and in words as the expected
Christ. On the contrary he took special care to avoid
a verbal avowal of his office. His conduct in this
respect was very remarkable. When the disciples of
John came and put the question directly to him, ' Art
thou he that should come or must we look for another ?'
he did not return a direct answer, but bade them go
and tell John what they had seen and heard. When,
upon questioning his disciples, he discovered that they
believed him to be the Christ, he charged them to keep
their faith to themselves, to speak to no one of him as
Jesus the Messiah. Again, when possessed or deranged
persons met him surrounded by throngs of people, the

HIS FEARLESSNESS. 189
object of universal wonder, and accosted him at once
as the Christ, thus expressing outright what the people
generally. were beginning to surmise, he commanded
them to keep silence.
That no personal considerations, no apprehensions
for his own safety, prompted this course, is impressively
manifest. His fearlessness is not less conspicuous than
his benevolence, and appears most strikingly in his
bearing towards the false teachers and priests who
ruled the people as with a rod of iron, and whose ma
lignity it was most perilous to provoke. He spake out
publicly in terms of stern condemnation, exposing their
hypocrisy. He threw wide open those whited sepul
chres, fearless of the demons that haunted them, and
that were already plotting there to confound his pure
light. At the very beginning of his career, he placed
himself in open and uncompromising opposition to those
who pretended to be the sole interpreters of the Law
and examples of its influence, when he declared that the
hollow, formal righteousness which the Scribes and
Pharisees enjoined and practised was utterly worthless,
that a far different righteousness was indispensable to
admission into the divine kingdom. It is needless to
adduce instances of his fearlessness. His whole life
and death show that he was never trammelled by per
sonal apprehensions. He went and sat down with men
of the lowest character, and of no character, and shrunk
not from the opprobrium of such company. There is
one incident that shows so strikingly how little he re
garded opinion that I may be justified in making a
particular reference to it.
Once as he was on his way to Jerusalem, attended
by a vast and constantly increasing crowd, he passed
through Jericho. In this city there dwelt a man, Zac-
cheus by name, who held the odious office of a tax

190 JESUS, NOT THE CHRIST LOOKED FOR BY THE JEWS.
gatherer. Diminutive in person, he was unable on ac
count of the throng to obtain a sight of Jesus, the ob
ject of universal curiosity, and he ran on in advance of
the multitude and climbed into a tree. Probably Jesus
had heard something of him, or his attention may have
been attracted to the tax gatherer by the people who
accompanied him. But however this may have been,
when he reached the foot of the tree into which Zac-
cheus had climbed, he stopped, and, looking up, bade
him come down, for he was going to visit him at his
house, and the publican descended with joyful alacrity.
How impressive is the disregard of popular impressions
and judgments manifested by Jesus in thus publicly
selecting for particular notice out of all that crowd, not
the wealthiest and most respectable, but a person dis
liked, despised, one, it may be, whose diminutive ap
pearance suggested mean thoughts and the ridicule of
people ! Cannot the reader enter into the feelings of
those, who, on witnessing this incident, exclaimed with
contemptuous wonder, " He has gone to be the guest
of a man who is a sinner !" He was the last man to be
restrained from speaking or acting by personal con
siderations. The care, then, with which he avoided a
public declaration of himself as the Christ, even if we
should be at a loss to explain it, is not to be imputed to
fear. But it does admit of a full and satisfactory ex
planation. He would not announce himself, nor suffer others to
announce him as the Christ, because he was not the
Christ that his countrymen were looking for. The
personage they were expecting under this title was to
be distinguished principally , for the splendour of his
outward appearance, for the political power he was to
obtain and exercise. Jesus pretended to no character
of this kind, and he saw that it would produce a false

" THE SON OF MAN." 191
impression were he to assume the title of Messiah., He
studiously avoided giving the least countenance to the
idea that he was a secular Prince. He perceived how
powerfully his miracles had wrought on the general
mind, producing the suspicion that he was the Christ.
So great was the excitement that he was compelled
once and again to withdraw himself from public notice
— to retire to the wilderness. He saw how false were
the popular notions of the Messiah. The people, taking
hastily up the impression that he was that personage,
would have insisted upon making a king of him, or upon
his refusal, would have torn him to pieces in the fury
of their disappointment. Difficult and perilous was the
path that lay before him. While he could not avoid
producing excitement, it was necessary that it should
not rise beyond a certain point. A single word from
him declaratory of his office as the Christ, would have
been understood as a signal for the unfurling of banners,
and the mustering of armed hosts. He aimed there
fore to correct and enlarge the popular views of the
coming kingdom. This was the task to which he gave
himself. Avoiding the assumption of a title or name
which would have inevitably produced an erroneous
impression, he went about, claiming, not in words but
in fact, all the authority of the Anointed of Heaven,
speaking, acting, bearing himself on all occasions, and
in all respects, even in this very avoidance of the title
of Messiah, in a manner conformable to the true idea
of a Heaven-sent, furnishing at every step decisive cre
dentials to the truth of his claims.
The only title which he took was, " the Son of Man,"
an appellation of a general character, by no means
identical with " the Christ." It was a favourite title of
the ancient prophets, of Ezekiel particularly. Most
natural was it for those, who, like the old prophets,

192 EXPLANATION.
cherished an overpowering sense of Divine Majesty,
and contemplated themselves not with reference to
human standards but in their relation as creatures
before their Creator, to eschew all artificial terms of
designation, all conventional titles. They felt them
selves to be men, only men, frail creatures of the dust,
children of mortality. And this they felt most deeply.
God recognised and addressed them, so they felt, sim
ply as men; and the word of the Lord came to the
prophet, to whose awe-struck vision, only God and his
own mortality were present, saying " Son of Man !"
But not to dwell on the origin and significance of this
phrase, I remark that the Hebrews used the term indi
cative of the filial relation in a peculiar manner. The
phrases, " sons of men," and " children of men," abound
in the Scriptures, and are evidently synonymous with
"men," simply, although somewhat more emphatic.
The title of Son of Man was adopted by Jesus, partly
as expressive of a prophetic character, and partly as a
mere term of designation. He was the object of par
ticular and! universal attention, the topic of conversation
throughout the whole country. The rumour of his
miracles ran through the land, kindling the minds of
all men. In public and private, wherever men met,
there was a talking about the strange Man who had
appeared in Galilee, the Man, who had visited such
and such places, who had healed one or another of an
inveterate disease, or given sight to the blind and hear
ing to the deaf, and had uttered wonderful words. So
possessed were all men's minds with the thought of
him, so exclusively was he the one only man whom all
were thinking and talking of, that it became needless
for him to characterise himself as ahy other than merely
" the Man," or " Son of Man." " Have you seen the
man ?" " Have you heard what the man has just been

OF THIS TITLE. 193
doing ?" Questions of this kind, we may suppose, were
continually put when friends and acquaintances met.
And it was unnecessary, I repeat, that he should be
designated by any title more definite than " the Man,"
or " the Son of Man," because every one's thought, en
grossed with the idea of him, supplied the rest. When
the Man was spoken of, who else could be meant, but
the man upon whose appearance and works all were
musing. A somewhat similar use of language prevails in some
places with reference to the Supreme, who is desig
nated by the simple pronoun 'He.' But it is, not any
local trait. It is a natural mode of speaking. Upon
the occurrence of any sudden calamity, a mind of a
devout cast, fully and habitually possessed with the
thought of God, instead of saying, ' God's will be
done !' might naturally, and with more emphasis, ex
claim, ' His will be done !' the expression implying that
there is no being thought of, or to be thought of, but
One. So with like pertinence the title of ' Son of Man,'
or its synonyme, ' the Man,' was applied by Jesus to
himself. The first occasion, upon which Matthew
records him to have used it, was when one offered to
follow him wherever he might go. Jesus replied, " The
foxes have holes, and the birds.of the air have nests ; but
the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." As
if he had said, ' You are sadly deceived if you expect
to obtain any thing by following me. The meanest
creatures are provided for, but the man whom all are
talking of and all are glorifying, the man upon whom
universal attention is fixed, knows not where he shall
rest his head.' At another time, when alone with his
disciples, he inquired, " Whom do men say that I, the
Son of Man, am ?" In other words, ' Whom do men
25

194 THE SAME TITLE, APPLIED TO THE CHRIST.
say that I, the Man, am, the Man that all are talking
about, that am attended by such crowds V
The title, thus understood partly as indicative of a
prophetical office and partly as a mere term of desig
nation, was applied also by Jesus to the Messiah, but it
did not necessarily amount to an identification of him
self With that personage. Jesus was the man about
whom universal curiosity was excited. The Messiah
was the man who was to appear. The former was the
man present, the flatter the man looked for. Jesus did
not deny the identity of the two, nor did he directly
assert it. He left it to his listeners to draw the true
conclusion, assisting them as much as possible by de
scribing as definitely as words could do it, the true
character and glory of the Christ, and by manifesting
that character and glory in his own life. When he
sent forth his disciples to announce the coming of the
heavenly kingdom, he said unto them, " Verily I say
unto you, ye shall not have gone over the cities of
Israel till the Son of man be come," i. e., before you
have fulfilled the commission upon which I send you,
the Son of Man, the man whom all are waiting for, the
Messiah, will appear. In fact, had the disciples but
only known it, the Messiah had already come, the
great: revolution, signified by the ' coming,' had already
commenced. But although they believed Jesus to be
that man who was looked for, still they did not consider
him as having come, the grand coming had not, to
their minds, yet taken place. Again on another occa
sion, he said, "Nevertheless when the Son of Man
cometh, will he find faith on the earth ?" i. e. ' When
the Man cometh whom the whole nation is so anxi
ously waiting for, with the hope of whose appearance
all hearts burn, will he find men prepared to believe in

. *:l

THE FAITH OF THE AGE, CONSIDERED. 195
him ?' Let me repeat this statement. It is important
to be kept in mind. Jesus speaks of himself and he
speaks of the Messiah as 'the Son of Man ;' but with
a difference. He was the man who commanded pre
sent attention. The Christ was the man whom all were
expecting, the man that was to come. Jesus knew
that the two were one and the same. But he did not
explicitly declare himself as the Christ, except on
special occasions, because he could not avoid seeing,
that, if the people were unmoved by that most powerful
evidence which all that he said and did gave to his
identity with Christ, the mere verbal declaration of
himself as the anointed One would produce error and
mischief and nothing else. If they were unable to feel
the divine power of his works, it was obviously because
their minds were corrupted by that vision of worldly
magnificence and military glory of which the name of
the Christ was the symbol ; and the assumption of this
title would only have inflamed, it never could have
chastened, their earthly imaginations.,
These observations, I cannot help thinking, lead to
the elucidation of a portion of the New Testament,
involved in much obscurity. Expositors and theolo
gians have written much about the first and second
coming of Christ. The Christian world almost uni
versally look for a personal re-appearance of the Man
of Nazareth, and there appears to be much in the
language of the Scriptures to justify this expectation.
But let us go back to the age of Jesus and endeavour
to see the case as it stood.
It was the divine peculiarity of the religion of Moses
that it recognised the progressive nature of man, by
pointing steadily into the future. While the other

196 THE HOPE OF THE JEWS.
nations of ancient times placed the golden age in the
past, the Hebrews looked for an era yet to come, and
destined to surpass in glory and in good all that had
gone before. They believed that their dispensation,
proud as they were of it, was to be succeeded by
another far better and more divine, to which the re
ligion of Moses was only preliminary. The prophets'
who appeared among this people from age to age were
men who, imbibing a more than ordinary measure of
the spirit of the national faith, became qualified to
receive divine inspirations. They predicted, in glowing
language, the future good. But while they saw that it
was to consist in the increase of righteousness, they
believed that the great blessing was to be realised
through their own nation, and by it's eminence and
power as a nation. There was to be established a
grand Jewish empire, with a heaven-anointed king at
its head. Such was the form which the Hebrew hope
gradually assumed in the course of ages. There
sprang up and prevailed many opinions concerning the
forms, institutions and concomitants of the kingdom
that was to come. But all believed that it would be
introduced and established by a man sent from God,
elothed with extraordinary powers, all the insignia of
the vicegerent of Heaven. This looking for the adr
vent of an inspired man was sanctioned not only by the
prophets, but by the reason and nature of things. The
whole analogy of nature and providence bids man look
for the fulfilment of his best hopes through man. In
all things man is the mediator standing between heaven
and earth. Would that now-a-days, instead of waiting
for the supreme good to be manufactured by institu
tions and governments, the world placed its heart and
hope on man alone under God, that it panted and
prayed for the advent of true men ! How might such

THE DIVINE KINGDOM, DESCRIBED BY JESUS. 197
a hope, inspired by reason, nature, and providence,
tend to its own fruition ! This natural expectation was
cherished with the greatest ardour among the Jews,
but, although consecrated by religious faith, it was con
tracted and debased by narrow prejudices and earth-
born passions. It was not a man, a man inspired to
sympathise with and to supply the deepest wants of
man, but a prince that they longed for, a political de
liverer, a fountain of national honour and renown.
The galling oppression of Rome exasperated their
worst passions, and they prayed for a Christ to avenge
their wrongs and lead them in triumph over their foes.
Not a guiding Mind, not a loving Heart, did they wait
for, but a red right Arm. Their chief and darling idea
of the Messiah was of a conqueror who would found a
magnificent empire, administered indeed in righteous
ness and the fear of Jehovah, but still an empire of
visible grandeur.
Such was the faith of the period at which Jesus of
Nazareth appeared. He did not declare himself the
Messiah. He assumed no visible pomp or authority,
but went about every where announcing that the great
kingdom was nigh, that ' the Son of Man,' the Anointed,
the Man, to whom the hope of the nation so fondly
pointed, was at hand. Anxiously expected as he was,
the Christ, he declared, would come at a moment and
in a way wholly unexpected, and would find few pre
pared to recognise and receive him. And in so saying,
he stated an actual, present fact, could his hearers only
have understood it. The chief topic of the discourses
of Jesus was the divine kingdom that was drawing
nigh. The manner of its introduction, its progress,
influence, and laws, he aimed to shadow forth to the
minds of his countrymen, dimmed by bigoted preju
dice and selfish passions, in various similitudes and

198 HIS IDEA OF THE KINGDOM,
parables. It would come, he said, not with pomp and
outward observation. It was an invisible empire, and
men would not be, able to say, Lo, here ! or, Lo, there !
for it was within. He describes its progress as gradual,
like the process of vegetation, ' first the blade, then the
ear, then the full corn in the ear,' or like the growth of
a minute seed or the influence of leaven. One of his
first and most remarkable declarations is that not the
proud and warlike, but the lowly-minded, not the re
vengeful, but they who were prepared to suffer all
things for the sake of right, returning blessings and
prayers for curses, were the true and rightful heirs of
rank and honour in the coming kingdom. It was all
but impossible, he once observed to the exceeding
amazement of those who heard him, for the rich to
enter that kingdom. Its thrones would be filled by
those who surrendered all things, houses, lands, and
the dearest treasures of life, for the sake of the world's
regeneration. When asked who shall be the greatest
in the kingdom, he replied, that no one could so much
as enter it, unless he put on the docile temper of a
child. ; He declared with solemn explicitness that the
divine kingdom would be filled with multitudes flocking
from all quarters, while those who imagined themselves
the heirs of that glory would be excluded. When one
among his hearers, unable to repress his feelings, burst
forth with the exclamation, ' Happy those who shall sit
down in the kingdom of God !' Jesus instantly related
a parable of a man who made a great feast and invited
many, and at the fit hour sent to request their attend
ance, but they refused to come, thus teaching that
those who were first invited to enter the glorious king
dom, would be unwilling to accept the invitation when
all was prepared for their reception. Again upon
another occasion, he repressed more strikingly the

SPIRITUAL. 199
thoughtless hopes of the people when, as he was ap
proaching Jerusalem, and a vast and excited throng at
tended him, and the impression was spread abroad that
the great revolution was immediately to commence
and the kingdom to be ushered in, he uttered those
other parables by which he taught that none would be
permitted to share in the blessings and honours of the
expected reign, who were unprepared to render a faith
ful account of their respective trusts.
From these various representations, considered in
connection with the whole tenor of his language and
his whole manner of life, simple, devoid of all show,
self-denying and laborious, we perceive that the idea
of the kingdom, which possessed his mind and which
he lived and died to advance, was a spiritual idea.
The state of things which he portrays by all these
similitudes was a new condition of the human soul, not
primarily a new arrangement of man's outward condi
tion, but a renovation of the inner life. The Jews all
believed that the kingdom of the Messiah would be
distinguished by the increase and prevalence of righte
ousness. But of this they thought comparatively little.
The moral aspect of the coming dispensation was but
dimly discerned and lightly thought of. Its relative
value was not suspected. The visible splendours of the
kingdom, its riches and honours — these, to the popular
mind, occupied the foreground of the great picture
painted upon " the cloud-curtain of the future." Jesus
aimed to teach that the true glory of the coming dis
pensation, consisted not in these but in the moral good
it would bring and illustrate. By various figures and
parables he sought to fix attention and excite curiosity,
and, attracting his countrymen to study out his mean
ing, he drew off their minds from worldly visions, and
gave them some insight into the spiritual features of

200 THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN.
the heavenly kingdom, its inward life rather than its
visible form.
It may be thought, by the way, that his labours availed
very little. But the reverse was the fact. Always,
from the foundation of the world, man has looked to
the outward to bless his hopes. Against this disposi
tion, heightened and rendered inveterate by the pecu
liar force of Jewish prejudices, Jesus had to contend.
And when we consider what resistance these offered
to his divine teachings, we can only wonder at the
measure of his success. Judge of him as you please,
the simple historical fact you cannot dispute. He has
changed the condition of the world. No life has
wrought like his upon mankind. In the briefest space,
he so moulded by his influence eleven individuals, that
from the meanest sphere they were raised to be Apos
tles, Martyrs, the world's guides and regenerators.
But not to wander from the subject in hand, by aiming
to enlarge and spiritualise the popular conceptions of
the nature of the kingdom, he was, in effect, writing
out in divine characters, the credentials of his own au
thority. Were the lowly, and self-sacrificing, and per
secuted, the highest and most distinguished in the king
dom of Heaven ? Then was not he, so pre-eminently
humble and self-denying, the Anointed King himself?
So far there is but little difficulty. But while we
have so much reason to conclude that the idea which
Jesus had of the kingdom was perfectly spiritual, "there
is language of his recorded which does not at first sight
accord with this Conclusion. He speaks of the Son of
Man coming in the clouds of Heaven and attended by
hosts of angels, of a time when the Son of Man shall be
seated on a glorious throne. He appears to have had
in view a definite event, to occur in that generation,

r

THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN. 201
an event which he represents as the coming of the Son
of Man. And while he confessed that he knew not —
that God alone knew the precise hour when it would
take place, he enumerates many particulars which
would occur coincidently with it, such as the utter de
struction of the Temple at Jerusalem, and the over
throw of the Jewish nation. Then, he says, the Son of
Man will come with all the holy angels, and before him
shall be gathered all nations, and he will separate the
good from the wicked, and distribute everlasting awards.
He declared moreover that there were some present
while he was speaking, who should not taste of death
before they saw the glorious coming of the Son of Man.
From these representations it was inferred by his disci
ples that Jesus would personally re-appear within that
generation, and raise the dead, that the earth would
pass away, and an immortal state immediately succeed.
And to this very day, it is almost universally believed
among Christians that Jesus will appear again in the
clouds of Heaven to judge the world in person and dis
tribute the awards of Eternity.
Let us endeavour to enter more fully into the mind
of Jesus. The kingdom of Heaven, which was popu
larly conceived of as a visible empire, was in the view
of Jesus, as we have seen, a new moral condition, a re
generation of the heart of man. This was his grand
leading idea. The coming of the kingdom, therefore,
signified the diffusion of this idea. Just in the degree
in which the supreme importance of inward holiness
was felt, and the life of the soul was recognised as the
highest good, the kingdom of God had come. The
first annunciation of Jesus was, "The Kingdom of
Heaven is at hand." It was at hand, for in his own
bosom it had already come. There God reigned su
preme, and angels dwelt, and the ineffable peace of
26

202 THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN-
heaven was diffused. The heavenly kingdom then was
near. And as his influence was extended, the kingdom
was extended. It was coming. The coming of the
kingdom necessarily involved the coming qf the. Mes
siah, the head and founder of the kingdom, and was
synonymous with it. The essence and power of his
coming was to be looked for, then, in the extension and
deepening of his spiritual influence. Not in a personal
presence; but in the action and force of a living, Son of
God's spirit did " the coming" consist.
There is a remarkable passage that throws great
light on our subject. " I will not leave you comfort
less," said Jesus to his personal disciples, just before
his death, V I will come to you. Yet a little while and
the world seeth roe no more ; but ye see me : because
I live, ye shall live also. Then ye shall know that I
am in my Father, and ye in me, and I in you. He that
hath my commandments and keepeth them, he it is
that loveth me ; and he that loveth me, shall be loved
of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest
myself to him," Upon his making these declarations
one of his disciples said to him, "Lord, how is it that
thou wilt manifest thyself unto us, and not unto the
world ?" Jesus answered, "If a man loveth me, 'he
will keep my words ; and my Father will love him, and
we will come unto him and make our abode with him."
Could language be more explicit? He whp acts out
the commandments of Jesus from the heart, elevates
and purifies his moral sense. He discerns the moral
significance of things, He sees the Father and the
Son — they come to him not personally, in visible shapes,
but they are manifested in the brightness of their
moral being, present to his heart. They not only come
to him, but they are in him and he is in them. A far
more intimate acquaintance, a far closer and more

THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN. 203
inspiring union takes place, than could be formed by
mere personal intercourse. The case admits of im
pressive illustration. There have been men in the
world who have mingled with their fellow men. Their
personal appearance has been familiar to many eyes.
And yet not until they have vanished, have they come
close to men. Once, they were seen, and their voices
were heard, but none understood them, and only their
outward forms, ' the dust and shadow' of their being, N
were taken note of. Intellectually, morally, they have
been invisible, and only in death, when they have died
perhaps by the violent hands of a misjudging world,
do they come to be known. Then their worth has
been recognised — the living force that was in them,
that made them what they were, has been felt inti
mately, in the hearts of mankind. Then have they
come, through the force of their characters and works.
So was it with Jesus of Nazareth. Personally present
on earth, so near to men bodily that their eyes might
see, and their hands touch him, yet he was not known.
The spirit that was in him and that made him the
being that he was, was as truly hidden, — separate
from them, as if he were thousands of miles distant —
beyond the boundaries of time. Knowing himself to
be the Anointed of heaven, bringing unspeakable good
to men, he saw that he was not understood or known.
He cared not to attract their bodily eyes to his person,
but to enter their heart of hearts and diffuse light and
blessedness there. There it was that he longed to
come and dwell and reign. But the bitter prejudices
of his country prevented his access to the human soul.
Jewish pride was as a wall of stone in his way. This
was the great obstacle to his coming. He knew that
the godlike purpose, for which he lived and was to die,
must sooner or later be fulfilled, that he would reach

204 THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN.
the hearts of men, and that the stubborn bigotry of his
countrymen would be broken down. They had ar
rayed themselves in their madness against the irre
versible will and truth of God, and they must be ground
into powder by the steady and onward course of Pro
vidence. Foreseeing the utter overthrow of the Jewish
nation, how natural was it that he should represent his
coming as coincident with that grand national catas
trophe. Then the great and immediate obstacle in
the way of his progress would be removed. Then the
path would be made straight before him and the moun
tain would be levelled, and he would come in triumph
and great glory. Not that his coming was in fact fully
consummated then with the cessation of Jewish hosL
tility. Oh ! no. Even now, after the lapse of centuries,
Jesus is yet to come to the fulness of his power. The
sun of righteousness as yet shines but afar off like a
tremulous star. Still, when we go back and place
ourselves in imagination at the side of Jesus, and strive-
to see things as he saw them, we perceive how per
fectly natural ft was that he should regard and repre
sent the annihilation of Jewish opposition as equivalent
to his coming. The tremendous prejudices* which
stood in array before him like a steel host, these natu
rally appeared to him. as the sole enemies of truth, the
only obstacles to its progress. When they were crush
ed, then the way would be clear before him. Then
would the Son of Man come.
It may still be urged that his disciples evidently
looked for his personal re-appearance, and that, soon;
and his own language on some occasions seems to
have justified the expectation that the Messiah would
come in the elouds of Heaven, attended by angelic
hosts. Now in order to understand those declarations of

THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN. 205
his which seem to authorise this expectation, and to
trace the error of his disciples to its true source, it is
of the utmost importance, in the, examination of his
language, to distinguish carefully between what was
peculiar and original in him, and what belonged to the
people and the time. It must be kept fully in view that,
before Jesus appeared, the Jews were filled with the
expectation of a Prophet and Prince, to come in extra
ordinary glory and with supernatural demonstrations
of power. This was the fixed and universal persuasion.
So completely had it taken possession of their minds
that, as miracles could not shake, neither could they
strengthen it. It admitted neither of increase nor
confirmation. The obstinacy, with which they held
out against the armies of Rome at the siege of the
Holy City, revealed the immense depth of this impres
sion. It had grown into them and become a part of
their nature. When Jesus therefore spake of the Son
of Man's coming in power and great glory, and with
celestial signs and attendants, and being seated on a
glorious throne, he did not (so far as this language was
concerned) present any new idea or produce any new
impression. His hearers believed all this already, and
they wanted not the word of man or of angel to con
firm it.
But why, you ask, did he use language which repre
sented such erroneous impressions in the popular
mind ? Because, after all, notwithstanding the false,
outward meaning connected with it, it was true, true
in a far deeper and more comprehensive sense than
the people imagined. It was true that the Son of Man
was coming, although not in person, yet in the pene
trating power of his spirit, not with a glory to be seen
by the eye, not with signs in the upper firmament, yet
with a far brighter glory and with more celestial signs.

206 THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN.
When on one occasion, the Jews boasted that their
ancestors had eaten bread from1 heaven, alluding to the
manna in the wilderness, which was supposed to have
fallen from the sky, Jesus replied, " Moses did not give
you true heavenly bread. He who giveth up his life
for the sustenance of the world, he is the true bread
of Heaven." Here the manner of his thinking is shown.
Thus the language which he borrowed from the popular
phraseology of the day, when he speaks of the coming
of the Son of Man, was true in a far more interesting
and important sense than was commonly supposed.
And besides, in immediate connection with this
phraseology, he expressed truths which were fitted to
enlarge the popular notions, and interpret the popular
language, and help his hearers to understand it in a new
and better sense. The most imposing description of
the coming of the Son of Man is found in the 25th
chapter of Matthew. It commences, " When the Son
of Man shall come in his glory and all the -holy angels
with him, then Will he sit upon the throne of his glory.
And before him will be gathered all nations, Sec." And
then it goes on to declare that the honours and bless
ings of the Messiah's reign would be conferred upon
those who are devoted to offices of kindness and mercy,
and who do good to the least and lowest of their
brethren, while the wrath of the Messiah would be
poured upon those who shut their hearts against the
wretched and forsaken. They would be driven away
with shame and punishment. Now it was not the de
sign of this representation to inform the Jews that the
Messiah would come in glory with attendant angels and
be seated on a throne with all nations at his feet. These
things the Jews already knew and believed with con
firmation strong as Holy Writ. This language com
municated no new information. It made no new im-

THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN. 207
pression on their minds. But the aim of Jesus was to
call the attention of his auditors to the great principle,
the indispensable condition upon which the awards of
the heavenly kingdom would be distributed, " when the
Son of Man should come." I do not conceive that he
intended to assert that a particular day would come
when a visible throne would be erected, surrounded by
angels, and occupied by the Messiah, with all the na
tions of the earth arraigned before him. For all the
phraseology of this passage, which would appear to
teach this, was a part of the popular language of the
day. It conveyed nothing new and unfamiliar to the
Jewish mind. But the thought which he did design to
make prominent, and to which all else in this descrip
tion is. incidental as the frame to the picture, was this,
that by the great law or principle of the divine admin
istration, the humane, pacific, and generous-hearted
would be accepted, while upon the cruel and selfish
would be inflicted the severest punishments. He sought
to present a grand moral feature of the new dispensa
tion. The retributive character of God's government,
here and now, as well as elsewhere and hereafter, is
one of the great truths or facts which Jesus proclaimed,
and in the diffusion of which the coming of the kingdom
consisted. He declared that all men would be judged
in righteousness, that in obedience alone is life, and in
transgression, misery, in this life as welL as in the life to
come. This momentous doctrine he taught in the
forms of speech popular at the time, and under the
familiar figure of a human tribunal and a day of judg
ment. The Jews were cherishing a proud revengeful
temper. They expected the Messiah to lead them to
battle and victory. And a representation like this was
calculated to arrest their thoughts and induce them to
consider themselves. The moral truth embodied in this

208 THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN.
description was the principal point, and as it struck the
minds of his listeners was likely to give them a new
idea of the Messiah's glory. The meaning of Jesus is
substantially as follows: "When the living spirit of the
Son of Man shall come and be diffused through all na
tions, and its influence shall be attended with glorious
exhibitions of power, when men shall recognise the
heavenly kingdom not in a visible empire, but in the
power of righteousness, then all honour will be awarded
to the true-hearted and beneficent, and all shame to
those who violate the sacred obligations of humanity."
Not descent from Abraham, not the worthless, formal
righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees would be
regarded then, but a heart breathing mercy and prompt
to all good works. This was what Jesus sought to
teach, the great principle of God's moral government.
In the acknowledgment of this and its kindred truths,
the coming of the Son of Man consisted.
Properly speaking, his hearers were not led into error
by the language of Jesus. They only fell short of its
full significance. They did not so much misunderstand
as fail to understand him. His language was not false,
but inadequate, as all language is in reference to spir
itual subjects. It did not confirm them in their erro
neous ideas of the Messiah's coming, for that was not
possible. It produced no new error. All that was new
and peculiar in his representation of the advent of the.
Son of Man was a grand moral truth. And this it was
that affected the minds of those who heard him if they
were affected at all. The mass of the people were un
moved by what he said, or impressed only for a moment.
His immediate disciples, those, who became his suc
cessors and apostles in the great work, were influenced
by his statements concerning the approaching kingdom
of the Christ. Their views were greatly modified and

THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN. 209
spiritualised by his declarations in comparison with
those of the people at large. In the minds of that
small band the Jewish Idea underwent an important
change. The moral characteristics of the expected
kingdom were brought out more distinctly to their view
and received more of their attention and awakened a
deeper and increasing interest. The great hope, so
worldly and narrow in other minds, became in theirs
the hope of moral good, not so much of temporal as of
spiritual blessings. They slowly began to perceive that
whatever other pomp was to invest the person and the
coming of the Christ, grace and peace and love would
be his heavenliest ornaments. This was a great
change ; and it was the direct effect of the influence of
Jesus, of his words and works. So great was the
change, that, after the lapse of a short time, they were
found ready to meet peril and death — to forego all the
common pursuits and enjoyments of life, in order to im
press upon others the vast importance of a thorough
cleansing of the heart as a preparation for the coming
of the Son of Man.
Still, the views of the disciples, though greatly en
larged, were not wholly spiritualised. In other words,
their minds were not raised to the same elevation with
their master. They still retained the idea that the
Messiah was to come in a manner, in some degree cor
respondent to the universal belief of the Jews. This is
evident from particular passages and the general tenor
of the Apostolic writings.* That the disciples still re
tained this impression was not owing to any thing they
had heard from Jesus, but to the strength of their pre
vious Jewish convictions, which, though greatly modi
fied, were not wholly changed by his instructions. They
were brought to a full belief in him as the Messiah.
* See Norton's Statement of Reasons, &c. p. 297—312.
27

210 THE-COMING OF THE SON OF MAN.
But they never appear to have considered him as hav
ing come. During the whole period of his personal
intercourse with them, while they believed him to be
the Anointed of God, they seem to have regarded him
as in a voluntary disguise, which they momently ex
pected him to throw off. Even after his resurrection,
they said to him, " Lord, wilt thou , now restore the
kingdom to Israel ?"• which was equivalent to saying,
" Lord, wilt thou now come ?"
' And how natural was it that Jesus himself, conscious
of no desire of personal display, no wish to be person
ally exalted, having fondly at heart a high moral pur
pose, how natural was it that, feeling thus, he should
consider and represent himself as not yet having come,
when he saw how little was the effect he was produc
ing in comparison with what he aimed at and withthe
ultimate result ! Deeply did he feel that he had not
come to any adequate purpose. He saw how the stub
born pride of his countrymen withstood the divine force
he exerted, how it prevented his entrance into the
spiritual World and the erection of the kingdom of
righteousness there. Naturally did he look forward to
the removal of this obstacle as the event which would
make way for his coming. Then he saw that he would
indeed come, not visibly, to the outward eye, but with
a living power to the Soul. This is what he meant by
the coming of the Son of Man.. Thus, as we have seen,
he explained it himself in that striking passage whicn
we quoted from his last conversation with his disciples.
They did not understand him, explicit as he was. They
still continued to believe that he would come in person.
And they held to this belief, as I have already re
marked, not because it had been imparted or confirmed
by him, but through the previous strength of their old
Jewish associations. Although they never entirely re-

THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN. 211
linquished these Jewish conceptions of the coming of
their Master, it is interesting to observe how little they
were influenced by them. The glittering pageant,
which was identified in the Jewish mind with the com
ing of the Messiah, was gradually growing dim and
visionary — fading away before the illuminated vision of
the Apostles of Christianity. The moral glory of the
approaching kingdom was fast becoming more and
more vivid and engrossing. Not in portraying the
outward splendour of the Heavenly Reign and its con
secrated Head did they spend their lives, but in urging
men to repentance and amendment, in cleansing the
human heart, in the inculcation of righteousness and
love. This was their supreme interest. Their views
never became as spiritual as those of Jesus, still the
Holy Spirit of Truth was in them, and day by day, hour
by hour it carried on a divine work in their bosoms,
eradicating earthly desires, fostering generous affec
tions, enlightening their understandings, and leading
them onward in the ascending way of all Truth.*
* " When we compare the language of Christ respecting his future coming
with the expectations expressed by his Apostles, we perceive that his lan
guage was misunderstood by them. He did not predict his visible return to
earth to be the judge of men. There is nothing in his words which requires
or justifies such an interpretation of them. It has appeared, I trust, that the
figurative language which he used, is to be understood in a very different
sense. "But the Apostles, from various causes, were expecting such a return of
their Master. Their words admit of no probable explanation, except as re
ferring to this anticipated event. What then follows as a correct inference
from this comparison 1
" It follows that the words relating to this subject, which are ascribed to
Christ in the Gospels, were truly his words. They were not falsely ascribed
to him. They were not imagined for him. They were not conformed to the
apprehensions of his followers. Had his followers fabricated or intentionally
modified the words, they would have made their master say what they them
selves have said, in language as explicit as their own.
" Here then we have evidence of the most unsuspicious kind, for it is
clearly evidence which it was the purpose of no individual to furnish, that

212 THE COMING OF THE SON OF MAN.
certain words recorded in the Gospels were uttered by Christ. "The writers
of these books did not in this case fabricate language expressive of their own
opinions, and ascribe it to him. And ifthey did not in this case, toncerning a
subject, on which they taught - what he did not teach, we have no reason to
suspect them of having, in any other case, intentionally ascribed to him, words
which he did not utter.
" The words, then, ascribed to Christ in the Gospels are words of Christ,
They have been reported by well-informed individuals, who had no intention
of deceiving, and who did not even conform them to their own apprehensions
of their meaning. I will not pursue the inferences from these truths. I will
only observe, that the proof of them, as we have seen, is, through the provi
dence of God, bound up in the New Testament itself. An error of the Apos
tles proves the reality of their faith. And I am persuaded, that as the New
Testament is better understood, as the , false notions that have prevailed con
cerning it pass away, and it is made a subject of enlightened investigation and
philosophical study, new and irresistible proofs will appear of that fact, of
which we can hardly estimate the full magnitude and interest, that Christ was
a teacher from God." See Norton's Statement of Reasons, &c. pp. 327—329.
[I esteem it an invaluable ' privilege to have been introduced to the study of
the New Testament under the clear and able guidance 6f Mr. Norton. How
fully did he realise the idea of a true instructer, riot standing sfill and pointing
out our way for us over a beaten path, but ascending every height, descending
into every depth with his whole attention and heart, and carrying the hearts
of his pupils along with him. The remembrance of those days when a rich
and powerful mind, animated by the spirit of truth, came close to my own
mind, renders more vivid my sense of the meaning of the great Teacher of
teachers when he described the increase of the power of the truth which was
the life of his being, under the figure of a personal coming, and said, " If any
man will keep my commandments, my Father will love him and we will come
unto him and make our abbde with him." The argument, contained in this
note, struck me with great force when it was first stated, in the course of our
studies, by Mr. Norton ; and has, for me, thrown great light upon the Gospels,
showing that the very errors they contain upon subordinate points are inter
esting as proofs, " new and irresistible," because wholly undesigned, to the
reality of all the important facts. I would fain hope that these pages may
furnish some illustrations of the truth of the persuasion expressed at the close
of the foregoing quotation.]

213

CHAPTER VI.

THE TEACHER.

" For it is an immutable truth, that what comes from the heart, that alone
goes to the heart: what proceeds from a divine impulse, that the godlike
alone can awaken." Coleridge.

" True eloquence does not consist in speech. It must exist in the man, in
the subject, and in the occasion. It comes, if it comes at all, like the out
breaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting force of volcanic fires,
spontaneous, original, native." Webster.

It is characteristic of the biographers of Jesus, as
we have seen, that they confine themselves to a naked
statement of facts. But so peculiar and original was
his style as a teacher, that once or twice, they pause
to describe it, as, for instance, when they tell us that
"he taught as one having authority, and not as the
scribes," not like the established teachers of religion,
and again, 'that he employed parables and seldom
spake without a similitude.' His mode of instruc
tion was indeed impressive, and it deserves particular
attention. It was singular, inasmuch as it was purely
natural, devoid of every thing artificial, set.
The first thing to be remarked in Jesus as a public
teacher was his entire freedom as to times and places.
On one occasion he was seated for the purpose of in-

214 THE TEACHER.
struction on the side of a mountain ; at another, in a
vessel cast off a little way from the shore crowded with
auditors. Again we find him discoursing among men
of profligate lives and tax gatherers, that odious class
of persons; and again, at the entertainments of the rich
and honourable. And all this without the slightest
affectation. For at the same time he never scrupled
to enter the synagogues, the consecrated places of in
struction, on the Sabbath, the stated occasions of re
ligious service, and to teach in accordance with the
usual forms. He spoke freely and spontaneously
wherever the opportunity offered, either in the open air
and on the highway, or in the synagogue or the temple.
By this simple and natural method, all that he uttered
acquired a freshness and force of which the formal
expositions of the regular teachers of the day were
destitute. He confined himself to no set times nor
places. He availed himself of no laboured modes of
instruction. His teaching was exclusively oral, and
this of the most informal character. He used no paper
nor parchment. He committed not a word to writing.
While he was thus original, he did not affect origi
nality. He used no new phraseology, but the common
forms of speech, the household language of the people.
He never sought to magnify his own method of pro
ceeding by denouncing any other. There is a uniform
simplicity, a perfect superiority to forms, in his bearing
as a teacher : his peculiarity in this respect, as in so
many others, is the absence of all peculiarity,, the entire
freedom from all technicalities.
How striking the contrast between him and all other
teachers ! Although he employed none of the usual
means of extending his religion, how wide is the sphere
through which his words have ranged ! " A poor unin-
structed peasant," I use the eloquent language of

THE TEACHER. 215
another,* "by labouring for three years in the most
despised corner of the most despised nation on earth,
whose whole territory is but a speck on the map of the
world, — laid the foundation of a work which was to
survive the changes of empires, and the ruins of the
philosophies and religions of man. And this, without
seeming to make provision by any means adequate to
such an effect. Other teachers have committed their
wisdom to writing, lest, being entrusted to words which
are but breath, it should be dispersed and lost. But
Jesus confided in the divine energy of his doctrine ;
and, with an unconcern truly sublime, cast it abroad
to make its own way and perpetuate its own existence.
Other instructers have elaborately wrought out their
systems; have sometimes clothed them in eloquence
which seemed little less than inspiration, and promised
perpetual continuance to their influence over men.
Yet how small and short has that influence proved !
How have their sects disappeared ! And by how very
few are their works even read, though still accounted
among the perfect productions of the human mind !
While Jesus, uninstructed in human philosophy, with
no attainment in the elegant learning of the world,
teaching but for three years, and putting not a syllable
upon record — has yet made his instructions as familiar
to the nations as their own native tongues— has be
stowed on the humblest of his followers a wisdom su
perior to that of the Grecian masters themselves — nay,
has affected the whole mass both of sentiment and
character, throughout, as those great, laborious and
long-lived men were able to affect only a few familiar
friends within the privileged sphere of their own per
sonal influence." * H. Ware, Jr.

216 THE TEACHER.
Unfettered by ^formalities, the Founder of Christian
ity was enabled to take powerful advantage of circum
stances. This constitutes another trait of his character
as a teacher. While the professional teachers of the
day were employed in commenting upon the traditions,
and in nice and puerile distinctions, Jesus walked
amidst the works of nature and the busy scenes of life ;
almost every object and every Circumstance he ar
rested, and made them the messengers of his instruc
tions. He became a voice to nature and Providence,
or rather he made them the witnesses and symbols of
the things which he uttered. ,.¦ It is true he frequently
expressed himself in general terms, employing those
universal forms of speech by which abstract truths or
principles are enunciated.* But, as I have already
observed, this general mode of speaking is almost al
ways suggested by deep feeling, and special instances.
It does not necessarily imply a state of mental abstrac
tion; And if we carefully examine the passages, in
which at first sight it appears as if Jesus were merely
announcing general truths or principles, we may find
reason to suspect that he was speaking on those occa
sions with profound emotion, awakened by some pre
sent and particular incident. But however this may
be, his utterances are obviously suggested and modified,
in most instances, by circumstances. Does he speak
of the Providence of God ? He points to the ravenst
wheeling about in the depths of the sky, and to the
lilies:}: growing in the fields around him. Are little
* See Chap. V. Pt. I. p. 54.
t In the exquisite lines of Bryant to the waterfowl, we have an amplifica
tion of a passage in the sermon on the mount.
X The following Sonnet by Mrs. Hemans may be familiar to the reader,
but I cannot deny myself the pleasure of enriching my pages with it. ¦
" Flowers ! when the Saviour's, calm benignant eye
Fell on your gentle beauty ;— when from you

THE TEACHER. 217
children brought to him ? He takes them in his arms
and beholds in them a resemblance to the inhabitants
of the spiritual world. Is he athirst ? He is reminded
of that living water of which if a man drink, he shall
never thirst again. Blindness and death suggest spiri
tual blindness and spiritual death.,, Is he followed by
an immense multitude ? He finds in the circumstance
an occasion of solemn and emphatic admonition, turn
ing round and declaring that he who would indeed
follow him, must be ready to take up his cross, and
consider himself a doomed man. Is mention made to
him of his mother and brethren ? His language in
stantly is, " whosoever doeth the will of my Father in
Heaven, the same is my mother and sister and bro
ther." Has he cast out an evil spirit ? He is instinc
tively prompted to allude to the evil spirit of unbelief
which possessed the hearts of many of those around
him. Is he sorely tempted ? " Watch and pray," he
exclaims, "lest ye enter into temptation." But why
should I specify instances ? Read over the Gospels
with this view, and you will find that the sentiments
uttered by Jesus were continually suggested by passing
occurrences. His discourses were never formal, ab
stract, studied, but directly and strikingly the reverse.
On so many occasions does this appear from what is
That heavenly lesson from all hearts he drew
Eternal, universal, as the sky, —
Then, in the bosom of your purity,
A voice He set, as in a temple shrine,
That life's quick travellers ne'er might pass you by
Unwarned of that sweet oracle divine.
And though too oft its low, celestial sound.
By the harsh notes of work-day Care is drown'd,
And the low steps of vain, unlistening Haste,
Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power
Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hush'd hour,
Than yours, ye lilies ! chosen thus and graced !"
28

218 jesus
explicitly related in the narratives, that even when
there is no allusion made by the narrators to the parti
cular circumstances under which he spoke, we may
fairly infer them from the forms in which his declara
tions are expressed. When he pronounced himself the
light of the world, we may suppose that the thought
was suggested by the rising of the sun ; and when he
said "I am the true vine, and my Father is the hus
bandman," it may be conjectured that he was walking
with his disciples in sight of the vineyards on his way
to the garden to which he loved to resort.
Let us pause over the probable circumstances of one
very interesting passage of his life, as related in the
7th chapter of John.
The Jews were celebrating one of their great na
tional festivals, the Feast of Tabernacles as it was
called. It lasted eight days and consisted of a series
of the most imposing ceremonies. It was designed to
commemorate the sojourn of the Israelites in the wil
derness after their departure from Egypt. It received
its name from the tabernacles or bowers which, formed
of branches of trees, were erected by the people in the
open air, and in which they ate and drank and spent a
large portion of their time during the continuance of
the festival. By these tabernacles, which filled the
city, and must have presented a most picturesque ap
pearance, the people were reminded of that early age
when their ancestors, flying from Egyptian oppression,
erected similar dwellings in the wilderness. National
enthusiasm and religious zeal brought the Jews from
all parts of Judea and from distant countries, up to
Jerusalem, to observe this stirring festival. At that
celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles to which r
we now have reference, the people were universally
excited by the expectation of the speedy appearance

AT THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES. 219
of a long-promised and heaven-sent Deliverer, who
should emancipate his country from the Roman yoke,
and raise it to the highest earthly grandeur. And,
what was not a little startling, a strange individual had
appeared, one Jesus, of the obscure town of Nazareth.
He had already produced a great sensation in Galilee
and elsewhere by his astonishing works of power and
mercy, and by the originality of his whole career. At
the Feast he appeared publicly in the Temple, exciting
the wonder of those who heard him by the boldness
and authority with which he spake. The leading men
of the nation, alarmed at the impression he was making,
employed officers to seize his person. They returned
to those by whom they were sent, the commission un
executed. When asked why they had not brought
him, they replied, " never man spake like this man."*
. By connecting what we know of the ceremonies ob
served at this festival with this part of the history of
Jesus, we shall perceive an impressive example of that
characteristic of his teaching, upon which we are re
marking — the promptness with which he seized upon
occasions and made them speak for him and with him.
On the last and great day of the feast, the same day
on which the officers, sent to apprehend Jesus, are said
to have made the above-mentioned confession, the ser
vices of the temple were peculiarly magnificent. Then
all the people forsook their tabernacles, and crowded
the courts of the sanctuary. The officiating priests
were arranged in due form before the altar. A golden
vessel of water from the spring of Siloam was brought,
the bearer crying aloud, "with joy we draw water
from the well of Salvation." The words were taken
up and repeated by the assembled multitudes. The
* Here again is an instance of the unqualified manner in which strong
feeling expresses itself.

220 WHAT JESUS UTTERED,
water was mingled with wine and poured upon the
altar, amidst the shouts of the people. This was the
ceremony of which it was commonly said among the
Jews, " he who has not seen the joy of the drawing of
water, has seen no joy."* Now we cannot help imagin
ing it was in some sort of connexion with this impres
sive ceremony, — probably in one of the pauses or
intervals of the service, that, as we read, Jesus stood
up and cried, " If any man thirst, let him come unto
me and drink, and from within him shall flow rivers of
living water." The stirring cry had just burst from all
lips, " with joy we draw water from the wells of Salva
tion." The water of Siloam was pure and refreshing
to the sense and hallowed to the mind of the multitude.
But Jesus said, ' Come unto me and I will slake your
thirst. A full, rich and perennial fountain of blessed*
ness I will open in your hearts.' The circumstances of
the occasion were so impressive that, as the narrative
goes on to inform us, ' many of the people when they
heard this saying, said, Of a truth this is the, Prophet.
Others said, This is the Christ.' And then too it was,
that the officers sent to take Jesus returned without
him, saying, " Never man spake like this man."
This characteristic of the teaching of Jesus, the con-j
stant advantage which he took of circumstances, lets us
incidentally into the secret of his extraordinary power as
a teacher. It shows that what he said, he said from his
heart ; that the sentiments he uttered had first become
his own sentiments, parts of himself, the irrepressible
feelings of his own soul. He spake, because he be-5;
lieved, he knew, he felt with the whole undivided force*
of his spirit. He did not speak from hearsay, or be
cause he was expected to speak, or with a view to
* Helon's Pilgrimage to Jerusalem, translated from the German of Fred.
Strauss. Boston ed. vol. ii. page 231. • ,

HE UTTERED FROM HIS HEART. 221
effect. From no outward call of vanity or interest, did
he express himself. It was upon those rivers of living
water of which he spake, and which were welling up
in his own bosom, that his words floated forth and were
poured with resistless power into the souls of those
who heard him. In short, his words were sincere and
true, the direct and natural expression of truth identi
fied with his inmost being, the deep springs of his own
character and life.
That this was the character of his eloquence is ap
parent, I conceive, from the unstudied, extemporaneous,
occasional, form of his instructions. When a man's
heart is full of a particular object, it is curious to ob
serve how every thing that happens, connects itself in
his mind with the one engrossing topic of his feelings.
Every thing is looked at in relation to that which
chiefly interests him, and every event suggests reflec
tions connected with his favourite pursuit. How often
do we discover the several professions of a number of
individuals, from the manner in which they express
themselves under particular circumstances ! Their
modes of thought and speech will be affected by the
subject which commands their principal attention, and
I holds the first place in their hearts. Thus, the seaman,
the merchant, the mechanic, the lawyer and the physi- '
cian may all be recognised by their respective ways of
thinking and speaking ; and in the same situation each
will find something analogous to his daily pursuit, and
. think and express himself accordingly. " Is it strange,"
-asks Ebenezer Elliott, the Sheffield worker in steel,
" that my language is fervent as a welding heat, when
my thoughts are passions that rush burning from my
mind, like white-hot bolts of steel ?" Most fairly and
naturally may we infer the existence of a deep spi
ritual fountain in the nature of Jesus, from the fact

222 THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE.
that scarcely any thing could occur in his presence,
which he did not consider and represent in a spiritual
light. How plainly does he show what it was that most
deeply interested him !
I apprehend that in this respect he has never yet
been understood. He so uniformly represented him
self as speaking and acting by the express command of
God, that he is too much regarded as a passive instru
ment, the mechanical agent of another and higher
Being. We are not aware of the strong personal in
terest which the whole style of his teaching undesign
edly shows he must have cherished in his work. The
principal force of the Divine command was felt by him
in the free and inner force of his own convictions. The
voice of his own soul, clear and imperative — this it
was that he reverenced as the commanding" voice of
his Father. This was to him the most intimate and
solemn expression of the Divine authority. His words
were continually modified and suggested by external
circumstances. And what does this indicate but the
fulness of his heart, the inexhaustible abundance of his
spirit ? Must it not have been with him even as I have
said, that he was full of spiritual life, and that when
he spoke he spoke from within ? He could not have
held his peace, and he needed no outward inducement
to speak, but such as was offered at the moment. The
vessel was filled to the brim, and every breath made it
overflow, and like the precious ointment upon the head
of the High-priest that ran down, down to the skirts
of his garments, the costly streams from the full heart
of Jesus, fell upon the world cleansing and sanctifying.
Here was the unequalled power of the words of
Jesus. This it was that gave them a victorious influ
ence. They were uttered simply and earnestly, as the
natural expression of thoughts and sentiments, which he

THE POWER OF ELOQUENCE. 223
himself cherished and felt far more deeply than it was
in the power of any language to express. This is true
Eloquence, — when a man speaks not for the sake of
effect, not from any outward necessity, but from an im
pulse within which he cannot resist, — from the concen
trated force of his own convictions. Then words are
words no longer. They are acts. They exhibit and
convey the life's life, that energy of human thought and
feeling which is of eternity and of God. Of all the
powers of nature, the power of a human spirit, tho
roughly persuaded in itself, penetrated with faith, is the
most vital and intense. When the force of such a spirit
is bodied forth either by word or deed, it acts upon all
surrounding spirits — on all other minds. A brief sen
tence, a single articulate sound of the voice, coming
from the heart, or rather bringing the heart along with
it, possesses a resistless power. It is like " the piercing
of a sword," like " a winged thunderbolt," prostrating
all opposition, inflaming all souls. Such are the sym
pathies between man and man. It was this that gave
to Peter the Hermit the power to arouse all Europe,
nobles and their vassals, priests and kings, the rich and
the poor, men, women and children, and lead them to
the recovery of the Holy Land. The historian Gibbon
sneers at his fanaticism and confesses his power, ob
serving that " the most perfect orator of Athens might
have envied the success of his eloquence." Ignorant
though he was, mean and contemptible in appearance,
still his words expressed the burning convictions of his
own soul, and so he created the same convictions in
other men.
Seldom, alas ! have human words exerted this influ
ence. The reason how obvious ! They have seldom
shown themselves to be the inspiration of the living
heart. They, who have enjoyed the opportunity and

224 EVIDENCE FURNISHED BY THE STYLE OF JESUS.
the privilege of teaching, have taught from self-interest
or for reputation's sake, or to produce upon others an
effect which has never been wrought upon themselves.
They have been sworn to maintain and advocate cer
tain established systems of religious opinion. They
haVe consequently spoken, because they were required
to speak and must say something, and take good care
not to deviate -from a track before appointed. How
widely opposite to all this, the spirit of a true teacher,
of one in whom the truth lives and works as in Jesus of
Nazareth, stimulating every power, inspiring every
affection, commanding his whole being, and who there
fore speaks because something within — the voice of the
living God, commands and will not be disobeyed. He
must utter himself even if he perish in the act. He
neither thinks to please nor to offend, to conciliate nor
to shock. His feeling is — Let me speak out my own
heart or let me die ! He that hath the word of the
Lord, hath it stamped upon his inmost being, sounding
for ever through the secret chambers of the soul, let
him speak that word faithfully. What is the chaff to
the wheat ?
The teaching of Jesus being so uniformly associated
with the incidents in the midst of which he lived, we
have in this circumstance an interesting ground for
believing, that what he is recorded to have uttered was
actually uttered by him. If the things ascribed to him
were fictitious, made for him by the authors of the New
Testament histories, — if these writers had put into his
mouth things which he did not say, it is impossible they
should have been so particular and occasional. They
would have been more general and abstract. "We
may conclude," says Dr. Jortin, one of the wisest theo
logians the Church of England has ever produced,

THE PARTICULARITY OF THE GOSPELS. 225
" that the writers of the Gospels have given always the
substance, often the words of our Lord's sermons.
They did not invent discourses and ascribe them to
him, as Plato is supposed to have given his owrithoughts
to his master Socrates, and as Greek and Latin histo
rians never scrupled to do. If they had followed this
method, they would probably have made for him dis
courses exhorting to virtue, and dissuading from vice,
in general terms. It would not have entered their
thoughts to have crowded together so many allusions
to time and place, and to other little occurrences which
nothing besides the presence of the object could sug
gest."* The peculiar style of the teaching of Jesus is inter
esting in another point of view. We cannot but be
struck, upon the most cursory perusal of the four Gos
pels, with their particularity, — the frequent minuteness
of their details. The question arises, if they are true
histories, and were not written until years after the
events related took place, and their authors did not
take notes at the time and on the spot, and neither of
these is pretended, how comes it that the writers recol
lected things so particularly ?
This is a fair inquiry, and in order to arrive at the
true answer we must first make due allowance for the
peculiar style of the writers. Much of the particularity
of detail apparent in these histories exists only in ap
pearance — in the form of the narration. Authors un
practised in the art of composition, possessing only a
limited vocabulary, naturally adopt a scenic or dramatic
mode ;of relation. This is manifest in the works of all
primitive writers and historians. I find in the ninety-
fourth number of the Edinburgh Review, in an article
* Discourses on the truth of the Christian Religion.
29

226 T0 BE REFERRED IN PART
entitled "History," (page 333, English edition,) the
following remarks illustrative of the point under con
sideration. " The faults of Herodotus," says the re
viewer, "are the faults of a simple and imaginative
mind. Children and servants are remarkably Hero-
dotean in their style of narration. They tell every
thing dramatically. Their says hes and says shes are
proverbial. Every person, who has had to settle their
disputes, knows that, even when they have no intention
to deceive, their reports of conversation always require
to be carefully sifted. If an educated man were giving
an account of the late change of administration, he
would say — ' Lord Goderich resigned : and the King,
in consequence, sent for the Duke of Wellington.' A
porter tells the story as if he had been hid behind the
curtains of the royal bed at Windsor : ' So Lord Gode
rich says, " I cannot manage this business ; I must go
out." So the King says, — says he, "Well, then, I
must send for the Duke of Wellington— that's all.' "
" This," adds the Reviewer, " is in the very manner of
the father of history." And this, we also may perceive,
is in the very manner of the unpractised writers of the
New Testament histories. They continually express
themselves, not only as if they were ear- witnesses, when,
from their own showing, it is manifest this could not
have been the case, but also as if they were present in
the very bosoms of those of whom they speak, and knew
exactly the forms of language which their thoughts
took, as they arose in their minds. Instances in point
may be gathered upon every page of the Gospels. The
forty-eighth verse of the twenty-sixth chapter of Mat
thew, runs thus: "Now he that betrayed him gave
them a sign, saying, ' Whomsoever I shall kiss, that
same is he : hold him fast.' " The narrator is not to
be supposed to give the precise words uttered by Judas.

TO THE STYLE OF THE HISTORIANS. 227
This is simply his way of relating the circumstance. A
more cultivated writer would have stated it somewhat
in this manner : " The traitor had agreed to point out
the person they were to seize by kissing him." Again
in Matthew ix. 3, it is said, " And behold, certain of
the Scribes said within themselves, This man blas-
phemeth;" as if the writer heard what they said. We
read in the book of Acts, that after Paul had defended
himself before Agrippa, " the king rose up, and Bernice,
and they that sat with them. And when they were
gone aside, they talked between themselves, saying,
' This man doeth nothing worthy of death or of bonds.' "
Of course, the historian is not to be understood as if he
had been present and heard the private conversation
of the king and his counsellors. This minuteness of
narration belongs to an age and a writer comparatively
primitive.* * I cannot help thinking that the above remarks throw light upon the fol
lowing passage of the Gospel of Mark xiv. 12 — 16 : " And the first day of
unleavened bread, when they killed the passover, his disciples said unto him,
1 Where wilt thou that we go and prepare, that thou mayest eat the passover V
And he sendeth forth two of his disciples, and saith unto them, ' Go ye into
the city, and there shall meet you a man bearing a pitcher of water ; follow
him. And wheresoever he shall go in, say ye to the good man of the house,
The Master saith, Where is the guest chamber where I shall eat the passover
with my disciples 7 , And he will show you a large upper room furnished and
prepared : there make ready for us.' And his disciples went forth, and came
into the city, and found as he had said unto them : and they made ready the
passover." At first sight there appears to be something supernatural in the
knowledge which Jesus possessed of the man to whom he sent his two disci
ples, and of the circumstances under which they would meet him. But it is
worthy of note that the parallel passage in Matthew produces no impression
of this kind. " Now the first day of the feast of unleavened bread, the disci
ples came to Jesus, saying unto him, ' Where wilt thou that we prepare for
thee to eat the passover V And he said, ' Go into the city to such a man, and
say unto him, The Master saith, My time is at hand ; I will keep the passover
at thy house with my disciples.' And the disciples did as Jesus had appointed
them ; and they made ready the passover." From this statement of Matthew,
I infer that the miraculous air, given to this portion of the history by Mark and
Luke, exists only in appearance, and results from the mode of narration. There

228 EXPLAINED BY REFERENCE
These remarks, however, account for the particu
larity of the Gospel histories only in part. They do
not cover the whole difficulty. "We are still at a loss
to know how these writers came to recollect so many
particulars. It is therefore to be considered further
that, although it is not pretended that they wrote until
years after the death of Jesus, still it is not to be sup
posed that the events which make up their narratives,
had lain dormant in their minds in the interval. The

are many probable particulars in the case, which the historians in their brief
and peculiar mode of narration may have omitted', mentioning only the most
prominent. Jesus may naturally enough have been acquainted with some
well-disposed inhabitants of Jerusalem, who, he knew, was accustomed to send
a servant daily for water to one of the public wells or springs, Siloam, per
haps. There were numbers in the streets of the city constantly bearing
water to and fro. So that we cannot but suppose, that the directions which
Jesus gave to his two disciples, were more full and minute than they are re
presented. They were probably directed to a certain spot, where they may
have waited we know not how long. But I cheerfully commend this passage
of the history to the good sense and intelligence of the reader. Similar ob
servations are applicable to the passage where we are told that Jesus sent his
disciples to procure the ass upon which he rode into Jerusalem.
The remarks made in the text, appear to me to throw some light also upon
the memorable passage in Genesis i. 26: "And God said, ' Let us make man
in our image,' " &c. Nobody imagines that God actually spqke. And it is
equally clear, I conceive, thai he did not consult any other being. According
to the poetic and scenic style of the primitive period, when this account of the
creation was written, God is described as speaking — as addressing directly the
objects created. But when the writer comes to the creation of man, he shows
his sense of man's dignity, and his superiority to the other works of God, by
representing the Deity as first planning this his best work before he created
it. To express this idea, God must be introduced as telling what he is about
to do ; and if so, then such a form of speech must be adopted, as would imply
the presence of some being or beings, to whom the plan of the Divine mind was
communicated ; otherwise, all the effect of representing the Deity as speak
ing, might, to an imaginative mind, be lost. The idea of the dignity of human
nature, thus poetically expressed in the Mosaic account of the creation, is also
found in the writings of Seneca, and, it is curious to observe, with precisely
that difference in the mode or style of expressing it, which we should expect
between writers of such different degrees of cultivation. " Cogitavit nos,"
says the philosopher, "ante Natura quam fecit !"—" Nature paused before she
made us." See Le Clerc in V. T.

TO THE STYLE OF JESUS. 229
things which they record, they had been relating orally
for years. The contents of these books had in all
probability constituted the burthen of their preaching,
the testimony whereby they created faith in the minds
of their hearers.
But it is in that trait of the teaching of Jesus upon
which I have been remarking, that I find a satisfactory
explanation of the minuteness of detail which charac
terises these writings. Had his discourses been abstract
and general, we might well doubt whether they could
have been so easily remembered. But as it was, his
style of teaching was most admirably adapted to fix
the sentiments and often the very words he uttered in
the memory. Had he carefully and designedly taught
upon a system of Mnemonics, he could not have stamp
ed his words more effectually upon the minds of his
hearers, beyond the possibility of being forgotten. We
are all familiar with that curious law of the mind, the
law of association. We all know how easy it is to
preserve the remembrance of the merest trifles, if they
only chance to be associated with some outward object
or incident. When we travel a road after a long in
terval, its successive scenes, as they present themselves,
will recall the most transient thoughts that were sug
gested, the most incidental remarks that were made,
the last time we passed that way. We perceive that
almost every syllable of the declarations of Jesus was
uttered under circumstances rendering it impossible
that it should ever be forgotten. On one occasion,
when attended by an immense multitude, he turned
round while the people were crowding after him, and
said, " If any man will be my disciple, let him take up
his cross and follow me." I doubt whether any who
heard these words, fully understood their purport at
the time. And yet when we consider the circum-

230 THIS POINT, ILLUSTRATED.
stances under which they were said, we see that they
must have made a startling and ineffaceable impression.
A crowd was following Jesus, intensely excited by the
hope that he would prove to be the Messiah — the glo
rious leader and king so long and ardently looked for.
Taking advantage of this state of feeling, Jesus de
clared in substance, "If you would indeed follow me,
you must take up your crosses, you must consider your
selves as condemned to death." Again turn to the
account of the raising of Lazarus. When Jesus had
cried aloud " ' Lazarus, come forth,' he that was dead
came forth, bound hand and foot with grave-clothes,
and with a cloth about his face. And Jesus said,
'Loose him and let him go.' " At first view we cannot
help feeling that there is an abrupt falling off here in
the narrative, a sudden descent to a trifling particular
— to an observation apparently and comparatively in
significant. We instantly ask how came Jesus to give
this trifling direction? Or, if he did give it, how hap
pened the narrator to recollect it and to think it worth
while to put it on record ? These queries are silenced
the instant we recur to the probable circumstances. If
the dead man actually appeared, into what consterna
tion must the by-standers have been thrown ! Some
shrieked, some fainted, and all, bereft of their com
posure, and doubting whether they beheld an appari
tion or real flesh and blood, left Lazarus struggling in
the grave-clothes in which he was wrapt ' hand and
foot.' How could any one present ever forget the
sublime self-possession which Jesus alone preserved,
and with which he quietly bade them go and loose the
grave-clothes, and set Lazarus at liberty.
So by numerous instances it might be shown, that ,
oftentimes the slightest remark of Jesus must have
sunk deeply into the minds of those around him, in

ANOTHER TRAIT OF THE TEACHING OF JESUS. 231
association With the particular circumstances, and un
der the pressure of the peculiar occasions on which it
was uttered.
Another characteristic of his teaching, to which I
would ask a moment's attention, is the entire, absence
of all that is vulgarly termed speculation — theory.
'Every sentiment uttered by Jesus, admits of being
understood as the expression of a fact — an eternal and
essential truth. His religion, as a revelation, is a reve
lation of things true from all eternity. The great topics
of his teaching were not the fancies, the creations of
his own mind. They existed in the nature of things. ^
When he declares, for instance, that ' unto him who
hath shall be given, and from him who hath not shall
be taken away even that which he hath,' who does not
see that this is only the assertion of a truth, wrought into
our very nature and condition and corroborated by all
our observation of life. He who improves acquires
more power ; he who does not improve loses the power
which he originally possessed. Again read over the
beatitudes and you will find that they all express na
tural truths. " Happy are the pure in heart, for they
shall see God." Is not inward purity the sense, the
eye whereby we discern the Pure Spirit, the indwelling
God of the Universe ? " Happy are the merciful, for
they shall obtain mercy." In the possession of a mer
ciful temper, have we not a gift of Divine Love — a
token of Divine mercy !
It is, by the way, an impressive circumstance, that
the first of his discourses of any length on record,
the Sermon on the Mount, as it is termed, (Matth. v.
3 to 11 inclusive,) should commence with an answer to
the great question which philosophers had in vain en
deavoured to solve, with a definition of happiness. And
what a definition ! altogether so original that the wisest

232 HIS TRUTHS, FACTS.
of human teachers may well withhold their vaunted
wisdom and shrink from a comparison. Not in pride
and plenty and mirth, but in a lowly, sorrowing mind,
amidst persecution and tears and blood, he saw the ele
ments, the springs of human blessedness. Study those
wonderful words of his, and see how true it is in
the very nature of things that they only are blessed
whom he pronounced so.
But to return. Even in that startling declaration
' Whoso liveth and believeth in me, shall never die,'
we have an indisputable fact. Is it not inevitably and
unchangeably true, that death ceases to be death to
him whose feelings and views accord with the spirit of
this great Teacher ! When he spoke of his coming in
power and great glory, he asserted, as I have endea
voured to show in the foregoing chapter, a simple fact
of which we are the witnesses. He is coming in the
influence of his Religion, more gloriously, with a
deeper and more searching power, than if he had ap
peared in person amidst the clouds of Heaven, accom
panied by an angelic host.
If we cannot always discern the whole of the truths
he uttered in nature and life, we can at least discpver
some intimations, some germs of them there. Affecting
no peculiarity of language, he freely expressed himself
in the popular religious phraseology of the day, but in
terpreted, as the language of every man should be, by
the general tone of his life, we see that it was used by
him metaphorically. Who, for instance, can for a mo
ment suppose that when he talked of his kingdom and
his glory, he had any idea of an outward kingdom, a
visible glory, when his whole life shows so eloquently
that it was the glory of an entire self-sacrifice which
won and inspired his whole soul./ Recollect his decla
ration to Pilate, "Yes, I am a king." How does he

HIS RELIGION, ETERNAL. 233
define his regal character ? ' For this end was I born,'
he adds, ' and for this cause came I into the world, to
bear witness to the truth. Every true man is my
subject.' How perfect his definition of real power — of
true greatness ! ' Let him who would be the greatest
be the servant of all !' To the beautiful correctness of
this definition, what evidence has been afforded in the
history of the world ! Even the great doctrine of a
future life, so frequently represented as a peculiar doc
trine of Christianity, is no where formally asserted by
Jesus. It is rather taken for granted — treated as a
plain and indisputable fact. And if the theologians
were not so anxious to exalt the Gospel at the expense
of reason and nature, it might be perceived that the
immortality of man, like all the other truths of the
New Testament, is written in our very nature, and that
in all his allusions to it, Jesus regarded it as a natural
truth. So much now may I venture to say, that with respect
to the substance as well as the style of his teaching,
the author of Christianity affected nothing peculiar,
and herein was his greatest peculiarity — his most ori
ginal trait. He treated the truths he uttered as great
arid momentous truths ; as possessed of a value of which
the world had not dreamed, of a profoundness which
thought had not fathomed. He declared them with a
new authority, and exemplified them as they have
never been exemplified before nor since. But he did
not appropriate them to himself. They were of the
world, — of eternity and of God.
Behold now the unutterable, everlasting glory— alas !
that I should be compelled to add, the as yet unsus
pected glory of the humble peasant of Judea, that he
taught fully by his lips and his life, what? — the very
truth which universal Nature from all its heights and
30

234

THE GREATNESS

depths, and the infinite God teach ! I confess I see no
disparagement to Christ in the fact that Christianity is
as old as the Creation, for I believe that it is a great
deal older — from eternity. ' Before the mountains
were brought forth, or ever God had formed the earth
and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting,' is
the truth taught by Christ
But why* it may be asked, why call the truths of
Religion by his name, if they were taught so long ago
and by so many mighty teachers, if they were, long
before he appeared, engraven upon the ancient tables
of the human heart ? For a plain and emphatic reason.
The life of Jesus of Nazareth, his words, acts and suf
ferings, being real, being facts, are a part of the grand
and all-instructive system of Creation, — they constitute
a page, nay, a chapter, and at once the profoundest
and the clearest chapter, in the vast volume of God.
No where do I see spiritual and eternal things so
clearly revealed, so touchingly expressed, as in his life.
The truth which all else teaches is presented by him
and in him with a new significance, an original beauty.
Let it be that he taught nothing more than the religion
of Nature, still by concentrating all its force and love
liness in his individual being, by incorporating it with
his life, and so teaching it as it had never been taught
by any other, he made natural religion his religion,
his truth. He has given a new illustration of it. Re
gard his life as- only a part and portion of the great
system of Nature, the grand chain of Providence,—
still I say that from no quarter of the grand whole
come there such all-enlightening beams as from him.
His history amidst all objects and events is by far the
most luminous point. It is the grand interpretation of
Nature— the Revelation of her mysteries, r There the
truth shines forth with satisfying clearness. Therefore

OF CHRIST. 235
do I hold it to be true and right to call the truth he
preached through his own being, his truth — Christian
truth. When it is so denominated, it is not meant that
he appropriated it to himself. On the contrary, in the
sense in which it is his, it is more effectually put within
the reach of all men, and imparted to all, and we are
made to feel that it is living and eternal truth. It may
sound extravagantly, yet so perfect is the manifestation
of the spiritual power and beauty of truth in him, that
if I presumed to say, but I do not — if I presumed to say
for what one purpose God made all that we see, and
arranged the mighty and complicated course of events,
I should say it was in order to provide a sphere for the
manifestation of such a being as Jesus of Nazareth ;
that he is the Masterpiece of the Divine Artist, for the
creation of which all else was ordained, — " the Heir of
all things."

236

CHAPTER VII.

THE MIRACLES.

PART I.

" There is a certain character or style, (if I may use the expression) in the
operations of Divine Wisdom; — something which every where announces,
amidst an infinite variety of detail, an inimitable unity and harmony of
design." Dugald Stewart. s

" We ought to expect to see one course of divine action impressed with the
same signatures, Which we frace on another, proceeding from the same
source." Palfrey'si Academical Lectures.

As the Man of Nazareth went about announcing the
approach of the Kingdom, pourtraying its grand spiri
tual characteristics, and warning men of the absolute
necessity of personal holiness as a preparation for its
blessedness, he performed numerous acts of unprece
dented power and mercy. The sick were healed, the
blind restored to sight, and the dead raised to life by
the touch of his hand or the word of his mouth.
These acts are what we term the Christian Mira
cles. By some they are rejected as essentially incre
dible. By others, who recognise the divinity of the
words and character of Jesus, they are neither ac
knowledged nor denied. While others again warmly

THE COMMON VIEW OF THE MIRACLES. 237
affirm their truth, insist upon their importance, but
believe that they were principally valuable at the time
when they occurred, and to the persons in whose pre
sence they were wrought, and feel no interest in them
for themselves, valuing them not for any intrinsic worth,
but merely as fundamental to other facts or truths.
Their belief in them amounts to but little more than
a vehement assertion of their reality.
These false impressions respecting the miracles of
Jesus may be traced to a false theory of the facts.
That some have pronounced them incredible, that
others have been at a loss to form any satisfactory
idea of them, and that even those who have maintained
their truth, have yet failed to feel their value — all is
owing to the false representation which has been given
of their nature and design. They are represented as
violations or suspensions of the established laws of
Creation, alterations of the Divine method, changes
in the way of the Divine proceeding. It is not affirmed
in so many words that the Universe is a machine. But
such has been the prevalent mode of describing the
miracles, that the idea is unavoidably produced of a
huge mechanism, whose regular action was on a par
ticular occasion interrupted, simply to exhibit the
power of the Great Superintendant attesting the au
thority of Christ, as if, on all other occasions, God sat
passively apart, and only then put forth his own right
hand, and produced certain effects, for the occurrence
of which there was no provision in the original plan
and construction of things. Such, as nearly as I am
able to describe it, is the common view of the miracles.
It is insisted that they must be regarded in this way,
or they are not believed in at all, as if the rejection of
a particular theory of the facts were not perfectly con-

238 JESUS REFERRED ALL THINGS
sistent with the fullest admission of the facts ^them
selves. But it is not my purpose to enlarge upon the errone-
ousness of the common view of the miracles. Upon
this point I have only two remarks to offer.
In the first place it is observable that there is nothing
in the term ' miracle,' that requires us to regard the
facts to which this name is given as violations of the
laws of nature. Its meaning is simply ' a Wonder.'
And secondly, there is not the shadow of authority
in the Scriptures themselves, for the opinion that the
wonderful works of Jesus, were departures from the
established order of nature, however much they vary
from the order of human experience. It is true he
referred them directly to the Father. " The Father
that dwelleth in me, he doeth the works." But pre
cisely with the same explicitness did he refer other
events, confessedly Within the course of nature, to the
immediate agency of God. " Blessed art thou, Simon,
son of Jonas," said he to Peter, who had just avowed
his faith in him as the Christ, " for flesh and blood hath
not revealed it unto thee, but my Father who is in
Heaven." Did he mean to say that Peter had been
the subject of a special revelation, that, in this case,
the common laws of the mind had been suspended, in
short, that a miracle (using the word in its popular
sense) had been wrought in Peter ? Surely not. The
plain fact was, Peter had come to the recognition of
Jesus as the Christ, not by relying on human authority,
' flesh and blood,' not under the guidance of fleshly pas
sions, but through an ingenuous and true spirit of mind,
which is the spirit of God in the soul. And it is unne
cessary to suppose that Jesus intended,, by the fore
going language, to state any thing more than this

TO THE POWER OF GOD. 239
simple fact. He saw a divine agency, the Spirit of
God, in the truth of Peter's mind. Peter had come to
a faith in Jesus naturally, but nevertheless divinely.
The whole language of Jesus is fashioned upon the re
cognition of the direct agency of God. His words as
well as his works he ascribed to the Father. Facts
most obviously natural he described precisely in the
same way with his miracles. His disciples once asked
him why he always spake to the people in parables.
Mark the mode of speech which he uses in reply,
" Unto you it is given to know the hidden things of
the kingdom, but unto them it is not given." The lan
guage implies that a knowledge of certain things had
been directly (miraculously, according to the popular
idea of these times,) given to the disciples, and as
directly withheld from the people at large. The simple
""meaning of Jesus is, ' you are able to understand the
hidden things of the kingdom, but they are not able.'
This is all, I conceive, that he intended, a simple
statement of fact. The people were unable to under
stand him except by parables. This inability, which
had been produced naturally enough, Jesus refers to
the direct appointment of Heaven. Again, " Murmur
not among yourselves," said he to the Jews, " no man
can come to me, except the Father who hath sent me
draw him." He certainly did not intend to teach that
no one could understand him, unless a miracle were
wrought on him. His meaning is, ' If you are to under
stand me, you must be moved by the same spirit that
moves me. As I am sent to you, you must be sent to
me.' It was necessary to a sympathy of mind between
him and his hearers that they should have some mea
sure of that spirit which he possessed without measure.
The whole phraseology of the Scriptures is modified
by this idea, that all things, the common as well as the

240 DID THE MIRACLES ACTUALLY OCCUR ?
extraordinary, are to be referred to a divine power.
This is the philosophy of the Bible. And in no in
stance, does the language of Jesus, taken by itself,
require us to consider the events thus referred to God
as deviations from the order of things, as miracles in
the common meaning of the term; Jesus simply de
clares that his works are divine works, the works of
God. The one question which we are chiefly' concerned to
decide is, Did these remarkable facts occur as they
are represented ? Were the sick healed, the blind
restored to sights the dead raised at the touch and
command of Jes^us of Nazareth ? This is the point to
be determined. And it can be settled only by a
thorough examination of the records of these extraor
dinary events which have come down to us. We can
decide whether these facts actually occurred only by a
careful examination of the facts themselves, and of the
manner in which they are related.*
Are they told as such things would be told were
they true ?
And are they consistent with themselves, with the
character of the Person to whom they are ascribed,
and with all the circumstanc es of the case ? These
are the questions to be answered.
The first thing, that strikes us is the extraordinari-
ness of the facts reported. It is related that Jesus
touched the lepers, and instantly they were cleansed.
He spake, and the lame walked, the paralytic received
strength, the blind sight, and the dead awoke from
their mysterious slumbers. He walked upon the waves,
and with a few loaves and fishes satisfied the hunger of
thousands. And finally he himself on the third day

THE STRANGENESS OF THE MIRACLES. 241
after his death, rose from the grave, and was seen and
conversed with by many. These things are most
strange. But we cannot on account of their strange
ness alone refuse to consider them. They are not pal
pable impossibilities. They involve no absurdity, un
precedented as they are. All things, even the most
familiar, are unspeakably wonderful. Every object that
we look upon is a mystery. Custom hides from us the
wonderfulness of this condition of existence, or " we
should see ourselves in a world of miracles, wherein all
fabled or authentic thaumaturgy and feats of magic
were outdone ;" and we should see also that the
strangeness of an event is no reason of itself for denying
its reality. We should be prepared to believe every
thing. As it is, notwithstanding the powerful influence
of familiarity in deadening our sense of the marvellous,
the great and diversified wonders of existence have in
all times impressed the mind of man so powerfully that
the main tendency always has been to believe — to re
ceive fables for facts ; so that it becomes those, who
would judge truly, not indeed to reject a reported fact,
because it is strange, but to look Well to the evidence,
and proceed with the utmost caution.
At this point of our investigation, a plausible suppo
sition suggests itself. The accounts of these marvels
were either interwoven with the histories of Jesus at'
some early period by some other than the original
writers— some one or more, impelled thereto by inter
ested motives or a fondness for the wonderful, or they
are exaggerated, distorted statements of ordinary
events, given by the original writers themselves.
This supposition strikes us at first sight as very
plausible. But as our examination proceeds, not only is
it shown to be wholly Without foundation, but evidence
31

242

SIMPLICITY OF THE ACCOUNTS

of a positive and most impressive character is disclosed,
going to show that the relations of the miracles are
from the same hands that have given us the other parts
of the history, the same hands, guided by the same sin
gleness of mind, the same truthfulness. One and die
same spirit is revealed throughout, as -Well in the no
tices of the miracles as in the relations of ordinary
occurrences or even more strikingly. Brief and frag
mentary as the Gospels appear, they are for nothing
more wonderful than for the unity of their spirit. Like
the remains of ancient statuary, broken and dismem
bered, but all revealing the spirit of true art, the Chris
tian Records, apparently most defective in order and
consistency, are found, upon the closest inspection, to
be moulded by one only spirit, by minds singularly in
spired with a love of truth. For my own part I cannot
desire evidence more satisfactory than the whole struc
ture of these books furnishes, that they are the compo
sitions of good men and true. Some instances of the
nature and force of this evidence I have already given.
Our attention at present is occupied with those portions
of these histories which record miracles, and I desire
to show that like the rest of the narratives, they are
covered with the deepest marks of truth.
We are familiar with the New Testament from our
earliest years. If we have never conned it distastingly
as a schoolbook, still it was put into our hands at so
early a period that we have never fully apprehended
the signs of truth which abound on every page. Other
causes have conspired to hide from us its extraordinary
characteristics as a true book. We have heard it ex^
tolled to the skies without any accurate discrimination
of its merits. r Accordingly it requires an effort to ap
preciate the singular simplicity which marks the

OF THE MIRACLES. 243
accounts of the miracles of Jesus. They have all the
air of narratives of facts seen by the narrators' own
eyes. Take the following examples.
" And behold, there came a leper and worshipped
him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me
cleap. And Jesus put forth his hand and touched him,
saying, I will ; be thou clean, And immediately his
leprosy was cleansed."
" And it came to pass the day after that he went into
a city called, Nain; and many of his disciples went
with him and much people. Now, when he came nigh
to the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out,
the only son of his mother, and she was a widow : and
much people of the city was with her. And when Jesus
saw her, he pitied her and said unto her, Weep not.
And he came and touched the bier ; and they that bare
it stood still. And he said, Young man, I command
thee, arise ! And he that was dead, sate up and began
to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And
there came a fear on all; and they glorified God, say
ing, That a great prophet is risen up among us ; and,
that God hath visited his people."
" And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud
voice, Lazarus ! Come forth ! And he that was dead
came forth, bound hand and foot in grave-clothes, and
his face was bound round with a cloth. Jesus saith
unto them, Loose him, and let him go."
AlHhe relations of the miracles are of this character.
The awful wonders are described in the briefest man
ner, in words so few and simple that it seems as if the
writers were strangely devoid of sensibility. They
manifest no sense of the extraordinariness of the facts
which they relate. But we judge very superficially
when we draw such inferences from the briefness of
these descriptions. We mistake the signs of deep feel-

244 SIMPLICITY.
ing. The deepest is always silent, or if it speaks,, its
utterances are never profuse. He . who is profoundly
moved feels the utter inadequacy of all words, and
cannot endure to think that any terms of his are needed
to set forth the truth or fact which moves him. It so
Completely fills his vision, that he deems the briefest
hint sufficient. He feels that it would be an insult to
the truth to asseverate and argue. He cannot do it.
His absorbing sense of reality will not allow it. So, I
conceive, it was, or so, at least, it appears to have been,
with the New Testament historians. Suppose them to
have witnessed these extraordinary occurrences, and it
is impossible that they should have described them with
a more entire truth of manner. Had they been telling
what they knew was not real, or what they had some
misgivings about, had they been inspired by any less
profound feeling than a pure sense of truth, they would
have tried to make up the deficiency by strong protes
tations, by reiteration, by enlarging upon the facts, and
soliciting attention and wonder. They do none of these
things. They betray not the slightest anxiety to prove
what they relate. They appear to know the facts to
be real, overpoweringly real, and they leave then) to
speak for themselves. All that they could have said,
beyond the simplest statement of the facts, would have
seemed to them an irreverent, sacrilegious interruption
of the Divine voice of truth which, clear and full, filled
all their hearts, rendering all human language super
fluous and vain. It is as if they said, "There are the.
facts. They speak for themselves. Just look at them*
and you must perceive as we do that they are real, and
feel that our words are worthless. Shall we undertake
laboriously to describe the sun shining there in the
heavens? Look and you must see." In a word, the
simplicity of these relations reveals the infinite conn-

HONESTY OF THE MIRACULOUS ACCOUNTS. 245
dence of truth, rejecting the aids of language, and calm
and silent in the consciousness of its own strength.
Another characteristic of the narratives of the mira
cles is their honesty. Not the slightest disposition is
evinced to conceal or obscure the fact that, upon many
who witnessed these things, no abiding impression was
made. We are told that the wonderful effects produced
by the word or the touch of Jesus, were attributed on the
spot to the agency of evil spirits — that numbers went
away without faith in him or in the divinity of his misr
sion. Upon this trait of these histories I have already
remarked at length. The greatest wonders are related.
And in the same breath and with equal explicitness,
we are told that those who stood by, and saw, and
heard, either remained unchanged in their opinion of
Jesus, or were confirmed in the belief that he was an
impostor. These facts, apparently so inconsistent, not
a word is uttered to reconcile.
There are here and there in the miraculous rela
tions, peculiarities, forms of expression which produce
the strongest impressions of truth.
Once, as we read, when Jesus raised to life a young
female, he approached the bed where she lay, and said
" ' Talitha^cumi,' that is to say, 'young maid ! I say
unto thee, arise !' " Again we are told that when a
deaf man with an impediment in his speech was brought
to Jesus, he " put his fingers into his ears, and he spat
and touched his tongtie ; and looking up to heaven, he
sighed and said unto him, Ephphatha, that is, Be
opened." Now supposing the authority of these accounts to be
as yet unsettled, and our minds to be in suspense with
respect to their truth, a curious question is suggested.
How shall we account for the singular construction of
these two relations? Why is it, for what end, with

246 PECULIARITIES IN THE STYLE
what purpose did the narrator introduce the original
in these two passages, the precise words of Jesus ?
They are not rare words, but among the commonest,
and admit without the least difficulty of being trans
lated. Nay, they are immediately translated. Why
was the story told in this way ? What is the cause of
it ? Admit these relations to be true, suppose the mira
culous facts here described to have taken place, and
then this peculiarity in the manner of stating the case
is accounted for in a way wonderfully natural. If, in
the first instance, the girl instantly came to life at the
command of Jesus, and, in the other, the man imme
diately heard and saw, we see how natural it was that
the very words, uttered by Jesus, and the utterance of
which was followed by such startling effects, should
have instantly appeared to the by-standers to be pos
sessed of a supernatural and untranslatable signifi
cance. In the minds of the lookers on, those brief
sounds must have instantly appeared to possess a force
which no other words could convey. They no longer
had any satisfactory correspondence with the spund of
any other language. The narrators felt that no other
form of speech could express the world of power, which
the words of Jesus had, operating, as they did, like the
charmed words of magic * I confess that to my mind
this explanation of the peculiar construction of these
two accounts is decisive of their truth. It is a mark
of truth, so natural and unconscious, that it weighs
more in my estimation than a thousand express assert j
tions of as many professed witnesses.
Again, in the narrative of the raising of Lazarus,
there is a circumstance mentioned that produces a
* In like manner Shakspeare, with the miraculous truth of genius, pre
serves the ' Et tu, Brute,' of Cesar, an exclamation, consecrated by the fearful
juncture at which it wasuttered, and not to be translated.

OF THESE NARRATIONS. 247
similar impression of reality. I allude to it elsewhere
for a different purpose. Immediately upon the appear
ance bf Lazarus issuing from the sepulchre, bound
from head to foot in the shroud and with the cloth over
his face, we read, " Jesus said, Loose him and let him
go." Now why, we ask, was this particular introduced,
apparently so insignificant ? Admit the truth of the
miracle, and a world of naturalness is laid bare in
these few words. If Lazarus really appeared at the
mouth of the tomb, the crowd must have been trans
fixed with awe and terror, and Lazarus left to struggle
and stagger unaided in the ample folds of the shroud,
blindfolded by the cloth round his face. How natural
is it that Jesus, the only one present, calm and self-
possessed, should have been the first to observe his situ
ation, and should have directed those who stood by to
go to the assistance of Lazarus. This circumstance at
first sight so trifling, this brief direction of Jesus to
those around him, furnishes evidence the most decisive,
because pmely incidental, of the reality of the restora
tion of the dead man. It is as the finger of God,
lifting up a corner of the veil, and laying bare before
us the divine reality. Ex pede Herculem.
Others of the miraculous relations may be mentioned
which bear, in a similar way, particular marks in addi
tion to(a general air of truth. Jesus is related to have
restored a blind man to sight in the vicinity of Jericho,
and the blind man is said to have called out to Jesus
by the appellation, ' Son of David.' Suppose the ac
count to be true, and a touching trait of nature is
revealed in the use of this title by the blind man, a
title appropriated in the Jewish mind, to the Messiah,
who, it was believed, would be a descendant of David.
Jesus had not announced himself as the Messiah. The
people were beginning to surmise that he was that

248 THE MODE OF NARRATION, TRUE.
Prophet. But there was so much in him that did
not correspond to their idea of the Christ, that they
hesitated to believe that Jesus was he. But the blind
man did not hesitate. He addressed him at once as
the Messiah. Suffering under a sore misfortune, the
beggar was naturally disposed far more than others to
feel the force of the evidence which Jesus gave of his
authority, and to think lightly of the circumstances
that seemed to weaken that evidence. He had heard
that Jesus had wrought wonderful cures — had restored
sight to the blind. And what cared he for the want
of cohformity in the outward appearance of the Naza-
rene with popular expectation. If he dwelt upon the
thoughts of the Messiah, it was because when the Mes
siah should come, he would be restored to sight* He
had heard that Jesus had cured, blindness with a word.
That was enough for him. That proved him to be the
Son of David. In like manner the possessed or de
ranged persons whom Jesus, relieved, accosted him, as
soon as they came into his presence, without hesitation
as the Christ, the Son of God. How natural was it for
persons in their situation to leap at once to a conclu
sion, and to give free and reckless expression to a con
viction, which there was so much in the circumstances
of the occasion to warrant ! Be it remarked that the
histories state only the naked fact, that the demoniacs
so entitled Jesus. They make no comment, offer no
explanation to show how natural it was that they
should have so addressed him. ¦¦
These circumstances, apparently insignificant, are
the very features of truth. What form and colour are
to the eye, these are to the discerning mind. I am
utterly unable to conceive how, supposing the events
related in the New Testament, really to have occurred,
they could have been told in a manner more thoroughly

THE ARGUMENT FOR THE MIRACLES. 249
in accordance with the principles of human nature
generally, and the particular circumstances of the case.
In my apprehension these simple histories are a per
fect model of truth-telling, a complete illustration of
the true way of relating facts. They show themselves
to be inspired, plenarily inspired, in the only consistent
sense which I am able to attach to the doctrine of In
spiration. That is, they owe their form to the reality
of the things they relate, in other words, to truth — to
God, to no device or imagination of man. But let us
turn now from the manner and form of these relations
to the wonders they describe.
Here lies the impregnable argument for the reality
of the miracles, in the miracles themselves, in their
perfect harmony with the character of him to whom
they are ascribed.
If they are not true accounts, but fabrications or ex
aggerated statements of ordinary events, they must
violate grossly the moral unity of his being, whose acts
they are asserted to be. The general features of his
character, as all confess, are grand and noble. His
miracles apart, he has neither said nor done any thing
at variance with a nature singularly simple, generous
and venerable. We could not indeed have ventured
to tell beforehand the course such a being might pur
sue, the precise acts he would perform. But when
certain things are attributed to him, we may determine
whether they are in keeping with his character. We
can form no idea of the possible works of any great
artist, painter or poet. We cannot dream even of the
forms in which his genius will delight or awe us.
"Every genius is an impossibility till he appears. We
should not call him new and original, if we saw where
32

250 THE MIRACLES OF JESUS
his marble was lying and what fabric he could rear
from it." But when a work of art is placed hefore us,
it is within our ability to ascertain its genuineness.
Through a kindred spirit, and by dint of critical study,
we may discover whether it breathes the spirit and
bears the likeness of the mind from which it professes,
to have sprung. The decision may not be in all cases
equally easy. But in the case with which we are now
concerned, it is neither difficult, nor doubtful. Inde
pendently of the miracles ascribed to Jesus Christ, we
know enough of him to form a distinct idea of his
moral lineaments, of the pervading tone of his cha
racter. We know its leading traits ; or, at least, we
know abundantly enough of him to be instantly struck
with the contrast between him and the miracles, if
those miracles are nothing more than common evenfs
distorted by accident, ignorance or fraud, or pure
fabrications of the craving for the wonderful.
This now may be affirmed. Were the miracles
Jesus is said to have wrought, only ordinary occur
rences exaggerated, or mere fictions, they would* at
once appear, in their real character. They would have,
and would instantly be felt to have, no living connexion
with him. As well might you mistake the fetters fast
ened upon a man, for natural parts of him, living mem
bers of his living body, as such fabrications for the acts
of Jesus ; or as easily mix the coarsest pebbles with
the finest diamonds, and pretend there was no telling
them apart.
And here it strengthens this statement to remark, in
passing, that as the authors of the Christian Records
have not studied consistency, as they show not the
faintest appearance of having been biased in the selec
tion or relation of the details of their histories, by any
anxiety for the effect those details might have on the

HARMONISE WITH HIS CHARACTER. 251
moral unity of Jesus, we may consider the accounts of
the miracles, supposing them to be false, as neither
qualified nor shaped in order to their being made con
sistent with his character. They are given, we may
infer, in all their native extravagance. If misrepre
sentations, then are they gross misrepresentations; if
effusions of the passion for the marvellous, then no cun
ning has been used to give them shaping and consis
tency. As far as it goes, the ignorance or the deception
is thorough-going and unqualified. I repeat, therefore,
were they really false, their falsehood would be palpa
ble in their utter want of keeping with him to whom
they are referred. They would break in upon his in
dividuality, and this so rudely, that, like the apocryphal
miracles, they would long ago have lost all credit,
falling out of the text and mouldering into oblivion.
It seems never worthily to have been considered to
what a decisive test the miracles of the New Testa
ment are subjected by their avowed connexion with
him, by being explicitly referred to his agency. They
are thus placed in relations, by which their falsehood,
Were they false, must be glaringly exposed. In defend
ing them, it is customary to lay great stress upon the
circumstance that they took place openly, in the light
of day. But the presumption of their truth, resulting
from this consideration; is not a thousandth part so
strong as that afforded by their juxta-position to the
penetrating illumination of the character of Christ.
Purporting to be his acts, they are placed at once in
the very focus of the strongest light ever yet poured on
the eyes of man. And were they mere earthly exha
lations, they would have been dissipated long ago, or
they would have remained only to be exposed in their
real nature by a light above the brightness of the sun.
In professing to be the works of one not unknown to

252

THIS HARMONY, CONSIDERED.

us, and, so far as known, seen to possess decisive and
original qualities of mind, they furnish us with the
means of trying their truth by their correspondence
with the truth in him.
They have stood this test. Whatever repugnance
may sometimes have been expressed or felt at the bare
idea of representing Jesus as a Wonder-wOrker, when
the particular miracles ascribed to him are fairly con
sidered, no one can say that they violate his moral con
sistency, or are obviously not of a piece with him. No
man can read the account of the raising of Lazarus,
for instance, and say, that, supposing this event to have
taken place just as it is represented, it outrages our
idea of him. We are not shocked by any want of fit
ness to our conception of Jesus. There is nothing here
little or puerile. As much may be said of nearly all
the accounts of his miracles. Let us be as skeptically
inclined as you please, still they do not create that in
stantaneous and unequivocal feeling of a want of keep
ing, which would be produced, were they mere fictions
or misrepresentations. Here is a most important con
sideration. Most remarkable is it that the stories of
the miracles do not do gross violence to the general
tenor of the history. No seam appears. In this way
a very strong presumption, all but decisive, is created
in their favour. It should at least insure them our
awakened and respectful attention.
But this is not all. It is only the foreshadow of the
argument in their behalf. Not only do they not mar
the wholeness of his character, whose works they are
declared to be, they positively illustrate it. They ac
tually disclose the inmost principles of his being. Of
all the .words and deeds attributed to him, his miracles
"\are, by far, the most splendid illustrations of the laws
and order of his inner life. As they are novel, they are

THE MIRACLES, NATURAL AND SUPERNATURAL. 253
supernatural. They are above what we have wit
nessed of nature. Still they are not nonnatural, but
eminently and emphatically natural. They contain and
exhibit a new and abundant measure of the finest spirit
of Nature.
It is common to speak of man in the rudest state as
in a state of nature. But this representation has very
fairly been objected to ; and it has been asserted, on
the other hand, that the true state of nature is disclosed
in man elevated with all his faculties fully developed.
Accordingly in the finished man, nature is most ex
pressively revealed, and her profoundest laws demon
strated. And those of his Works, which illustrate his
highest powers, are precisely the most natural mank
festations of his being, and the most luminous facts in
nature. I say again, then, the miracles of Jesus are, in
the fullest sense of the word, natural facts. And just
so far as their naturalness is felt, they are felt to be
supernatural also, new facts in nature, brought within
the sphere of our observation, in advance of all our
previous knowledge, but not inconsistent with it, of a
seamless piece with nature, irradiated by her brightest
lights, revealing the divinity that stirs within her.
To illustrate and fortify the ground now taken, we
must analyze the miracles of Christ, an arduous labour.
Of the most familiar appearances we know but little.
We acquire but a superficial acquaintance with the
most common facts. We penetrate but a little way
into their meaning, as symbols of the all-informing
spirit. With regard, therefore, to any new manifesta
tions of Power, it is not at a glance that our dim eyes
can trace the characteristics of their origin, the fea
tures of their noble descent. Thousands in all ages
have felt that the Christian Miracles bear the impress
of the divinity that inspires all nature. And this feeling

254 THE FOREGOING REMARKS, ILLUSTRATED.
has been too strong to be much weakened by any me
chanical theories, based upon false analogies, any narT
row speculations concerning the philosophy of these
new facts. Still it will yet be long before we learn to
conceive of them aright, and to describe them with any
degree of logical correctness. What ages does it take
for the higher productions of the human mind to be
worthily apprehended ! For a long period, genius passes
for madness, and works, profoundly true, and of the
closest accordance with nature, are accounted the
wildest aberrations. So when the Infinite Mind, in the
direct and unbroken march of its august purposes, pre
sents before mortal eyes, neW forms of its power, man,
in his ignorance, for centuries, pronounces them un
doubted violations of the ordinary course of things.
The understanding is for a while baffled, unable to
identify the footsteps of the Infinite. Yet the heart
beats and burns in undefined sympathy therewith. How
great the labour to discover and define the divine laws
which the works of Jesus demonstrate, and by which
they are proved to be in perfect keeping with all these
other and familiar works and ways of Nature, between
which and them, however, there is at the same time a
mighty interval ! We can cast only feeble glances into
this great depth.
Before 1 proceed further let me repeat what has
been said, somewhat more briefly. My meaning may
be illustrated thus. Were a man of extraordinary
genius now living, and astonishing the world with the
displays of his power, we could not guess in what par
ticular shape his spirit would disport itself. But if,
after various productions of excelling beauty, he should
send forth a new work, not only far surpassing the
works of all others, but even all his own previous
achievements, thousands probably would cry, " Inspi-

THE MIRACLES ATTEST CHRISTIANITY. 255
ration! A miracle!" while some would account it a
mere effusion of enthusiasm without form or consistency.
Of those who felt its beauty, how few would be able
to distinguish the nature of the power that moved
them ! Only after the lapse of time, and numberless
theories, and an infinite variety of opinion and contro
versy would it begin to be discovered by the world;
that what seemed so wild was in reality fashioned after
the perfect model of Truth ; what appeared so mon
strous was a genuine production of nature, formed of
her finest stuff and in her most exquisite mould. So is
it with the miracles of Jesus. They are new works
of God ; and, so far in advance are they of all the
other works of nature, so penetrated with the divine
spirit, that we cannot wonder that man, " the earth-
blinded," is slow to conceive of them aright — to read
these new and mighty signs.
The first aspect under which they may be viewed,
is in their relation to the great purpose which they
have served, the establishment of Christianity. How
ever they are conceived of, it is not to be disputed that
they had a place and performed a part in the commu
nication of truth from Heaven. Whatever the precise
position they occupy, whether otherwise in harmony
with it or not, they are evidently portions of the divine
edifice, and, viewed in this relation, they are felt to be
worthy of Christ and of God. In this cpnnexion they
are generally acknowledged to be in accordance with
the spirit of nature's laws, although they are regarded
as violating them in the letter. The end of Nature's
order, it is said, is mind, moral and intellectual good.
Consequently since, by confirming Christianity, the
miracles contributed to the interests of mind, they are
felt in this respect to concur with nature.
In saying that the miracles attested the Christian

256 THIS' N°T THEIR PRIMARY PURPOSE.
Revelation, I would not be understood to assent to that
opinion which represents this as their special design. I
presume not to define the particular end they were in
tended to serve. We may perceive many purposes an
swered by them, but what was their special purpose, I
venture not to state. I cannot sympathise with the
confidence, with which many undertake to tell what is
the intended end of any event, even the humblest. It
may hardly seem to suit a grave discussion, but I
cannot avoid quoting the happy -phrase of the Abbe
Correa, who styled the seekers after final causes, "the
coffee-house politicians of Heaven," persons, who, in
an obscure corner of the Universe, presume to fathom
all the designs of the controlling power, and to tell
precisely the purpose aimed at by every movement
that occurs. According to these philosophers, the
manifest use of that provision by which rain is pro
duced, — the very thing for which it was contrived,
is, to fertilise the ground. Consequently the rain that
falls into the sea and upon the desert, ' where no man
is,' is forthwith pronounced a comparative waste, an
accidental effect of a general law. And yet it is in the
highest degree probable that the showers, which min
gle with the ocean, or water only the wilderness, are
ministering to some vast physical process, which shall
be productive of benefits in comparison with which
the fertilising of the now-existing earth is a trifle and
accident. Again. The received hypothesis concern
ing the admirable fuel which contributes so much to
our comfort, is, that it is of vegetable origin, the pro
duct of a process , undergone by the boundless forests
of the antediluvian world. To an observer at that early
period, antecedent to the existence of our race, that
huge vegetable growth, needed neither for ships nor
houses, would have seemed but the accidental result

THEIR PURPOSE, NOT TO BE SPECIFIED. 257
of a general law of vegetation. And yet when we ob
serve to what numberless purposes of art and comfort,
the coal, composed out of those very forests, now
ministers, we cannot avoid the conviction that their
growth was any thing rather than a matter of accident.
Once more, a gentleman, injured by the upsetting of
the vehicle in which he was riding on a public road in
England, was carried into a house where he became
acquainted with a lady whorn he subsequently married.
From that union descended George Washington*
Nothing can appear more truly accidental than the
position of the stone upon the highway, which, by
overturning a carriage, led to so important an event.
And yet; looking at the result, why might we not find
here, as well as elsewhere, a final cause of the law of
gravitation? In view of cases of this kind, which may
be adduced without number, I confess myself wholly
unable -to put my finger on the main purpose of any
occurrence, however insignificant, and say, ' This is
what it was meant for and nothing else.' It would
rather seem that every particle of the great whole
exists for an end,* indefinable, inconceivable. And
hence it is that every thing contains an infinity of uses
and serves purposes that defy enumeration.
¦ While therefore I concede that the miracles of
Christ have contributed to a great religious revolution,
to the confirmation of a divine communication, I ven
ture not to assert that this was their special purpose,
and that every Other aspect of them is accidental ahd
secondary. It is true he pointed to his works as attes
tations of his authority, and his authority they do
attest, indubitably. But it, does not follow that this was
the sole, or the chief, end for which they were wrought.
* This anecdote, related by an English author, has sufficient probability to
answer the purpose of illustration.
33

258 THE MIRACLES, BENEFICENT.
Nevertheless, in confirming faith and promoting the
interests of mind, they obviously correspbnd with the
aims of Nature, and, in this respect are natural occur
rences, 'r.-.
The miracles of Jesus, with scarcely an exception,
were immediately beneficent. They were acts of be
nevolence done to the suffering. Not selfish were
they but generous. They tended directly to bless. In
this respect also they harmonise with the arrangements
of nature. AH aim at the production of good; But
here again it may not be affirmed that they took place
chiefly for the sake of those whom they immediately
benefited. Jesus healed the body , he impressed, the
mind. Both these were results which, we may fairly
suppose,, her contemplated ; but were it to appear that
the influence of these extraordinary facts was confined'
to either or both of these things, they would lack cor
respondence with the works and ways of nature^ . In
these last, as I have said, We can see an infinity' off
purposes answered. But the purpose of any one thing
is absolutely incompreherisible. It can neither; be de
fined in words nor measured by the, understanding.
And on this account, as not only the whole, but the
least part of the whole, exists for an infinite end, every
part is inexhaustible in its uses.
Another characteristic of the Wonderful effects re
corded as produced by Jesus, which goes to reveal
still more clearly their correspondence with the work
ings of nature, is the circumstance that they were pro
duced by the agency of means. I beg: the attention
of the reader to this point. It is continually asserted
that the miracles of Christ were the immediate effects^
of the power of God. But this assertion is directly

WROUGHT BY THE AGENCY OF MEANS. 259
contradicted by the records themselves. The won
derful phenomena presented in the life of Jesus, were
produced mediately not immediately. Means were
used, simple, but still, strictly speaking, means. Jesus
declared his works to be the works of the Father,
' dwelling in him' and working through him, — by means
of his faith, his will, the touch of his hand, and the
sound of his voice. Every where throughout the uni
verse, phenomena are consequent upon the instrumen
tality of means. No where does God act immediately.
Nor is he represented as acting immediately in the
miracles of the New Testament. The case of the
blind man who was restored to sight gradually, to
whose eyes Jesus twice applied saliva, as, after the
first application,/ he could distinguish men from trees
only by their motion, is a most striking instance of
the employment of means in the production of the
Christian miracles. At another time he used a similar
metfiod, in the case of a man born blind, whose eyes
he anointed with saliva, and bade him go and wash in
the pool of Siloam. In yet another case, when a deaf
man with an impediment in his speech was brought to
him, he spat and touched the man's tongue, and put
his fingers into his ears, and so restored his powers of
hearing and speech. And in all cases it will be found
that means were employed. There was always the
hand or the voice of Jesus, his actual presence or the
exciting rumour of him. He was directly or indirectly
the medium, through which the power operated that
produced these wonderful effects.
The fact, of which I now speak, has either been un
noticed or misconceived. The remarkable simplicity
of the manner of Jesus as a wonder-worker could not
be, and has not been, overlooked. It has been seen
that he used no conjuror's arts, no Abracadabra, no

260 THE MANNER QF JESUS, NATURAL.
muttering of barbarous spells, no magical implements,
no affectation of mysteryy.no cloud of secrecy. Still
the' means which he did use, simple as they were in
comparison with the fantastic and imposing artifices of
all other wonder-workers,, haye not been seen to differ,
as they do, in kind as well as in form, frorn magical
formulas. They are conceived of as oiperating in the
s^rae way, as holding precisely the same mystical rela
tion to the effects by which they were followed, as do
the muttering and the wand,, and the strange charac
ters and, circles of an enchanter to the wonders he
evokes. ' In a word the modus of the miracles of Jesus
is, in the popular apprehension;, inscrutable and myste
rious exactly in the same sense in which the incanta
tions of sorcery are mysterious.
Now I affirm, that, so far as we may judge from the
manner of Jesus in the doing of his miracles, the
methods which he employed are no otherwise myste
rious than are all means; In fla,e commonest processes
of Nature the efficacy of means is inscrutable. How
light is the means of vision, or sound of sense, we know
not. We observe the facts, and, Were they not go
familiar, they would overpower us with wonder. When
Jesus wrought a miracle, he assumed no unusual atti
tude; he put on no - particular garb; he waved no
Aaron's rod ; he affected no peculiarity of manner of
speech.. As he spoke, as he walked, as he breathed,
so he appears tp have performed miracles with the
same entire simplicity. To his mind, so I gather from
the Records, a miracle was like any other event, just
as natural; and he appears to have expected to be
heard by the dead, when he addressed the dead, with
the same almost unconscious faith, with which he ex
pected to be heard by the living, when his words were
addressed to the living. He did not extend his hand

THIS TRAIT, NOT APPRECIATED. 261
to lay it upon the head of a little child, more simply
and naturally than he stretched it forth to touch and
cure the leper or the blind,
Here it is that a very great peculiarity of the mira
cles attributed to Jesus Christ has never yet been dis
tinctly perceived. The way in which he is recorded
to have wrought them has been observed to differ from
that of all other wOnder- workers, but only in respect of
a certain simple brevity. My meaning is? that the
methods of Jesus in working miracles have, in popular
estimation, no relation to the effects produced but as
magical spells or charrris. These methods are com
monly conceived of as mere pretences, having only an
artificial connexion with their extraordinary results,
and employed, not as instruments, but merely with a
view to the spectators. When, for instance, Jesus
stood before the open grave of his deceased friend, and
cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus! come forth !" this
articulate utterance, this loud voice, this direct address
to the dead man— all this is not understood as the
bona fide sign and means of the power, by which the
individual addressed was awakened from the sleep of
the grave, but only as a show, used for the sake of the
by-standers, the miracle being considered as wrought,
not by means of the voice of Jesus, but by an act of
divine power, extraneous and wholly independent of
him. So again when he extended his hand, and touched
the leper, this movement is not seen as the simple
prompting of his will, operating to its end, with won
derful power indeed, but still like all other means. The
methods of Jesus being thus erroneously conceived of,
it is virtually denied, that his miracles were wrought as
the history gives it to appear that they were. And, if
the ¦ prevalent idea be correct, it would have been in

202 OBJECTIONS,
stricter agreement, with the actual fact, if, instead of
that loud command, addressed directly to Lazarus, he
had prayed to God to work the wonderland referred
the attention of the spectators to that Divine Agency,
which, as it is commonly understood, was not exerted
in, and through, the will and voice of Jesus, but extra-
neously and coincidently. But never; at any time, did
he make any such reference. On the contrary he
never, on any occasion, spake with a more ^decisive
tone of personal authority than when he performed
miracles. " Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me
clean," said the leper to .him. Mark the reply of Jesus.
It is not " God wills," but " J will : Be thou clean !"
Never king upon a throne spake from such a clear con
sciousness of personal power as appears to have in*
spired the will and the Voice of Jesus, when he bade
the blind to see, the leper to be cleansed, the impotent
man to rise up and walk, the winds and, waves to be
still, and the dead to rise. "Young man!" said. he to
the dead son of the widow of Nain, "/say, unto thee!'?
(i. e. I command thee !) " Arise !•" In the same way he
addressed the daughter of Jairus.
It is of the first importance to a correct understand
ing of this great subject of the Miracles, that this
feature of them, which I am now endeavouring to ex
hibit, should be fully considered. Hitherto it has been
eridrely overlooked. Admit the facts to have occurred
as they are represented, then were they the works of
God. But they were- not iminediate acts of the St#-
preme. There was here, as in all things else, the in
strumentality of means. So far then, there was not
only no violation of the order of nature; but a manifest
pbservance of her method.
But it will be objected that the means employed

CONSIDERED. 263
were obviously so inadequate — the disproportion be
tween them and the phenomena produced was so great,
that they are to be accounted as nothing.
, , To this, I reply, that all means, when duly meditated,
appear utterly inadequate, wholly disproportionate to
the effects by which, they are followed. It is strange
indeed that miracles so imposing should have been
wrought by methods so simple, that a dead body should
awake and come forth Out of the grave at the brief
bidding of a human voice, that a loathsome disease
should vanish at the touch of a human hand. But the
voice and the hand are perpetually working miracles,
even in the commonest movements ; and how the utter
ance of a few, feeble articulate sounds should act upon
the living, how the human hand communicates motion
to . the smallest particle of matter — these are things
which reveal a supernatural, invisible force. The most
familiar effects of the voice and the hand are. inscruta
ble, and, strictly considered, are literal miracles,
phenomena, manifesting a mysterious power of unas
certained limits. All sights and sounds, all sensible
appearances, are signs of an unseen, indefinable forCe,
an infinite, ever active spirit in the centre and essence
of things ; and We are justified in looking for new mani
festations, new signs of the Infinite one, only it must be
our care not to mistake the fictions of man for the
workings of God;
But it will again be urged that the means employed
is the working of the Christian miracles were, not
merely inadequate, disproportionate to their results, as
all means are, but were such means as have never be
fore nor since produced like effects.
This objection will be best met by considering what
the means actually were, that were used in and by
Jesus of Nazareth. Thus far I have only stated the

264 FAim
fact that means were employed. I proceed now to
inquire into their nature, to ascertain, if I may, the
character of the conditions under which the Christian
miracles were wrought. In the course of this inquiry,
still more powerful evidencewill.be disclosed in their
favour, as actual facts, corresponding with all the ways
and works of God in nature and providence. The
means by which they were wrought, I have already
stated briefly to be the Faith, the will, the hand and
voice of Jesus. The principal instrument was Faith;
In previous attempts to elucidate this subject, I fear
I have spoken of faith in a manner hot sufficiently
perspicuous. I have represented, or appeared to re
present it, as the cause of the miraculous effects pro
duced by Jesus. This is erroneous. The very term,
faith; implies the existence of an antecedent object of
faith. To believe necessarily involves the idea of some
power or force to be believed in, And then again,1
admit the extraordinary events related in the Gospels
to have actually been, and they must be referred to
that invisible, unknown, undefined Power which we
denominate God, of whom, through whom, and to
whom are all things, as their absolute, ultimate cause
— causa causans. Faith was the cause of the mira
cles only in a secondary sense, only as a condition or
means essential in the constitution of, things. The
miracles as facts, like all things else from the highest
to the lowest, evert to the falling of a sparrow, must,
upon every theory of the case, be referred to the invi
sible cause of all causes, living in all life, moving in all
motion, and operating in the miracles, as it always
operates, through means, by the instrumentality of
faith especially. And the doctrine which I exhibit,
and believe reason and Scripture to warrant, is, that
the miraeles, like all facts, manifest order and law, that

FAITH. 265
every particular of their occurrence, so far as the his
tory has given us information, shows us the Supreme
Cause acting in and by Jesus Christ, as it ever acts, in
perfect harmony with itself, with the nature of Jesus,
and the whole constitution of things. One of the chief
considerations that justify this belief is that the mira
cles were consequent upon the exercise of Faith, that
a certain mental state was the condition upon which
they occurred. This we learn from the express lan
guage and the general tenor of the Scriptures.
When the man, who brought his sick child to Jesus,
said, ' If thou art able to do any thing for us, help us,'
Jesus replied, " ' If thou art able !' Do thou believe.
He who believeth is able to do all things."* Again
and again he declared to his disciples, that, if they
only had faith, they might uproot trees and overturn
mountains by a word. When they asked why they
could not cast out the evil spirit that possessed the
child just mentioned, his answer was, " This kind
goeth not out but by prayer and fasting," by which I
understand (and I know not how else it can be under
stood,) 'you cannot subdue and command a disease so
frightful and intimidating in its appearance, except by
a force of faith attainable only by the strictest self-
discipline.' He repeatedly told those whom he relieved
that their faith it was that healed them, that the effect
produced was ' according to their faith.' " Believe ye
that I am able to do this ?" inquired he pf the blind
men who besought him to restore them to sight. When
Peter attempted to walk on the water and was begin-
* That is, so the reply of Jesus should be 'understood, ' What do you mean
by askjng if I am able? Do you believed- All things are possible, &c.'
This I believe to be the true meaning of .the original. In the passage, as
it stands in our common version, the force of the words ' a fuvcto-ni,' and
• t* ivtaTo,' is wholly overlooked. •
34

266 FAITH, NOT MERITORIOUS.
ning to sink, Jesus caught him and said, " O thou of
little faith ! wherefore didst thou doubt ?" And just
c before he summoned .Lazarus from the grave, he made
that remarkable declaration, "Whoso believeth in
me, though he were dead, yet shall he live, and whose
liveth and believeth in me shall never die." These
various; and emphatic passages certainly intimate very
strongly the importance pf faith to the miraculous
effects produced by Jesus.
But how — in what sense was faith important. Was
it that Jesus accounted it meritorious and that he
wrought miracles only for the deserving ? This idea
is countenanced neither by true religion nor f sound
philosophy. It was for the >unworthy that he lived
and died. Not the righteous but sinners came he to
call to repentance. Faith is not a merit, but a privi
lege, an exceeding great reward in itself. Was the
demand for faith then an arbitrary requisition, a mere
caprice, having no foundation in nature ? So it must
be esteemed — there is no other alternative-*— if no na
tural, vital connexion is supposable between it arid
those miracles to which it was so repeatedly pro
nounced preliminary. It is a divine trait of the words
of Jesus that they express truths, facts, which, the
more they are studied, are found to be not the crea
tions of a solitary mind, but truths, existing from
eternity. Hence he declared that his teaching was
not his, but God's. It was npt the offspring of his
own mind. It was true independently of him. If it
be supposed that, although he laid so much stress
upon faith, it still was not naturally, essentially neces
sary, that it sustained no natural relation to the effects
to which he so frequently represented it as conditional,
then there is no test of the truth of these declarations
concerning faith, and they are undistinguishable from

IN WHAT SENSE, NECESSARY. 267
the fictions of a mere human mind. I do not say that
we must be able to trace the vital tie between faith
and the miracles, but that we must suppose the requi
sition of faith to be based upon the existence of such
a connexion. Otherwise, the requisition was purely
arbitrary. That faith was insisted upon, because it was, in the
nature of things, a necessary condition of the miracles,
is a conclusion urged upon us by all our observations
of human nature. It is a universal law of our being
that we must believe in our power before we can ex
ercise it. Whatever force there is in us, depends for
its developement upon faith. Before we can act we
must believe in our own ability. And if we act feebly or
wholly fail, it is not so much because power is wanting,
as confidence. Men are continually surprised at the
discovery of faculties in themselves, degrees of force,
which they never dreamed they possessed, till some
emergency, pressing on them the necessity of exertion,
has created a sudden confidence in their own power.
The sight Pf her child in peril has urged many a
mother to superhuman efforts. Indeed very extraor
dinary .and quite miraculous efforts have been pro
duced in this way. Stimulated by unexpected circum
stances, the mind has been made conscious of itself,
awakened to a just self-confidence, by which it has
been prompted to efforts so novel and great that it has
deemed^ itself moved by a force not its own. A volume
might be filled with well attested cases of instantaneous
and astonishing cures thus, wrought. It is needless to
dwell upon this class of facts. They are familiar to
all. They indicate the existence of unknown forces
.in the human mind, or, to express the fact in a different
form, they show that such is the constitution of man,
that, under certain conditions, the divine force may

268 FAITft
operate in and through him, in new ways and unpre
cedented degrees. No limits can be assigned to the
, demonstrations of power possible by faith.
The application of these remarks to the extraor
dinary effects produced by Jesus of Nazareth will
appear upon a more particular examination of his
miracles.

269

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MIRACLES.

PART II.

" His language was action, and his action language."
Ch. Examiner.

There are about thirty different miracles recorded
in the Gospels with more or less minuteness. A num
ber no doubt occurred, which are not particularly
mentioned, but not many. Here and there we meet
with a general statement that Jesus healed all manner
of sickness and went about working miraeles. But if
only as many actually took place as are particularly
related, these general statements are perfectly natural.
Were there an individual now living who had per
formed only a few wonderful works, he would be de
scribed as doing all sorts of marvels.

'o

Upon an examination of the records, the impression
is produced that the miracles of Jesus were more nu
merous at the commencement of his career than at
any subsequent period. When he first came forth " in
the power of the spirit," and with full faith in his sin
gular gifts, he used his power freely and without con
straint. But he soon saw what a tremendous excitement

270

THE LEPER.

it caused, an excitement, before which he was com
pelled once and again to retire and hide himself for a
while in the wilderness. He never appears anxious for
opportunities of displaying his divine powers. And
here is a general feature of his character as a doer of
miracles, which is unspeakably impressive. Not only
was there in his manner nothing of the air of an exhi-
biter, he showed no undue solicitude to exercise his
gifts and vindicate his mission. His benevolence, ac
tive and comprehensive as it was, never betrayed him
into excess in the use of his power. He always em
ploys it with entire simplicity and naturalness, like all
his other faculties. The harmony of his nature, a na
ture composed of rare and new elements, is most
wonderful. But leaving all general remarks, I proceed to con
sider some of his miracles somewhat at length.

THE EEPER.

After the delivery of the Sermon on the Mount Jesus
descended, followed by "great multitudes." He had
previously wrought wonders, as we learn from the 4th
chapter of Matthew. He was met on this occasion by
a man suffering under the terrible disease of leprosy.
The leper addressed him, " Lord, if thou wilt, thou
canst make me clean. Jesus put forth his hand and
touched him, saying, ' I will : Be thou clean.' And im
mediately his leprosy vanished."
To form any thing like an adequate picture of this
incident, we must bring into view that immense crowd,
heaving like a sea under the emotions of wonder and
awe which Jesus, the central figure, had awakened.
The exalted idea which every individual of that throng
had of him was magnified, and rendered vivid and

THE LEPER. 271
glowing beyond all description by the magic power of
sympathy. In the eyes of the poor wretch, cursed with
a disease which cut him off from all human fellowship,
the figure of Jesus must have dilated, and he must
have appeared a very God, not " like a formal man."
So much we must infer from a general view of the
occasion. The manner in which the leper addressed
Jesus confirms the inference,, and reveals the, great
idea he had formed of his power. " Lord, if thou wilt,
thou canst make me clean." Words cannot describe
the state of the leper's mind, the reverence, confidence,
faith with which he must have been inspired so to ad
dress one, to all outward appearance, a fellow man, to
express such a belief, that a simple act of the will of
Jesus could cure him ! With what indescribable looks
and tones must the utterance of this conviction have
been accompanied ! With what soul-absorbing earnest
ness must he have watched to see what Jesus would
do ! The least movement of Jesus, the parting of his
lips to speak, the raising of his hand, even before the
leper felt its awful touch, must have thrilled his whole
frame, like an electric shock. And when that hand
was extended towards him, and, that voice rung clear,
" I will : Be- thou clean," he must have felt as if God
in all his power were descending upon him. The voice
and the touch penetrated like lightning, into the inmost
fountains of his life, and, through the, close but myste
rious connexion of the mind and body, caused a sudden
developement of vital power. The hidden forces of
Nature, thus authoritatively summoned, produced in
stantaneous soundness. By his word and touch, the
perfect faith of Jesus in his own power, operated upon
the already powerful faith of the leper and quickened
it to the necessary action.
Believing that the mind is not a property of .the body,

272 THE CENTURION'S SERVANT.
but, consciously or unconsciously, its life-spring, I have
no power to question the reality of this incident, when
all its circumstances are faithfully considered, the ex
treme misery of the leper, the idea he had of Jesus,
the presence of a mass of men trembling, . gazing,
crowding, the majestic bearing of the man of Nazareth
and hik tone of kingly authority. If men afflicted with
severe diseases, have been instantaneously relieved by
being thrown into sudden danger, surely there was
enough here to operate with extraordinary power and
to produce a corresponding effect on the frame of the
leper. -i '
Et. THE CENTURION'S SERVANT.
This case differs from the one just considered, but it
admits of being viewed in a similar way.
The Centurion was popular among the Jews. He
had built them a synagogue ; a fact which justifies the
belief that he held the religion^ of Mosps in great re
spect. If not a proselyte, he was evidently a man of no
common degree of religious sensibility, naturally dis
posed to credit the wonderful thirigs related of the ex
traordinary man of Nazareth. A favourite servant or
child of his lay sick of palsy, a nervous disease, upon
which the mind acts with obvious readiness. Intelli
gence was brought to the house of sickness that the
Wonder-worker, about whom the whole country was in
a flame, was in the neighbourhood. It is instantly pro
posed to send and request him to come and relieve the
sick child. The bare proposal could not but affect the
susceptible mind of the sick youth, who, as he was be
loved by the Centurion, must have been possessed of a
like sensibility. Shortly the messengers return with the
intelligence that they had seen Jesus and spPken to

THE CENTURION'S SERVANT. 273
him, and that he had consented to come. Probably
they were among the spectators when he healed the
leper. At least they must have heard of fresh wonders
wrought by him, which they, no doubt, mentioned with
all the exciting expressions of wonder, in the presence
of the sick boy, whom all naturally sought to cheer.
Can it be doubted whether these things had a tendency
to animate his languishing mind and body ? Is it at all
probable that they called forth from the Centurion, even
before he went to Jesus and while he was at the side
of the sick bed, no imposing expression of that confi
dence in the power of Jesus which was so great that it
astonished Jesus himself? He must have started up, I
conceive, and, with every look and tone of perfect faith,
exclaimed " He shall not come ! I am not worthy that
he should come under my roof." The susceptible mind
of the young sufferer, naturally deferring to the au
thority of his beloved master, must have been moved
to no common degree. His cure, we may believe, was
begun even before the Centurion quitted the house.
Well did Jesus say, in view of the singularly powerful
faith of the Roman, " According to thy faith, be it
done unto thee."= He who knew from his own con
sciousness, the omnipotence of faith, saw that under
these circumstances the yputh must be cured, and his
own personal attendance was unnecessary. Faith, as
a grain of mustard seed, he again and again declared,
would work the greatest wonders. Not in that small
degree did it exist in the Centurion. It had sprung up
there*, like a very tree of life, and the heart of the child
was as a decaying branch drawing new strength from
the parent stock.
In order to estimate this and nearly all the miracles
aright, we must keep steadily in mind the extraordinary
sensation which the appearance, words arid works of
35

274 THE syro-phEnician
Jesus, had produced throughout the Country ; and con
sider how the heart of man answereth to man, so that
a deep feeling spreads like an epidemic, and, although
it may die out at any moment, yet, while it lasts, fuses
all hearts into one. " There is a sympathy in heap
ed masses of men : nay, are not mankind; in whole,
like tuned strings, and a cunning infinite concordance
and unity ; you smite one string, and all strings will
begin sounding." It is related that the disciples of
Jesus informed him on one occasion that they had seen
a man casting out evil spirits in his name, and they had
forbidden him. " Forbid him not," said their master,
" for there is no man who shall do a miracle in my
name that can lightly speak evil ' of me." What an
impression had gone abroad of the power of Jesus !
Here was a person, not one of his regular followers, a
stranger, who had conceived such an idea of him, that
he believed he could expel the evil spirits, by which
the insane were supposed to.be possessed, by the sim
ple utterance of the awful name of Jesus of Nazareth.
Whether he succeeded or not does not decisively ap
pear. It would seem, on the whole, that he was suc
cessful. Jesus truly said that it was impossible for one,
who had formed such an idea of him as to attempt to
work miracles with his name, to speak of him slight
ingly. The success of this man only Corroborates our
belief in the power of Jesus. What must he have
been the bare utterance of whose name by a believing
stranger could quell the fury of madness !
III. THE SYRO-PHENICIAN WOMAN'S DAUGHTER.
I turn to this miracle next, on account of its simi
larity to the last, the cure being effected without any
immediate connexion between Jesus and the sufferer.

WOMAN'S DAUGHTER. 275
At the moment the Syro-Phenician woman came
to him, he was striving to escape public notice and
avoid the machinations of his enemies. This explains
his disregard of her petition. He naturally supposed
that she wished him to go with her to her home, to
cure her child. Let it be remembered that the faith
of the Centurion astonished him. He was not prepared
to find faith so great as to render his personal presence
unnecessary, and his impression was that to grant the
woman's prayer would require him to accompany her
to the spot where her child was. This at that moment
he could not do. He had a great work on hand, and
he did not feel himself authorised to spend his time
and power in merely going about here and there to
heal the sick. His own country was the sphere of his
labours. He had a duty to discharge to his own people,
which required hini at that juncture to avoid public
notice. If it should be thought that his disregard of this
petitioner argued a want of benevolence, I should rather
deem it a proof of his extraordinary prudence and
self-command, and freedom from all desire of display,
since it involved the relinquishment of an opportunity
of exhibiting his miraculous power. To his disciples
who begged, him to send the woman away, he said, " I
am not sent but to the lost sheep of the house of
Israel," i. e. ' My work is here, and among my own
countrymen, and it requires me at this juncture to
escape public notice. It would not be right for me to
listen to such calls upon my time and power, as carry
me away from my appointed sphere.'
Still the woman, strong in faith, and a mother's
heart, was not to be put off. She threw herself at his
feet, and urged her prayer. To her he said, " The
children must first be filled. It is not right to take
the children's bread and give it fo the dogs." This

276 THE SYRO-PHENICIAN
language sounds very harsh, but let us consider the
circumstances. It is true the world was the field of Jesus. The
blessirig he brought was for all mankind. But for the
world's sake, it was necessary that his light should be
poured upon one spot, that it might therice radiate to
all places and times. The sphere of his personal la
bours was his country. There the flame was to be
kindled which was to spread over the whole earth. He
was not to travel into foreign lands, or to go beyond
the boundaries of his own nation. Had he done so, his
life would have been spent in vain, and no one deep
and enduring impression would have been made.
Hence he did not feel himself under an obligation to
obey the calls of benevolence beyond the appointed
sphere in which he was sent to act. Besides, on the
present occasion, he had a special reason for disre
garding the petition of the poor Woman. He Was evi
dently in haste, to escape notice. " He would have no
man know him." He did not wish to be recognised.
His time and his work would not allow him to go With
the woman to heal her child. And therefore he paid
no attention to her. But when she threw herself before
him at his feet, then it was necessary to take some
notice of her, and he said, " The children must first be
filled. It is not right to take the children's bread and
give it to the dogs." This language implies at first
sight that he regarded Gentiles as but dpgs in compa
rison with his own countrymen. But it must be recol
lected that the Jews entitled Gentiles, ' sinners,' 'dogs.'
This was a common appellation. And terms and
names, offensive and opprobrious when first em
ployed, by frequent use lose their force and be
come mere terms of designation. The phraseology
which Jesus here uses he did not originate. The ex-

WOMAN'S DAUGHTER. 277
pressions were in a manner proverbial. Much depended
upon the manner in which he spoke — his looks and
tones. That he had no Jewish horror of foreigners is
abundantly clear. At the very commencement of his
ministry, he declared that many would come from the
remotest corners of the earth, and sit down in the
kingdom, while the children of the kingdom would be
thrust out. That there was nothing forbidding in his
manner at this trine, we may infer from the fact that
the woman was not intimidated. " True, Lord," she
replied, "yet the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from
the master's table." The perseverance and humility
of the woman, and her faith which no repulse could
shake, impressed the mind of Jesus. He saw what
spirit she was of — how great was her confidence, and
he exclaimed, ' O woman, great is thy faith ! Be it
unto thee, even as thou wilt.' From that hour her
daughter was relieved.
Of the precise nature of her daughter's disease we
have no knowledge. She was suffering under one of
those maladies which were attributed to the influence
of evil spirits. It was then in all probability a mental
disease. She had heard of the great wonder-worker,
and shared in the feelings which the fame of him pro
duced. She knew, we may suppose, that her mother
had gone to obtain his aid, She must have been im
pressed, too, by the exciting rumour of his miracles
and the force of her mother's extraordinary confidence
in Jesus. Her cure, we may suppose, commenced with
her mother's departure, and it was as justly attributed
to the power of Jesus, as if he had been present and
had Used his miraculous authority. For by him, by his
works which she had witnessed or heard of, the uncom
mon faith of the mother was produced. " Be it unto
thee even as thou wilt." The faith and will of the

278 THE WITHERED HAND.
woman, inspired by the miracles and the assurance of
Jesus, and authoritatively expressed in her looks and
tones, wrought upon her daughter, already convalesr
cent, and completed her cure. We can form no
adequate idea of the strength of that conviction which
filled the mother's bosom. We know only that it must
have given that air of authority which perfect con
fidence always wears. On common occasions, he who
speaks and acts from a powerful personal conviction,
always commands and overawes those about him.
There was much in the relation of mother and daughT,
ter to cause the one to yield to the other implicit
deference. Sp far as her child was concerned, the
faith of this woman in the power of Jesus was only less
strong than that of Jesus himself. His faith had been
in a manner communicated to her.
IV. THE WITHERED HAND.
On a certain Sabbath, Jesus entered one of the
synagogues. There was a man there one of whose
hands was withered. Certain teachers of the law were
also present, who watched Jesus with an evil eye.
They were eager to see whether he would violate the
sanctity of the day by healing the man. He perceived
their design, and, after bidding the man to stand forth,
he turned to those evil-disposed persons, and put to
them this searching question, " Is it lawful to do well
or to do ill on the Sabbath — to save life or to kill ?"
They were silent, for they knew that they were seek
ing to kill. And when he had surveyed them witk a
look of indignation, he turned to the man and said,
"Stretch forth thine hand." And he stretched. it out
and it was made whole as the other. To perceive how
powerfully the mind of this man must have been

THE WITHERED HAND. 279
wrought upon, we must consider the place where the
miracle occurred. It was a place of worship. Let
the reader think how he himself would feel to be called
out in a church, and bidden to starid forth conspicu
ously in the midst of a gazing, breathless, crowded
assembly, and before such an one as the Man of Naza
reth ? Would not his limbs tremble under him and his
cheek turn pale with emotion ? The man with a
withered hand knew not precisely what would be done.
He saw the enemies of Jesus quailing beneath that
indignant eye, and the whole crowd excited with curi
osity and awe. When we think with what power the
'"individual mind is moved by an excited state of the
general mind — how it is borne along by the resistless
tide of public feeling, to account for the effect produced
on him, it seems scarcely necessary to suppose that he,
whose hand was restored, had any distinct idea of the
true greatness of Him whose commanding voice he in
stantly obeyed. Awed by his presence, by his authori
tative look and tone, gazing at him with that reverence,
which must have been deepened beyond description,
reflected back as it was from the countenances of that
excited assembly, he could not but obey the awful bid
ding of Jesus. His mind, powerfully stimulated by
these, circumstances, was aroused to an extraordinary
effort, and it acted upon the diseased member, and he
recovered its instant use.
Now had this individual been suddenly thrown into
a situation of imminent personal danger, we can easily
conceive how he might have been wrought upon to
forget that his limb was withered, and to exert a voli
tion powerful enough to have acted upon the diseased
nerves and muscles. His will would have been inspired
by a sense of bodily danger, by the love of life, one of
the lower principles of our nature. But as the case

280 THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.
actually was, far deeper springs of life were reached.
The Man of Nazareth appealed to that feeling of vene
ration which is the root, of religion, and which may be
so awakened as to urge men to demonstrations of life
and power, in comparison with which all that may be
achieved through the instinct of self-preservation , is
poor and weak.
Were we only aware of the untold mass of vital
force there is in the human mind, and of the influence
possessed over it by our various instincts and senti
ments, the sentiment of veneration especially, so far
from having our credulity tasked by the miracles of
Jesus, we should rather wonder that more and mightier
miracles were not wrought ; and could account for the
fact that more imposing wonders were not presented
by him, only by observing in him the same feature of
divinity that meets us in the world of Nature. Vast
and various as are the displays of power that we wit
ness in nature, perhaps we feel nothing more deeply
than that it does not exhaust itself— that it is not more
awful for what it does than for what it forbears to do.
V. THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.
As Jesus was entering the country of thp Gadarenes,
" there met him out of the city a certain man, who had
devils a long time and wore no clothes, neither abode
in any house, but in the tombs. When he saw Jesus,
he cried out and fell down before him, and with a loud
voice said, What have I to do with thee, Jesus, Son of
God most High ? I beseech thee torment me not.
(For he had commanded the unclean spirit to come
out of the man. For oftentimes it had caught him;
and he was kept bound with chains and in fetters ; and
he brake the bands, and was driven of the devil into

THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA. 281
the wilderness.) And Jesus asked him, saying, What
is thy name ? And he -said, Legion : because many
devils were entered into him. And they besought him
that he would not command them to go out into the
deep. And there was there a herd of many swine
feeding on the mountain : and they besought him that
he would suffer them to enter into them ; and he suf
fered them. Then went the devils out of the man, and
entered into the swine : and the herd ran violently
down a steep place into the lake and were choked.
When they that fed them, saw what was done, they
fled, and went and told it in the city and the country.
Then they went out to see what was done ; and came
to Jesus, and found the man, out of whom the devils
were departed, sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed,
and in his right mind : and they were afraid." Luke
viii. 27—35.
I am not able to, give an account of this miracle,
which will be perfectly satisfactory. I wish however
to remark upon it, because, so far as I am capable of
seeing into it, I find it singularly corroborative of the
views I am to unfold.
I take it for granted that the cases of demoniacal
possession mentioned in the New Testament, were sim
ply instances of those disorders, bodily or mental, which,
being sudden, and violent, and produced by no obvious
cause, were attributed, according to the general belief
of the times, to the influence of evil spirits. In com
parison with the great truths which engrossed the
attention and filled the heart of Jesus, the correctness
of this popular belief was a matter of very little mo
ment, to the consideration of which, it is not necessary
to suppose that he had ever given a thought. His aim
was to vindicate the power of truth, the authority of
God, and this was fundamental to the establishment of
36

282 THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.
all truth, the destruction of all errors. Devoted to this
high object, he had no time for curious and compara
tively trifling inquiries about the origin of diseases.
Accordingly he fell in with the popular language of the
time, and probably had no personal convictions One
way or the other, in regard to demoniacal possession.
This he knew and this alone he cared to make clear,
that over all the powers of nature, whether persons or
principles, the Infinite Spirit, whose work and will he
came to do, is supreme.
I suppose that the insanity of the Gadarene had
been produced, or at least, very much aggravated, by a
fearful mental impression ; the idea that he was under
the control of evil spirits. In all periods, popular su
perstitions have had a large share in producing or
confirming mental derangement. The belief of those
days in the influence of malignant spirits, must have
had fearful effects upon excitable temperaments. The
very circumstarice that the Gadarene believed there
was a Legion of demons in him, shows how strong
was his impression that he was possessed. Here then
in this fatal idea was the seat of his malady. And it
was so deeply rooted that it could be corrected only
by means adapted to the nature of the case.
As soon as he saw Jesus, whose fame had every
where preceded him, he runs and throws himself down
before him, and addresses him as the Messiah, giving
expression as was natural, without the slightest hesi
tation, to an idea which was springing in all minds,
and speaking in the character of the evil spirits, by
whom he believed himself to be possessed. Jesus re
buked the spirits, and commanded them to come out
of the man. But notwithstanding the command, the
man still continued insane. How is this fact to be
reconciled with the idea that the miraculous power of
Jesus was a power which violated natural laws, and

THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA. 283
had no regard to conditions ? He commanded but was
not obeyed ! The fact was that the idea of his being
possessed was so fixed, that, although the power of
Jesus awed him into comparative quietness, still the
false conviction of his mind could be destroyed only in
a certain way, and by peculiar means. Jesus, seeing
that he .still continued insane or possessed, asked his
name, in order to ascertain the state of the case. The
maniac replied that his name was Legion; and he
instantly begs that the evil spirits may be sent into the
swine feeding at a distance. And here it has not been
sufficiently considered that this proposal was not the
suggestion of Jesus, but of the madman. It was the
proposal of insanity, and is characterised by the cun
ning of insanity. While the unhappy man took care to
speak in the character of the unclean spirits by whom
he fancied himself possessed, and who he thought,
might well be disposed to enter those unclean animals,
it would seem as if he were actuated by a secret desire
to have decisive evidence, ocular proof that they had
really quitted him. He therefore proposes that they
should be sent into the swine. It was an insane thought,
but the result was fitted to act upon a diseased mind,
and the authority of Jesus, sanctioning this proposal,
was likely to satisfy the man that the evil spirits had
gone from him. How the swine were affected, I know
not, nor is it necessary to suppose that Jesus knew
what the result would be, or to hold him answerable
for it. If, as it appears, the relief of the man's mind
depended upon his proposal's being acceded to, the
value of the swine was not for a moment to be weighed
against the welfare of a human being, and the safety
of the whole neighbourhood, endangered by the ferocity
of the maniac. No man could pass that way, he was
so violent.

284 THE DEMONIAC OF GADARA.
I do not attempt a complete solution of the case. I
only repeat that, so far as it admits of explanation, it
appears to warrant in a remarkable manner, the views
here presented of the miraculous power of Jesus.
Here, so far as the demoniac was concerned, this
power was exerted not in violation, but in singular ob
servance, of the laws of the mind.
There are no other cases of demoniacal possession
mentioned in the Gospels, upon which it is necessary
to remark particularly. The individuals thus afflicted,
had, in the majority of cases, caught from what they
had seen or heard, so exalted an idea of Jesus, that
they hesitated not to address him outright as the Son
of God. Thus regarding him, they were fully prepared
to confess his authority and do his bidding. His whole
appearance, conjoined with the powerful sensation
every where produced by him, was fitted to act with
no ordinary force upon diseased minds, and inspire
them with confidence and self-possession. I have al
ready briefly alluded to the lunatic child, brought first
to the disciples of Jesus, who were unable to cure him.
They inquired of their master, after he had cured the
child, why they could not do it. His answer was,
" This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting,"
i. e. ' You must have a degree of confidence, unattaina
ble save by the strictest self-discipline.' The child was
afflicted with violent fits, which so appalled the lookers
on, and intimidated the disciples, that they lost the
commanding authority of faith.
Jesus sent abroad seventy persons to announce the
coming of the heavenly kingdom. This large com
pany must have aided powerfully in spreading his fame
and deepening the feeling which was every where ex
cited. They return after a while, and tell him that
they had brought evil spirits into subjection through his

* »

THE BLIND MEN. 285
name. His name — we can hardly conceive of the
power with which the utterance of that name must
have been* attended in the raised state of the public
mind. Naturally enough did it strike awe and sub
mission into minds weakened by nervous derangement.
It was not then a dead, familiar, sound as it is now, but
the startling symbol of a new and unwonted power that
was then present on the earth, acting through the eye
and hand and voice of a living man.
VI. THE BLIND MEN.
There is particular mention made in the gospels of
five or six blind men restored to sight by the touch of
Jesus. " Believe ye that I am able to do this ?" said he to
the two blind men, of whom we read in Matthew, ix.
27—31. " -Yea, Lord," is their reply. " Then touched
he their eyes, saying, " According to your faith, be it
unto you."
It is worthy of note, while those, who were suffering
under nervous diseases, which left their senses unim
paired, were sometimes cured by Jesus without any
personal connexion between him and them, that, in the
case of those, whose sight or hearing was affected, he
had recourse to very peculiar means — to personal con
tact, touching their eyes, the suffering organs, or an
ointing them with his saliva, and putting his fingers
into the ears of the deaf. Those sufferers, who were
in full possession of their senses, had the means of
seeing and knowing all that was done by Jesus, all that
was said and thought of him. In their case there was
no obstruction to prevent the tide of sympathy and
faith, which was flowing through all hearts, from rush-

286 THE BLIND MAN.
ing in upon them, and lifting their minds to the eleva-,
tion of the universal feeling. Whereas those who were
deprived of sight were cut off from all those kindling
influences which came through the eye. They could
not look upon Jesus and catch life from the glorious
vision. One avenue to their minds being closed, direct
and peculiar means were naturally more requisite than
in other cases. Some of the blind who came to Jesus
possessed great faith in him, and little was required,
beyond a simple touch, to make the communication be
tween his mind and theirs, his faith and theirs, com
plete. But in the case of the man born blind, Jesus
had recourse to special means. He spat on the ground
and made clay of the spittle, and anointed the eyes of
the blind man, and bade him go and wash in the pool
of Siloam,. In another instance, a similar anointing
had at first only a partial effect, and Jesus repeated it.
And in the case of the deaf man with an impediment in
his speech, he touched the man's tongue with spittle,
and put his fingers into his ears. These methods he
used simply as signs, as a sort of language to convey
his meaning, to express his faith to the sufferers, and
cause his will to act upon theirs. I proceed to remark
at length upon one instance of a blind man restored to
sight, by Jesus.
Having journeyed about over Galilee, he is now ap
proaching Jerusalem, attended by a crpwd, increasing
at every step of his progress, and their hearts beat high
with wonder and hope. The throng draws near to
Jericho, a city, a few miles distant from the capital.
There is seated by the wayside a poor blind man. As
his name is mentioned, we may suppose that he was
generally known; that he had occupied the same spot
for years. Hither had he crept, here to appeal in silent

¦•< *

THE BLIND MAN- 287
misery to the charity of the passers-by. Little dreamed
he that this was to be the last day of his wretchedness.
He had heard, no doubt, much of the wonderful Man.
The loss of sight, affecting his mind deeply, prepared
him to give ready credit to the strange things that were
told. Fondly had he prayed that the prophet would
only come that way, that he might supplicate his aid.
This was his cherished dream. But alas ! he was poor
and friendless, and who would care to lead a beggar to
the great wonder-worker ! But now the ears of the
blind man catch the sound of innumerable feet, and he
asks what it means. He is told that Jesus of Nazareth
is going by ; and instantly he shouts, " Son of David !
have pity on me !" The people, as they pass, in no
gentle language we may suppose, bid him hold his
tongue. The impudent beggar ! to imagine that the
prophet would take any notice of him, of him, whose
blindness, they thought, perhaps, in conformity with a
common sentiment, was the well-merited punishment
of his sins ! Some, perhaps, were offended at the bold
ness with which he addressed Jesus by a title conse
crated to the Messiah. They bid him be still. He
heeds them not. He only utters so much the more the
piercing cry, " Son of David ! Son of David ! have pity
on me !" His voice reaches the ears of Jesus, and he
pauses and directs the blind man to be brought to him.
The murmur of an admiring multitude could not deafen
him to the cry of the miserable. Conceive, if you are
able, how the whole frame of that wretched creature
must have quaked through every fibre, when the desire
of Jesus was signified to him, and he felt the many
eager hands that were extended to lay hold of him,
and lead him into that awful presence. He threw off
his garment, rose, and came to Jesus. Some MSS.
read, " he, casting away his garment, leaped and came

288

THE BLIND MAN.

to Jesus."* The crowd gives way— he stands before
the Man of Nazareth. That voice, modulated to a tone
of more than regal authority, sounds in" his ears,
" What would you that I should do for you ?" " I would
receive my sight," is the reply. We, who have eyes
and see, can form no adequate idea of the depth of
emotion with which this request was preferred. We
have no knowledge from any personal experience of
such a state of mind as is here expressed, and conse
quently we cannot presume to estimate, the influence
which such a mental state must have on the body.
Here is one human being, standing before another, and
asking him for his sight, with undoubting faith that he,
of whom he makes the request, is perfectly able to
grant it ! For years he had asked of others nothing
more than a pittance of money or of food, doubting
whether he would be heeded. But of Jesus, with un
hesitating confidence, he asked his sight ! Is not a most
singular state of mind here disclosed ? Taking my
ground upon the mighty and undeniable influence of
the mind on the body, I ask also, whether we may ven
ture to deny, or to measure the mysterious power
which a mental impression like this, must have over
the physical frame, over all its functions and infirmi
ties ? Are we not prepared to perceive the full meaning
of the words of Jesus, when he says to the blind man,
" Receive thy sight. Thy faith hath delivered thee
from blindness." Can we not see with what electric
* We may wonder why circumstances, so slight apparently, should have
been so minutely recorded. But the instant we enter into the mind of the
blind man, the reason of this minuteness is disclosed. In the intensity of his
emotion, he flung away his garment, and he, who had so long sate there,
feeble and wretched, seemed as if he would 'have flown. These particulars,
at first sight scarcely worth mentioning, naturally arrested attention at the
time, as the effects of the powerful feeling that prompted them. The more
we strive to appreciate the excitement which the appearance of our Saviour
produced, the more will the amazing naturalness of the History open upon us.

FAITH. , 289
power these few words, connected with the thrilling
touch of Jesus, must have wrought on the blind man,
giving the 4ast quickening impulse to his faith, so that
the power of vision which exists, be it remembered, not
in the eye, which is only its organ, but in the mind,
was, suddenly put forth, and those sightless orbs were
restored to soundness.
More than two-thirds of the miracles, particularly
related in the gospels, admit of being viewed in a man
ner similar to the foregoing. In a majority of cases
there existed a very peculiar mental 'condition, the
fullest belief in the power of Jesus of Nazareth. This
faith, as it dwelt in him and in the people about him, in
the subjects of his miracles particularly, was the prin
cipal and most powerful pf the means whereby these
extraordinary effects were produced. It cannot be
urged that this means never before nor since produced
like effects. Because the means was new and singular.
Never before nor since has precisely such a mental
condition existed, so vital a faith, not that it was new
in nature and kind, but simply in degree. Will it be
said that the faith itself involves an interruption of the
natural order of things, a violation of natural laws ?
And is it not a first principle of human nature to be
lieve ? Is not faith a natural product ? But although
the faith that existed in the times of Jesus, and by
means of which such remarkable effects were produced,
was natural enough, it may be said that the object of
this faith, Jesus Christ, was a miracle, in the popular
sense of the word — that the existence of such a being,
possessing power so extraordinary, implied a suspen
sion of the common laws of nature, that the introduc
tion of a man so endowed beyond all other men, into
the world was a violation of the natural order of things.
37

290 JESUS, BELIEVED IN BY OTHERS,
By inquiring how the minds of sufferers and others
came to be inspired with that perfect confidence in
Jesus, we shall see whether there be any reason for
regarding his" existence as a miracle in any sense ex
cept that in which all things are miracles.
There are two circumstances which bore with great
force upon the minds of those who were labouring un
der severe bodily infirmities. 1. The pressure of long
and heavy suffering. This strongly inclined them to
believe in any fair prospect of relief, especially in a
man of whom such things were related as were told of
Jesus. 2. The authority of public opinion, the force
of the public mind, deeply moved by the appearance
and bearing of Jesus. Every where he awakened won
der and awe. Crowds were collected wherever he
came ; and there was a wide conviction that he was no
ordinary man. Every individual looked upon him
through the magnifying medium of the public feeling,
and was thus wrought upon mightily. These two things
must be kept steadily in view.
Still the question remains, How was this confidence
in the power of Jesus produced in the first instance ?
How came it to be believed that he could heal the sick
and relieve the suffering at will ?
He was believed by others to possess the power of
working wonders, because he believed it himself, and
showed that he believed it, and that he believed no
thing that was not true. His faith it was, that produced
a like faith. So that every effect produced by the faith
of others, was, in reality, produced by him. I do not
say that he fancied himself to be able to heal the sick
and raise the dead, but that he knew it. There was
no delusion in him, but faith, calm consistent, genuine
faith, which may be termed knowledge. «
That he possessed this knowledge appears by signs

BECAUSE HE BELIEVED IN HIMSELF. 291
the most satisfactory. If he did not know — if he only
fancied himself, to be endowed with new and unprece
dented powers, he was under a monstrous delusion, and
it is altogether incredible that he should have cher
ished so gross an error, without betraying it in his
whole conduct and manner, by word and work. But
he has exhibited not a shadow of evidence that he was
deluded. On the contrary, every thing he did and said
is singularly characteristic of a true and healthy con
dition of the inward life. If we cannot discern in him
a true mind, by which I mean not merely an honest
mind, but a mind, all whose convictions were founded
in reality, then are we at a loss to distinguish truth
from falsehood, right from wrong, light from darkness.
No, he was not self-deceived. There is not a trace in
him of self-deception. Never man gave such trium
phant proof as he, that he believed only what was true.
There is no mark of well-grounded conviction which is
not legible in him, and particularly in his bearing as a
wonder-worker. Nay, he has given us a revelation of a
true mind, a perfect model, whereby to test the presence
of genuine conviction in other men; and let us enter fully
into his spirit, and we need never more be imposed upon.
I care little comparatively for the grounds upon
which this faith of his in himself was based. That it
was faith, in the perfect sense of the word, and no de
lusion, its whole manifestation satisfies me. I know it
by his own simple rule, by its fruits. You may gather
grapes of thorns, and figs from thistles, but tell me not
that the Life portrayed in the gospels, and the divine
mind there revealed were the life and the mind of one
so egregiously deluded as to believe that he could heal
the sick, give sight to the blind, still the tempest and
raise the dead at a word, when, in reality, he had no
such power.

292 THE GROUNDS OF HIS FAITH.
It is held to be a settled principle that an individual
does not prove a thing to be true, merelv by proving
that he believes it himself. But it is a principle de
manding important qualification. A true faith is dis
tinguishable from a false one. Let us see that a man's
convictions are in harmony with his own nature and
with all nature, that so far from introducing discord
into his life, they beautify it, and reveal its unity, we
feel that they are genuine convictions, not false but
true. The grounds on which they repose may be
hidden from us. We may not see the root. But if
the fruits are fair to the eye and pleasant to the taste,
and full of healing for the sick, and of life for the dying,
we know, by the best evidence, that there is a root,
nourished by the river of God; and seed from the
heaven-sown tree falls into our hearts, and a like faith
germinates there also. We cannot desire — we cannot
imagine more satisfactory evidence than Jesus of Na
zareth has given of his faith in his singular powers, and
of the genuineness of that faith, not merely its sincerity
but its truth.
Still, but not because it is necessary to the confirma
tion of our faith in him, we may be desirous to dis
cover the grounds upon which he cherished this singu
lar conviction.
The character of the conviction itself proves, as I
have said, that it was based upon reality. He believed
in his own power, because he was actually endowed
with this power. It was in him, not acquired by educa
tion, not from circumstances, not from flesh and blood,
but given him by the Father of Spirits. He who sent
him into the world upon a high mission, endowed him
with the qualifications requisite to its fulfilment. As
he was born to bear witness to the truth, he was born
also with that original and wonderful nature of which

JESUS, SPECIALLY ENDOWED. 293
his life was the authentic manifestation. And his
knowledge of himself, his faith in his own God-given
power, was a matter of consciousness, a consciousness,
which, we believe, existed from his earliest childhood,
and which grew deeper and deeper through the daily
ministrations of the Divine Spirit, until it was made full
and complete at his baptism.
He stands alone and unapproached. We know of
no being that has appeared before or since, with whom
we can compare him, without dping violence to the
reverence he commands. The existence of such a
being does not, however, imply a suspension of the
common laws of nature. If the peculiarity of his gifts
appears to be at variance with the order of nature, it
is also in harmony with the variety which is a feature
of nature fully as conspicuous. And what is still
more important to observe, the whole action of his
singular gifts outward and inward breathes the genius
and style of nature. The same spirit that pervades
the material and moral worlds, and ordains the. offices
of the elements of both, clothing the meanest things
with grandeur and the greatest with simplicity, illus
trates the original works of Jesus.
Let those who find it difficult, without assuming a
violation of nature's laws, to believe in the existence of
such a being, consider the argument of Paul, when, in
reply to those who pronounced it impossible that the
dead should live again, he appeals to the endless
diversity of the glories of creation, and virtually de
mands, who, amidst these varied displays of power, can
question the possibility of the restoration of the dead
in such bodies as it may please the Almighty to give
them. Cast a glance upon mankind. There is a uni
versal resemblance, yet no two of the myriads are
alike. How infinitely various the endowments of indi-

294 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN.
viduals! In every department of life, there are some
who are greatly distinguished, possessing powers, un
derived from education, powers, which act with uncon
scious ease and unerring rapidity. To these we
attribute genius, a term very vaguely defined in the
general apprehension, but still, so far as defined, syno
nymous with inspiration. It signifies a power which
comes through no human influence* but must be ac
counted the free gift of God. When we see a little
child, not otherwise remarkable, penetrating at a glance
the mysteries of numbers, leaping with the quickness
of lightning at conclusions, which mature and educated
minds reach only by a long and laborious process, and
doing it with the same simplicity and unconsciousness
that mark his ordinary movements, what, pray, do we
behold but the manifest power of God ? Or, when the
poet, rending the veil of custom that shrouds all things'
to the common eye, and pouring in the light of his own
spirit, opens worlds of beauty in the lowliest places,
creates new forms of loveliness, and reveals ties binding
us to all created things, holier and closer than the ties
of blood, do we use a metaphor, or rather do we not
state a fact, when we pronounce him inspired? His
muse, if a fabulous being, represents a greater being
and more divine. He has a native, original power of
seeing, not the product of human circumstances but
the gift of Heaven, distinguishing him from all other
men. There is one glory of the sun, another glory of
the moon, and another glory of the stars. But the
visible splendours of the universe differ not more widely
than man does from man. Who shall presume to tell
what gifts men may not receive from the bountiful
Father of Spirits— -what new men God may not create!
How know we but, at this very moment, there may be
entering into life in some obscure Nazareth, a child,

THE FAITH OF JESUS, GENUINE. 295
whose star no wise men have discovered, who brings
with him a glorified nature, fashioned by the ever-
brooding Spirit, filled with a new measure of life, and
destined to breathe a new soul of faith into a heartless
and sensual world !
Thus by nature Jesus Christ was distinguished from
all men. It was given him to see into his own won
derful being and into the soul of man. He discovered
the miraculous spark of divinity glowing amidst the
embers of the weakest and most degraded mind. In
all men he saw a mass of force of which they were
scarcely conscious ; and seeing, believing, he acted
according to this faith, and as he expressed his faith
by a word or by his touch, the fountains of the great
deep of mind were broken up, and all men were
stirred, and the world witnessed new demonstrations of
the power of God. By a true and perfect faith, he
created faith. He commanded confidence ; he inspired
others with a faith, like his own, in his power, and
every instance- of the exercise of this power contri
buted to deepen and diffuse the conviction that God
was with him and in him, as he never was before in
the flesh.
That he was not the victim of a heated mind, he has
shown, as I have said, by unquestionable signs. There
were no vehement assertions of authority. There was
no hurry, and no hesitation, no self-exaggeration, no
impatience to produce conviction. Whether men be
lieved him or not, he cared not for his own sake ; but
for theirs, he was ready to die that they might believe.
Not only is every symptom of a deluded mind wanting,
never before nor since has the world witnessed so
complete a manifestation of a mind, true in all its per
suasions. There was the deepest feeling with an un
affected dignity, the consciousness explicitly avowed of

296 MIRACLES, WROUGHT ON INANIMATE MATTER.
a more than imperial office, with a simple, natural
interest in humanity in its meanest forms. In all cir
cumstances, through all opposition and trial, and suf
fering, his spirit was attuned to a perfect iharmony with
truth and nature, and every heart not utterly lost,
awoke and responded thereto. Alas for us ! we have
not yet entered into the sanctuary of his spirit, or we
should better understand his power. We lie, like the
poor cripple at the beautiful gate of the Temple. Still,
could one be found now to adjure us with the look and
tone and faith of an Apostle, by the name of Jesus of
Nazareth, to rise up and walk, miracles might again
be wrought by that name on the spirits and on the
bodies of men.
It will be observed that our attention thus far has
been confined to those miracles, of which the sick, the
blind, the infirm in body or mind, were the subjects.
In these cases, under the warrant of our Saviour's s
own declarations, and by the analogy of nature,: we
can trace the power which wrought the cures, opera
ting through the faith of the diseased. Thus viewed,
these miracles are of a piece with nature ; and" this
harmony is their decisive claims to be received as
facts. But Jesus wrought miracles not only on the bodies
of the living, but also on inanimate matter and on the
dead. With five loaves and two small fishes he fed
thousands. He hushed the winds and waves at a word.
He called Lazarus from the grave, where he had lain
four days. Where are the signatures of nature in
these miracles ? And what had faith to do here ?
With reference to this class of miracles, I remark
in the first place, that, so far as his manner is concern
ed, there are none of his wonderful works more im-

THE MULTIPLICATION OF THE LOAVES. 297
pressively marked with the spirit of nature than these.
By nothing that appears in him on these occasions, is
there given the least ground to suppose that he was
doing any but the most natural things in the world.
On the contrary, the presumption is strong that these
acts, unprecedented as they were, were natural acts.
TO. THE MULTTPOCATIO>" OF THE LOAVES.
When Jesus fed the thousands, he was moved by a
simple impulse of humanity. "I have compassion,"
said he, "on the multitude, because they have now
been with me three days, and have nothing to eat, and
if I send them away fasting to their homes, they will
feint by the way." Some had come from a great dis
tance. He inquires of his disciples what means there
were of supplying the wants of the people. They pro
duce the merest pittance. He bids them arrange the
multitude with some degree of order. And then, when
that small quantity of food is laid before him, and just
as it is about to increase so marvellously under his
hands, is there a trace of self-consciousness visible ?
Does it appear that he sought to draw attention to
what he was about to do, as if it were something sin
gular? Not a shadow of any feeling of this sort is
visible. In accordance with a familiar custom, he lifts
up bis voice in acknowledgment of the bounty of Hea
ven. There is no reason to suppose that he used any
anusual form of thanksgiving. And what does he do ?
Does he cause a table to rise and spread itself out,
covered with the variety becoming such an entertain
ment as the interposing hand of God might be expected
to provide ? Oh, no ! The miracle is the plainest, the
least imposing possible. The simple food before him,
this alone he multiplies. And when the people have all
38

298 THE MULTIPLICATION OF THE LOAVES.
eaten and are satisfied, mark that direction given to
his disciples, " Gather up the fragments, so that nothing
be lost." Every where in nature we behold profusion
but no waste. Was the mind of Jesus ever more true
to nature than as here expressed? To refresh the
fainting multitude, he exercised an unheard-of power,
but without the shadow of display, without a single
trace of appearing to do any thing strange. His pur
pose answered, his frugality is as conspicuous and sim
ple as his kindness. Observe too, that it was not to
collect people around him that he wrought this mira
cle. He wished to dismiss them. He was anxious to
be alone. When they had eaten he sent them away.
The contrast between him and the people was never
more striking than on this occasion. The whole coun
try was in a flame. The multitude, whom he fed, he
had sought from very fatigue to avoid. They followed
him into the desert, or rather preceded him to the spot,
whither he went, with his few personal friends, for the
sake of repose. There had been, as Mark relates,
such crowds " coming and going" that Jesus and his
disciples " had not leisure so much as to eat." He had
endeavoured to retire privately. But he could not be
hid. His intention was discovered, his person recog- '
nised, and the rumour of his going ran like wildfire,
and immediately cities and villages, far and near,
poured forth their population, so that when he reached
the shore, thousands were waiting to meet him. Af
fected at the sight, for they seemed to him like sheep
without a shepherd, he resumed his labours. Yet he
caught no excitement from the multitude. How great
the excitement was may be inferred from the fact that
they remained with him three days* finding their
* One whole day, probably, and part of the day preceding and the day
following.

THE MULTIPLICATION OF THE LOAVES. 299
sustenance in his words and works, which so interested
them that they cared little for what they ate or drank.
But his manner was marked throughout, as we have
seen, with the quietness of nature.
Now I say again that without going any further, the
manner of Jesus on this occasion, so perfectly natural,
warrants the belief that the exercise of his power,
however novel and mysterious, was still in perfect ac
cordance with nature's laws, and that we should see
that it was so, were our knowledge of nature enlarged.
To those who ask, what possible influence could faith
have in multiplying the loaves and fishes, I reply, firstly,
that Jesus himself, whenever he spake of the power of
faith, always illustrated it by reference to its influence
on inanimate matter. " If," said he once and again,
" ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye may say
to this mountain or to this sycamine tree, be thou
plucked up by the roots and cast into the sea, and it
would obey you." So efficacious was faith in his view,
that where it existed in the smallest degree, as a grain
of mustard seed, he declared that trees might be up
rooted and mountains overturned at a word.
That the instantaneous multiplication of the loaves
was within the compass of that Power, in which we
live and move and have our being, is undeniable. All
I contend for is, that this extraordinary effect was
wrought by the Supreme Cause working through, and
by means of, the faith and will of Jesus, according to
laws and relations of matter and mind, pre-established,
existing in the nature of things, although as yet par
tially or wholly hid from human ken. Who will affirm
that the relations of matter and spirit are defined ?
According to the best philosophers, " all that we
know of the impenetrability of matter amounts to this,
that there exist certain repulsive forces, which coun-

36Q THE STILLING OF THE WAVES.
teract those compressing forces we ourselves exert.
Now, if this is the case, we must ascribe those forces
to something analogous to that of which we are con
scious in ourselves. In other words, we must ascribe
them to the agency of mind ; for active force is an
attribute of mind, just as much as sensation or
thought."* What we call matter, then, is a mode of
mind. And the power of Jesus over inanimate sub
stances was the action of mind upon mind. There was
an affinity, therefore, between the cause and the effect.
His power was peculiar and unprecedented, but it
neither was impossible, nor did it involve a violation of
the order of nature. If the proportion now existing in
point of numbers, between those who hear and speak
on the one hand, and the deaf and dumb on the other,
were reversed — nay, were there only two or three indi
viduals of our race who possessed the gifts of hearing
and speech, should we be justified in questioning their
existence, or in assigning them to a preternatural order
of beings ? Yet we should perceive that they had me
thods of acting upon one another of which we could
form no conception. We know not what a host of
undeveloped faculties exists in the meanest of men.
VIII. THE STILLING OF THE WAVES.
Jesus hushed the winds and waves by a word.
" Peace ! Be still !" said he, and there was a great
calm. The calm was produced by the utterance of
these words, and followed as a natural consequence.
How these sounds wrought upon the storm I know
not ; neither do I know how sound acts on the mind
and the body through the ear. The one is not less
* Boscovich, according to Stewart.

THE WALKING ON THE WATER 3Q|
inscrutable than the other. Were we only aware of
the mighty force of which the majestic form and com
manding voice of the Man of Nazareth was the symbol,
it would less surprise us, — it would seem more natural
that the storm bowed to his powerful will than that
our familiar utterances, dubious signs as they often
times are, should act upon the hearts and sway the
movements of our fellow men. What else but an in
stantaneous repose of the elements should follow the
bidding of so godlike a spirit ! It could not but be so.
IX. THE WALKING ON THE WATER.
That Jesus should have walked on the top of the
waves without sinking, appears to be a direct violation
of the laws of gravitation. But the details of the fact
tend powerfully to confirm the idea that faith was an
important, necessary agent here. When Peter saw
that it was Jesus who was approaching the vessel, he
called to him, " Bid me come to thee, on the water."
Jesus bade him, and he left the vessel, but soon be
came frightened, and began to sink. Jesus caught
hold of him, and said, " Wherefore didst thou doubt ?
0 thou of little faith !" Now, however this incident
may be understood, whether as violating nature or
harmonising with it, I am unable to question its reality
because it is so interwoven with a natural and charac
teristic representation of Peter. But the language of
Jesus — his address to the Apostle, intimates strongly
that it was by means of faith that his body was sus
tained upon the water's surface as securely as upon a
marble floor. The cause in this case, as in all cases,
was the power of God, and the indispensable means or
instrument was confidence in that Power, which, let
our faith in it be a genuine and true faith and no illu-

3Q2 THE RAISING OF THE DEAD.
sion, will enable us to do all things. It is always here
around and within us, with an infinity of resources.

X. THE RAISING OF THE DEAD.
Jesus raised the dead. Here again I begin with
observing that never was his manner so thoroughly
natural, never was it more impressively the manner of
one doing natural acts, than upon the occasions on
which he performed these great miracles.
These were things to test the character of Jesus
to the core. Were the records of these events mere
fabrications, or distorted statements of ordinary occur
rences, what a shock would be given us by the contrast
between fictions so gross and a character so surpas
singly single and self-consistent! We hold them to be
real facts, not only because, as we read, no discord
grates upon our inward sense, but because they create
a new feeling of moral truth and majesty, a new idea
of the godlike.
Onoe as he drew near a certain city, attended by a
large crowd, he met the funeral of a young man, the
only son of his mother, and she was a widow. He said
unto her, " Weep not," and approached the bier, and
they that bore it stopped, and he said, " Young man !
I command thee ! arise !" And he sat up, and Jesus
delivered him to his mother. Nothing, by the way,
but nature, nothing but truth, could have inspired an
account so divinely simple. As I pause over the re
cord, a sense of reality comes over me so vividly, that
I have not the heart to utter a word. It seems like
profanation. He that hath eyes to see, let him see
that there was, not only no unmeaning preparation, no
artifice to attract attention and stimulate curiosity, but
the directest method and the calmest dignity. He

THE RAISING OF THE DEAD. 393
works the miracle, but not as if it were any thing sur
prising. He says not a word, he lifts not a finger to
make the crowd gaze and wonder, and therefore they
did wonder, and a fear came on all, and they exclaimed,
" a great prophet hath arisen among us," and, " God is
visiting his people."
In another case he makes no account whatever of
the miracle as a miracle. I refer to the case of the
little girl, the daughter of a ruler of the synagogue.
He was told that she was dying, and his aid was soli
cited in her behalf. Before he reached the house,
intelligence came that she was dead. He continued
on his way, however, and when he arrived at the place,
he found the professional mourners, whom it was the
custom to employ, already assembled, and the house
was filled with the sounds of lamentation. He instantly
hushed the noise and dismissed the company, saying,
"She is not dead, but sleepeth." Had he thought of
displaying his power, he would have directed those
around him to satisfy themselves by cjose inspection
that she had breathed her last. He does nothing of
this sort, but the whole proceeding, on his part, is
marked with the simplicity and directness of a com
mon act of kindness. Shutting out all but the parents,
and one or two of his personal friends, without the least
parade of preparation, he approached the bed and
called to the little girl "Damsel! I command thee,
arise!" and these few words, uttered with all the power
of his perfect faith, penetrated the dull, cold ear of
death, which all the noise of the mourners could not
startle, and he took her by the hand, and she arose,
and he commanded them to give her nourishment.
Could any thing have been done, so far as the manner
of doing it was concerned, more naturally ? He charged
those present to tell no man what had happened. It

394 THE RAISING OF THE DEAD.
seems as if he would have hidden from his left hand
what his right hand was doing, even when it was doing
so mighty a work. Observe him closely on this occa
sion. His whole mode of proceeding is as if he were
discharging the simplest office of humanity. His sin
gularity as a wonder-worker is the absence of every
thing peculiar and formal, the perfect simplicity of his
deportment. In fine, so far as I am able to discern
upon the closest inspection, he wrought miracle^, not
as if there was any thing special in them, but just as he
did every thing else. It would seem as if he could not
have conceived how it could be otherwise than that he
should be obeyed. Beyond all question the power of
performing these wonders was native to him, and its
exercise was as easy and natural in him as that of our
commonest faculties is in us.
The only other instance of restoration from the grave
is that of Lazarus. The account of this event is mark
ed throughout with inimitable touches of nature.
When the stone had been rolled from the sepulchre
at the bidding of Jesus, he lifted up his eyes to Heaven,
and said, " Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard
me, and I know that thou hearest me always ; never
theless, because of the people who stand by I have said
it that they may believe." And when he thus had
spoken, he cried with a loud voice, " ' Lazarus ! come
forth !' And he that was dead came forth, bound hand
and foot with grave-clothes and with a cloth about his
face. And Jesus said, ' Loose him, and set him free.' "
But although the manner of Jesus on these occasions
confirms the impression that the effects he produced,
extraordinary as they are, are in entire harmony with
nature, it will still be asked, what had faith to do here ?
I consider it a remarkable circumstance that, of the
three individuals whom Jesus restored to life, one was

THE RAISING OF THE DEAD. 395
a personal friend of his, and the two others were young
persons, one a little girl twelve years of age, and1 the
other a young man. .,
A connexion which, I cannot persuade myself, is
fanciful, discloses itself between cases of this descrip
tion, and certain remarkable declarations of Jesus.
" Whoso believeth in me," said he just before he
called Lazarus from the tomb, " though he were dead,
yet shall he live, and whoso liveth and believeth in me
shall never die." It is true these are, in form, general
propositions. But when I think upon what occasion,
under what circumstances they were uttered, they
seem to possess- a particular and pointed significance.
There was the dead Lazarus, a dead believer, the
thought of whom was present to all hearts as Jesus
spoke; and it is as if he said to Martha, "your dead
brother believed in me, and through his faith in me he
will come to life; andto yoii, who are now living, if you
believe in me, death will cease to be death. You will
see that what is called death is but a mode of life."
Lazarus had entered the dark valley with an affection
for Jesus which death could not destroy, with a faith
in him which was likewise indestructible. His spirit
had sunk into the mysterious 'slumber of the grave,
cherishing a principle of faith over which, as the fife
of the soul, nP physical change could have any power.
He had gpne fro m the present state1 bound to Jesus by
a tie which no distance of space could sunder, which
stretched across the dark gulf. The cpnnexion be
tween the body and the soul is alike inscrutable in life
and in death. Where the spirit is in life we know not.
We are ' obscurely sensible' of its immediate presence
in the brain or the heart. Neither knoW we where it
is in death. The general impression is that the union
of the two is severed with the last heaving of the lungs.
39

396 THE RAISING OF THE DEAD.
But we know not that it is so. When the spirit ceases
to manifest itself outwardly we hastily conclude that it
has changed its place. Let us be on our guard against
the illusions which the idea of space practises onus.
How know we but that "the lost friend is stillj here
mysteriously, even as we are here mysteriously with
God ?" How know we but that, for a time longer or
shorter after the last breath, the mind possesses the
faculty of acting upon and reanimating the body^ a
faculty, which a mighty spiritual force, like that of
which the voice of Jesus was the symbol, may prompt
it to exert and so cause its resumption of the bodyv
Such a connexion existed between the inmost spirit of
Jesus and the inmost spirit! of Lazarus, before the death
of the latter, that no man can venture to deny that this
intimate fellowship riiay have been the riieans by which
the mighty Living wrought upon the believing dead.
And till it is proved that no such connexion existed, or,
if it did exist, that jt was not adequate to so great an
effect as the. raising of Lazarus, it is unphilospphical to
suppose fhp agency, in this instance, of any more un
usual and extraordinary cause. The dying have been
revived for a little while by the agonising appeal of a
beloved voice, and bright intelligence has flickered orice
more in the glazed eye. ¦ .No human mind can fathotn
the power of which that awful summpns, "Lazarus!
come forth!'' was the symbol., Let the reader con
sider that these are not the suggestions of an extra*
vagant pretension to knowledge. Their force will be
felt when we confess our ignorance, and extricate
our minds from the has,ty impressions concerning life
and death, which we are apt to cherish asself-evident
truths. Let not the ground which I take be misunderstood.
I am not epposing speculations to facts. For the facts,

THE RAISING OF THE DEAD. 397
and the facts as they are represented, I earnestly con
tend. Nay, it is the facts that I am principally anxipus to
establish. The question between these and the com
mon views of the miracles, is simply a question be
tween one theory of the facts and another. If it be
said that the thoughts, suggested above concerning the
connexion between the body and soul, and life and
death, are mere assumptions, I ask in reply whether it
be not equally an assumption to assert that the spirit
of Lazarus had passed irrevocably out of the reach of
the will and the voice of ^ Jesus. In the absence of
direct evidence, my assumptions, I conceive, are as
fully warrantable as this last;. If it be urged that rto
such event has ever occurred before or since, as the
restoration of a man four days dead at the sound of a
human voice, I ask again with no thought of evading
the difficulty, has such a man as Jesus of Nazareth
ever appeared. He was an original creation, a new
and exalted Son of God, whose being not only harmo
nised with all the familiar laws of nature, but also
revealed new laws, new modes of Divine Power, which
we are capable of so far tracirig as to perceive that
they do not interrupt, but agree with all the ways of
God in creation and in the soul of man, that they are
indeed and in truth, divine natural laws, instances of
Nature's work, not breaking in upon her unity but
Crowning her with new light, unfolding her perfect
order. But to return. There is one circumstance mentioned
in the account of the raising of Lazarus, which re
quires particular remark. Before he wrought the
miracle he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and thanked
God for having heard him. On no Other occasion of
performing a miracle did he utter himself in the sariie
way. For what was he so grateful ? Not, certainly,

398 THE RAISING OF THE DEAD.
for the bare opportunity of raising a dead man to life,
Opportunities of this sort he had already had. Lazarus
was not the only individual who had died in the course
of his ministry; and had-he merely desired an oppor7
tunity of restpring a dead man to life, it might easily
have been obtained. Nor Was it merely for the power
of raising the dead, for this power he possessed already
and had exerted once and again ; and besides, every
thing leads us to believe that the miraculous power
was natural to him, a part of his being. No, it was, for
neither of these things that the divine joy of his he^rt
broke forth, as he lifted up those eyes, just before
streaming with tears, and exclaimed, " Father ! I
thank thee that thouhast heard me." He had prayed,
we may believe, again and again, for opportunities' to
fulfil his work, to promote the blessed cause of truth
and advance the divine glory. And now he felt that a
great opportunity had occurred in the good providence
of his Father, and he was grateful for it. A personal
friend, one who had reposed perfect confidence in
him, had died, between whom and himself had been
formed the living tie of faith. He could now exert his
wonderful power under its requisite Conditions, without
the slightest compromise of the dignity and greatness
of his purpose. He had the opportunity of acting from
pure and generous aims. There was room for a simple
and true act of his will. And he saw that the effect
could not. but be great. On account of those who stood
by, he thanked God for the Opportunity now given him,
not of displaying a physical wonder, but, of exhibiting
that power of faith which is the brightesrtoken of the
presence of God. Herein was the rare greatness of
his character, that in the presence of the very multi
tudes whom he wished to influence, he could do such
things as no man had ever done before, not only with-

THE RAISING OF THE DEAD. 399
out the slightest shadow of display, but with as perfect
singleness of mind and simplicity of manner, as if
there were not one human eye to see what he was
doing. The two others, whom he restored to life, were
young persons ; one was quite a child. Let it be
remembered with what particular regard he treated
the young. In comparison with all other teachers of
antiquity nothing in him strikes me as more peculiar
and original than the manner in which he spoke of the
young. " Of such," said he, " is the kingdom of Hea
ven." There is more^here than a mere figure of speech.
Faith is the characteristic of childhood and youth. So
congenial is it to a child's nature to cherish trust, to
bestow confidence, so ready is he to listen to all sounds
as to true voices, that, if we supposed, he had come
into this world from a pre-existent state, we should
infer that he had lived in a world of perfect truth.
"Heaven lies about us in our infancy." The mind of
the young Child appears to live and move and have its
being, all unconsciously, in those truths, which the man
is toiling almost hopelessly to find. They brood. over
it " like the day." And although the corrupting illu
sions of sense fast, very fast, close us round, and the
heavy yoke of custom bows us down, and we daily
travel further from the east, yet something of the child's
heart stays, with us to the end, amidst the thickening
clouds of pride and sin.
" O joy ! that in our embers '
Is something that doth live.
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive !"
Had the deep, articulate, meaning of the immortal Ode
from which 1 quote, reached our inner sense, were it

310

THE RAISING OF THE DEAD.

something more to us than the faint music of a distafat
angel, we should be prepared to receive the full signi
ficance of the hallowed words pf Jesus.
In childhood too, it is natural to suppose, the body is
pecjiliarly open and plastic to the agency of the, indwell
ing spirit. It is not then hardened by sensual habits.
Body and mind are then fresh and ductile, and* the
human being is " an incorporated will."
Between Jesus and children there was a peculiar
sympathy. He took them in his arms and blessed
them, for he saw in them the representatives of pure
spirits. He placed a child before his disciples as their
model. In declaring, as he did with so much solemnity,
that the guardian angels of children are of the highest
order, of those who stand nearest the Eternal Throne,
he intimated that God is very near to, trie young. It
was because he felt himself bound by spiritual, living
ties to little children, that he said of the little- girl, who
had just stepped across the dark threshold, " She is
not dead, but sleepeth." To him her spirit was, visibly
as it were, within call of his, and he had but to beckon
and she would return. It was so perfectly easy to sum
mon her back, that she seemed to him not to be dead.:
These remarks must suffice to disclose to those who
are disposed to perceive' it, the probable correspondence
between the restoration to life of the girl and the
young man, and the. deepest laws of nature, the order
of that spiritual world, to the developement of whose
forces, faith is, in the nature of things, the essential
condition. To such, I say, as are disposed to perceive
it. Without this disposition, words, reasonings are
vain. "Murmur not among yourselves," said Jesus,
" no man can come to me except the Father who hath
sent me draw him." God forbid that I should adduce
thf se words in an arrogant spirit ! Most deeply do I

THE MIRACLES, SIGNS. 31 1
feel that my own vision is dim, my own faith faint;
and if he, who sees men only as trees, walking, is dis
posed to boast of his sight, he only proves himself
among the blindest.
To those who insist that Jesus referred his miracles
to theipower of God, I say in conclusion, that it has
been the ruling purpose of these chapters, (imperfectly
executed, I know,) to justify this reference, to show
that his miracles were wrought by the spirit, that they
bear the impress of the firiger of Him, of whom,
through whom, and to whom are all things, and I am
wholly unable to understand how this can be shown,
save by showing that they are in entire harmony with
his nature and with all nature.1
There are three of the miracles, the turning water
into wine, the finding a piece of money in a fish's
mouth, and the withering of the fig-tree, of which I
feel myself bound to confess that I am as yet unable to
discern their truth, as I discern the truth of the rest.
I do not say that I am disposed tP question their
reality, for I am Unconscious of any such disposition.
I am persuaded something has been overlooked or not
yet discovered in the relations of these facts. There
is light yet to break forth to' disclose their life and
beauty and harmony.
'•¦' The question now arises, in what does the im
portance of the miracles consist ? What is their value
and use ? I answer they are of inestimable value as
Signs. And this is their designation in the Scriptures.
The word 'miracle' occurs comparatively seldom.
They are entitled by the sacred writers 'sighs and
wonders.' They are signs of the Spirit of Jesus and

312 THE MIRACLES, SIGNS.
the Spirit of God. These great acts were words.
As ' his language Was action, so was his action, lan
guage.' All facts are valuable solely as signs, as they sig
nify those truths and facts which are not objects of
sense. All physical phenomena, the changes and ap
pearances of the natural world as they are presented
to our senses, are worthy of attention and study, be
cause they unfold the laws, and modes of the physical
creation. So also the facts of human life, the words
and deeds of men, are interesting and important only
as they manifest the qualities of the human mind and
heart, and let us into the spirit or nature of man and
the laws of his being. Regarding all facts as a sort of
language, full of significance, of no value to man until
he has learned to interpret them, we may perceive
that in this light, the facts of the life of Jesus are of
supreme importance. In the long and various suc
cession of events which pass before human eyes, they
are the fullest of meaning. They are, so to speak, the
key-words in the vast volume which Jies epen before
us to read and learn. They are the -signs, which,
rightly interpreted, will give us the complete idea of a
man, the most expressive illustration of the noblest of
the divine creations, of a Son of God ; and, of course,
as the Creator is known through his works, of the
Spirit of God himself. In fine, such is the connexion
between religion, philosophy artd science, that the mi
racles of Jesus bear vital relations to the whole sum of
thought and knowledge. To disregard them is to
leave but of view the most valuable facts whereby we
are to be aided in forriiing a sound philosophy of life,
providence and nature; and it is of unspeakable im
portance that they should be proved beyond the pos
sibility of doubt. Their value is not limited to the

THE MIRACLES, SIGNS. 313
age in which they occurred. By no means. They
were never more valuable than they are now at this
present period, when the study of the profoundest
philosophy is reviving with some new interest. The
relations of philosophy and Christianity are reciprocal.
But hitherto the latter has been interpreted in accord
ance with philosophical systems, in the origin of which
it has had nb participation. It must be studied by
the new methods of philosophical investigation, for
which it prepares the way by its noble proclamation
of freedom, and which have obtained for us so many
triumphs in the other and inferior departments, and
then philosophy itself will receive from Christianity
aids so new and powerful, that it will be a matter of
astonishment how it has ever made any progress with
out them. Christianity must no longer be narrowed
by philosophy, but philosophy be enlightened, enlarged
and inspired by the religion of Jesus Christ.
But it is in their relation to him by whom they
were wrought that their primary value lies. They are
parts of his wondrous being. Without them, we can
obtain only a very imperfect knowledge of what he
was. He fades away into a shade. His words give
us, it is true, some idea of him, but it is by his works
that he is revealed, and we are enabled to distinguish
him as an individual from all other men. It is by the
nature, manner, form of his deeds, that we learn what
he was. Were we striving to obtain a vivid idea of
any distinguished individual, it would be a strange
proceeding to put out of view, as unimportant, all the
most remarkable acts of his life. So in the case of
Jesus Christ. Erase the wonderful things he did from
his history, and you throw away the indispensable
means of knowing him. You may have a dim idea in
40

314 THE MIRACLES, SIGIJS.
your mind to which you give his name. But you have
formed no conception of him as he is, and he does not
exist to you. In this way the rejection of the miracles
is equivalent to a rejection of all that gives Christianity
a peculiar value. For, in showing us what manner
of man he was, what was his inward life, they attest his
authority, his divine authority, and give a new weight
to every word that he uttered.

315

i ti \\ \\

CHAPTER IX.

THE TRANSFIGURATION.
-u,wp U-. tL.- A, - ¦••-•-
" The transfiguration of Christ is to be regarded rather as an event in the
tr%resof the disciples who witnessed it, than as an event in the life of the Sa
viour himself. It was an effect produced on their minds, and not any thing
which essentially affected his condition. He needed no such outward sign to
assure him of that divine nature, to which his own consciousness bore unceas
ing testimony far stronger than any outward sign could supply." F. H. Hedge.
The extraordinary fact's to the establishment of
which the two preceding chapters are devoted, being
admitted, it follows that the spectators of these won
ders, the personal attendants of Jesus particularly, must
have been moved in no common manner and degree.
Those great events must have excited their sensibili
ties powerfully. That a disposition was produced, more
or less strong, in the disciples of Jesus, to look for
things startling and supernatural, and to transform
cominon occurrences into miracles, is a presumption
enforced by all that we know of the human heart.
Living in the midst of wonders, they naturally enough
expected wonders.
It behoves us in examining these records of the life
of Jesus, to keep in view the possible influence of this
disposition for the marvellous, which there was so much
to produce, and do our utmost to determine whether
and to what extent it has given the narratives the
fashion which they wear. It may be thought by some
that this bias has had a preponderating share in making

'* !»

316 EFFECT OF THE MIRACLES

<

the gospels what they are, and that all that is repre
sented as supernatural in these books may be traced to
the passion for the marvellous, excited and kept alive
and active by something unusual in the circumstances,
imposing in the appearance of Jesus. But the ground^
lessness of this suspicion, I have, I trust, exposed in
the foregoing chapters. The miracles of Jesus; exhibit
marks of no such parentage. On the .contrary they
present, in their whole shape and spirit, most expressive
features of resemblance to him, whose aets they are
declared to be. Not like the purple, robe, the crown
of thorns, and the hollow reed, thrust upon him by bru
tal soldiers in mockery, do the miracles of Christ ap
pear in their connexion with him. The hands, the
head, the beating heart, are not more truly portions of
the entire human body, than the wonders wrought by
him are members of his being, life of his life, spirit of
his spirit. And besides, not only are they parts of him,
contributing to complete and; reveal his unity, if the
theory I have endeavoured to set forth is correct, they
are Nature's own works too, or rather, God's, for they
are neW illustrations of the divine methpd as that may
be discerned in the world of Nature and Providence.
But although the argument for the reality of the
miracles is, in this view, complete and impregnable, it
is by no means improbable that, on some few occasions,
the impressions of the witnesses, and consequently their
statements^ were affected by their sensibilities. Eyes
dilated with wonder, overshadowed by awe, could not
always see things in their exact proportions. Indeed
it would hardly be natural, had it been otherwise.
Were it shown that the eye-witnesses of that wonder-
scene, the Life of Jesus, were never misled in this way,
it would not confirm, it might stagger our faith,, for it
is contrary to all we know of human nature, that men,

*

ON THE MINDS OF THE DISCIPLES. 317
with human hearts — human feelings, and with that
most stirring train of events passing before their eyes,
should have had no inclination produced to exaggerate
common events, no state of mind unfavourable to a
uniformly calm and correct observation.
It appears, indeed, from the Records, that the mira
cles of Jesus took the disciples and the people by sur
prise — that even after they had heard of and seen the
wonders wrought by him, they were startled upon every
new occurrence of the kind as if they had not seen
similar things just before. And this would imply that
they had not been so affected and prepared for those
wonderful demonstrations of power as we should expect
they would have been after witnessing a few of his
miracles. But it does not prove that no inclination for
the marvellous was produced in them, or that they
were not all on tip-toe for supernatural appearances.
It shows this, and this only, that, they were wholly un
prepared for such miracles as Jesus wrought — that his
power, when it was manifested, transcended all their
expectations — displayed itself in unlooked for forms and
ways, So is it in nature and providence. The huge
Creation that environs us challenges our wonder, and
the motions and workings of things stimulate the ima
gination, and we fill the wide waste of possibility with
the wildest fabrics. And yet after all, when new mar
vels of nature pass before us, they always take us by
surprise ; for, active as man's imagination is, it must
be utterly and for ever baffled in its attempt to antici
pate what Nature will do, or how she will do it.
Crowds followed Jesus to witness wonders, but not one
of all the throng could conjecture how he would exer
cise his power.
But while they were unprepared for the precise
miracles which he wrought, it would be inconsistent, as

318 THE ACCOUNTS OF THE TRANSFIGURATION,
I have remarked, with all our knowledge of human na
ture to suppose that, amidst such exciting scenes, their
sensibility tP the wonderful was not quickened to a
peculiar degree. And if they were thus affected, it is
hardly possible that their narrations should not betray
some traces of this influence. It appears, I apprehend,
to have modified the accounts of the Resurrection of
Jesus. '
There is one incident, commonly held to be a mira*
cle and so represented in the records, which, (I am
disposed to believe,) receiver much, if not the whole, of
its supernatural character from the excited state of
their mihds, who were immediately concerned in it,
and from whom the accounts of the event have been
derived. I refer to the Transfiguration.
Upon a first examination of the passages which re
late this occurrence,, I am struck with the Jewish' air
which invests it. It savours strongly of Jewish ideas.
It represents Jesus as arrayed with a material, visible,
glory, his face shining as the sun, and his person clad
in garments of unearthly whiteness. I confess I have
difficulty in recognising him in this garb. The glory
which possessed his mind, and to which he aspired, was
purely moral; such as no eye hath seen or can see. He
did not look forward to the possession, either iri this
world or the world to come,(if I have studied his words
aright) of outward pomp, external splendour. Besides,
his appearance at the Transfiguration seems also \o
sanction the earthly conceptions which are so prevalent
concerning the other world, that it is a state of visible
glory, whose inhabitants are arrayed in robes of white,
and surrounded by a material magnificence. ' I cannot
understand Christianity as authorising any such im
pressions. The Heaven of which it speaks and to which

EXAMINED. 319
it points us is not above nor afar off, it is not any where
in space, but it is every where where there is a heart
lighted up with truth and holiness. This is the doc
trine of Jesus Christ. So that the Transfiguration, as
it is commonly represented, militates against the whole
tone of Christianity. It wants the spirituality which is
the essence of this religion.
Again. According to Luke, " Peter and they that
Were with him were heavy with sleep" when the Trans
figuration began, and "when they were awake theyr
saw his glory and the two men that stood with him."
"Heavy with sleep." This phrase expresses merely a
state of drowsiness, and therefore it does not convey
the sense of the original. The words in the original,
" /&/3afr)|«=voi Stfvu," signify that the disciples were sunk in
a deep sleep. They were in a sound slumber, out of
which they awoke to behold the glorious vision. Now
every plain principle of investigation enjoins it on us to
scrutinise the accounts, given by men in this situation,
of what they saw, when, just waking from sleep, they
could not have collected their powers, or been at all
prepared for calm and accurate observation.
It is not said that the Transfiguration took place at
night, but there is reason to suspect that it was at
night that these things occurred. That the disciples
were asleep furnishes some ground for this inference,
They that sleep sleep in the night. It is not likely that
Jesus would have retired during the day for purposes
of devotion and prayer. He was accustomed to spend
nfghts in prayer. If then the transfiguration happened
after nightfall, here is an additional reason why we
should examine this account with great care. Good
men and wise are liable to be mistaken under such
circumstances. At all events, whether it was in the

329 THE TRANSFIGURATION.
night or the day, the condition of the witnesses makes
it our plain duty to weigh the narratives well. ""¦
Upon a closer examination of the records it appears
beyond dispute, that the. principal particulars related
took place all at once, co-incidentally. *' As Moses and
Elias departed," Peter spake, saying, Lord, it is good
for us to be here, and let us build, &c. "Anefanhile
Peter ivas speaking," a cloud came up, and a voice
came from the cloud. " And when the disciples heard
it," they fell on their faces and were sore afraid. S6
that almost at the same moment, Moses and Elias
were disappearing, Peter was speaking, the cloud was
coming up and overshadowing the group, the voice was
coming from the cloud, and the disciples were falling
on their faces overpowered with fear.. All, this is im
plied, or rather distinctly stated, in the narratives. We
are not told explicitly when the disciples awoke, or
what it was that awakened them. But we are given
to understand that the vision commenced before they
awoke. Such are the considerations suggested by a cursory
view of the different accounts of the Transfiguration:
But it is not my purpose merely to start difficulties.
I proceed to state what appears to me to be the truth
of the case.
About a week before the Transfiguration, Jesus in
quired of his disciples what the people thought of him,
whom they supposed him to be. He had not declared
himself to be the Messiah, and he desired to know
what opinions were entertained of him. , To his ques
tions, the disciples reply, ' Some 4-say that thou art
Jeremiah, and some Elias, or one of the old Prophets/
From which we gather, what indeed may be known

' -f *p

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 321
from other sources, that the Jews, expected, whenever
the Messiah should appear, that some of the old Pro
phets would re-appear also, and aid him in the renova
tion of all things. Jesus then inquired what they them
selves, the disciples, thought of him. Peter with
characteristic forwardness answered for the rest :
" Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God."
The promptitude and explicitness of this reply evidently
gratified Jesus. So we may judge from the fervent
and emphatic benediction which he immediately pro
nounced upon Peter. It argued, as I elsewhere ob
serve, the greatest ingenuousness in the disciples to
have come so early to this conclusion, notwithstanding
the objections which the lowly and pacific appearance
of Jesus must have suggested. Nothing could be more
directly opposed to the Jewish idea of the Christ than
the whole manner of his life. Finding that his disciples
believed 'him to be the Messiah, he begins to speak
freely of himself and his approaching fate, after having
first enjoined it on them to speak of him to no one as
the Christ. He tells them that he is going to the
capital, Jerusalem, there to suffer much, and be put to
death, and that he would rise from the dead. Although
they believed him, or rather, because they believed
him, to be the Christ, this language shocked them.
That the Messiah should suffer indignity and violence
was a thought which they could not endure, an idea
they could not entertain. And Peter, ever forward to
speak, presumptuously rebuked Jesus and met a severe
reproof. Jesus then goes on to assure them in the
same connexion that there were some of them who
would see the kingdom of God coming in great glory
before they died — that the great dispensation was close
at hand.
I consider this conversation between Jesus and his
41

322

THE TRANSFIGURATION.

disciples as constituting an era, so to speak, in the
progress of the latter. Now they had it upon his own
word that he was the Christ, and he had declared most
distinctly that the heavenly reign, the splendid coming
of the Messiah, the event so long foretold, so passion*
ately looked for, was near. Soon they expected that
He whom they attended would throw off his coarse
raiment, that he would stand forth arrayed in robes of
more than regal costliness, that the majestic old pro
phets and patriarchs would re-appear, and, encircling
the Anointed of Heaven, would attend him on his glo
rious way, and aid him in redeeming Israel and rege->
nerating the nations. And they themselves, those
obscure men, humble fishermen, whose world hitherto
the shores of the Lake of Galilee had bounded, what
honours and glories awaited therri, the earliest adhe
rents, the friends and favourites of the great king!
These magnificent visions must have crowded on thenl
until their very hearts ached- with the intensity of their
imaginings and hopes. The ardent and excitable mind
of Peter particularly, how must it have been stirred
to its very depths ! Nothing but the serene authority
of Jesus prevented them from being carried away,
out of themselves, by their kindling expectations.
In this state of mind, Peter, James and John, the
three whom Jesus had particularly distinguished, and
who had every hope of occupying conspicuous offices
in the celestial kingdom, accompanied their Master
up the mountain, whither he went for the sake of re
tirement and devotion. Exhausted by the excitement
of their present manner of life and their dazzling pros
pects, they fell into a deep sleep, Jesus being with
drawn a short distance engaged in meditation and
prayer. The visions which engrossed his waking
thoughts, returned naturally and vividly to the mind of

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 323
Peter in his sleep, and he dreamt that he saw his
master invested with all that outward glory, which he
had now for some time believed that Jesus would
shortly assume. He dreamt also, as it was so natural
for a Jew to dream, that he beheld two of the ancient
prophets, Moses and Elias, conversing with Jesus, and
the topic of their conversation was that strange event
which Peter had been informed by his master was to
take place at Jerusalem, and which, perplexing and
shocking the mind of Peter, had made so powerful an
impression on him that it connected itself with his
dreams. Thus far, I conceive, the transfiguration was
the vision of Peter in his sleep. James and John were
sleeping all-unconscious and dreamless at his side.
While Peter was thus dreaming, a cloud arose and
rolled over the mountain, " a cloud of light," or, " a
bright cloud." It certainly is not necessary to suppose
that there was any thing extraordinary in this circum
stance. As the spot was elevated, the cloud hung low,
passed very near the group, and appeared to encircle
and overshadow them. It was attended co-instanta-
neously we may suppose with lightning (and therefore
it is called a bright Cloud) and thunder. These startled
Peter from his vision. To his mind in this half waking
state, Moses and Elias naturally appeared to be vanish
ing. In this condition and at this instant, with the im
pressions of his dream still vivid, he exclaimed in great
excitement, " Lord, it is good for us to be here, and let
us build three tabernacles, Pne for thee, one for Moses,
and one for Elias." He would fain have detained the
departing prophets. He could have staid there for ever
in such blessed company.
One of the narratives, in reference to this exclama
tion of Peter's, states that he " knew not what to say, for
he was sore afraid," and the language of another is,

324 THE TRANSFIGURATION.
"not knowing what he said ;" which tends to confirm
the inference that, up to this point, the vision had been
seen only by Peter. For if all three, Peter, James,
and John, saw Moses and Elias, had they all been
awake, beholding the old prophets, I see not how it
could have been said that Peter knpw not what he was
paying. The idea which he expresses is surely a per
fectly coherent and a very appropriate one, the pre
sence of Moses and Elias being supposed, and one too
which his conipanions, had they too perceived the pre
sence of the prophets, must have understood and joined
in with all their hearts. But if we suppose that James
and John knew nothing of what had thus far been con
fined exclusively to the imagination of Peter, until they
were suddenly startled from sleep, probably by the thun
der and the sound of Peter's voice, and that then they
heard him talking of building tabernacles, and of Moses
and Elias, and observed his bewildered condition, we
perceive how natural it is that they, wholly at a loss at
the moment to understand what Peter said, should con
ceive and say that he knew not what he was saying.
Startled thus suddenly from their slumbers, they
heard Peter speaking with a rapid, agitated voice, the
thunder rolling, and it may be, "that at the same mo
ment the lightning flashed upon and illuminated the
person of Jesus, and they instantly fell- prostrate on
their faces. Jesus came and raised them up, and they
looked round and beheld no one but Jesus only.
The thunder, that mysterious phenomenon as it par
ticularly was in those days, occurring at such a junc
ture, when the idea of Jesus as the Glorious Messiah
was fixed in their minds, sounded like the articulate
voice of God. It was God speaking from the cloud,
and the one engrossing idea of Jesus as the Son of God
gave instant and distinct meaning to the awful sound.

THE TRANSFIGURATION.

325

By the boundless power of the imagination the outward
and sensible phenomenon was shaped and modulated
into the expression and symbol of the one overpower
ing feeling. It is not probable, nor is, it at all neces
sary to suppose, that all three so interpreted it. If,
while two of the three had only the impression of a
startling sound, the third (Peter) instantly conceived
it to be a Voice from Heaven, the powerful and more
definite conviction of this last, falling in with the ex
cited state of feeling in his companions, would have
swept away and superseded their less distinct impres
sions. That is, to speak more plainly, if one had de
clared that he heard articulate words, the rest would
have had neither the power nor the disposition to dis
pute it, or rather they were fully prepared to give into
the belief that a Voice had spoken. For had they not
heard the sound ? And would they not naturally have
felt that it was only their fright and bewilderment
which prevented them from seeing, hearing and under
standing more distinctly ?
It will be objected that the accounts all give us to
understand that the Transfiguration was visible to all
three— that they all saw Moses and Elias, whereas ac
cording to the above representation, it was Peter alone
to whom the Prophets appeared, and to him in a dream.
1 have proposed no hasty conjecture. It is justified, I
conceive, by a fair consideration of the circumstances,
and, particularly of the condition of the three disciples
at the moment. Honest and intelligent as they were,
they were still men of a humble rank, who had recently
been called in the providence of God to witness the
most extraordinary events, and whose minds were
kindled with dazzling thoughts of coming splendour and
greatness. They were looking almost momently for a
revolution by which they would be transformed into

326

THE TRANSFIGURATION.

the dignitaries of a heaven-established Empire, and the
whole world would be changed. In this state of mind
they had gone up with him, whose way was strewed
with miracles,, on a mpuntain where they had fallen
into a deep sleep, out of which they had been awak
ened by startling sounds, only to be overcome by a
passion of fear so great that they immediately bowed
themselves down to the ground. That persons in such
a state, were they the keenest-eyed and the truest-
hearted, were in no condition for correct observatiprn-
that their statements of what then took place, are to be
received with the greatest caution, will hardly be de
nied. It appears to me only less clear that they would
all fall in with that one of their number who undertook
to give the fullest and most distinct account of what
had occurred on the occasion. The mind of one of
them may have been so highly exalted that to his ears
the sound, which they all heard, was as the voice of
God, and if he affirmed that to him it seemed to speak
inaudible tones in attestation of Jesus as, the Son of
God, the other two would instantly imbibe the same
idea, for they had nothing to say against it, and all that
they had seen and heard went to confirm it. They
naturally caught the impression that what they had
witnessed was a part of the extraordinary spectacle, of
which one of their number had seen the whole ; and so
the case is stated as if they all had seen the whole.
Every one of the three felt that he had seen and heard
enough to entitle him to be considered and to consider
himself as a witness of the whole occurrence, of which
one of them gave an account so consistent with the im
pressions of all, that probably they could not say pre
cisely how rnuch or how little they saw and heard,
In presenting this view of the Transfiguration, which

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 327
seems to me to be authorised by a consideration of the
circumstances of the occasion, and of the laws of our
nature in general, I stand upon the ground that we are
never at liberty to suppose extraordinary agency in any
case, unless there is no other supposition which will
meet and explain the case* We are not permitted to
bring new and unusual causes into view, when common
and more familiar causes will account for the facts*
This is one of those first principles of inquiry which no
man can disregard and retain the character of an en
lightened and trust-worthy seeker of truth.
If it be asserted that, by this method of interpreta
tion, all the miracles might be explained as ordinary
events, I say in reply, if it can be done, let it be
done. If, from considerations founded upon the par
ticular circumstances, and the general principles of
human nature, it can be shown that the miracles re
corded in the New Testament are merely common
events misapprehended, in the name of truth let it ap
pear. But this never can be shown. Let these great
facts be exposed to the freest and most searching in
vestigation, so it be only fair. Scrutinise them through
and through. Let all possible weight be given to the
least of their details which might seem to furnish room
for the suspicion that there was nothing uncommon in
them after, all. I have unlimited confidence that the
only conclusion will be that they took place as they
are represented, that they occurred instantaneously at
the will and word and touch of Jesus of Nazareth.
Once perfectly convinced of the truth of the mira
cles, knowing through our own consciousness what
faith is, we shall be able to sympathise in some degree
with the state of mind which must have been produced
in those who witnessed them. We shall then see how
naturally and inevitably misapprehensions were occa-

328 THE TRANSFIGURATION.
sioned by the force of those very feelings which the
miracles excited. When I think what stupendous mi
racles they actually saw, I cannot cease to wonder that
their misapprehensions were so few — that the witnesses
of the life of Jesus so seldom mistook the ordinary
for the extraordinary. In two instances, it appears to
me,' they did fall into this mistake, first, on the occasion
of the Transfiguration, and again at the resurrection of
Jesus, when the woman, who visited the sepulchre,
mistook Jesus himself and certain startling appearances
for angelic visitants. Every thing tends to show that
those, who were on these occasions misled, were in
a state of bewilderment, of which they themselves fully
inform us, evincing not the slightest inclination to con
ceal the fact, a state, in which it would have been a
very suspicious circumstance indeed, had they fallen
into no error. It could have contributed nothing to
a just confidence in them, but would have argued in
them a very strange want of the common sensibilities
of our nature. After all, the Wonder is, to repeat, not
that in two instances, and it may be in some few
others, although I know of none, they erred, but that
their impressions were so pervadingly correspondent
with the facts; not that they misapprehended so much,.
but so little; a wonder which brings home to us the
conviction that they were men of excellent good sense
and of uncommon truthfulness of mind, the friends
and associates of one whose calm and steady influence
subdued the tumults of their spirits and qualified them
to see and hear aright. j
To return to the Transfiguration, in explanation of
which a few words more remain to be said.
We have in the histories of Jesus three several no
tices of a voice froni Heaven. There was a voice at

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 329
his baptism, at the Transfiguration, and upon one other
occasion when Jesus, surrounded by the people, uttered
the prayer, " Father ! Glorify thy name," and there
came a voice from heaven, saying, " I have glorified it
and will glorify it again." The precise nature of the
fact that occurred upon these three several occasions
must be determined, so far as it can be determined at
all, by the particular circumstances of each case. I
am led to think that there was a sensible phenomenon,
thunder, at the Transfiguration, and not at the bap
tism, because it is stated in the account of the former
that a cloud came and hung over the place, and
nothing of this kind is mentioned in connexion with the
baptism. With regard to the other instance of a
heavenly voice, it is observable that the narrator tells
us that the people who stood by said it thundered^ from
which we may safely infer that the sound was not
equally articulate to all the by-standers. Others said
that it was an angel speaking to Jesus, a mode of de
scribing the fact which implies that they did not un
derstand what was said. For had they heard the
precise Words which are given as the words of the
voice, they would have said, not that an angel spake;
but that it was God himself speaking. "I have glorified
it and will glorify it again," is a declaration which
could have been referred to God alone. In this case
also I am led to suspect that the voice was thunder,
which, always significant of a superhuman presence,
was particularly so at such a juncture.
If the foregoing account of the Transfiguration is
correct; why, it may be asked, did not Jesus set his
friends right. For my own part I dp not see how he
could have treated the case otherwise than as he did.
He saw that their minds had been powerfully im-
42

330

THE TRANSFIGURATION.

pressed. It was probably with Peter chiefly that he
talked about it, and when this disciple declared with
the strongest marks of coriviction what he had seen,',
Jesus could not dispute the vision. He saw that its
effect was to increase the faith of Peter and the rest.
And he contented himself with enjoining it on them
-not to mention what had happened until after his dis
appearance, for the same reason obviously for which he
had a week before charged them to tell no man that
he was the'Christ., Had his personal attendants spoken
of him publicly as the Messiah, it, would have been
equivalent to a personal declaration of himself, and
would have increased beyond all control the prevalent
excitement, already so great that it called for his ut
most vigilance. <
Notwithstanding all that has been said, and my single
and predominant aim to establish the reality of the life
of Jesus, with its attendant miracles, this chapter may
be thought by some to be intended to explain away a
supernatural event. I do not content myself with a
simple denial of the truth of the charge. I pray the
reader who may be disposed to entertain this suspicion
to consider how much faith this view of the Transfigu
ration presupposes. It requires a full belief in the
previous miracles recorded, because it is only such
extraordinary circumstances that could have thrown
the minds of Peter and James and John into such, a
state of bewilderment. This account will appear na
tural and true, only as we admit the reality of all that
had gone before. It is based upon the truth of all the
substantial facts of the history. Such a dream and
such misapprehensions could not have had an existence,
if Jesus had not previously wrdugfit miracles, if the
conversation between him and his disciples, recorded

THE TRANSFIGURATION. 331
to have taken place about six or eight days before,
had not occurred, if, in fine, precisely the state of
things and the series of events related in the Gospels,
had not existed. So far from affecting in the slightest
degree unfavourably the general truth of the history,
this view of the Transfiguration springs from it like a
plant from the root, and is an evidence that the root is
there. Error, it may be affirmed generally, implies
the truth, and exactly in the degree in which we are
able to discover the shape and the character of the
error, we have a means of estimating the size and form
of the truth.

332

CHAPTER X

THE PROPHET. ,
" —Thou prophetic spirit that inspirest
The human soul of universal earth !"
Wordsworth.
The object of this chapter is, to illustrate the pro
phetical character of Jesus, to show how satisfactorily
he is proved in the histories of his life to have been
possessed of an extraordinary knowledge of future
events. \
I wish first, however, to make some remarks upon
the nature of his Prophetical Gift.
Whether he pierced the veil of Futurity by special,
instantaneous inspiration of God, or by the natural in
tuition of his own wonderfully endowed being, I do not
pretend to determine, I do not know. But one thing
is very plain. I cannot shut my eyes to the analogy
that presents itself between the prophetical power of
Jesus and the very nature of all mind.
All things are in an infinite variety of ways inter
woven with one another — great and little, high and
low, past, present and future. The knowledge of any
one thing involves an acquaintance with numberless
other things. How far into the depths of the Past hath
the eye of Science penetrated, simply by surveying the
present appearance and condition of the earth ! What
mighty and remote revolutions hath the human mind

THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY.

333

predicted by observing the present positions of the
heavenly bodies ! Nay, is not our very nature as it ex
ists in all men, in a feeble degree perhaps, but still in a
certain sense, prophetical? What is this yearning
that we have towards the Future, or, to say no more,
the bare idea of the Future, what is it but the germ of
prophecy in the human soul ! It reveals at least the
desire and capacity of foreknowledge — that faculty of
our being, which, let us only advance as we may, and
as we feel that we ought, will qualify us to receive
whatever communications of foreknowledge may be
made to us here or hereafter, and however they may
be made. Beautifully, but not more beautifully than
truly, has it been said,
" Know'st thou Yesterday, its aim and reason 1
Work'st thou well To-day for worthy things 1
Then fear not thou the morrow's hidden season,
But calmly wait what hap soe'er it brings."
But why fear not the Future ? Why calmly wait ?
Because to the mind that wisely listens tP the, Past and
faithfully uses the Present, there must come the assured
conviction that the Future has in store for it no real
evil. To know so much of Futurity as this, though we
should never know more, is it not prophetic knowledge J
To know and feel that the Everlasting Future can do
us no harm, surely this is to see with a prophet's1 ken !
But some minds have seen further and more clearly
into the coming Time than others.
Their knowledge of futurity was the result of no pro
cess of reasoning — no weighing of probabilities. It was
not the product of calculation. It was Sight. And
they saw not the visible world with the outward eye
more distinctly than they foresaw what they forptold.
Such were the ancient prophets. " Abraham," said

334 THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY.
Jesus, " saw my day and was glad." The eye of the
body is but a dim type of the eye of the prophetic soul.
But never in the flesh have we had such a manifesta
tion of prophetic vision as in Jesus Christ. 'He has
cast all other prophets into the shade. His prophetical
ability came not by education nor by reasoning. It
was a special gift of God. Still its whole manifestation
in the life of Jesus is in perfect harmony with nature.
It is new, unprecedented, but still analogous to all that
we see and know of mind, of spirit. And thus it re
veals upon itself the Divine Signature, and proves that
it is the inspiration of the Father of Spirits. '
Wonderfully endowed as Jesus was, he could not but
be a prophet. I pray the reader to ponder the case
well. I would disclose to him new grounds of faith.
While on earth, as the Gospel of John declares, the
Son of Man was in Heaven, in that spiritual and
eternal world where no veils of time circumscribe the
view. Having the purest moral sense, he saw the
moral aspects, circumstances, relations, destinies, of
the scene in which he stood. Arid this was equivalent
to having the fundamental laws, causes and elements of
things laid bare to him. He knew himself and those
around him. " I know," said he, " those whom I have
chosen." Are we not able, therefore, to track, a little
way at least, that mysterious power of intuition or in
spiration — I know not its name, certain only that it is
divine — by which he foretold his own fate, the fate of
his nation, even to many minute particulars, ' the
treachery of one of his disciples, the cowardice of ano
ther, and the desertion of all ! His foreknowledge was
marvellously profound and accurate. How does it draw
aside the veil which hides from us the wonderful powers
of the spiritual world, revealing to us a spirit com
manding disease and death, and penetrating into Fu-

THE SPIRIT OF PROPHECY. 335
turity ! But altogether unprecedented as was the pro
phetical knowledge of Jesus, it was still limited. The
precise time when that national catastrophe would take
place which he predicted, he declared he did not know.
It was known only to God.
The view I take of the prophetical character of
Christ seems to me the simplest, most natural, and un
speakably the most vital, and to take much less for
granted than the popular theory of the case. This, like
the popular idea of the miracles, appears to be founded
upon the Unconscious, but most extravagant assump
tion, that the whole order of things, material and im
material, — all the forces and limits of that mighty
spirit, which is around and within us — are perfectly
known; that God, iristead of being All in All, sits
'outside,' having delegated the care Of all ordinary
matters to another power, the order of Nature, and that
when any thing occurs out of the little circle of the ex
perience of man, child of yesterday ! then only is His
arm stretched forth. According to this popular im
pression, the prophetic utterances of Jesus are not re
cognised as the natural issues and expressions of a
mighty spiritual Power working in or with his spirit.
But as such, we ought, by all sound principles of thought,
to regard them, so long as the spiritual world to which
he belonged, and which is all around and within us,
remains an unexplored deep. That deep must not be
hidden from us by a theory of the Mode of the Divine
Existence and Government, constructed out of false,
human analogies, and confidently reposed in by multi
tudes, among whom are many wise and many great,
as if it were the living temple of truth, not riiade with
hands ! Rather does it become us tP lie prestrate with
trembling awe and humility, at the gates of the un-

336 PROPHETIC UTTERANCES OF JESUS, NATURAL.
known world, which stand open within Us, waiting for
I know not what demoristrations of power to issue
therefrom, and trying, by the light of their -coming, to
penetrate the unfathomable abyss. An awful voice
of power and prophecy has been heard in the world.
We overlook the actual utterer. It is true he bore the
semblance of a man, and human was the voice that
spake. But there was in him, as there is in every
huriian shape, the transcendent mystery Of a spirit, and
until we have solved that, and ascertained that the
Almighty is not here, that his kingdom is not within us,
his throne not in our hearts, we ought not to turn else
where to track the goings of his power.
In accordance with the foregoing views I remark,
that the prophetic declarations of Jesus were among his
most simple, natural, characteristic utterances. They
are not announced with any formal, peculiarity of tone
or manner. They illustrate him. " Why can I not
follow thee now ?" said Peter, " I will lay down my life
for thy sake." "Wilt thou lay do Wn thy life for my
sake ?" replied Jesus, " verily I say unto thee, the cock
shall not crow till thou hast disowned me .thrice."
How, save by the, inspiration of God, he foresaw
Peter's denial of him, I am utterly ignorant. And yet,
though there were an irnmediate influx of supernatural
light into his mind, I see no reason to decide that the
laws of his spiritual being were interrupted. The
divine inspiration, sP far from overlaying, concurred
with his native energies ahd elevated them. All that
I can see and know of the Man of Nazareth, creates
the presumption that he was fitted for extraordinary
communications from Heaven. Being such as we all
believe him to have been, with his piercing spiritual
eye, his thorough knowledge of Peter's character, his

ILLUSTRATIONS. 337
frequent experience of Peter's weakness, how is it pos
sible that he could have been without some foresight of
the conduct of Peter in the approaching crisis ? And
his unsurpassed moral elevation prepared him to be
the recipient of I know not what higher lights and
aids ; and this without the least violation of the laws of
mind. Again. When I consider the great end to which he
felt himself — his whole being, irrevocably bound, and
the numerous and overpowering manifestations of an
opposing spirit, which he encountered at every step, it
seems to me utterly impossible that the result could
have been wholly hidden from his eyes. He knew his
own unalterable purpose. He knew the temper of the
times. The very excitement he produced revealed the
coarse worldly bent of the people ;• that inveterate
Jewish hope, which he saw he must disappoint at the
cost of his life. " Many," says John, " believed in his
name, when they saw the miracles which he did. But
Jesus did not commit himself unto them, because he
knew all men, and needed not that any should testify
of man: for he knew what was in man."
Once more. The effect of his ministry — how must
it have laid bare to him the inmost depths of the Jewish
character, the Jewish national existence ! He saw that
the public heart was bound up in the hope of a grand
outward political revolution. The transcendent power
he was putting forth, though destined ultimately to
triumph, in its immediate action had no influence, but
to excite the worst passions. He must have seen that
the nation was rushing madly on into a collision with
that' mighty Roman domination, by the bare idea of
which it was so much chafed, a collision that would
grind it to atoms. He saw- that his country was ani-
43

338 ILLUSTRATIONS.
mated by no principle that could control its destiny. If
it had been, how was it that his mighty voice was
powerless! A short time before his death, he ap
proached Jerusalem, attended by a vast multitude.
They rent the air with triumphant shouts, but he was
not deceived. He saw the popular feeling was excited
by the belief that he would prove the great national
Deliverer. And in this false expectation, he read the
fate of the nation so clearly, that when he came in
sight of the city, he wept, exclaiming, ' O that thou
hadst known, at least in this thy day, the things which
belong unto thy peace ! But now they are hid from thine
eyes. Fpr the days will come upon thee, when thine
enemies will cast a trench about thee, and compass
thee round, and enclose thee and thy children within
thee on every side, and will level thee with the ground,
and not leave in thee one stone upon another ; because
thou knewest not this season of thy visitation.' . «,
I wish to be distinctly understood. I do not believe
that any other man could have foreseen what Jesus
forpsaw. I doubt not that he looked into Futurity by
the inspiration of God. But then we entirely forgdt
the high spiritual eminence at which he stood, and liis
profound moral wisdom, when we deem it necessary
to suppose that the laws of his spiritual being were
suspended in order that he might receive these ex
traordinary communications of foreknowledge. The
prophetic spirit in him shows itself in harmony with
his whole nature. And herein, as I said, we have
evidence that it was divine.
That a knowledge of future events was given to
Jesus Christ somewhat in the way I have describe!,
appears to be intimated by his expostulation with the
Pharisees. ' What !' he does in effect exclaim, ' ye can

THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS. 339
understand the face of the sky and predict the changes
of the weather. Pretenders ! Can ye not discern the
signs of the times ?'
It is not, however, my chief purpose now to ascer
tain the mode in which the Founder of Christianity
became possessed of a knowledge of events then hidden
behind the veil of futurity. My present topic is the
fact that he did know the future — that he was a pro
phet, a great prophet, however we may conceive of a
prophet. I wish to show how naturally and incidentally
it appears in the records of his life that he was pos
sessed of a clear and wonderful knowledge of what was
to happen. This is our present point, the fact and not
any theory of the fact. And I say I know not which is
most remarkable, the prophetical gift of Jesus, or the
all-unconscious way in which his possession of such a
gift is made known in the Gospels.
If an individual, wholly unacquainted with the New
Testament, were simply told that Jesus Christ is de
scribed therein as possessing a singular knowledge of
future events, he might naturally enough think and say
that he was so described by his biographers, merely to
magnify him. But this suspicion, natural as it may be
in the first instance, must be felt to be wholly out of
place, when we examine the records, and see how de
cisively the absence of any such intention is shown.
Shortly after the public appearance of Jesus, a Ro
man officer sent to him to come and heal one of his
household suffering severely with palsy, and he had
tfirned his steps towards the centurion's house,, when
the centurion himself met him, and declared that he was
not worthy of so great an honour as a visit from Jesus ;
that it was not necessary he should trouble himself to

349 THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS.
go to the house. For if he, the centurion, being him
self under authority, could yet say to one servant, go,
and to another, do this, and be "instantly obeyed, surely
Jesus had only to say the word and the disease would
immediately depart. The faith of the Gentile filled
Jesus with astonishment ; he turned to those who were
with him, and declared that he had no where, not even
among his own nation, found such faith ; and then fol
low the memorable words, ',' And I say unto you,
That many shall come from the East and the West,
and shall sit down with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob
in the kingdom of Heaven. But the children of the
kingdom shall be cast into the darkness without."
Here we may discern his prophetic, inspiration.
Through the faith of the centurion, as through a rent
in the darkness around him, he gazed into futurity and
beheld what we all now see. This declaration has
now become undisputed history. From all regions
multitudes have been gathered under the Christian
dispensation, brought into spiritual fellowship with the
great and good — with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, with
the righteous of all times, while those, who in the days
of Jesus deemed themselves the peculiar heirs of the
heavenly gift, are standing without. In these words I
hear the voice of a great prophet. By the kingdom of
Heaven, it is hardly necessary that I should say, is not
meant the future world of bliss, but the heavenly do
minion of truth, in other words, the empire of true
Religion. It is spoken of under the figure of a king
dom, where the patriarchs are seated at a brilliantly
lighted festival, while those, who refuse to enter and
partake of the feast, are represented as shut out into
the darkness outside. This declaration of Jesus, emi
nently prophetical as it is, wonderfully verified as it

THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS.

341

has been, comes in in the most natural manner imagina
ble, and has a living connexion with the passage where
it occurs. Again. In the sixteenth chapter of Matthew, we
have the following : " From that time forth began Jesus
to show unto his disciples, how that he must go to
Jerusalern, and suffer many things of the elders and
chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised
again the third day." Is it suspected that this passage
is a mere fabrication, inserted into the history with a
view to invest Jesus with the character and reputation
of a Prophet ? Every trace of such a suspicion vanishes
when we observe the beautiful, because unconscious,
consistency of this portion of the history with what
precedes and what follows. " From that time forth,"
so this passage commences, " began Jesus to show his
disciples how he must go to Jerusalem, and suffer and
die." From what time ? Why, immediately after he
had ascertained that his disciples acknowledged him
as the anointed messenger of God. As soon as he
found that they explicitly recognised his authority, he
began to disclose to them what was about to take
place. So that this passage comes in just where it
ought to come in, in order to harmonise with the con
nexion. But this is not all.' The disclosure of his ap
proaching sufferings and death on this occasion is
incidentally connected with a striking and most natural
illustration of the character of Peter. When Jesus
spake of what he must suffer, " Peter took him," we
are told, " and began to rebuke him, saying, ' Be it far
from thee, Lord : this shall not be done unto thee."
; But he turned and said unto Peter, ' Get thee behind
me, Satan ; thou art a stumbling-block to me : for thou
tavourest not the things that be of God, but those that

342 THB PROPHECIES OF JESUS.
bfr of men.' " What ! Is this Peter — the Rock, as
Jesus a moment before named him, saying, that upon
this Rock he would build his church, and the gates of
Hell should not prevail against it — is this the man who
is now addressed in the severest language of reproof,
and pronounced a stumbling-block, a rock of offence?
O, tell me not there has been any garbling— any
forgery here !" If this portion of the history had not its
deep foundations in truth and nature,: — if it were a
fiction, its author would never have dreamed of ven
turing apparently so gross an inconsistency, or, if he
had, he would not have permitted it to go unexplained.
In reality, there is here not only no inconsistency, but
the most exquisite keeping, as I proceed to show.
Shortly before, as we read in the same chapter,
Jesus had inquired of his disciples what the people
thought of him — whom they supposed him to be. They
replied, "Some say that thou art John the Baptist,
some Ellas', and others Jeremiah, or one of the old
prophets." He then put the question directly to the
disciples themselves, " Whom do you think me to be ?"
Peter, with his characteristic forwardness, answers
Without hesitation, "Thou art the Anointed, the Son of
the living God." It disclosed great openness to the
truth in Peter, to have come so speedily and confidently
to the conviction, that in the humble .man of Nazareth
he beheld the long-looked for, magnificent* Messjah.
There was nothing in the external appearance of Jesus
which proved him to be that illustrious personage, but "
much to the contrary. Since Peter then recognised/
him as the Christ, it could only have been through the
moral, spiritual credentials which he gave in his bene
ficent words and works. Accordingly, Jesus breaks
forth in blessing upon Peter, exclaiming, " Blessed art

THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS. 343
thou, Simon, son of Jonas,* for the flesh and blood hath
not revealed it unto thee, but my Father who is in
Heaven !" i. e. " it is not from men, or from any
earthly source, that thou hast discovered me to be the
Messiah. It has been revealed unto thee by that true
spirit in thine own soul, which is the Spirit of God."
How naturally must the warm commendation of Jesus
have tended to elate the ardent mind of Peter ! This
it was, we perceive, that emboldened him to contradict
and rebuke Jesus, when the latter immediately after
wards proceeded to speak of his sufferings. Although
he acknowledged Jesus to be the Christ^ he was not at
all prepared to believe that the Christ could suffer in
dignity and violence. Therefore he sought to silence
Jesus, saying, " Be it far from thee, Lord, this shall
not be done unto thee," and so drew upon himself that
severe rebuke, " Away ! thou enemy ! Thou art a
stumbling-block to me, for thou savourest not the things
that be of God, but the things that be of men."
Thus we find that the prediction of his sufferings and
death, which) Jesus uttered on this occasion, is vitally
connected with a portion of the history bearing the
deep and living impress of truth, and it is impossible to
doubt that he foretold his own fate to his disciples at
this time.
But it is not from those passages alone in which he
expressly predicts his own death, natural and consistent
as they are, that we gather the most decisive evidences
of his knowledge of the future. Most incidentally, and
therefpre all the more impressively, does it on many
* "Simon, son of Jonas." The fervour with which this benediction was
uttered, is incidentally and strikingly displayed in this mode of address. How
naturally, when* a friend communicates any unexpected sentiment or intelli
gence, do we express our surprise in a similar way, uttering the whole name
of our friend, with fervent emphasis!

344 THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS.
occasions appear that he was perfectly aware of what
awaited him, and that he saw far and clearly into the
depths of futurity.
Once two of his disciples, ccnfident that he was
about to establish a glorious worldly empire, induced
their mother to solicit from him the favour that they,
her two sons, might sit, the one on his right hand and
the other on his left, when, he should commence his
triumphant reign. " Can ye drink of the cup," he in-'
stantly replies, " which I shall drink of, and be baptized
with the baptism that I am baptised with ?" How fully
is the knowledge of his own sufferings here revealed in
the unconsciousness with which they are taken for
granted ! The two brethren little dreamed what the
nature of that distinction was which they sought, or
how it was to be obtained ; and, in the unthinking sim
plicity of their hearts, they answer that they are able
to do whatever he was about to do. Their Master ob
serves, in return, "Yes, ye shall drink of the same
bitter cup, and pass through the same fiery baptism,
but to sit on my right and on my left, — to share so fully
in the power and distinction thus to be obtained, I can
give only to those for whom it shall hereafter be found
to be prepared in the providence of God."
How undesignedly is the knowledge which Jesus had
of his own death laid bare to us in that beautiful inci
dent which took place at Bethany ! Mary, the sister of
Lazarus, came and, standing over him, poured upon
his head an alabaster box of very precious ointment, an
act according with the customs of the times, that au
thorized the free use of precious perfumes and oint
ments upon occasions of hospitality, and whereby Mary
gave expression to her deep personal reverence for
Jesus. Some present were, or pretended to be, shocked
at her extravagance, and exclaimed, "Why- is this

THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS. 345
waste ? This ointment might have been sold for much
and given to the poor." But Jesus said, "Why trouble
ye the woman? She has performed an appropriate
office for me. Ye have the poor always With you, but
me ye have not always; In that she hath poured this
ointment on my person, she has done it for my burial —
to embalm me." I have no idea that Mary had any
thought of his death and burial, or that Jesus meant to
imply that she had. But this was simply the way in
which he interpreted her act. How delicate and touch
ing his allusion to the approaching termination of his
career ! "But me ye have not always." How naturally
is the state of his mind revealed, to us ! How clearly do
we see that he was fully possessed with a knowledge of
his impending fate ! When the mind is deeply engrossed
with any subject, it readily discovers or creates a con
nexion between every thing that occurs and the ab
sorbing topic of its thoughts. So was it with Jesus.
Impressed with the conviction of his awful fate, so soon
to be consummated, he received that expression of
Mary's respect, the outpourings of the costly ointment,
as a funeral office. To him it had the odour of death
and of the tomb. Had he been actually dead, no one
would have objected to the use made of the ointment
which now descended upon his person, for the customs
of the day sanctioned a liberal expense of spices and
perfumes upon the dead. So near and so certain was
his death to Jesus, that he speaks of himself as already
dead, and represents this token of Mary's homage as a
funeral office. Indeed, so much was his mind impressed
with the coincidence between this act of Mary's, and
the near approach of his death, that he declared in the
full spirit of prophecy, that wherever the history of his
life should be told, this incident should be related also.
And so in fact it has happened. The prophecy, which
44

346 THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS.
he needed no special inspiration to utter, has been ful
filled. "The odour of that ointment," as it has- well
been said, ".was not confined to that lowly Jewish
dwelling. It has filled the world:"
In a like incidental- manner, the fact that Jesus knew
he was to die, and that he was also aware of the man
ner in which he was to suffer, is revealed in the very
form of that event upon which the commemorative ser^
vice of the Lord's Supper is founded. When seated at
table with his personal friends, a short time before he
was seized by his enemies, he broke bread and dis
tributed it among those present, as a symbol of his
body soon to be broken, and poured out wine and gave
it to them as a like symbol of his blood. I do not
^believe, (and I deem it of the first importance to a
just appreciation of this rite so ' to consider if,) that
Jesus was conscious on this occasion of having formed
a deliberate design to establish a particular service or
institution. He spoke and acted, I think, from the
simple and natural impulse of a touching sensibility.
With his mind filled with the images of death and suf
fering, we have seen how naturally he associated the
ointment which Mary poured upon his person- with his
embalming. So when he was seated for the last time
with his disciples, the same state of mindr-^fhe same
principle of association led him to see in the broken
bread, and in; the flowing wine, the' symbols and me
mentos of his own body and blopdi Thus hallowed by
the deep sensibility of Jesus; shall they not be ever
lasting mementos ! Shall not our hearts melt with an
swering tenderness; and can we disown or cancel the
vows of gratitude and remembrance which Nature her^
self prompts !*
* When I contemplate Jesus breaking the bread, and pouring out the wine,
in commemoration of himself, I cannot conceive of Him as deliberately insti-

THE PROPHECIES OF JESUS.

347

We cannot fail to perceive here how incidentally
his prophetic knowledge is revealed. It is not ex
plicitly and purposely disclosed. It appears only by
implication. And this is the most satisfactory way

In a similar way, but still more strikingly, the fore
knowledge of Jesus appears in his answer to those who,
on different occasions, demanded of him a sign. When
he drove the money-changers from the Temple, and was
immediately asked to produce the sign of his authority
for so doing, his reply is, " Destroy this temple, and in
three days I will build it up." In this obscure allusion
to his death and resurrection, how undesignedly is his
foreknowledge of these events revealed ! Again, when
at another time a sign was demanded, his answer is.
" an evil and adulterous generation is seeking after a
sign, but no sign shall be given it, but the sign of the
prophet Jonah. For as Jonah was three days and
three nights in the whale's belly, so shall the son of
man be three days and three nights in the heart of the
earth." Here again how unconsciously is his know
ledge of his death and resurrection implied ! Had the
narrators designed to ascribe to him a foreknowledge
which he did not possess, they never would have wrapt
up the evidences of it in such obscure allusions. The
reference to the prophet Jonah, by the way, is wonder
fully pointed ; if, as we may with great probability sup-
tuting a, positive rite. It is his heart that seems to me to be appealing to the
universal human heart, and therefore this observance secures my cordial re
gard. When it is thus considered as originated, not so much by the under
standing as the affections of Jesus, a service of commemoration, having him
for its special object, appears to be among the most significant and affecting
of our religious institutions, and to have an imperishable basis in the heart. It
is too common to represent the Lord's Supper as a mere means of improve
ment. It is a means, a great means, but only because it is a great end. He
who eats and drinks worthily at the Lord's table, eats and drinks not for his
own sake, but for Christ's, and therefore he receives divine nourishment.

348

HIS WHOLE LIFE,

pose, those, who asked for a sign, desired to witness
some dazzling exhibition of miraculous power. It is as
if he had said, 'You are seeking a luminous and over
powering display of my authority. I tell you that the
true sign of my- authority will be given in events shortly
to occur— (my death and resurrection,) which, so far
from corresponding to your ideas of the Messiah's
glory, can be likened to nothing among all the splendid
signs and wonders of your history, so appropriately as
to the humiliation of the prophet Jonah.'
But we have not by any means fathbmed the depth
of the miracle ; we have caught but a glimpse of the
real greatness of the prophetical character of Jesus,
when we have seen simply that he foreknew his. own
death. He possessed a far deeper knowledge still.
Every where throughout the histories of his life, we
are given to understand, naturally, undesignedly, that
he cherished a calm and perfect confidence in his own
ultimate success. He saw and knew that Futurity was
his. To what is this unparalleled faith .attributable but
to the profoundest prophetical inspiration ? Here we
have the fact of a young man, in a dark and corrupt
age, of obscure birth, in the bosom of a bigoted nation,
separated from all other nations by a great gulf of po-1
litical and religious hatred, and on the brink of ruin —
a young man without education or wealth, backed by
no imperial warrant, not only unassisted by the spirit
of the nation, and the age in which he appeared, but
directly and vehemently opposed by the prevailing sen
timents of the day^ and the whole temper of his coun
trymen — we haVe, I say, the Undisputed fact of an
individual thus situated, unknown, friendless, powerless,
and without any traces of hdman philosophy about him,
undertaking a work of revolution, the most noble and

THE LIFE OF A PROPHET.

349

comprehensive, a work tending to nothing short of the
thorough illumination and improvement of the whole
race of man, a purpose of creating the world over
again, and converting its savage tribes into beings dig
nified by knowledge, refined and blest by affection and
kindness. I say nothing of the wonder that such a
thought should have been entertained at such a time,
and under such circumstances, although the bare con
ception of the thing, the mere expression of belief in its
practicability, might well have been recorded among
the inspired sayings of human wisdom, reflecting im
mortal honour upon any one who should have uttered
it. But the circumstance that absorbs our attention is
the quiet confidence, all so unobtrusively evinced, with
which Jesus Christ lived and spoke and died in accord
ance with an aim so vast, that we should, be almost
ready to pronounce it chimerical, had not the lapse of
ages begun to furnish some testimony to the ' possibility
of its accomplishment. The great , revolutions, com
menced by other men, have in the course of a century
or two exceeded, in their actual results all that was
Contemplated by their original movers, spreading far
ther and going deeper than their authors dreamed.
But not so is it with Christianity. The world has not
yet realised the purpose of its Founder, although it
has so nearly approximated it, that we cannot but feel
that he was inspired with a mysterious and far-reach
ing wisdom.
The work which he began and so steadily pursued
is no less astonishing for the originality of its methods,
than for the comprehensiveness of its objects. Under
the greatest disadvantages, disregarding all ordinary
means of success, committing nothing to writing, ela
borating no system, and with a world, in all the pride
of its philosophy and all the glare of its power, arrayed

350 HE N0T ONLY FORESAW,
against him, he proceeded to fulfil his aim with a confi
dence as sublime for its calmness, as it was mysterious
for its strength. If every human hand had been ex
tended to aid him, and every human heart sealed to
his service, he could scarcely have spoken and acted
with a more unfaltering assurance that his labour
would not be in vain, that the objects at which he
aimed must be fulfilled. He went forth on his lonely
arid untried path, as if he were placed upon a moun
tain top, arid saw his success written out upon the
world lying at his feet ; as if every Word that he ut
tered, instead of being caught up and perverted and
turned against him as it was, were a spell, operating
with magical rapidity and resistless power. Had his
career been one unbroken triumph, he could not have
exhibited a more settled conviction of ultimate success.
Among a people burning with the fiercest passions,
with the impatient hope of national dominion, he an
nounced an empire whose glory is righteousness, whose
laws are peace and love. In an age when religious
worship was, in most places, scarcely better than a
pageant, and religion was a thing of costly temples arid
long processions and glittering rites, he taught that the
object of worship is a pure spirit; and that the service
of God consists not so much in palling on his name, as
in doing his daily will. Upon a corrupt and licentious
world, he inculcated a purity of mind with which, a
look tending to sin is inconsistent. At a time when
military prowess was the first of virtues, and heroes
and conquerors were the world's saints; he exhibited a
new model of greatness, revealing man's highest honour
in humility, in forgiveness of injuries, and in sacredly
abstaining from all violence. In opposition to super
stitious observances and artificial duties, he vindicated
the simple and despised laws of nature ; teaching that

HE INTERPRETEP HIS DESTINY. 35£
to relieve a fellow-creature is more holy than to ob
serve sabbaths, and that to a child the comfort of a
parent should be more sacred than the treasuries of
temples. His own nation was prostrate, and writhing
under the oppression of Rome ; and, although he raised
no banner and mustered no arrnies, yet he uniformly
asserted that a kingdom was to be established into
which multitudes from the four quarters of the earth
should be gathered. Thus he lived, wrought, and died,
never deserted by that faith in the future, which is one
of the most imposing, most mysterious traits of his
character. But the wpnder is not even yet exhausted. He not
only foresaw his own death, and the ultimate triumph
of his religion, he saw so clearly into Futurity that he
discerned the connexion between these two events. It
was not a blind assurance of success that he cherished.
He knew that he should soon be put to death, under
circumstances the most painful and ignominious; that
he should die misrepresented by the most, fully under
stood by none. And he felt that he should finally tri
umph; notwithstanding these circumstances apparently
so fatal to every hope of success, aye, and in conse
quence of these very circumstances. He not only
jperceived that his death Would not obstruct,, he saw
that it would directly and most gloriously aid the pro
gress of truth. 'He foreknew his own fate, and what is
far more astonishing, he understood and interpreted it.
He discerned its end and issue. Here, I say, he evinced
a depth of prophetic power altogether without prece
dent. ." If I be lifted up," that is, on the cross, "I will
draw all men unto me." Again, in that answer to the
two brethren who wished to sit on his right hand and
on his left in his kingdom, to which I have already re
ferred ; how clearly does he show that he understood

352 HE SAW THE CONNEXION
the purport and result of the sufferings he was about to*
endure ! " Can ye drink of the cup that I shall drink,
of, and be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized
with ?" How plainly does this language prove that the
kingdom he was thinking of^the power which, he
sought, was a power to be gained over the affections of
mankind, over their deepest sympathies, by the patient,
voluntary endurance of suffering in their behalf! In
immediate connexion with this, passage, he gives that
fine definition of true greatness, a definition to whPse
perfect truth, the progress of government and society .
has borne most expressive testimony^ — " He who would
be greatest among you, let -him be your servant." ? To
reign most gloriously over men, we must be ready to
serve them even to the lpss of every earthly blessing—
of life itself. Consecrating his whole being to the ser
vice of man, prepared to pour out his blood like water
in the cause of Truth, he saw with the clearest pro
phetic vision, that a glorious and everlasting dominion
must be his. He trusted not, he needed not to trust to
perishing paper and parchment to perpetuate his name
and influence in the world, for he was writing out his
laws upon the living tables of the heart, in his own life-
blood. He knew that by drinking the bitter cup of
death— by submitting to that fearful baptism, he was
immortalizing his power ; he was making an appeal to
the sympathies of the human soul, which could not be
in vain. ThOse steps of suffering, which to all other
eyes seemed to lead down into utter darkness, in his
illuminated vision were seen to be a glorified ascent to
the right hand of Eternal Power, -
Again. Listen to that most remarkable language of
his upon the occasion of his last, visit to Jerusalem,
shortly before his death. " The hour is come that the
son of man should be glorified. Verily, verily, I say

OF SUFFERING AND SUCCESS. 353
unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground
and die, it abideth alone : but if it die, it bringeth forth
much fruit." To those who heard these words they
could scarcely have been intelligible. And yet we may
perceive a deep and natural meaning here. The glory
with which his mind was engrossed was the pure moral
glory of an entire self-sacrifice. It was as evidently
necessary in his view that he should suffer and die as
he was about to do, as that the seed should be buried
in the earth and undergo that natural, familiar, but
^mysterious change by which it is converted into a fruit-
¦ bearing plant. The process of vegetation was not
more .natural to his mind, than the dark and painful
method by which he was to be glorified, and the tri-
; umph of his religion — the establishment of his kingdom
consummated. Once more. Let the reader turn to that declaration
of his, to which I have referred before, uttered just
after Judas had left him, to go and execute his trai
torous purpose. The departure of Judas upon this base
errand naturally enough caused Jesus to feel most
vividly that the great crisis was at hand. Does he
shrink at the dark prospect thus brought distinctly be
fore him ? The glory of God flames upon his sight.
" Now is the Son of Man glorified," he exclaims, " and
God is glorified in him." The elevation of his mind and
his language could not have been more remarkable, if
a visible spectacle of the wide spread of his religion had
at that moment been accorded him. This is to me the
unspeakable wonder. He not only knew that he must
die, but it is shown beyond all doubt that he knew his
death would be the instrument of his signal success,
that by dying as he was about to die he would be glori
fied as no other ever had been, and God would be glo
rified in him. Here is a depth and extent of inspira-
45

354 THE GREATEST OF PROPHETS.
tion to which the whole world can bring no parallel.
This it is that attests him as the first and greatest of
Prophets. For What but a most extraordinary illumi
nation of mind could have so interpreted his fate— a
death of the deepest shame, overtaking him before he
had fully communicated his great purpose to a single
human mind, and to all human seeming, equivalent to
an utter and inevitable defeat. And then too, how as
tonishing is it that, possessing this extraordinary know
ledge, he was not elated by it, nor the balance of his
mind in the slightest degree disturbed. He was still
the most patient, the meekest of beings. There is
nothing excited, nothing hurried, nothing incoherent in
his manner. The Present was not lost sight of in the
near and familiar view of the vast Future. He was
still the most practical of teachers.

355

CHAPTER XI.

THE MAN.

" To be tremblingly alive to gentle impressions, and yet to be able to pre
serve, when the prosecution of a design requires it, an immovable heart,
ajnidst the most imperious causes of subduing emotion, is perhaps not an
impossible constitution of mind, but it must be the rarest endowment of
humanity." Foster — Essays.

"The combination of the spirit of humanity, in its lowliest, tenderest form,
with the consciousness of unrivalled and divine glories, is the most wonderful
distinction of this wonderful character." Channing.

I beg leave here to admonish the reader, that I do
not aim at any thing like completeness in the repre
sentation I have undertaken of the character of Jesus
Christ. To prove the honesty of this disavowal, it is
not necessary that I should indulge in any of those ex
pressions of self-disparagement, by which one so seldom
convinces others, and so often deceives himself. It is
enough to say that since, after the lapse of eighteen
hundred years, the moral significance of the life of
Jesus remains unexhausted, I do not believe that it is
now to be fathomed at a glance, even by the best and
wisest. Nay, after a period of equal length a thousand
times told, I am persuaded the treasures of moral life,
truth, and beauty, hidden in Jesus Christ, will remain

356 THE PERSONAL TRAITS
absolutely inexhaustible. The least of the things of
God in the humblest department of his universe pre
sents an infinite variety of aspects, and opens an un
fathomable depth for contemplation. It is not therefore
to be for a moment supposed that, within any definite
space, the character of Jesus will be so understood and
appreciated, that little will remain to be told of it.
It would be easy enough to enumerate the virtues,
and ascribe them all to him in a mass ; to heap upon
him the phraseology of panegyric, and then fancy that
we have corripleted his portrait. But the effect of his
character has been injured by nothing, scarcely, so
much as by the loose and indiscriminate manner in
which it has been described. It has been divested of
all vitality, by the gerieral and unqualified language of
praise, and converted into a dim and lifeless abstrac
tion, a feeble personification of Virtue. It seems to
have been thought that extravagance is impossible
when Jesus Christ is the theme. And yet it may al
most be questioned, whether those who have lavished
upon him the loftiest terms of commendation, going
the length of literally deifying him, have even caught a
glimpse of his real greatness. It may be — I have no
doubt that it is — beyond the power of language"** to do
him justice. Still we are extravagant when we speak
of him in terms that exceed our own distinct impres
sions, and allow ourselves to deal in vague generalities ;
and the effect cannot but be injurious. It is very diffi
cult, 1 know, to avoid falling into an exaggerated tone,
when the heart has been touched in the slightest de
gree by pure moral beauty. I cannot flatter myself
that I have wholly escaped this difficulty, I can only
say that I endeavour anxiously to guard against it, and
to justify the expressions of my reverence for Jesus by
numerous and decisive facts, being chiefly desirous to

OF THE MAN OF NAZARETH. 357
see clearly so far as I see, and recognising discrimina
tion as of the first importance.
I propose to bring together in this chapter some of
the particulars of the Life of Jesus which disclose the
singular attributes of his mind ; his personal greatness
— his elevation, tenderness and magnanimity as an in
dividual man. All his acts, rightly done, and all his
words, fitly spoken, are, in fact, authentic manifesta
tions of his personal qualities. Coming ever from the
heart, they reveal the moral life of him, the spirit that
made him the rare and original being that he was.
His whole career, public and private, is a true, and,
on the part of the histories, an unconscious, picture of
his spirit. But, as I have just observed, I cannot pre
sume to attempt a complete portraiture. Of any orte
passage of his life, I do not pretend to have caught all
the beautiful and heavenly aspects, or discerned the
deepest truth. Only such impressions of some of the
details of his history, as it has been given to me to
receive, do I venture to offer, begging the reader to
remark the uniform absence of all ostentation and
pains-taking every where apparent in the records.
¦i '¦
For the most expressive manifestations of the mental
and moral greatness of Jesus, I do not refer to those
precepts of his, in which he inculcates universal charity
and benevolence, the forgiveness of injuries and the
overcoming of evil with good. The verbal lessons
which he gave of these virtues are doubtless emphatic
and eloquent. Still in no case are the words of an in
dividual, taken by themselves, a decisive index of his
spirit. It is possible to express the most comprehensive
benevolence, and at the same time to be enslaved by
the narrowest prejudices. Numerous enough are those

358 " FATHER ! FORGIVE THEM !"
who are happily described by the author of the History
of Enthusiasm as "closet-philanthropists, dreaming of
impracticable reforms and grudging the cost of effective
relief." I do not therefore appeal to the precepts of
Christ, clear and beautiful as they are, to demonstrate
the quality of his spirit.
In that prayer which burst from his heart amidst the
agonies of crucifixion, what a greatness of soul is
revealed ! " Father ! forgive them, for they know not
what they do !" Oftentimes as this passage has been
commented upon, I have sometimes thought that it has
never been fully felt. The deep, natural, inextinguish
able generosity of feeling which dictated it, appears
to me to be enfeebled in the general apprehension,
through the absence of a distinct impression of the per
sons for whom Jesus uttered this prayer. He is com-
mOnly supposed to have made this generous plea, in
behalf of the whole multitude ussembled around him,
or of the Jews in particular. I will not deriy that it
Was so. Still, when I attempt to picture the circun>
stances of that terrible occasion, I cannot feel that it
is altogether a fanciful conjecture, especially since the
connexion does not discountenance it,* to imagine that
this prayer was uttered at the moment when the Ro
man soldiers were nailing Jesus to the bitter cross;
and that it was under the torture which this operation
caused, and with immediate reference to those savage
executioners, as ignorant as they were cruel, that the
sufferer prayed. I do not mean to imply that any pre
sent were excepted in his mind from this plea. But the
incident receives new force in my view, when I con
sider this sublime ejaculation as bursting from his
* See Luke xxiii. 33/34.

JEWS AND SAMARITANS. 359
inmost soul, under peculiar and intense agony, and as
referring immediately to those by whom the agoriy was
inflicted. What a heart was that upon which the
acutest suffering had no effect, but to prompt it to pray,
and plead for those by whom the suffering was caused !
Not in corroding bitterness, but in cleansing, healing
streams of mercy, did the sensibility of that heart flow
out over the very hands which were seeking to crush
it, and were already stained with its blood ! " Forgive
them, for they know not what they do !" They must
have been forgiven. If " the effectual fervent prayer
of the righteous man availeth much," this, the divinest
prayer that God ever heard,
" Hymn'd by archangels when they l sing of Mercy,"
could not have ascended in vain. At some period of
their existence in this state of being, or in another, the
true knowledge of Jesus, as I cannot but believe, must
dawn upon the minds of those savage men, and with
that knowledge must come the remembrance of his
unparalleled generosity, to dissolve their hearts in a
saving, though bitter repentance, were those hearts
harder than adamant. Thus we may see how the
prayer of the Crucified secured its own fulfilment.
Between the Jews and the Samaritans, there sub
sisted a spirit of the fiercest animosity; They agreed
in acknowledging the authority of the Mosaic Law, but
they differed about the spot upon which the public reli
gious ceremonies and services of their faith were to be
observed ; the Jews insisting that Jerusalem was the
place to which the followers of Moses should resort to
worship, while the Samaritans were equally zealous for
their consecrated mount Gerizim. This comparatively

360 THE LIBERALITY OF JESUS.
insignificant difference became a peculiar fountain of
bitterness. It is the nature of religious hatred, as all
experience testifies, to rage the most furiously between
those sects that approach the nearest to each other,
without entirely coalescing. It would seem that bigotry
grows fiercer as its food is diminished. So at least it
was in the case of the Jews and the Samaritans. They
looked upon each other with the greatest dislike. It
is interesting therefore to observe how Jesus is repre
sented as bearing himself in this state of things. Here
we have new and natural illustrations of the charac
teristic elevation of his mind. It was to. a woman of
Samaria, who, perceiving that he was no common per
son, asked his opinion concerning the true place for
public worship, the ever-vexed point of dispute between
her countrymen and the Jews, that he announced the
only acceptable worship to be the act and service. of
the spirit. Once when he was going through Samaria,
the Samaritans would not receive him, because it ap
peared that he was going to Jerusalem, passing by
their consecrated mount. His disciples, enraged at
the inhospitality of the Samaritans, wished to call down
fire from Heaven upon them. " Ye know not," said
Jesus, " what manner of spirit ye are of. The Sort of
man came not to destroy men's lives, but to save them."
This incident needs no comment. On one occasion a
Jewish teacher came to Jesus proposing the great
question — " What shall I do to inherit eternal life ?"v In
reply Jesus asked, "What is written in the Law? how
readest thou ?" The teacher replied, " Thou shalt love
the Lord thy God with all thy soul and with all thy
strength, and thy neighbour as thyself." To this Jesus
rejoined, "Thou hast answered right. This -do- arid
thou shalt live." But the teacher of the Law, desirous
of justifying himself, and showing that the question he

JESUS AND THE SAMARITANS. 3(J1
had put to Jesus was not so easily settled, asked in re
turn, " Who is my neighbour*" In answer to this
query, we have the parable of the good Samaritan, as
it is called, — the story of a man going from Jerusalem
to Jericho, and falling among thieves, and left by them
half dead. A priest and a Levite pass by him without
gendering him any assistance. But a Samaritan com
ing that way stops and binds up his wounds, and car
ries him to the nearest inn, and provides for his entire
relief. Jesus concluded this parable by asking the
teacher of Law which of these three was neighbour to
him — the man from Jerusalem, the Jew— who had
fallen among thieves. The reply of the teacher is,
"He that showed mercy on him." Thus was he forced
to confess that the Samaritan was neighbour to the
Jew ; and if so, then the relation was reciprocal, and it
became the Jewish teacher to regard the Samaritan
iis his neighbour, the despised, hated Samaritan. How
strikingly is the largeness of the mind of Jesus, his
superiority to Jewish prejudices, revealed in this pas
sage — in the bare idea of representing Jews and Sa
maritans as neighbours ! When Jesus asked the Jewish
teacher which was neighbour to him who fell among
thieves, he replied, "He that showed mercy on him."
I perceive, or fanCy I perceive here, an incidental illus
tration of the prejudice of the Jew. He did not care,
in answer to the question of Jesus, to say outright " the
Samaritan." It went against his pride to utter that
despised name — to acknowledge one bearing that name
as his neighbour. So he compounds with his pride,
and adopts, very naturally, a circumlocution, avoiding
the mention of the Samaritan under that title, and re
plying, " He that showed mercy on him.". It was ob
viously the intention of Jesus to make him confess that
the Samaritan was his neighbour. The appeal was
46

362 JESUS AND THE SAMARITANS.
absolutely irresistible, and although it was but little
that he could do, yet he did what he could to save his
own pride.
The fact that Jesus was on one occasion stigmatized
as a Samaritan, would seem to be a tribute to his libe
rality ; to his freedom from the bigotry with which his
countrymen regarded the inhabitants of Samaria. I
want no more expressive evidence of the vitality and
comprehensiveness of the philanthropy of Jesus, than
the way in which he is described as conducting towards
those against whom the bitterest prejudices were cher
ished. That he recognised none of the artificial dis
tinctions which control and contract human affections,
I gather most decisively,, not from those precepts of his
which enjoin universal love, immortal as they are, but
from his disregard of those divisions which existed im
mediately around him. It is easy enough, we know, to
love distant and barbarous nations, or to cherish an in
terest in a remote posterity, and at the same time to
foster a thousand narrow feelings towards those who
are nearest to us. This is, unhappily, so much the
character of the benevolence that we witness in modern
times, that it is not until I see, as may be seen clearly,
how free the Author of Christianity was from the
bigotry which infected his nation and his time, that his
precepts become to me genuine and authentic manifes
tations of his spirit. Let it only appear that he regarded
those whom his countrymen most vehemently hated and
denounced, the Samaritans, — let it be seen that he re
cognised them as men, as brethren, as objects for hu
man sympathy and respect, then do I see in him the
spirit of universal love. Then do I know by the most
indubitable tokens, that his charity knew no artificial
bounds ; that it was a healthy and vigorous spirit flow
ing in every natural channel.

FREE FROM PARTY SPIRIT. 363
The moral greatness of Jesus is shown in his sin
gular freedom from that sectarian or party spirit which
has been in all times the crying sin of his followers.
He stood alone, and must, on this account, have been
not a little desirous of securing the countenance and
encouragement of others. The genius of Christianity,
as I have already remarked, shows us that its author
must have been possessed of great sensibility, and ca
pable of the deepest sympathy and affection. Chris
tianity is eminent for the tenderness of its spirit, and
thus it discloses the character of its Founder. To him
therefore human co-operation must have been pecu
liarly dear, and if he had attached an undue value to
human aid, it would not have been surprising. But the
strong humanity of his nature never betrayed him into
weakness, never broke in upon that uncompromising
spirit with which he scrutinised the claims of all those
who sought to be his disciples. While he publicly
announced himself to the world as its Leader and
Light, there are the most expressive evidences that he
never tried to form a party. I cannot express the sense
I have of the greatness of his character in this respect.
Let me refer to one or two instances illustrative of this
point. On a certain occasion, when he was passing along
the highway, attended by an immense concourse of
people, he turned and said to them, " If any man will
come after me, let him take up his cross and follow
me." I have briefly alluded to this incident before, but
to perceive the deep significance of these words, let the
reader call up before his imagination the circumstances
under which they were uttered. Look at that strange
and wonderful peasant of Nazareth, surrounded by that
excited Jewish throng. Listen to the tread of innume
rable feet. Observe those countenances kindling with

364 N0 ANXIETY TO INCREASE HIS FRIENDS.
intense expectation, and reaching forward to catch a
glimpse of the individual upon whom the public atten
tion was now beginning to be fixed as the promised
King, the heaven-sent Deliverer of the nation. How
do the hearts of that crowd beat quickly with hope,
waiting only for a signal from him to mUster round his
banner! But look! he turns and is about to speak.
The multitude heaves with curiosity. How mysteri
ously must those words have sounded in their ears ! " If
any man will indeed follow me, let him take up his
cross and come after me !" The cross is now a conse
crated symbol, and we cannot, without an effort, dis<-
tinctly conceive the deep infamy and agony once
associated with that instrument of death. It was the
custom of those condemned to be crucified, to carry
their crosses to the places of crucifixion. To this cus
tom Jesus alludes. And the sentiment he expresses is
in effect this: "He who really means to follow me
must be as fully prepared to suffer and die, as if he
were already condemned, and were carrying his cross
to the place of execution." Such a sentiment at such
a moment — how convincingly does it show that he did
not aim to bribe or flatter the populace ! If they could
take in his meaning, they must have been shocked
beyond measure. Not for a moment did he lose sight
of his true position. What an elevation of mind is
there in his perfect superiority to popular adulation !
Again, when one came to him offering to follow him
whithersoever he might go, he does not eagerly accept
the proffered service. ' The foxes have holes,' he re
plies, ' and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son
of man hath not where to lay his head.' He perceived
that this ready professor expected temporal advantage,
and he undeceived him at the outset. He checks his
ardour by reminding him that he has nothing to give.

THE RICH YOUNG MAN.

365

And no doubt the man went away chagrined and dis
appointed. At another time a young man ran to Jesus, and
kneeling before him asked, ' Good master ! what shall
I do to inherit eternal life?' How exceedingly pre
possessing must have been the appearance of this
young man, which made an impression upon Jesus so
strong and evident as to cause it to be remarked that
'Jesus loved him !' But not the winning openness of
the young man's countenance, not his posture of re
verence, not his respectful address, could dim the
bright spiritual vision, or sway the unerring heart of
Jesus. His reply is, ' Why callest thou hie good ?
There is none good but one, God.' These words we
commonly hear read as if they were uttered with some
degree of sternness. But, bearing in mind the strong
favourable impression made upon Jesus by the young
man, I cannot help thinking that they must have been
spoken in a tone somewhat deprecatory. It seems as
if the delicate sensibility of Jesus apprehended some
moral danger in being called good by one, who himself
appeared so good and amiable, and whose voice was
no doubt modulated by the sweetness and ingenuous
ness which his whole appearance exhibited so attrac
tively. And observe, he does not instantly bid the
young man come and enrol himself among his followers.
He simply tells him to go and obey the commandments.
He does not say, ' you cannot inherit eternal life unless
you immediately and publicly profess yourself a fol
lower of mine,' but, ' keep the commandments.' The
applicant says in return, ' I have kept them from my
youth, what lack I yet V Then says Jesus, ' If thou
wilt be perfect, go, sell all that thou hast, and give to
the poor, and come and follow me.' This requisition
may seem severe and exaggerated, but it is in natural

366 HE APPEALED TO THE GOOD.
keeping with the circumstances. They who became
fellow labourers with Jesus, exposed themselves to the
certain loss of property and life. Hence arose an ob
vious necessity for the young man's disposing of his
possessions before he became an adherent of Jesus, if
he were so inclined. Besides, the great Reformer
wanted men, not their wealth. The prospect of gain
ing a rich and youthful partisan made no impression
on him, neither did it prompt him to abate one jot of
his demands. How singular in Jesus is the alliance of
an interest in the cause of truth so strong, that he
cheerfully yielded up his life for its sake, with an entire
freedom from all undue anxiety about the number of
his personal followers ! It was upon the departure of
the rich young man, who was unable to follow the self-
denying directions of Jesus, that the latter broke forth
(how naturally !) with that exclamation, " How hardly
shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of
God !" How peculiarly must this conviction have
been impressed upon him, when he saw one like the
young ruler, so amiable and well disposed, to all ap
pearances so unexceptionable, incapacitated by the
influence of wealth to enter into the service of that
divine kingdom whose cause required the greatest self-
sacrifices !
Once and again, those whom Jesus had relieved from
some distressing infirmity by his extraordinary power,
would gladly have attached themselves to him, and
gone about sounding his fame, but he desired no such
heralds. He bade them go home and tell their friends
what had been done for them. He directed those who
came to him, to obey the Law. If this were done, he
had no fear that his pretensions would not be appre
ciated. With a uniform liberality and wisdom* he dis
tinctly and cheerfully appealed to the good and the

NEVER PEREMPTORY. 367
true. 'If any man will do the will of my Father, so far
as it has been signified to him, he shall know of my
teaching, whether it be true and from God, or whether
I speak of myself.' " Every one that is of the truth
heareth my voice."
^The passages which I have just quoted are inter
esting for the light they throw upon the quality of the
faith of Jesus. He virtually appealed to the judgment
of all good men to decide the truth of his teaching. He
does not address and bribe the passions. He does not
seek to intimidate. There is nothing overbearing in
his tone. The doer of God's will — to him he speaks.
He, he Says, will discriminate — he will know whether
he spake truly. I know not how this mode of proceed
ing may strike others, but to my mind it is peculiarly
original, magnanimous and calm. It satisfies me per
fectly that the faith which Jesus had in his own au
thority, and in the truth of his teaching, was a true,
genuine faith, and no delusion. Had he been carried
away by a blind enthusiasm, he would have been im
patient and peremptory. There would have been a
feverish anxiety to produce conviction. But we wit
ness nothing of this kind. All is composed and serene,
and he quietly awaits the judgment of all good men,
never hasting, never resting. /
^As a general remark it is undoubtedly true, that the
truth of any statement is not established merely be
cause its author is proved to believe it. He may de
ceive himself. But if his faith bears all the tokens of
a true and healthy faith, of being based upon true
grounds, if there is nothing narrow, incoherent, hasty,
or exaggerated in it, then, though we see not the
foundations upon which it rests, yet we know that it is
not an air-castle, but a true temple not built with hands,
whose builder and supporter is God. Such, it seems to

368 HE FORMED NO PARTY.
me, was the faith of Jesus. And for my part I freely
say that, even were all other evidence wanting, I should
believe Christianity to be of divine origin simply be
cause its author believed it, and feel that I stood upon
no doubtful ground. His faith shows itself in every
feature to be a true faith, the offspring, not of the ima
gination, but of living truth. It was no hallucination
of mind, but true conviction.*
" If any man come to me," said he, " and hate not
his father and his mother, he is not worthy of me."
This passage, I know, has been the cause of some
cavil. . It furnishes powerful evidence in favour of the
New Testament as an honest narrative. If Jesus Christ
did not actually utter these words ; if the historians
had been eager to embellish their accounts of him;
had they had any object but to tell the truth, they
would hardly have thought of putting such language
into his mouth. That he uttered it, I cannot but be
lieve ; and it must satisfy the intelligent and candid to
consider that it is a strong oriental expression of, an
impressive truth, namely, that no one was worthy to
co-operate with Jesus in the arduous work of regene
rating the world, who was unable to rise above the
strongest ties of nature and affection. He who could
not surrender father and mother, and all earthly
friends, for truth's sake, was unfit to be its advocate and
servant. Thus fully and faithfully did the Founder of
Christianity depict to those around him the perilous
nature of his service. He represented all the trials
that awaited his adherents, in the strongest light. He
manifested no concern to collect a party and build up
a sect. " Not every one," said he, " who saith unto me
' Lord, Lord,' shall be admitted into my kingdom, but
* Bee Chap. viii. p. 290—292.

"THIS VOICE CAME NOT FOR ME." 369
those only who do the will of God." His practice, as
we have seen, conformed with this declaration. And,
though longing intensely for human sympathy, and full
of those affections which yearn after human fellowship —
affections not superseded or overlaid, but invigorated
by high communion with the Father of Spirits — and re
garding man with a more than brotherly interest, yet
not every one does he seek for a friend and follower.
The few who attended him deserve not the name of a
party. They were to him more like a family circle,
bound to him by no oath of allegiance, but by the in
formal, natural bond of reverence and affection. As
to the highest and dearest purposes of his soul, he lived
and died a solitary being. No one understood him. As
he himself said, he came not to be ministered unto, but
to minister, — not to be magnified and worshipped as a
master, but to labour and bleed as a faithful and un
wearied servant.
I have already referred to the passage which records
the utterance of a voice from heaven, as an illustration
of the perfect honesty of the narrators. But how
strikingly was the greatness of his mind shown on that
occasion ! Whether it were an articulate voice that
was heard, or, as was said by the people that stood by,
only thunder, natural enough would it have been, had
Jesus taken advantage of so remarkable an occurrence
to magnify himself, and increase his own influence.
But with that disposition to put himself aside, which
was one of his most original characteristics, he instantly
declared, "This voice Came not for me, but for your
sakes." The circumstance is^ related with such un
conscious honesty ; it is identified with so fine an illus
tration of the moral greatness of Jesus, that it is
impossible to doubt that something extraordinary did
47

370 THE FRIENDSHIP OF JESUS.
actually occur. Which it was, a supernatural voice, or a
peal of thunder, I do not pretend to say with decision. If
only the latter, it would be sufficiently startling, occur
ring at the moment it-did, and in an age when thunder
and lightning were among the most mysterious phe
nomena of nature. Still that this is the record of a
fact, the whole structure of the passage shows. Were
it a mere fiction, it is impossible to conceive how a
writer, so much under the influence of a love of the
marvellous as to think of exalting Jesus by fabricating
a miraculous circumstance, could ever have dreamed
of putting into his mouth such an interpretation of the
event. His intercourse with his disciples illustrates his per
sonal qualities, the tenderness and strength of his
affection, in a manner, true to moral beauty far beyond
my power to describe it. His communion with that
little circle is a perfect model of faithful love. He dealt
not in eloquent, protestations of regard. We observe
no sentimentality, no ostentatious condescension, none
of the cant of friendship ; only as his life drew?to its
close, his affection for his friends breaks forth with pe
culiar tenderness. His peace he gave them but not as
the world giveth.
He corirpared himself and his chosen disciples to a
vine and its branches. This similitude we are accus
tomed to characterise as bold and oriental. But as we
dwell upon its meaning, the boldness of the metaphor
vanishes, and we perceive that it does but imperfectly
express what Jesus designed to say. When you look
upon a vine or a tree pushing forth its thousand
branches, adorned with foliage and laden with fruit,
you see only an inadequate representation of that unity
of spirit, which may subsist between human beings,

JESUS AND HIS FRIENDS. 37 \
and which did subsist between Jesus and his friends.
What life did they draw from ' him ! Before they be
came acquainted with him, they were obscure indivi
duals, labouring every day at the humblest employ
ments, confined to a narrow sphere. The world knew
nothing of them, and they, nothing of the world, dwel
lers upon the shores of an inland sea. But there came
One from Nazareth,- into whose countenance as they
looked, to whose voice as they listened, their spirits
began to burn within them. They left their boats, and
followed him. At every step of the way, their hearts
were knit more and more closely to his, and the living
truth which fed his existence and made him the godlike
being that he was, was gradually infused into the bo
soms of these poor fishermen. He captivated their
imaginations. He entered into their very hearts and
was enthroned there. The thought of him became the
soul of their life. He dwelt in them. As he thus
abode in them, so they abode in him. He received
them into himself. By the force of love, more powerful
than the embracing arms of an angel, he took them to
his bosom, and there they were cherished among the
most sacred objects of his being. How patiently did
he bear with their narrowness ! What pains did he
take to enlighten and enlarge their views ! With what
terms of endearment did he address those simple-
minded men, calling them his friends, his children,
occasionally reproving them, but never breathing a
word of contempt !
We divide ourselves into classes. We acknowledge
distinctions of place and education. We can accord
our sympathy only to such as we consider constituted
like ourselves, possessed of a similar amount of infor
mation. We are prone to shut ourselves up, as if there
were few or none capable of any communion with us.

372 JESUS AND HIS FRIENDS.
How humbling the contrast between the great Master
and his modern disciples ! Vast was the distinction
between him and that lowly circle that surrounded
him. They were ignorant. He was inspired with the
profoundest wisdom. Their imaginations were carried
away by the fading glories of the world. He looked at
things invisible, heavenly, everlasting. Yet wide as was
the difference between him and them, he loved them
still, and took the heartiest interest in their society.
They could afford him no comfort proportionate to his
need, still he evidently was comforted by their simple
devotion; and their presence soothed the burthened
heart of the Man of sorrows.
And what strength did they, in their turn, draw from
him ! As the branches derive nourishment from the
parent vine, so they became new men, rich in immortal
fruit. Once humble labourers, interested only in the
daily successes of a mean occupation, knowing and
caring nothing about the fortunes of the great world,"
they are transformed into the servants of their race.
The lake of Galilee is forsaken and the world becomes
their sphere and men are the objects of their toils.
Affections, of which they dreamed not, awake within
them ; and they hunger so for a world's welfare that
they are ready to sacrifice every thing for it, the good
opinion of men, the favour of the great, the protection
of magistrates, and life itself. An unconquerable energy
is infused into their whole being, and they becoriie con
spicuous in achieving the greatest revolution the world
has ever known, a revolution which prostrated thou
sands of altars and thrones, and reared vast empires on
their ruins ; and now the names of those first disciples
have become household words upon the lips of nations.
Their Master assured them they should sit upon twelve
thrones and be as twelve judges in Israel. The pro-

JESUS AND HIS FRIENDS. 373
mise has been more than fulfilled. In the place they
now hold among men, they are far more illustrious than
the occupants of the proudest thrones on earth. This
wondrous transformation in the fishermen of Galilee,
was wrought by the personal influence of Jesus.
Through the love he evinced and inspired, new and
plenteous communications of life and light were made.
He strengthened their hearts and hands. He was the
vine of which they were the branches, the body of
which they were the vigorous members; In the most
vital sense of the word, he dwelt with them and in
them, even when he was no longer personally present.
Suffering became honourable in their eyes because it
brought them into closer union with him, the great Suf
ferer, and they gloried in showing their affection for
him even by tears and blood.
Such was the power of Jesus as a friend. Such was
his influence upon those who enjoyed his personal re
gard. But the most touching manifestations of his
spirit in relation to his disciples appear in the last
^'hours which he passed with them just before his death.
He, who of all men most needed to be comforted then,
undertakes the office of consoler. The Evangelist John,
in recording so fully the various considerations by which
Jesus sought to sustain the sinking minds of his fol
lowers, has proved his claim to the title of the beloved
disciple, and shown the congeniality of his spirit with
the spirit of his master. Well do the sons arid daugh
ters of affliction turn always first to the fourteenth
chapter of John. What a fountain of consolation flows
for ever there ! We may judge how utterly cast down
the disciples of Jesus were at that moment, by the
pains he takes to moderate their sorrow. He suggests
every possible topic of comfort. ' Be not distressed,' he
says, ' rely upon God. Rely upon me.' By their best

374 JESUS AND HIS FRIENDS.
hopes, by the expectation of beholding him again, by
their regard for him — (' If ye loved me, ye would re
joice, because I go unto my Father. My Father, is
greater than I,') and for their own true comfort, he
bids them be of good cheer. For their sake, he as
sures them that it is necessary he should depart. 'If I
go not away, the Comforter will, not come to you;',*He
promises them that, after his departure, they shall
have that which shall supply his place, another guide*
another comforter, the Spirit of Truth, or in other
words, a true spirit, a true mind, a state of feeling
which being in accordance with truth, enabling them
to see things as they are and in no false light, would
afford them guidance and consolation, and be to them
what he had been, an instructer and friend. His per
sonal presence was an obstacle to the enlargement of
their views. For, so long as he was with them, despite
all that he could do or say, they clung to the idea of a
worldly empire. Their hearts were set upon his as
suming a princely state. They needed more potent
instructions than could be conveyed by mortal lips,
even though they were the lips of Him who spake as
never man spake. There is no teaching like the teach
ing of events. These are the language of God. Hence
the words of Jesus were of themselves insufficient
thoroughly to enlighten his disciples. The facts of his
life, death and resurrection were necessary, and they
wrought with power upon his personal friends, unseal
ing their mental vision, and leading them to defer more
and more unreservedly to his authority.. With what
perfect truth, then, did he say, ' It is expedient for you
that I go away: for if I go not away, the Comforter
will not come to you.' How much truer became the
spirit of their minds ! What comfort had they in these
better views ! Gratefully must they have confessed

JESUS AND HIS FRIENDS. 375
that the promise of their master was fulfilled. Another
comforter came and took up his abode in their hearts.
Reader ! you are a member of an affectionate circle.
There is one to whom the rest of the little band look
with fondest hopes, a parent or a child. He is in no
feeble sense your life. The idea of losing him you
cannot entertain. What would become of you ? How
could you live and what should you live for, if that idol
were taken from you ? The sun may go down at noon.
The earth may be shaken out of its place, but if that
life is touched, chaos would come to you, and existence
be without form and void. To you that precious friend
is scarcely less than Jesus was to his disciples, the
centre of your hopes, the spring of your life. But sud
denly that light is quenched. The rock on which you
rest vanishes. And for you, it is as if a great voice,
like that heard by the Roman when he burst into the
burning temple at Jerusalem, had sounded through
the vast temple of nature, saying, " Let us depart,"
and creation were forsaken of its God. And yet with
what truth might your departing friend take up the
words, ' It is expedient for you that I go away : for if
I go not away the comforter will not come.' How
little have we of a true spirit while we are clinging
i&olatrously to a being, frail like ourselves ! We are
living in the light of a human countenance, on which
the ghastliness of death may pass at any moment, when
we were made to live in the cloudless light of eternal
truth. It is necessary for us that those, who are to us
as gods, should go away. For while they remain and
we lavish oiLthem all our affections, the true comforter
cannot come. There is no place for him here. — But
to return.
The conduct of Jesus towards the disciple who be
trayed him, the disciple who denied him, and the ma-

376 JESUS AND HIS BETRAYER.
gistrate who, against his own convictions, condemned
him to death, is marked by the tenderness and gener
osity of mind by which he was ever so distinguished.
Whether Jesus was perfectly acquainted with the
character and destiny of Judas in the first instance,
may admit of a doubt. I cannot believe, as it some
times seems to be supposed, that this wretched man
was chosen as a disciple for the express purpose of
doing what he did. I should prefer to conjecture, in
the absence of direct testimony, that Jesus cherished
the hope of exerting a beneficial influence upon Judas.
One thing, however, is clear, that he, who knew what
was in man, could not long have remained ignorant of
the besetting sin of his traitorous adherent. His crime,
great as it was, was not unaccountable. That he was
not devoid of sensibility, his awful fate, revealing the
poignancy of his remorse, proves plainly. It was the
common vice of avarice that was his ruin. And it was
probably by expectations awakened by the love of
money, that he was induced to adhere to Jesus. He
was exasperated, because this low craving, so far from
being gratified, was continually rebuked by the words
and spirit of his Master. The waste of that costly
ointment, which was poured upon the person of Jesus
by Mary, appears to have been the immediate cause of
that treacherous bargain which he made with the
Priests. Possibly he flattered himself that,, if Jesus
were really the Messiah, he would suffer no harm, and
if he were not, then it would be an honourable , service
to deliver him over to punishment and death. But we
are interested now in observing how he was treated by
him whom he used so basely. •
At the Last Supper, as recorded in the thirteenth
chapter of John, the feelings of Jesus towards the trai
tor are incidentally and most touchingly disclosed.

JESUS AND HIS BETRAYER. 3^7
That the confidence which his disciples cherished in
him might not be shaken; that they might, after his
death, know that nothing had befallen him for which
he had not been prepared, he deems it right and neces
sary to tell them, what then certainly he had perfect
knowledge of, namely, that one of them would deliver
him into the power of his enemies. At that moment,
his popularity was so great that the Priests did not dare
to attempt to seize him in public. They gladly availed
themselves of the assistance of one of his followers, who
knew the places to which he was accustomed to retire.
Of the plot which had been laid Jesus was fully aware
through his extraordinary knowledge ; and, as I have
just said, he makes known his acquaintance with it to
his disciples, that they may afterwards perceive that he
was not taken by surprise. " Now 1 tell you before it
come, that, when it is come to pass, ye may (continue
to) believe that I am he."* But he communicates to
them no more than was barely necessary to produce
this effect. He does not taunt Judas. He takes no
pleasure in showing that he was aware of his treachery.
On the contrary, he approaches the subject with most
evident reluctance. He alludes to it twice very ob
scurely, once when he was washing the feet of his dis
ciples, when he said, " And ye are clean, but not all,"
and again, a few moments afterwards, observing, " I
speak not of you all. I know those I have chosen."
And at last, when he explicitly declares that one of
theni would betray him, saying outright, " One of you
shall betray me," he is " troubled in spirit," agitated,
distressed. When they severally exclaim, in answer
to this last observation, " Is it I ? Is it I ?" he answers
not ; only to his favourite disciple John, who, in ac-
* He told them what was about to take place, not so much to produce
faith as to confirm it— to preserve it from being shaken.
48

378 JESUS AND HIS BETRAYER.
cordance with the reclining posture in which it was
customary then to sit at table, leaned on the bosom of
Jesus, does he designate the individual to whom he re
ferred. Even to John it appears that he must have
spoken in a whisper, for none of the rest heard him.
And to John he did not breathe the name of Judas." It
would seem that he knew he was watched, by Peter
especially, who had beckoned to John to ,ask to whom
Jesus alluded. He therefore adopts a sign, and directs
John to observe to whom he was just about to give the
morsel which he had dipped into the dish. He knew
the excitable nature of Peter and the rest, and he
avoided stirring up their wrath against the traitor.
When Judas, stung with mortification and rage, left .
the place, Jesus did not take the opportunity of his de
parture, to disclose the name and purpose of the traitor,
but he shows the elevation of his mind by that burst of
mingled sublimity and pathos, to which the Scriptures
themselves scarcely afford a parallel. He seems in
stantly to forget the treacherous disciple. The de
parting steps of Judas, going to consummate his base
purpose, sound in his ears like the approaching steps
of his own fate. The end was now beginning. His
death he felt was then close at hand, but as it drew
nigh, it shone with a celestial glory. " Now is the Son
of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him." From
the contemplation of the glory that awaited him in that
sublime, self-sacrificing death of the Cross, he turns to
his disciples with words of melting tenderness, " My
children !"* says he, " in a little while I must leave
you, and, as I said to the Jews, I how say to you,
* In the Common Version it is, " Little children," which is a literal, but
not the true translation, The word in the original is evidently a term of en
dearment, and should be rendered by a term of corresponding ,|mport. When .
moved by tenderness towards one or a number of our friends, we say, "My'
child !" or, " My children !" not " Little child," or, " Little children."
% it

JESUS AND HIS BETRAYER. 379
whither I go ye cannot come. A new commandment
I give unto you, That ye love one another : as I have
loved you, that ye also love one another." With what
exquisite truth did he, under the circumstances, call
this a new commandment ! The thought of his death,
* brought vividly home to him by the departure of Judas,
brings along with it the thought that he was about to
be separated from his friends, and instantly his heart
overflows with tenderness. It seems as if at that mo
ment the strength of his affection for them was laid
bare to his own eyes. So deep was the love of which
he was then conscious, that it seemed to him like a
new feeling, and as if he had never before commanded
his disciples to love one another. In order to perceive
the fine working of nature revealed in' that phrase ' a
new commandment,' the reader has only to reflect, how
often in his own experience, the most familiar thoughts,
the strongest affections, have been suddenly brought
over him with such force, that they seemed altogether
new. I beg the reader to study again and again this most
remarkable chapter, the thirteenth of John. The writer
shows himself utterly unconscious of any design but to
state, with all directness and brevity, what took place
on the occasion specified. He stops- to make only one
or two brief comments. He says nothing of the ex
traordinary moral beauty which he depicts. And yet
every thing is in the profoundest harmony with the
greatness and tenderness of the character of Jesus. If
all the rest of the history were pronounced false and
fabulous, here, on this portion of it, we discern the
deepest impress of life and Nature. How wonderfully
natural that remark of John's—" After the sop Satan
'entered into him." John knew not until that moment

380 ' JESUS AND PETER. *t
the traitorous design of Judas, whose whole appear
ance and expression, even if he did not betray his
malignant passions in his features, must have been in
stantaneously changed in the eyes of John. John then
saw the demon in his countenance,, and in perfect ac
cordance with nature, says, that after Judas had re
ceived the morsel from Jesus, Satan entered into him.
We perceive the same nobleness of mind in the bear
ing of Jesus towards Peter. Jesus was apprehended
at night in the garden, and carried thence to the house
of the Jewish High Priest.* There, after a hurried ex
amination and a pretence of judgment, the High
Council of the nation declared him worthy of death.
The Council then broke up, leaving Jesus in the hall
of the High Priest's house, in the custody of an unfeel
ing crowd, who immediately began to offer every in
dignity to his person, spitting upon him, blindfolding
him and then striking him suddenly with the palms of
their hands, and in mockery bidding him use his ex
traordinary knowledge and tell which it was that smote
him. It pains us to refer to these details, — to think of
Jesus of Nazareth, that generous and exalted being,
subjected to this brutal treatment. While these things
were going on, Peter, who had had the courage to fol
low his master to the High Priest's house, was accosted
by some one, who said ' Thou also wast with Jesus of
Galilee.' Peter probably had supposed that his master
might not receive any injury. Unprepared for what
was now taking place, and alarmed at the violence
which was used towards Jesus, his courage suddenly
dies away, and in his terror he is driven to declare to
the woman who had expressed her suspicions of him,
that he knew not what she meant. Finding himself

JESUS AND PETER. ^81
suspected, he endeavours, as we may surmise from
Matthew's narrative, to leave the place.* This move
ment awakened suspicion anew. Again it was said,
'Thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth.' Still more
terrified by the repetition of the accusation, he declared
with the solemnity of an oath " I know not the man."
Finding that in attempting to leave the hall he had ex
posed himself to suspicion, he seems to have returned
and stood or sate by the fire which had just been kin
dled. But he could not escape observation. Some of
them that stood by turned to him, and said, " Surely
thou art also of them, for thy speech betrayeth thee."
It is .probable that, in his agitation, the wretched dis
ciple >said much more than is recorded, and by the
peculiarity of his dialect showed himself to be a Gali
lean. ' Then he began to curse and to swear, saying, I
know not the man.' The language of the original im
plies that his curses were pronounced, not upon his
accusers, but upon himself, as if he had said ' May I
perish if I know any thing about this man. God is my
witness, I am not this man's friend. I know him not.'
While Peter was uttering these asseverations, his
master was suffering the greatest indignities. The
cruel hands of those ruffians were raining blows upon
him, accompanied by every species of insult. In the
midst of this violence, his ear caught the sound of a
familiar voice, pouring forth oaths and curses. It was
Peter, the affectionate, forward, boastful Peter, Who, in
this violent manner and in the presence of that brutal
company, was denying all knowledge of Jesus. Judging
from his recent professions, we should expect that, at
the first blush of insultwffered to his master, he would
* See Matth. xxvi. 71. According to this account, the second time Peter
was charged with being a follower of Jesus occurred when he was gone out
into the porch.

382 JESUS AND PETER.
have sprung forward, and defended him at the hazard
of his life. But this he did not do. He swore solemnly,
and repeatedly, that he knew not Jesus, and was no
friend of his. Had not his generous master known
him better than he knew himself, this cowardly and
faithless conduct of a friend must have been a severer
blow to him, than any inflicted by his unfeeling tor
mentors. But he was prepared for it. He knew the
weakness of Peter. He uttered no exclamation of
surprise, no reproach at his faithlessness. This was a
time to try the character of Jesus. Had he been any
other than the perfectly magnanimous being that he
was, he would naturally have contradicted the shame
less falsehoods of Peter. He would have sought to
avert the blows of the cruel men around him, by point
ing out to them another, and a worthy object of their
mockery. But so far was he above every thing of this
kind, so far above all selfishness and anger, that he
merely turned and looked at Peter. Those eyes,
through which beamed- the most generous spirit that
eVer dwelt in a human bosom, were turned full in all
their awful clearness and serenity upon the apostate
disciple, and they dissolved his heart in the tears of an
agonising repentance. No word was spoken, for Jesus
thought not to implicate others in his sufferings, no,
not even one who at that moment seemed so richly to
deserve to suffer. Who can be insensible to the mag
nanimity here exhibited ! To adopt the eloquent re
mark of a most eloquent writer, — " When Peter had
denied him thrice, the Lord turned, and looked upon
Peter, and Peter went out and wept bitterly. If that
look taught Peter to repent, it may teach us to believe ;
the fraud and the folly, which we witness, have no such
singleness of heart, and such plain majesty of action.
Wherever we behold such signs as these, we hail then1

JESUS AND PETER. 383
as the marks which God has put upon truth and good
faith; premeditated sophistry may destroy the first
burst of nature, but in reading the history of Christ's
death, the fresh and sudden feelings of the heart all
acquit him, all praise him, all believe in him ; — we all
feel as Pontius Pilate his judge felt, who, when he had
looked at him, and heard him speak, broke from the
judgment seat, and bathed his trembling hands in the
water, saying, "I call upon you all to witness, I am
guiltless of the blood of this innocent man."*
What a strong and cheering light does the character
of Jesus, as revealed in his treatment of Peter, cast
uponthe character of God! It may not be denied that
the Deity is frequently represented as a stern and re
pulsive being. But would we know how God regards
the sinful, we must turn to Jesus Christ. He declares
himself one with the Father. Would we learn what
the Supreme Spirit is, we must study the spirit of
Christ ; for they are one. They who believe that this
oneness is literal and personal, must feel the whole
force of this argument. For the Supreme is unchange
able. And if Christ was full of consideration, then
surely this must be the character of God, and we may
well believe that every allowance is made, for us, by
him who knows our frame, and remembers we are dust.
If any conduct justifies indignation, it is such conduct
as Peter's. But how did Jesus treat the faithless Apos
tle ¦? He only turned and looked upon him ! looked
upon him no doubt with undiminished affection, and
with a countenance beaming with pity. Here then, in
the hall of the High Priest's palace, and amidst that
dark and brutal throng, streams forth a sublime reve
lation of the unutterable mercy of God, who « hath
* See Sydney Smith's Sermons, vol. i. p. 178. Sermon " On Good
Friday."

384 THE PRISONER AND THE JUDGE.
shone into our hearts, to give the light of the know
ledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.'
In that look which was turned upon Peter, there is a
beam that, issuing from the Spirit of all light and love,
illuminates the upturned features of Penitence, and
directs her to God as to one, of whose mercy a father's
affection, and a mother's fondness, are but dim and im
perfect types !
The conduct of Jesus, when he stood before the Ro
man Governor, is marked by the same elevation, which
we have observed in so many instances. He betrayed
not the slightest symptom of fear, or of any emotion in
consistent with his usual dignity of mind and manner.
He calmly declared that his kingdom was not of an
outward, political character; if it had been, he^ would
have had adherents to fight for him. But as he had
used no violence, it was evident enough he had not
sought worldly power. " Art thou a king then ?" asked
Pilate. " Yes," is the reply, "lama king. For this
end was I born, for this cause came I into the world,
to bear witness to the truth; and every true man is my
subject." Such was his sublime definition of his regal
character. After Pilate had put him to the torture of
the scourge, with the probable hope, as I have already
intimated, that this might satisfy the Jews, it became
evident to Jesus that Pilate was too weak to save him,
and of course that words were of no avail. And when
Pilate began again to question him, repeating the same
inquiries, he made no answer. The Governor then
menaced him with his power. How justly does Jesus
appear to have estimated the character of Pilate ! He
neither weakly defers to the imbecile magistrate, nor
does he utter one upbraiding word ; he simply observes
that Pilate had no power of his own ; that he was but an

JESUS, OUR MASTER. 385
instrument, and that the principal guilt of the transac
tion rested with others. The injustice with which he
was treated disturbed not, for a moment, the clearness
and calmness of his mind. It neither intimidated, nor
exasperated him.
Jt cannot be that we have hearts, and that they are
to remain cold and insensible to all these various and
touching manifestations of the mingled tenderness and
wisdom of the man of Nazareth. Who can help feel
ing that he must come hither — to this, the heavenliest
model of all virtue, to kindle his best sentiments, to
elevate and refine his sense of truth and rectitude, to
feel his imperishable soul ? Who so high in rank, so
gifted in intellect, as to refuse to acknowledge Jesus as
Lord and Master ? In all that elevates human nature,
he is the master of us all. There is nothing humiliating
—oh no — it must be our delight and honour — it must
all-ennoble us to accord him this title. The words of
the fervent old poet — have they now no music in our
ears ? " How sweetly doth my master sound ! my master !
As ambergris leaves » rich scent
Unto the taster:
So do these words a sweet content,
An oriental fragrancy : my master !"
The instances I have adduced in this chapter to
illustrate the moral greatness of Jesus Christ, I have
arranged with very little order. I knew not how to
do otherwise, or better, or where to begin. And I
know not now where to end. There are numerous
other occasions upon which the wonderful beauty of his
moral being is disclosed. I must break off with the
hope that the illustrations of this great subject, which
49

386 UNCONSCIOUSNESS OF THE NARRATORS.
have been specified, have been stated at Jeast with
some distinctness and discrimination, no| altogether
from hearsay, but > with some personal feeling of their
truth. If this hope be not justifiable, it would be in
vain to say more. But if I have been at all successful
in what I have attempted, then enough has been said
to show how abundant are the materials which the
Christian Records have furnished us, whereby we may
construct in our minds an idea of moral greatness, to
which history affords no equal. Not a trace appears
in these writings of any design to work out the uniform
consistency, apparent in this respect. The writers ap
pear to be occupied with nothing but a statement of
facts ; of facts which, however, they do not enlarge
upon, nor make the least effort to combine into a whole.
They pass abruptly from one incident to another, en
tirely different in its details, unconscious of the beau
tiful and godlike spirit which they portray. Not that
they were insensible to the power of the character of
him, whose wprds and works they relate. They could
not possibly have given stronger proof of their being
thoroughly imbued with the spirit of Jesus, which was
the spirit of truth, than they have given in their simple,
unvarnished narrations.

387

CHAPTER XII.

THE CRUCIFIXION.

" Auctor nominis ejus Christus, qui, Tiberio imperitante, per procuratorem
Pontium Pilatum supplicio affectus erat." Tacitds Ann. lib. xv.

The leader of this denomination was Christ, who, in the reign of Tiberius,
suffered punishment under the Procurator Pontius Pilate. Trans.

The marks of truth and nature upon the accounts
of the death of Jesus and his rising from the dead are
very numerous and impressive. They are precisely
such relations of these most interesting events as we
might naturally expect, supposing them to be true.
The whole style of narration, the discrepancies be
tween the different accounts, the very errors and mis
takes apparent in some subordinate particulars, all
indicate precisely such a state of feeling as must have
been produced in the eye and ear-witnesses, if the
things related actually took place. It is in this perfect
truth of feeling, so abundantly disclosed, that I find an
impregnable ground for my faith. The testimony of
one man, giving indubitable tokens of a true spirit, is
absolutely decisive in itself, admitting of no comparison
with the testimony of men in whom no such spirit is dis
cernible, even though they were numberless. It is not

388 betrayed.
therefore upon the number of the witnesses in the pre
sent case that I rely, but upon the overwhelming evi
dence given that these histories are the productions of
truth and honesty. It is true, we are extremely liable
to be deceived as to the indications of the presence of
a true mind in any given instance. But what does this
prove ? Not surely that there is no such thing as a true
mind, but that truth of feeling is so powerful to im
press and convince, that the slightest appearance of it
carries with it the greatest weight.
Shortly after Judas quitted the presence of Jesus at
the Last Supper, Jesus himself, accompanied by the
eleven, left that 'large upper room' and went to the
garden of Gethsemane. It was probably in his way
thither that he uttered what is recorded in the 15th
chapter of John, and that the vineyards through which
he passed suggested the language, " I am the true
vine, &c." When he reached the spot, bidding his
disciples remain where they were and taking with him
only Peter, James, and John, he retired into the shades
of the garden. Then came that hour of mental agony of
which I have already spoken. Leaving his three
friends, he went to a short distance apd threw himself
on the ground, in the greatest distress of mind. But
his anguish could not extinguish his generosity. For,
although, upon returning to Peter and his two compa
nions, he found them asleep and awoke them with the
reproachful words, " Could ye not watch with me one
hour ?" yet he appears immediately to suggest an excuse
for their unseasonable slumbers, " The spirit truly is
willing but the flesh is weak." " Watch and pray,"
said he, " lest ye enter into temptation." What volumes
were contained in this brief injunction, uttered at that
moment, when he was himself so sorely tempted, so

ARRAIGNED. 389
peculiarly impressed with the need of watchfulness and
prayer, and when he saw how ignorant his friends were
of the fearful trials to which they were shortly to be
summoned ! As the struggle of his spirit was passing
away, he perceived the approach of the persons who,
with Judas for their guide, were coming to seize him,
and immediately he roused his three disciples and went
to meet the armed band. The traitor hurried forward
and, in order to point out to the officers the individual
whom they were to apprehend, saluted Jesus with a
kiss. " Friend," said Jesus, " wherefore art thou come ?
Betrayest thou the Son of man with a kiss!" The
mildness and perfect self-possession of this address,
conjoined with the knowledge which it showed of the
design of Judas, pierced the traitor to the soul, and we
see him plunging, in all the horror of remorse, into the
shadow of the night. With the self-possession which
was habitual in him and with characteristic dignity of
mien, Jesus approached the persons who came to seize
him and inquired whom they sought. "Jesus of Naza
reth," is the reply. "lam he," said Jesus, in a tone
which knew no fear, and with a majesty of manner that
struck awe into the men, and they started back over
powered by his presence, so that some if not all were
thrown to the ground by the violence of the motion and
the confusion that was produced. But they shortly
recovered themselves and again he asked, " Whom do
ye seek?" " Jesus of Nazareth." " I have told you,"
said he, " that I am he. If ye seek me only, let these
friends of mine go their way."
The officers then took him and having bound him
led him to the house of the High Priest, where a
council of the Priests was assembled. The chief of the
body began to question Jesus concerning his disciples
and his teaching, as if he (the High Priest) knew

390 DOOMED.
nothing of the case and had not fully made up his
mind ! ' Why,' asked the Arraigned in reply, ' why
askest thou me what I have said ? Ask those who have
heard me. I have used no concealment. In syna
gogues and in the temple, in the most public places I
have spoken. Call those who have heard me and let
them testify.' The questioning of the High Priest was
so glaringly out of place, and so plainly shown to be so
by the answer of Jesus, and that dignitary was made
to appear in so unworthy a light, that one of the by
standers felt as if the High Priest were insulted, and
immediately struck Jesus, with the exclamation, " An-
swerest thou the High Priest so ?" " If I have spoken
evil, bear witness of the evil, but if well, why smitest
thou me ?" is the mild reply.
Upon the most prominent incidents of the trial $$
Jesus I have had occasion already to remark. ' When
prudence no longer required him to avoid the avowal
of his Messiahship, and at the moment when such an
avowal was fatal to himself, he hesitated not a moment
to make it. For this the Jewish Council judged him
worthy of death, and carried him before the Roman
Governor. That imbecile magistrate made a few strug
gles to save the prisoner, but was overborne by the
clamours and menaces of those whom nothing but the
blood of Jesus would satisfy, and orders were given for
his crucifixion. As none but the lowest criminals suf
fered this punishment, the Roman soldiers considered
Jesus a fit subject for mockery, and when they grew
tired of the savage sport, they led him forth, fainting
under the cross which he was compelled, according to
custom, to carry. In the crowd that surrounded and
followed him to the place of execution, many hearts no
doubt bled, but dared not to plead for him, looking on
" in weak disapproval, acknowledging only that it was

EXECUTED.

391

Necessity." Women pressed through the throng and
gazed with' streaming eyes upon that Holy Sufferer,
who had healed their sick and blessed their children.
"Daughters of Jerusalem!" said he, "weep not for
me. Weep for yourselves and for your children, for
the days are coming when it will be said, Happy the
wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never
gave nourishment !"
Jesus was tried and executed on the day preceding
the Jewish Sabbath, of course on a Friday. Respect
ing the precise hour of his crucifixion the accounts
vary.* Various methods of reconciling the statements
of Mark and John have been attempted, but it seems
to me scarcely necessary. It would be very strange,
and not at all natural, if the power of noting the lapse
of time had not been disturbed in the minds of the
Spectators and participants in the scene, while events
were taking place so intensely interesting.
From the time Jesus was nailed to the cross until he
expired, it appears from the different accounts that he
spoke seven times. We are nofable to determine with
certainty the precise order in which the various sen
tences and ejaculations ascribed to him were uttered.
The following however appears to me their most pro
bable sequence. As they were nailing him to the
cross, or just as that terrible office was completed, he
breathed forth that sublime prayer upon which 1 re
marked in the foregoing chapter, 'Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do.' After he was
crucified, they immediately began to jeer and ridicule
him. And then it was that the brief conversation
passed between him and one of his fellow-sufferers.
'This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise' — in other
* See Mark xv. 25, and John xix. 14.

392 EJACULATIONS ON THE CROSS.
words, ' thou shalt immediately be with me in the con
dition of the virtuous dead.' The individual to whom
these words were addressed, in his ready appreciation
of the character of Jesus, whose meek and touching
demeanour he had observed, in rebuking the other
criminal who had joined with the crowd in ridiculing
Jesus, how impressively did he show that he was al
ready, spiritually speaking, on the very threshold of
Heaven ! Already was he in Paradise. Shortly after
wards, Jesus, recognising among the multitude his mo
ther and his favourite friend John, signified his wish
that she should regard John as her son in his place,
and that John should consider her as his mother. The
thirst naturally attendant upon the intense agony which
he was enduring soon became so severe that he could
not help giving expression to his feelings. He exclaimed
' I thirst,' and one of the crowd brought, fastened upon
the end of a reed, a piece of sponge which had been
dipped into a mixture of vinegar and myrrh, a prepara
tion used on such occasions, out of mercy to the cruci
fied, to stupify and deaden their sensibilities. A por
tion of this mixture was offered to Jesus, just before he
was crucified, and he refused to drink it. He would
not avail himself of any such means of escaping the
torture that awaited him. Just before the sponge was
lifted to his lips, his sufferings were so severe that for a
moment he seemed to be overwhelmed with a feeling
of desperation, which burst forth in the words, ' My
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me !' For an in
stant his agony was intolerable. Still even his mo
mentary despair is expressed in the devout language of
"Scripture. These words are the commencement of
one of the Psalms. The sharp paroxysm of pain ap
pears to have been soon succeeded by a feeling of re
lief, and life began rapidly to ebb away. At this

MANNER OF HIS DEATH. 393
moment he exclaimed, ' It is finished,' or ' it is over.'
This exclamation is sometimes interpreted in too formal
a manner, as if Jesus referred to the completion of his
great mission, whereas it is more natural and simple to
suppose that he alluded to the excruciating pain he had
just suffered. His last words were, ' Father, into thy
hands I commend my spirit.' With this expression of
filial trust, his head fell and he expired.
Thus died the man of Nazareth, not with stoical in
sensibility, but with natural indications of the extremest
suffering. Who does not prize his expressions of for
giveness, filial affection, and piety, more deeply, as
bursting from a heart palpitating and almost broken
with mortal agonies, than if he had maintained a stony
lifferehce, or exhibited the demeanour of one steeled
by a peculiar temperament or a stern purpose against
the betrayal of the least sign of suffering ? In the latter
case we. could not have had a manifestation of cha
racter at once so elevated, and yet so perfectly natural.
We could hardly have avoided the impression of some
thing forced and artificial. It would have seemed as
if he were actuated by some sentiment of human
honour, or some desire to triumph over his tormentors,
and baffle their malice. He did triumph over them
gloriously. But then his victory was the more com
plete, his glory the more signal, on this very account,
even because he never struggled for victory over men,
never sought the faintest shadow of human glory. He
was influenced by no narrow reference to human stand
ards of thought and judgment. He felt and spoke
and acted under no constraint. To every deep feeling
of his heart, he gave free expression. When he suf
fered, he showed that he suffered. And though his
whole soul is laid bare, and we see that his agony was
50

394 BREATHED HIS LAST VERY SOON.
extreme, we discover no trace of fear. His emotions
were natural, but never unworthy of him, and his pre
dominant feelings were of the most generous and ex
alted character. For my own part, I could more
easily doubt the plainest evidence of my senses, than
the reality of the scene which I have now briefly re
viewed, and from which I gather so vivid and consis
tent an impression of the most perfect beauty and the
most perfect nature, without any design apparent on
the part of the historian to produce this impression.
Jesus breathed his last very soon, in a few hours af
ter he was fastened to the cross. It was not unusual
for persons in that horrible situation to survive for days.
It was natural therefore, that Pilate should be surprised
at the speedy termination of the sufferings of Jesus.
But when we consider all the probable circumstances
of the case, it can hardly surprise us that the vitalprin-
ciple was so soon extinguished. I cannot but believe
that there was the greatest physical difference between
Jesus and those who usually suffered death by cruci
fixion. The latter were generally men of the lowest
description, of a coarse, rugged temperament ; while
with the thought of Jesus is naturally associated in the
mind the idea of an almost feminine susceptibility. As
I have more than once had occasion to, observe, the
whole tenour of Christianity intimates as much. But
the acuteness of his sensibility to pain is explicitly
shown in the accounts of his death. How fearful and
overpowering were his agonies, that cry of his, " my
God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me !" proves
very clearly. The generous affection, the filial love
particularly, to which he gave expression on the Cross,
reveals the depth of his sensibilities. I beg to observe
by the way, that the full beauty of the incident to

' WOMAN ! BEHOLD ! THY SON !' 395
which I now allude, the manifestation of his concern
for his mother, does not appear to have been perceived.
In our version, the passage runs thus : " When Jesus
therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by,
whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, woman, be
hold thy son ! Then saith he to the disciple, behold thy
mother !" But the slightest glance at the original
shows that the words of Jesus were, " Woman ! be
hold ! thy son !" and when he spoke to John, " Behold !
thy mother !" The difference between the two readings
is more important than it may at first seem. The read
ing of the common version presents us with a complete
sentence, while in the original the utterance of Jesus
appears to be broken and ejaculatory. In this case,
there is a fine and touching accordance between the
brief imperfect mode of expression, and the physical
condition of the speaker — a condition of mortal agony.
Parched with thirst, and almost in the very pains of
death, he was able to utter himself only briefly, and at
intervals, and to signify his affectionate wishes with
regard to his mother, by a word or two, which he ac
companied, possibly by a look, or an inclination of the
head, or some slight movement, such as his confined
and agonizing posture allowed, relying upon the quick-
conceiving affections of his mother and John to make
out his meaning. The noise and the crowd may have
required a considerable effort of voice from Jesus, to
make himself heard by his mother and John, who
probably were not able to approach very near the
Cross. There is an impression of deliberation and
formality produced by the common and erroneous read
ing of this passage, which does not correspond so na
turally with the circumstances. How profound must
have been the sensibility of that heart, whose filial
affection the distracting pangs of a most terrible death

396 HIS SUFFERINGS, SEVERE.
could not quench ! It is impossible that one so consti
tuted could have long endured such fearful sufferings.
When I consider the character of Jesus, his aston
ishing elevation of mind, his lofty aims, his laborious
life ; when I think how successfully he sustained him
self, at a point where the tremendously exciting cir
cumstances, to which he was almost every hour
exposed, could not reach him, I cannot but feel that
all the energies of his physical temperament, were it
of the most finely organized character, must have been
tasked to the uttermost. The real ground of surprise,
I am persuaded, is, not that he died so soon after being
suspended upon the Cross, but that he did not expire
sooner. Nay, we may almost wonder that he lived to
be crucified. With a nature singularly fitted to find
strength and satisfaction and happiness in this world,
in human aids and supports, he lived deprived of all
these. Once and again, the thought of his peculiar
destiny, elevating as it usually was, seems almost to
have overpowered him. The dreadful baptism, as he
termed it, which he was about to go through — how did
he long to have it over ! Consider too how much he
had suffered, just before his crucifixion. The night
before, in the garden, the agony of his mind was so
exhausting, that as he himself said, it seemed to him
as if he should die — as if he could not live. Recollect
the brutal treatment to which he was exposed, at the
house of the High Priest, — -and then again at the rough
and savage hands of the Roman soldiers ! He had
bled, too, beneath the tortures of the Roman Scourge,
an instrument of pain so severe, that ancient authors
pronounce it horrible* How greatly he was ex
hausted, the circumstance that another was seized and
compelled to carry his cross for him, intimates very
* See Wakefield on Matthew, who quotes Horace, and refers to Juvenal.

HIS DEATH, REAL. 397
probably. This would hardly have been allowed, if the
appearance of Jesus, weak and fainting, had not
awakened in the minds of the Roman soldiers the fear
that he might die, and that so they might be disap
pointed of their barbarous sport.
Bearing all these things in mind, I cannot wonder
that he lived upon the cross only a few hours. And I
can scarcely bear, even for the purpose of confutation,
to allude to the suspicion which has sometimes been
expressed, that he did not actually die, but only swoon
ed. I cannot but regard it as utterly incredible that
so much agony should have resulted in any thing short
of death. As the Sabbath, and it was a special reli
gious occasion, was nigh at hand, the Jewish elders,
with a characteristic scrupulousness, anxious that the
festival should not be defiled by the unsightly and un
clean spectacle, requested Pilate to cause the crucified
to be put to death, and their bodies to be removed. In
compliance with this request, the Roman Governor
directed that the legs of the sufferers should be broken.
This would appear to be a usual operation in such
cases, and the effect of it, or of some blow by which it
was accompanied, was to put a speedy termination to
life. When the persons entrusted with this office came
to Jesus, they found that he was already dead, and,
surprised at his having expired so soon, and doubtful
of the fact, a soldier pierced his side with a spear.
This was undoubtedly done to make it certain that he
was dead. If, as we may suppose, the soldier stood before
the cross, and held his spear in his right hand, he most
probably plunged the weapon into the left side, and so
reached a vital part. I know not whether it is so by
design, but in Rubens's celebrated picture of the De
scent from the Cross, the mark of the spear is shown
on^the right side of Jesus. From the wound made by

398 THE BLOOD AND WATER.
the soldier there issued " blood and water."* WTe have
in these words a Hebrew form of expression, equivalent
to bloody water, or watery blood, — water more or less
discoloured by blood. The heart is always surrounded
by a small quantity of water, apparently designed to
lubricate it, and facilitate its motion. It is said that in
cases of persons who die after extreme suffering, this
fluid is considerably increased in quantity.! If the
history had stated simply that blood flowed from the
side of Jesus, there might be some plausibility in the
suspicion, either that he was not really dead, as blood
does not usually flow from a dead body, or that this
circumstance was fabricated for the sake of showing
that Jesus was actually dead, although it would have
proved no such thing. But putting out of view all ana
tomical considerations, it is impossible to account for
the mention of " blood and water," (a phrase which
may mean merely discoloured water,) save upon the
supposition that there was actually such a discharge.
* It is worthy of note, that John accompanies the record of this circum
stance with a solemn asseveration of its truth, " And he that saw it bare
record, and his record is true." We cannot help suspecting that the historian
had reference here io a sect that appeared very early, the Docetae, who main
tained thaf Christ came only in appearance. There is, at least, a. singular
coincidence between the importance attached to the discharge of blood
and water by the Evangelist, and the language of Gibbon, " While the blood
of Christ yet smoked on Mount Calvary, the Docetffi invented Ihe impious
and extravagant hypothesis, that, instead of issuing from the womb of the
Virgin, he had descended on the banks of the river Jordan, in the form of per
fect manhood ;. that he had imposed on the senses of his enemies, and of his
disciples ; and that the ministers of Pilate had wasted their impotent rage on
an airy phantom, who seemed to expire on the cross, and, after three days, to
rise from the dead." — (The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chapter
xxi.) In more than one instance the Gospel of John appears to have reference
to cotemporaneous opinions.
t " The ' liquor pericardii' is, in general, in such small quantities that its
effusion is scarcely evident; but when the death is slow, and even in the case
of a person who is hung, it accumulates rapidly, as well as in all the pectoral
vessels, besides the pericardium." — (Michaelis on the Resurrection.)

AN EARTHQUAKE. 399
There is no conceivable inducement for the mention of
water, but its actual appearance. In this case I know
not how there can linger the least doubt of the death
of Jesus.
The crucifixion of Jesus was attended by certain
appalling circumstances. " Now, from the sixth hour,
there was darkness over all the land, unto the ninth
hour. — And behold the veil of the temple was rent in
twain, from the top to the bottom, and the earth did
quake, and the rocks rent, and the graves were open
ed ; and many bodies of the saints who slept, arose,
and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and
went into the holy city and appeared unto many."*
Whether the earthquake which is recorded to have
taken place was miraculous, using the word in its
popular sense, and was caused as an expression of
Divine Displeasure, admits of a very serious doubt.
Thus regarded, it surely does not correspond with the
spirit of mercy and forgiveness which glorified the
agonies of Jesus. Besides, it certainly admitted of a
double interpretation ; and his enemies may have un
derstood it as a token in their favour, against him.
The darkness by which it was preceded, and which
came on some hours before he breathed his last, was
certainly calculated, if construed as a sign from Hea
ven, to aggravate the gloom and horror of dying.
But however we may regard the earthquake, the
fact, that there was an earthquake, appears to be most
evident from the manner in which it is mentioned. If
these extraordinary circumstances were fabricated, it
must have been for a certain purpose ; to express the
horror excited by the wickedness of those who had put
Jesus to death. And the writers, who entertained so
* See Matthew, xxvii. 45, 51—53.

400 GRAVES, OPENED.
great an abhorrence of the destroyers of Jesus as to
invent such an extraordinary physical phenomenon to
express their indignation, would certainly not have
contented themselves with such a naked statement of
the fact. They would have made some remark expla
natory of the convulsion of Nature. They would have
accompanied the account with some expression of their
own feelings, which must have been strong indeed to
lead them to imagine or to invent what did net really
take place.
And besides, when the occurrence of the earthquake
is admitted, all the other circumstances mentioned
admit of being accounted for in a very natural manner.
The rending of the veil in the temple which hung be
fore the Holy of Holies, and which was probably worn
by time, the splitting of rocks, and the opening of the
graves, which, like the sepulchre in which Jesus was
laid, and like the grave of Lazarus, were usually caves
with stones rolled at their mouths to close them — all
these may have been caused by the agitation of the
earth. Now I beg the reader to pause, and picture to
himself the then state of things, and he will discern an
impressive manifestation of truth and nature in this
portion of the history. The individual who had just
expired on the cross, had every where produced the
greatest sensation. The deep interest which the lead
ing men of the nation had taken in putting him' to
death, proves that he could have been no common per
son. Every where the people had flocked round him
in multitudes, and he was very generally regarded as a
Prophet. His benignity, his wisdom, his unwonted air
of authority, his extraordinary powers, had moved the
public mind deeply. And now that he had just breath- ,
ed his last upon the cruel cross, darkness had overcast
the heavens, and the earth had trembled so violently

APPARITIONS. /(()X
that rocks had been rent, and the stones which closed
the sepulchres had been moved from their places, so
that the remains of the dead were exposed to the view
of the alarmed passers by. The history does not say
that at the time of the crucifixion the dead arose, but
that " after his resurrection," they awoke, and came
into the city and appeared to many. The third day
after the death of Jesus, he rose from the dead. The
knowledge of this startling event must have been ru
moured abroad, whispered over the city, through the
guard, and among the disciples of Jesus, with the
greatest rapidity, some time before the full evidence of
the fact was published. Consider how the public
heart was throbbing with excitement. Think how fear
fully the minds of the tender and susceptible, of those
especially, whose thoughts, from one cause or another,
as from the recent loss of near friends, were dwelling
upon the mysteries of the other world, must have been
agitated by all that Jesus had said and done, by the
awful circumstances of his death, by the darkness and
the earthquake and the rending of rocks and the open
ing of tombs and the sight of the dead, and, lastly, by
the startling rumour of his resurrection, and then you
will see how impressively it accords with the perturbed
state of men's imaginations, that there should have
been visions, and stories and rumours of ghosts and
apparitions. Observe, the historian does not say that
he himself, or any of the disciples, saw the dead who
awoke, but that they " were seen by many." It is not
merely to meet the difficulty which serious and well-
disposed minds have found in this portion of the history,
that I suggest this view of the case. It goes infinitely
further. It reveals a world of truth, nature and evi
dence. It not only furnishes the strongest presumption
of the truth of the great central facts, the death and
51

402 TAKEN FROM THE CROSS.
resurrection of Jesus, but. it also reveals the tremen
dous depth pf the impression which his life and death
had made. It discloses undesignedly the existence of
precisely such a state of feeling as must have been
produced by the events previously narrated, if these
events really took place. In a word, it is in beautiful
and unconscious accordance with the nature of the
human mind, and I cannot express the strength of con
viction which it adds to my faith.
It shows in what estimation Jesus was held, that
persons so eminent as Nicodemus and Joseph of Ari-
mathea, members of the Jewish Sanhedrim, should
have been solicitous to see him decently interred.
They went to the Roman Governor and obtained per
mission to bury Jesus. The body was taken down
from the cross about sunset on Friday, and laid in a
new tomb belonging to Joseph, near the place of exe
cution. The female friends of Jesus, whose affection
was less alloyed than that of the other disciples by sel
fish ambition, were stiff faithful to him. They watched
the body while it remained on the Cross, and took
care to see, when it was removed, where it was depo
sited, that they might pay to the precious remains
every possible office of respect. . His other followers
evidently regarded his death as the utter ruin of those
high hopes he had inspired. If it be doubted whether
he actually predicted his own death and resurrection,
then it must be admitted that his disciples had no ex
pectation of these events. That they had no distinct
idea that he would rise again appears very plainly from
the circumstance that, only a few hours before he was
seized by his enemies, while he was observing the
Passover with his disciples, they disputed which should
take precedence in that splendid kingdom, whose es-

GRIEF OF THE DISCIPLES.

403

tablishment they so fondly expected. When at last he
was hung upon the Cross, when he had expired there,
they were overwhelmed by the terrible fact. In the
wretchedness of that one conviction — that he was dead,
dead, they felt that all was over. Their dearest hopes
were scattered to the winds.
Some have found it difficult to understand how it
was that the disciples did not recollect after the death
of their master, the assurances, which he gave them,
and which were very explicit, of his resurrection. To
my mind, the reason is obvious why his predictions
made no distinct impression on their minds, and re
tained no place in their memories. They believed him
to be the Messiah, that magnificent Prince. While he
was living, the idea of his dying as he actually did was
of all things the most shocking to their minds. They
must have rejected it with an instinctive horror. A
great deal of his language sounded enigmatical in their
ears, on account of their strong prejudices. And it is
highly probable that, when he spake of his death, they
supposed he was speaking figuratively, and that his
words had some other than their obvious meaning. Con
sequently their actual signification never fully entered
their minds, until they were wholly interpreted by his re
surrection and they saw him again alive. In the mean
while, the one overwhelming fact of his death absorbed
their attention, and render them incapable of reverting
to the past with any satisfaction.
It is interesting to remark that his predictions of his
death and resurrection appear always to have been
uttered upon those occasions when the earthly hopes of
his disciples must have been most strongly excited.
(See Matth. xvi. 21, Mark x. 32, and Luke ix. 43.) The
passage in Luke is particularly remarkable. " And
they were ali amazed at the mighty power of God.

404

THE BURIAL.

But while they wondered every one at all things which
Jesus did, he said unto his disciples, Let these sayings
sink down into your ears, for the Son of man shall be
delivered into the hands of men. But they understood
not this saying, and it was hid from them, that they
perceived it not ; and they feared to ask him of that
saying." Through no weakness did he ever lose sight of his
awful fate. While all around him were magnifying
him, filled with amazement at his extraordinary power,
the tumultuous feeling that heaved in all hearts shook
not him. Not for an instant was he blinded to his true
and fearful destiny.
We see here why it was that his personal disciples
failed to comprehend at the time what he meant, when
he spake of his sufferings and death. How strange
and inexplicable must his language have appeared to
those who were confidently expecting him to assume a
princely state and authority, and never more confi
dently than after he had wrought some mighty Work !
The utterance of such language under such circum
stances, even though it was not rightly understood at
the moment, was strikingly fitted to make an inefface
able impression on the minds of his disciples, and the
words of Jesus must have recurred to them afterwards,
when subsequent events began to interpret their mean
ing,, with a distinct, and overwhelming force.
The near approach of the Sabbath caused the burial
of Jesus to be brief and hurried. The Jewish Priests
and elders, holding him to be an impostor, and there
fore not having the same difficulty in understanding his
predictions, which his disciples had, recollected that he
had said he would rise again from the dead on the
third day. They caught eagerly at his prophecy, in

AT REST.

405

its literal sense, and trusted to disprove it. Accord
ingly they procured a guard of soldiers to be stationed
at the place where the body of Jesus was laid, and
thus they expected by the event to destroy his credit
for ever.
" In Joseph's tomb, how sweet is the sleep of Jesus !
There is nothing in that peaceful retreat to trouble
him. His pains were acute, but they overpowered him
at last — he was weary of his sufferings, and now he is
at rest. Now, there is no anguish in his countenance,
and there never will be more. How placid is that
slumber ! He feels no more the cruel scourge ; he has
forgotten the accursed tree. Ye Priests and rulers,
ye cannot wake him to renew your persecutions. Ter
ror has no more horrid spectacles to set before him.
Pain has no more darts to throw, and death's last blow
is struck. Peter, he thinks no more of thy denial;
even the infidelity of Judas disturbs him not. This
peaceful sleep is not for a moment interrupted by the
remembrance, either of insulting enemies, or forsaking
friends."

406

CHAPTER XIII

THE RESURRECTION.
" And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand
With Devastation in thy red right hand,
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew ;
But thou didst haste to meet
The Women's coming feet,
And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few." MlLMAN.
The account which I shall here insert, of the cir
cumstances which took place on the third day after the
death of Jesus, is, with considerable additions, the
same that originally appeared in < the Christian Ex
aminer, (Jan. 1834.) As some, Whose judgment I
respect greatly, were pleased to characterise it then as
more ingenious than true, I have been led to review it
more than once with particular care. The only con
sequence has been an increased conviction of the sub
stantial truth of the following explanation of this portion
of the History. The reader will perhaps think this re
sult natural enough. Still I may be allowed to say that
my respect for the opinion of those, who are unable to
assent to my representation of this memorable event,
is so great that, I cannot but think I should have relin
quished the peculiar views I have suggested, or at least
looked upon them with diminished interest, if they did
not rest upon grounds of no ordinary strength. I solicit
attention to one or two preliminary considerations.

THE RESURRECTION. 49*7
I will first, however, for the convenience of the
reader, insert here those portions of the four Gospels,
which relate to the subject.
Matth. xxviii. 1—11. " In the end of the Sabbath,
as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week,
came Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, to see
the sepulchre. And, behold, there was a great earth
quake ; for the angel of the Lord descended from
''Heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the
door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like light
ning, and his raiment white as snow : And for fear of
him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men.
And the angel answered and said unto the women,
Fear not ye ; for I know that ye seek Jesus, which
was crucified. He is not here ; for he is risen as he
said. Come see the place where the Lord lay. And
go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from
the dead : and, behold, he goeth before you into
Galilee; there shall ye see him : lo, I have told you.
And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with
fear and great joy ; and did run and bring his disciples
word. And as they went to tell his disciples, behold,
Jesus met them saying, All hail. And they came, and
held him by the feet and worshipped him. Then said
Jesus unto them, Be not afraid : go tell my brethren
that they go into Galilee, and there shall they see me.
Now when they were going, behold, some of the watch
came into the city, and showed unto the chief priests
all the things that were done."
Mark xvi. 1 — 8. " And when the Sabbath was past,
Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James and
Salome, had bought sweet spices, that they might come
and anoint him. And very early in the morning, the
first day of the week, they came unto the sepulchre, at

408 THE RESURRECTION.
the rising of the sun. And they said among themselves,
Who shall roll us away the stone from the door of the
sepulchre ? And when they looked, they saw that the
stone was rolled away : for it was very great. And
entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sit
ting on the right side clothed in a long white garment,
and they were affrighted. And he saith unto them, Be
not affrighted. Ye seek Jesus of Nazareth which was
crucified : he is risen : he is not here : behold the place
where they laid him. But go your way, tell his disci
ples and Peter, that he goeth before you into Galilee ;
there shall ye see him, as he said unto you. And they
went out quickly, and fled from the sepulchre; for they
trembled and were amazed: neither said they any
thing to any man ; for they were afraid."
Luke xxiv. 1 — 12. " Now upon the first day of the
week, very early in the morning, they came unto the
sepulchre, bringing the spices which they had prepared,
and certain others with them. And they found the
stone rolled away from the sepulchre. And they en
tered in and found not the body of the Lord Jesus.
And it came to pass as they were much perplexed
thereabout, behold two men stood by them, in shining
garments ; And as they were afraid, and, bowed down
their faces to the earth, they said unto them, why seek
ye the living among the dead 1 He is not here, but is
risen ; remember how he spake unto you, when he was
yet in Galilee, saying, the Son of man must be delivered
into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and the
third day rise again. And they remembered his words,
and returned from the sepulchre, and told all these
things unto the eleven and the rest. It was Mary
Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother of
James, and other women that were with them, who
told these things to the Apostles. And their words

THE RESURRECTION.

409

seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them
not. Then arose Peter and ran unto the sepulchre,
and stooping down, he beheld the linen clothes laid by
themselves, and departed, wondering in himself at that
which was come to pass."
John xx. 1—18. " The first day of the week cometh
Mary Magdalene early, when it was yet dark, unto the
sepulchre, and seeth the stone taken away from the
sepulchre. Then she runneth and cometh to Simon
Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and
saith unto them, They have taken away the Lord out
of the sepulchre, and we know not where they have
laid him. Peter therefore went forth, and that other
disciple, and came to the sepulchre. So they ran both
together : and the other disciple did outrun Peter, and
came first to the sepulchre. And he stooping down
saw the linen clothes lying ; yet went he not in. Then
cometh Simon Peter following him, and went into the
sepulchre, and seeth the linen clothes lie ; and the
napkin that was about his head, not lying with the
linen clothes, but wrapped together in a place by itself.
Then went in also that other disciple who came first to
the sepulchre, and he saw and believed. For as yet
they knew not the Scripture that he must rise from the
dead. Then the disciples went away again unto their
own home. But Mary stood without at the door of the
sepulchre, weeping : and as she wept, she stooped down
and looked into the sepulchre, and seeth two angels in
white, sitting the one at the head, and the other at the
feet, where the body of Jesus. had lain. And they say
unto her, woman, why weepest thou ? She saith unto
them, Because they have taken away my Lord, and I
know not where they have laid him. And when she
had thus said, she turned herself back and saw Jesus
standing, and knew not that it was Jesus. Jesus saith
52

410 PRELIMINARY
unto her, Woman, why weepest thou? whom seekest
thou? She, supposing him to be the gardener, saith
unto him, Sir, if thou have borne him hence, tell me
where thou hast laid him, and 1 will take him away.
Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and
said unto him, Rabboni ; which is to say, my master.
Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet
ascended to my Father, but go to my brethren and say
unto them, I ascend unto my Father and your Father,
and to my God and your God. Mary Magdalene came
and told the disciples that she had seen the Lord, and
that he had spoken these things unto her."
1. Presuming the reader has read over these pas
sages with care, I beg him to observe in the first place,
that they all state that the particulars related took
place very early in the morning, and that the last ac
count, the only one that purports to be the testimony
of one of the individuals personally present at the
sepulchre, (John) states that it was yet dark. Surely
this is a circumstance that should be allowed some
weight, even though the Witnesses were the keenest
observers. Add to this the circumstance that the light
in the sepulchre could not have been the strongest, as
it appears that they who went into it were compelled
to stoop. It must have descended more or less ab
ruptly into the earth.
2. It deserves serious attention that it was not Peter
nor John, nor any of the male friends of Jesus, but
women who saw angels at the tomb. Is the constitu
tional difference of the sexes— the peculiar sensibility
and imaginativeness of the female character, to be
wholly disregarded by a sincere seeker after truth ?
3. Not only were they women who reported the ap*
pearance of angels at the sepulchre, but women, of

REMARKS.

411

whom we are expressly told that they were startled and
hurried into a false conclusion the moment they per
ceived that the stone had been moved from the tomb,
and were afterwards so affected by affright and joy,
that they trembled and bowed their faces to the earth,
and were almost speechless with amazement.
4. It must not be overlooked that two of the histo
rians in the foregoing passages make no mention of
angels. Mark sayathat the women saw a young man
in a long white garment, and Luke says that they
saw two men in shining garments.
5. The above-mentioned circumstances affect the
accounts now to be examined, as mere human accounts.
A due regard to these circumstances is not at all in
consistent with a full acknowledgment of the moral
and intellectual competency of the persons concerned.
When, in accordance with the foregoing considerations,
I venture to doubt whether the women saw angels at
the sepulchre, I do not distrust their statement of
the testimony of their senses, but only the inferences
which, in the agitation of their minds, they drew
from that testimony. And this distrust, I maintain,
is dictated by the soundest principles of thought and
interpretation. I do not say that the women thought
they saw angels when they saw nothing, but that they
misapprehended what they saw, Most assuredly I treat
them with no disrespect. In the accounts of this very
scene, we are expressly told of two mistakes which
they made. When they saw the stone rolled away
from the sepulchre, they instantly, without the slightest
appearance of misgiving or doubt, caught at the idea
that the body of Jesus had been stolen away. This
mistake does not affect their testimony as to the fact
that the stone was removed. On the contrary, it is so
natural a mistake in the then state of their minds, that

412 THE ORDER OF EVENTS.
it goes to prove the reality of the fact of the removal
of the stone. Nothing else could have suggested it.
Again, Mary Magdalene saw Jesus and mistook him
for the gardener. In view of these things, is there not
room, in all candour and honesty, nay, are we not
bound by a sincere anxiety to ascertain the real state
of the case, to question the inferences which the wo
men drew from what they saw ?
6. The misapprehension into which I am led to be
lieve the women most naturally fell, not only does not
affect the reality of the one great fact, the re-appear
ance of Jesus alive after his death, it lays bare a mass
of the most powerful evidence in its favour. Nothing
accounts for the misapprehension but the actual pre
sence of Jesus, and this accounts for it in a way the
most natural and wholly undesigned. Thus Nature,
unconsciously working in the hearts and the imagina
tion of the women, becomes a witness to the truth, and
evidence of this kind produces a depth of conviction
which the concurrent testimony of a thousand express
assertors of the fact never could create.
Let us now, keeping the records before us, mark the
circumstances that occurred, and the order in which
they took place.
Matthew gives us to understand that, after the wo
men reached the sepulchre, " there was an earthquake,
and an angel, with a countenance like lightning, and
raiment white as snow, descended from Heaven, ; and
came, and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat
upon it." But all the other accounts state that, when
the women reached the tomb, the stone was already
rolled away. So that the story of the earthquake and
the descending angel with a countenance like light
ning and raiment white as snow, must have been told

REPORT OF THE GUARD. 413
by the soldiers stationed as a guard at the sepulchre,
who it is said were so terrified that " they shook and
became as dead men !"* There can be no reason why
we should not carefully sift the statement of these men,
particularly as it is said they were overpowered with
fear, a passion which more or less disturbs the power
of correct observation, and always disposes to exagge
ration. Whether they were understood, or whether
they meant to be understood as saying, that they saw
the angel descend visibly from Heaven, is by no means
certain. If they believed that they saw an angel, they
would naturally suppose that he came down from Hea
ven, and express themselves accordingly. It is worthy
of notice, that the earthquake is first mentioned, though
it appears to be represented as if produced by the
angel. The fact which most obviously and naturally
explains this story of the earthquake and the angel
seems to me to be this : Before it was light, and before
the women reached the sepulchre, and when there
were no persons at the spot but the guard, Jesus, re
stored to life, by the extraordinary power with which
he was gifted, rolled away the stone and came forth
from the sepulchre, clad. in the long white habiliments
of the grave. The motion of the stone which was
" very great," shook the earth, and, as there had been
an earthquake the day but one before, the idea of a
similar occurrence at once and naturally suggested
itself to the minds of the soldiers, who, notwithstanding
their violent and daring mode of life, were, as such
men frequently are, very susceptible of superstitious
fears, and likely to be panic-struck by a circumstance
in itself so startling. The sudden motion of the stone,
and the appearance of a figure clad in white, filled
* If the women were present when the stone was rolled away, the suspi
cion would scarcely have been entertained that the body had been removed.

414 REPORT OF THE GUARD.
them with a mortal dread, and they fled in haste and
affright to the city, reporting that an angel had de
scended from Heaven with a countenance like light
ning, and raiment white as snow ; that the earth had
shaken, and this supernatural messenger had moved
the stone from the mouth of the tomb and sat upon it.
If we take the report of the soldiers to the letter, then
we make no allowance for the strong tendency of fear
to exaggeration. That fear always magnifies its object,
is a fact as certain as any pertaining to the constitu
tion of man. And to attach no importance to this
disturbing influence in the present case, is as unphilo-
sophical as, in calculating the orbit of one of the hea
venly bodies, to make no account of the forces of the
other bodies which most nearly approach it.
It is interesting to observe how much the story told
by the soldiers proves when thus understood. It may
be asked, how do we know but that this whole account
of a guard stationed at the sepulchre is a mere fabri
cation, designed to make the resurrection of Jesus ap
pear more marvellous and true ? It is found in only
one of the four Histories. The others say nothing of
any soldiers at the tomb. In -reply I observe that the
very fact that only one of the histories makes any men
tion of the guard, shows that no great importance was
attached to their presence on the spot by the personal
followers of Jesus. The disciples, it is most probable,
knew nothing until after his resurrection about the
tomb's being watched.* And then the evidence they
had of the fact of his having risen was so full and satis
fying, that it was a small matter to them what the
guard said, or whether there was any guard at all at
the sepulchre. But this is not all. The very story
» The women certainly did not. Otherwise they could hardly have vis
ited the tomb with the object they had in view.

THE WOMEN AT THE SEPULCHRE. 415
which the soldiers told, bearing all the natural marks
of exaggeration, showing so undesignedly that it ema
nated from minds overpowered with terror, establishes,
in a manner unspeakably impressive, the fact that there
were persons there, human minds and human senses,
thus to be acted upon.
Immediately after the departure of the guard, some
women, friends and relatives of Jesus, approached the
sepulchre. They brought spices with them to embalm
the body. They came before the dawn of day, partly
perhaps to avoid observation, and partly, that no time
might be lost in the performance of the sacred offices
of humanity. As they drew near the spot, questioning
among themselves, whom they should procure to roll
away the stone from the entrance of the tomb, they
observed that it was already rolled away. Taking
alarm at this circumstance, they instantly and most
naturally surmised, having so recently witnessed the
relentless hatred of his enemies, and thinking of him
then only as the unresisting object of their bitterest
persecution, that the body of Jesus must have been re
moved from the place where his friends had laid it.
Without waiting to ascertain the correctness of the in
ference, Mary of Magdala rushed back to the city to
inform the disciples. John, who alone relates the cir
cumstance of Mary's immediate return to the city, does
not mention that any other woman accompanied her to
the tomb. Still, in the most incidental manner, it ap
pears even from his narrative, taken by itself, that
others had gone with her to the sepulchre. He tells
us that upon her arrival in the city, Mary said to Peter
and himself, " They have taken away the master out
of the sepulchre, and we know not where they have
laid him."
After Mary had left the place, the other women who

416 ' THE YOUNG MAN IN A LONG WHITE GARMENT.'
stood at the mouth of the sepulchre, full of surprise and
wondering what the removal of the stone could mean,
were unexpectedly accosted by what appeared to them,
as Mark says, ' a young man in a long white gar
ment,'' or, as Luke says,.' by two men in shining gar*
ments? or, according to Matthew, by the angel, ' with
raiment white as snow? that roHea* away the stone.
This person, as I suppose, was Jesus himself, just re
stored to life and still arrayed in the long white linen
in which his body was wrapt when it was taken from
the cross. In the dimness of the light, the long white
garment of this unknown person, " the fine linen," was
the most prominent circumstance. Accordingly we
find it mentioned in all the accounts. But Luke men
tions two persons clad in white. Were there two ? I
am aware that the mention of only one by Matthew
and Mark does not prove positively that there were not
two. As a general rule the omissions of one witness
do not negative the assertions of another. Still in the
case of such extraordinary appearances, the omission
is not so natural as if the facts related were of a more
common character. Besides, if there were two, al
though only one spoke, he would have spoken, or he
would have been reported to speak, in the plural. But
there is no use of the plural in what was said by this
unknown person as reported by either of the historians,
and Matthew represents the angel as using the first
person singular.* And further, the tendency of fear is
to magnify. So that on the whole, if we had no other
means of settling this difficulty, it is more natural that
two should be made out of one than that the contrary
* Although John omits to mention the women who accompanied Mary to
the tomb, yet he reports her as saying upon her retum to the city, " we know
not where they have laid him." Here is an instance illustrative of the above
remark.

'THE TWO MEN IN SHINING GARMENTS.' 417
should have been the case. But there is another cir
cumstance that throws light on this point. When Jesus
came to life, he must have thrown off the cloth that
was wrapt over his face, and it probably lay near the
place where his head had rested. When we recollect
how often, in a dim light, white objects have been con
verted into apparitions by the imagination, and how
our ideas of the costume of spirits are unconsciously
connected with the habiliments of the grave,*, is it dif
ficult to conceive that that part of the grave-clothes
which Jesus had put off from his head, lying by itself,
may have appeared to the highly excited imaginations
of some of the women, as another person ? Suddenly
addressed by a person in white, they were led in the
bewilderment of their minds, by the proximity of
another white appearance, to conclude there were two
persons present so clad. Let me repeat here, it is not
the senses of the women, whose evidence I am ques
tioning, but the inferences which, in the precipitation
of their terror, they drew from what they saw and
heard. From the circumstance that the person who
spoke to them knew them, and knew the object which
brought them to the place, they as naturally believed
that they were in the presence of supernatural beings.
How do the lights of truth and nature break upon
us as we proceed ! That we should ever have ques
tioned the inspiration of these histories ! They are
full of it to overflowing,— the divine inspiration of
Nature. Before Jesus addressed the women, he may have
discovered from their voices — from their exclamations
of surprise — that they were friends of his. Possibly
the sound of their approach had caused him to retire
* " AntiquissimK enim hoc apud ipsos est consuetudinis in vestimentis
aMs tumulo mortuos mandare." Vide Johann. Buxtorfii Synag. Jud. p. 700.
53

418 THE ADDRESS OF THE UNKNOWN PERSON.
into the tomb, from which he had issued a little while
before, to the terror of the soldiers. With that perfect
collectedness which marked his conduct even in mo
ments when all around him were excited, he does not
attempt to make himself known at a time when the
dimness of the light rendered it at least doubtful
whether the women would recognise him, when their
coming to the spot showed that they had no idea of
seeing him alive, and when, more than all, he does not
appear to have been prepared to disclose himself. He
speaks of himself in the third person, and seeks to allay
their alarm. " Be not afraid, ye seek Jesus of Naza
reth, who was crucified. He is risen, he is not here :*
behold the place where they laid him," that is, see, the
tomb is empty. " But, go your way. Tell his disci
ples and Peter, that he goeth before you into Galilee ;
there shall ye see him, as he said unto you." These
words are differently reported by the three historians.
The agitation of the women, which was so great that,
as we are told, "they bowed their faces to the earth,"
accounts for the variation. The introduction of the
name of Peter is touchingly characteristic; of Jesus,
and betrays the speaker. Peter had basely denied all
knowledge of his master, and well might he doubt,
when he should hear that Jesus had risen, whether he
would be forgiven an act, which he could bring himself
to forgive only at the price of a long and bitter re
pentance. Well might he fear that those eyes would
be coldly averted from him, the awful calmness of
whose glance, the last time they were turned upon him,
had sent into his soul the sharpest agony of remorse.
But this most generous friend hastened to assure his
* It may be objected that, if it had been Jesus speaking, he could not have
said with truth, " He is not here." The meaning of these words evidently
is, the dead body is not here, here in the tomb, as you expect to find it. But
it is not necessary to suppose that the precise words are reported.

PETER AND JOHN RUN TO THE TOMB. 419
unhappy disciple that the past was forgotten. The wo
men, having received this message, and believing they
had received it from an angel, returned with great
haste to the city. Let the language of the history be
remarked : " they trembled and were amazed, neither
said they any thing to any one : for they were afraid."
After their departure, Peter and John, to whom
Mary Magdalene had carried the intelligence of the
removal of the stone, or rather of the body, for so she
construed what she had seen, arrived at the sepulchre.
$efore they reached the spot, Jesus having found some
garments belonging, it has been conjectured, to the
gardener,* put off the linen clothes in which his body
had been wrapt, throwing off, as I have already said,
the cloth which was about his head, so that it lay near
where his head had lain, while the. remainder he left
at the foot of the place where his body had been de
posited. John, informs us that when he reached the
spot, which he did before Peter, he did not dare to go
in. A natural feeling of hesitation came over him, and
he waited for Peter, who, with characteristic ardour,
as soon as he reached the sepulchre, went boldly in.
John followed him. They saw no angel. But John
mentions with remarkable particularity how they found
the grave-clothes, — " the cloth that was about his head,
not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped together
in a-place by itself." This minuteness, although the
reason of it is not at once obvious, is very natural, and
strikes my mind with great force. These two disciples
* If it be considered a question of any interest or importance, how Jesus
obtained other and more appropriate clothes, more than one method of solving
the difficulty might be proposed. But perhaps it will suffice to remark that
the loose garments of the East were easily put on and off, and that there had
been a number of persons in the vicinity of the sepulchre, Joseph of Arimathea
with his attendants, and afterwards the Roman soldiers. So that it is easy to
conjecture how some garments may have been left there.

420 THEY FIND ONLY THE GRAVE-CLOTHES.
had run to the tomb under the impression communi
cated by Mary, that the body of Jesus had been re
moved. Full of this idea they were greatly surprised
at seeing the grave-clothes ; and it perplexed them to
understand why, if the body had been taken away, the
grave-clothes had not been taken also — why they
should have been left folded up with the appearance of
so much deliberation. It may be thought strange that
the recollection of their Master's prediction did not at
this moment flash upon them, and lead them to suspect
that he had risen. In the entire absence of any such
suspicion, I recognise the unequivocal working of na
ture. Peter and John were excited by surprise. Now,
every one knows that, when any strong feeling is
awakened and we are deeply moved, we are not only
incapable of calm and connected thought, but the most
obvious conclusions are generally the first to be over
looked ; and when our emotion subsides, we are accus
tomed to find nothing so wonderful as our own want of
thought and recollection. This was, I conceive, pre
cisely the case with the two disciples. The quick be
lief of Mary that the body had been removed, commu
nicated to them with every look and tone of certainty,
had full possession of their minds. This idea they ran
to the tomb to verify or to remove. They did not go to
see whether Jesus had risen, but to ascertain whether
the body was there. Intent upon this one point, in their
hurry, When they found that the body was indeed gone,
then, as John informs us, they " believed,"— not, cer
tainly, that Jesus had risen, but that what Mary had
said was true, that the body was gone. " For as yet
they knew not the scripture that he must rise from the
dead."* * The editors of the Improved Version, (following Newcome,) have intro
duced the negative in John xx. 8, "he saw, and believed not," in order to

MARY, ALONE AT THE TOMB. 421
After examining the sepulchre, Peter and John re
turned home, and left Mary standing near the sepul
chre weeping. We may suppose that Peter and John,
running very swiftly, reached the tomb before Mary,
and that when they came out, they said nothing to her
except to intimate that it was even so — that the body
had disappeared. Possibly they uttered not a word.
But she may have gathered from their looks and man
ner that they had found it as she had said. " And as she
wept," one of the accounts informs us, " she stooped
down and looked into the sepulchre, and seeth two
angels in white, sitting, the one at the head, and the
other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain.
And they say unto her ' Woman, why weepest thou V
She saith unto them, ' Because they have taken away
my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.' "
This passage is very curious, and I intreat the close
attention of the reader.
In the first place it is to be considered that the
sepulchre was dark in a degree, and that Mary's eyes
were dimmed with tears.
2. If what she saw were really angels, it deserves
.'notice that they served no purpose. They communi
cated no intelligence.
3. If, the moment she caught sight of them, they
spoke to her, it is somewhat strange and unnatural that
she should have answered them with so much collect-
edness. 4. On the other hand, if she had full and deliberate
accommodate the text to an interpretation which the slightest glance at the
ninth verse shows to be an improbable interpretation, to say the least. The
authority of Griesbach is in favour of the common reading. Even Gilbert
West, in his well-known " Observations on the History and Evidence of the
Resurrection, &c." refers the belief of John to the fact of the resurrection of
Jesus, and not to the report of Mary that the body had been removed. See
Watson's Tracts, vol. v. p. 320. Priestley also makes the same reference.

422 MARY'S ACCOUNT,
view of them, it is equally or more strange that she
should have answered them as she did, retaining the
impression that the body had been taken away, when
the supernatural vision before her was so powerfully
calculated to check her tears instantly, and to suggest
the idea that God and not man had visited the sepul
chre. Finally, it is remarkable that, as soon as she had
answered the question, she turned round and saw Jesus
standing near her, not knowing that it was he. Are we
too bold in suspecting that she mistook what she saw
in the sepulchre, a dark place comparatively, when,' at
almost the same moment, she mistook the familiar
countenance of one standing in the open air, and in the
morning light ? If she had seen angels in the tomb,
would she have turned away so readily ? Would she
not have been prepared to recognise Jesus ? Would
she have turned round immediately, forgetting the
angels apparently, still persisting in the idea that the
body of Jesus had been stolen, and said to him, in re
ply to his questions, ' Woman, why weepest thou, whom
seekest thou,' supposing him to be the gardener ! " Sir,
if thou have borne him hence, tell me where thou hast
laid him, and I will take him away." I do not suggest
these questions captiously, but with a desire, which no
apprehension of being misunderstood can repress, to
ascertain the truth.
From a careful consideration of these circumstances,
I arrive at the following view of the case. I suppose
that as Mary stood weeping by the sepulchre, she
stooped down and looked into it. Her attention was
immediately arrested by the white appearances— the
grave-clothes which lay there. I do not suppose that
she knew what it was she saw. As she believed that
the body had been taken away, she must have pre-

EXAMINED. 423
sumed, before she looked into the tomb, that the grave-
clothes were taken away also. I do not imagine that
she was alarmed, but only perplexed, somewhat sur
prised, as Peter and John had just been before. I
doubt whether she thought at the moment that she saw
angels, as the two disciples had just come out of the
tomb, and though their appearance may have indicated
concern and perplexity, they had shown no signs of
having seen any thing supernatural in the sepulchre.
Just as she looked into the tomb, and caught sight of
the white objects, a voice addressed her, producing a
slight bewilderment but hardly fear. Before she had
finished answering it, her ear caught the sound of some
one approaching behind her, and she immediately
turned round and saw Jesus, but did not at once recog
nise him. Not dreaming of seeing him alive, she did
not turn fully round at first* she merely glanced at the
person who spoke to her. Natural enough, too, is it to
suppose that, in telling the cause of her grief, in alluding
to her lost friend, her tears burst forth afresh, until she
was almost blinded with them. I suppose that the first
question, ' Woman, why weepest thou V which in the
history is attributed to the angels, was put by Jesus,
who, unobserved himself, had approached her and seen
her attitude of grief. It may be doubted whether at
the moment Mary supposed that the first question
came from the sepulchre. I presume that at first she
did not exactly know — scarcely thought from what
direction it came. Before she finished her reply she
heard some one near her. As soon as she turned round,
Jesus repeated the question, ' Woman, why weepest
thou?' adding, 'whom seekest thou?' This addition
* ' She did not turn fully round at first.' This appears from the circum
stance that shortly afterwards, when Jesus said unto her " ' Mary,' she turned
herself, and s"aid," &c.

424 ' RABBONI !'
countenances the conjecture that the question, which
Mary afterwards supposed came from the angels, was
in fact put by Jesus standing behind her, unobserved.
Nothing is more natural and common, when we have
addressed an interrogatory to another, and received
no direct reply, than to repeat it with additions in a
varied form.
When Jesus perceived that Mary did not know him,
he said unto her " Mary !" The tone of that voice
thrilled her whole frame. How simple and touching —
how true to nature and to the character of Jesus was
this mode of making himself known ! There is a divine
simplicity here which the heart feels, but the pen in
vain attempts to describe. How vividly does the scene
present itself before us ! We hear that beloved voice
uttering in a subdued, half-inquiring tone of tenderness
and solemnity, the simple name of Mary. We see her
countenance and whole frame suddenly convulsed by
the most powerful emotions of amazement, awe, and
delight. At one moment she shrinks back with up
lifted hands, and with eyes starting from their sockets,
and at the next falls clasping his knees and gasping
out the exclamation, " Rabboni !"*"
* See page 245. The remarks there made upon the retaining of the origi
nal in the case of two of the miracles, are applicable to the same feature of
the narrative here. The word ' Rabboni' is a common word, and the narrator
translates it immediately. But words are often untranslatable, less for the
want of terms significant of the same meaning in the language into whiqh
the translation is made, than from the absence of some strong but indefinable,
associations which give to the original a peculiar expressiveness. Hence it is
that poetry so seldom survives translation. The exclamation " Rabboni,!"
was the inspiration of the moment, the symbol which was seized by Nature,
working mightily in and through the deepest emotions of Mary, whereby-to
express itself. Thus this particular sound had to Mary herself and to those
who listened to her story a power of expression, which no other articulate
sound could convey. What volumes does this one word speak for the reality
of , the great fact, the appearance of Jesus alive, which produced such over
whelming emotion !

MARY HELD JESUS BY HIS FEET. 455
When Mary had recognised Jesus, he said unto her,
" Touch me not : for I am not yet ascended to my
Father : but go to my brethren and say unto them, I
ascend unto my Father and your Father, and to my
God and your God." These words are obscure. But
a natural explanation results from a reference to Mat
thew's account. Matthew says that Jesus appeared
first, as they were returning, to all the women who
visited the tomb. It is natural that such a mistake
should have arisen in the hurry with which these ex
citing events followed one another. Shortly after the
women had come into the city, saying they had seen
angels at the sepulchre, who said that Jesus had risen,
Mary came in saying she had seen Jesus himself. Now
as, in the first instance, all the women, Mary with the
rest, had gone out to the tomb, it is natural that the
story of the women should have been blended with that
of Mary, and that it should have been understood by
some, that all the women had seen Jesus. Matthew
tells us that when the women saw Jesus, they fell down
and held him by his feet. Now as it was Mary only
to whom Jesus appeared, it must have been Mary who
held him by his feet. He said unto her, therefore, in
effect, 'Detain me«not, do not stop now to embrace me,
for I do not yet ascend to my Father. You will have
other opportunities of seeing me; Go now to my bre
thren and tell them, &c.' When Mary told the disci
ples she had seen their master alive, as they were in-
f credulous, they intimated, in all probability, that it was
. ,an illusion of which she had been the subject, that she
had seen a spectre. She would naturally insist, in re
ply, that she had not only seen him, but that she had
touched him,— that she had held him by his feet, and
knew that it was real flesh and blood. Hence the
54

426 THIS PART OF THE HISTORY, NATURAL.
phrase in Matthew, ' and they held him by his feet.'
As upon this act of embracing the feet of Jesus much
stress must have been laid, as an evidence of the touch
to the reality of his appearance, it is possible that the
exact words addressed to Mary by Jesus may have
been altered, and he may have been made to say
" Touch me not," when he used a term nearly synony
mous but less obscure.
After Mary had seen Jesus, she returned to the city.
There she met the other women, and found that they
had seen what they considered as angels. Was it not
very natural then that she should instantly conclude
that the white objects, which she had seen in the se
pulchre, were the very angels who had been seen by
her friends, and had spoken to them ? The appear
ances which had startled her were now explained. And
when afterwards she related her part in the exciting
scenes of that eventful morning, she hesitated not to
say that she had seen the angels.
Throughout these portions of the New Testament
which we have now examined, there is the fine work
ing of Nature, free, true, and unsophisticated. But it
is not ostentatiously pointed out and displayed. The
writers of the histories seem utterly unconscious of it.
It is revealed wholly without design. The fact of the
re-appearance of Jesus alive is involved in this seam
less and living web of Nature, not woVen by hands, to
which it gives beauty and perfection, and in which it is
arrayed, so that this great fact of the Resurrection
comes before us clad in the graceful and imperishable
garb of Truth. In a word, the unconscious naturalr
ness of the states of mind disclosed in the participants
of these thrilling scenes, is revealed by the supposition

THE IDENTITY OF JESUS, PRESERVED. 427
of the unrecognised presence of Jesus, and this again
is in its turn corroborated by all the nature which it
reveals. At first view the four accounts of the resurrection of
Jesus appear to be altogether irregular, brief and frag
mentary. And so perhaps they are when tried by the
formal and narrow principles of human systems and
tribunals. When these historians are treated as wit
nesses in human courts sometimes are, subjected only
to such interrogatories as one and another may be dis
posed to put to serve some private cause — some par
tisan purpose — it must be confessed they make but a
poor appearance. Oftentimes they are but dumb wit
nesses, and again their answers appear vague, wander
ing, and aimless. But let them be questioned by a
simple love of truth, mingled with a wise reverence for
nature, and then they are transfigured, and truth and
nature recognise in them their own inspiration. And
these writings in the most important and interesting
sense are wonderful for the harmony and completeness
they, display.
Even if we had no knowledge of the precise circum
stances under which the first appearance of Jesus
after his resurrection took place, that he did. re-appear
after his death I could not doubt, not' merely because
so many instances of his presenting himself to his dis
ciples are expressly specified, but because, without any
.effort or design on the part of the historians, the- iden
tity of his character before and after his death is
so perfectly preserved. It is impossible that any one
could have fabricated a personage whose tone of senti
ment and expression should be in perfect accordance
with that wonderful being who had a little while before
expired on the Cross. No human art could have added

428 THE PURPOSE OF HIS RESURRECTION.
another chapter to that life. How characteristic in its
simplicity the manner in which he made himself known
to Mary ! We recognise him almost as readily as she
did. Again, how like Jesus those words addressed to
the incredulous disciple, " Thomas, because thou hast
seen me, thou hast believed : blessed are they that
have not seen, and yet have believed." Once more,
that thrice repeated question addressed to Peter,*
' Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me V how wonder
fully is it in keeping with the character of Jesus, and
with all that had gone before! How delicately, and
yet how powerfully was it fitted to induce Peter to
search his own soul, and abate something of that self-
confidence which had, on former occasions, been so
fatal to him. Besides, if Jesus had not re-appeared, I
am wholly at a loss to conceive how his history could
have escaped being buried with him. When he ex
pired on the Cross, there was not a man, not even of
his most intimate friends, who understood him.
Here, in its obvious necessity to give light and im
pulse to his followers, do I discover the principal object
of his resurrection. I am aware that the general belief
is that he rose from the dead to establish the doctrine
of the life beyond the grave. But it is not in this way
that Christ confirms my hope of immortality. I behold
in him, in all that he said and did, the exhibition of a
spiritual and immortal nature. If he had appeared in
an angel's garb, and with an angel's wings, I could not
have evidence that he belonged to another and impe
rishable world, so strong as that which presents .itself
not to my eye but to my soul — my consciousness — in
his moral lineaments. In his spiritual truth and great
ness I behold an unearthly halo, the living light of
Eternity ; and as I discern and feel that, I feel and know
* See John xxi. 15 — 19.

THE ASCENSION.

429

myself to be possessed of a like immortal nature. So
that it is not by the bare fact of his resurrection that I
am convinced of another and unending existence. His
resurrection, as it is a part and a prominent part of the
grand spiritual manifestation, has its office in revealing
the eternal world. But the primary purpose of his
rising from the dead, as he himself more than once
declared, was, like a sign from Heaven, to vindicate
his authority. His authority it did establish gloriously,
so far at least as his immediate followers were con
cerned. Although they continued to cherish the Jewish
hope of an outward kingdom, still his death and resur
rection wrought with them to induce them to postpone
that fond hope, and though they never appear to have
relinquished it altogether, yet it gave way in their
minds to the authority of him who had given such
glorious attestations of the divinity of his mission and
office. I do not intend to dwell upon his Ascension, because
there is no language in any one of the four Gospels,
that necessarily implies that he ascended visibly.
Matthew and John do not say a word about his final
disappearance. Mark says, " So then, after the Lord
had spoken unto them, he was received up into heaven,
and sat on the right hand, of God." We might with as
much reason infer from this language that they saw
him seated on the right hand of God as that they saw
him received up into Heaven. When he bade them fare
well, they concluded of course that he had gone to
Heaven, and that he was placed atHhe right hand of
the Eternal throne, and they express themselves agree
ably to this impression. And so Luke says, " And it
came to pass while he blessed them, he was parted
from them and carried up into Heaven." That he

430 CLOSE OF THE HISTORY, NATURAL.
was separated from them is clear. They would so
naturally conclude that he was carried up to Heaven,
that we cannot determine from this language whether
they mean to say that they saw him carried up, or
whether it was only their inference. I can only say
that I am deeply struck with the silence of these ac
counts as to the mode in which Jesus came and went
on the various occasions on which he presented himself
to his disciples. That he did appear again and again
to different individuals, and to large numbers, they
fearlessly declare. They are not deterred from stating
the fact of his appearance at different times by any ap
prehension of the doubts that might be stated as to the
manner in which he appeared and disappeared. If they
were conscious of any difficulty on this point, they still
do not hesitate to say that he did appear. But I ima
gine they were unconscious of difficulty. After the
death of a friend, in the first agony of our loss, how
fondly do we pray that he would only come back once
more, were it but for a moment, that we might look on
him and hear him speak, or exchange a mute farewell !
Could so much be granted us, we feel ready to suspend
all curiosity, to keep down within eVery question con
cerning the mode in which he might come and go. So
was it with the disciples. When their master was pre
sent, they were too much filled with awe, too trem
blingly impressed, too anxious to catch every word that
fell from his lips, to speculate about the way in which
he came and went. There is to my mind a sublimity
in the darkness which wraps the close of this history,
analogous to what we perceive in the ways of Pro
vidence and Nature.

431

CHAPTER XIV.

CONCLUSION.

" If thou ask to what height man has carried it in this matter, look on our
divinest symbol ; on Jesus of Nazareth, and his life, and his biography, and
what followed therefrom. Higher has the human thought not yet reached.
This is Christianity and Christendom ; a symbol of quite perennial, infinite
character ; whose significance will ever demand to be anew inquired into,
and anew made manifest." Carlyle.

In works upon the Evidences of Christianity, the
question commonly discussed concerning the four Gos
pels is, ' Were they written by the persons whose
names they bear ?' as if the settlement of this point
were the strongest possible confirmation of our faith.
But, I confess, all that I can learn of Matthew, Mark,
Luke, and John, does not give me so lively a confidence
in the authors of these histories as is created in me by
the histories themselves. To say merely that they
are honest and impartial, appears to me most inade
quate praise. By studying them in the manner which
I have now attempted, I find my conceptions of the
honest, the true, the candid, enlarged and enlightened.
The character of Jesus is not more truly a revelation
of moral greatness than these wonderful writings are,
in their style and structure, of the quality of truth.
That this is strong language I am aware ; and per
haps there is little in the foregoing pages that seems to

432 CHARACTER OF THE EVENTS RELATED.
justify it. Still I do not wholly despair of having given
the candid and intelligent reader some idea of the
grounds upon which rests the conviction I have already
expressed, that no where in the writings of the dead,
or in the characters of the living, do I discern evi
dences of integrity and singleness of mind so luminous
and affecting, as those presented in the four Gospels.
I beg the reader to pause for one moment, and con
sider the character of the events which constitute the
sum and substance of these narratives. How tremen
dously exciting must they have been ! The blind see
ing, the lame walking, the dead raised, the wretched
and the profligate collected in crowds, listening to
words of mercy and hope, multitudes thronging the
highways bringing their sick, and pressing upon one
another like the^ billows, of a heaving sea ! If Jesus of
Nazareth spoke and acted and suffered as he is here
represented, how must the minds of men have boiled
around him ! How closely and with what power must
he have approached their passions, prejudices, senti
ments ! How must he, as with a giant's hand, have
broken up all the fountains of wonder and fear and awe
and hope, and made all hearts overflow with one or
another passion !
Could you have been present, and, by some strong
philosophic effort, could you have torn off your atten
tion from the absorbing interest of those scenes, and
asked yourself the simple question, how can any idea
of these things ever be communicated to those who do
not see them, you would have exclaimed at once and
aloud, ' It is impossible !' You might have glanced
around upon those eager multitudes, but where would
you have discovered a single calm observer ? Where
would you have seen a single eye that was not like a

CHARACTER OF THE EVENTS RELATED. 433
burning coal, a single bosom that was not heaving in
tumultuous and overpowering sympathy with the un
precedented spectacle ? You would indeed have seen
One there, all calm and collected, the producer of all
this emotion ; but the dovelike serenity of his demea
nour would only have tended to deepen in your eyes
the mystery and excitement of the scene. ' I repeat it
you would have felt that it was impossible that any
accounts could ever be given of events so exciting, save
such as were wretchedly inadequate, or so coloured
and exaggerated as to convey no just conception of the
truth. When we witness any thing that stirs up our
feelings — any uncommon burst of eloquence for in
stance — we either give up in despair every attempt to
describe what we have witnessed, or, in the attempt to
describe it, the reality is most sadly marred and
dwarfed, and we take that single step which separates
the sublime from the ridiculous.
Look now at the accounts which have come down
to us of the wonderful words, works, and sufferings, of
that unrivalled being who appeared some ages since in
Judea. ,. Perhaps they give us but a faint idea of the
strange and stirring events of which they treat, and
with all our efforts^ our impressions, in distinctness and
intensity, must fall far, very far short of those which
were made upon the actual witnesses of the life of
Jesus. The power of language was not equal to so
great a subject. Still from these records, such asthey
are, we derive ideas.of moral beauty and greatness, to
which no page in the world's history furnishes any
thing that we can compare. An instance of moral life
is disclosed to us which stands ralone and unapproached
in its wholeness and symmetry. At the same time,
abundant evidence is afforded in the course of these
narratives that all around Jesus were more or less the
55

434 THE CHARACTER OF JESUS
creatures of feeling, ignorance, and prejudice, fettered
by superstition, beguiled by coarse hope^ and dreams
of outward splendour. And as they were men, how
must they have been overpowered, bereft of all pre-*
sence of mind by the very wonders they witnessed !
Who were they, — our curiosity is immediately aroused
to ask, who were they that, among those excitable and
excited crowds, were able to observe so calmly, and
report so correctly; to look on and listen with eyes
and ears and hearts so true, that, with a slight effort,
we are able, in some few instances at least, to feel
almost as if we were present on the spot, and the
things related were passing visibly before us ? To this
question there is only one answer. ¦' The character of
Jesus must have created his biographers. Whbever
they were, whatever their names, they must have
been persons who by intimate association with him had
imbibed some measure of his spirit, and that spfrit,
calm and true, had wrought upon their minds, to sub
due the tumults of feeling, to chasten their imagina
tions, to subordinate their sensibility to the Wonderful
to their sensibility to the True, in fine; to qualify them
to hear and see aright, and to impart what they saw
and heard./ Upon examination we find, throughout
these writings, the most touching indications of pre- "-
cisely that calm and elevated tone of mind and feeling '
which association with such a one as Jesus was fitted
to produce. In their unguardedness, in their unsus
pecting simplicity, in their pervading unconsciousness,
we see that these authors had completely lost them
selves, lost all anxiety about effect, every disposition to
embellish, in the abiding and absorbing sense of trutfy
The facts — facts pf which they had such full know
ledge, — filled their minds to the exclusion of all self-
reference, all fears and misgivings. They tell right on

CREATED HIS BIOGRAPHERS. 435
what they know, taking no credit to themselves, and
unconscious that there can be any thing meritorious in
a faithful .relation pf what so entirely possesses their
minds. To the authors pf the Gospels, so far as they
are disclosed in their writings, may be applied the lan
guage of Wordsworth in his Ode to Duty. /
" There are, who ask not if thine eye
Be on them, who in love and truth
' Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth ;
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot,
Who do thy work and know it not,"
Not indeed "upon the genial sense of youth" did the
Evangelists rely; but upon a kindred spirit. Between
him and the young, of whom he said, " of such is the
kingdom of heaven," there was the greatest conge
niality* His spirit had gradually infused itself into the
mind of these writers, until it became as their life-
blood, unconsciously animating all their thoughts,
inspiring their words, and producing in them the sim
plicity, the "unchartered freedom" of childhood. It
cost them no effort to tell the truth. They could as
well have ceased to breathe, as ceased to tell it, let the
objections and difficulties it created be what they
*mjght. Their reverence fpi* Jesus was so great, their
confidence in him so entire, that they never appear to
have thought that the most imperfect representation of
any part of his conduct was not enough — that he could
ever need to he indebted to their pens to save him
from being misunderstood. With the poet just quoted,
they seem to have thought that their theme
"  might demand a seraph's tongue,
Were it not equal tp its own support ;
And therefore no incompetence of theirs
Could do it wrong."* '
* The Excursion. Book 8.

436 THE MISTAKES IN THE GOSPELS,
Accordingly they never think of explaining or setting
off any thing they relate concerning him. Thus they
show how genuine was their love of their master. This
love it was which was their "unerring light," their se
curity against every false bias, enabling them to see
what they saw so nearly at the true point of View*#iln
a word, the great subject of their narratives is treated
by them in the same way in which he himself treated
truth, " with an unconcern truly sublime.''
That these writers could not have invented the ex
traordinary character which they have portrayed is, I
trust, abundantly clear from the whole^ structure of
their narratives, wrought all over and inlaid With the
characteristics not of fiction but of truth, and especially
from the unconscious manner in which the character
pf Christ is described; The ability, if it existed, to
produce so remarkable an invention, necessarily .in
volves qualities of mind and heart, a fine sense of moral
truth, utterly inconsistent with the delusion or fraud
which such a fabrication would imply. But the ability
did not exist. True and single-hearted as the authors
of these biographies of Jesus show themselves to have
been, still on more than one occasion it appears that
there was a spirituality in his sentiments, a meaning in
his wprds, which none of those around him, not even
the best disposed, were able to fathom. But further.
While it is impossible to conceive how t'nesbiographers
could have created such a character; it is easy to see
how such a character produced the biographers. So
far from supposing that they fabricated what they have
. told, the question is, how with their Jewish prejudices,
with their human sensibilities, rendering them liable to
be bewildered, carried away, and deluded by their feel
ings, they were able to attain to such a pervading truth
fulness, and to represent Jesus, so nearly as they have

OCCASIONED BY THE TRUTH. 437
done, to the life. That they have committed some
errors and mistakes, I do not deny— I believe. That
these are so few is the wonder. That there is so much
truth in these narratives, so simply and truly exhibited
— 4his it is that should surprise us, and for which we
should seek a cause. The influence of Jesus at once
adequately and naturally explains the character of
these writings; and shows us how their authors be
came the honest, fearless, single-hearted men they have
shown themselves to be. Where else but from him
could they have derived the spirit that they breathe ?
In this way these histories are, in the truth of their
structure, a tribute, none the less expressive because
wholly undesigned, to the force of that remarkable
character with which they bring us acquainted. In
their.general tone and spirit they are as truly an illus
tration, not merely of the existence but of the moral in
fluence of Jesus, as any of the particular facts which
they contain.
I admit that there" are errors and mistakes in the
Gospels. -, This, I suppbse, will be deemed a dangerous
admission. But let me not be misunderstood — I will
not say, misrepresented, for I love to believe that these
pages " will come under the perusal of ingenuous eyes,
id be felt a little by the hearts that look out of them."
jet me not be misunderstood; I say there are mis
takes" in the Gospels. But they are precisely such mis
takes as were pccasioned by the truth. Where there
are misconceptions there must be something, some
reality, some fact, to be misconceived. Error implies
Truth as the shadow implies the substance. Such at
least is the character of the mistakes which we discover
in these writings. They result from the substantial
truth of the main facts recorded, and they are unde
signedly the most decisive evidences of the truth. For

438 CHRISTIANITY, EMBODIED
instance, these accounts differ as to the hour at which
the Crucifixion of Jesus took place. Mark states that
Jesus was crucified at the third hour. According to
John, he was not given up by Pilate until about the
sixth hour. Now admitting, as I conceive we must,
notwithstanding the attempts which have been made to
reconcile this difference, that one or the other of the
narrators is in error, what does the error show ? Not
that Jesus was not crucified at all, — it goes to estab
lish the fact by new and most natural evidence. The
existence of the error discloses precisely such a state
of mind, such an inability to note the lapse of time, as
must have been produced in those nearly interested in
an event so exciting. So also in the case of the resur
rection of Jesus, the mistakes made by the women at
the sepulchre furnish evidence undesigned and unan
swerable to the reality of the main fact, the actual
presence ^)f Jesus alive. This it was that produced
the mistakes, and produced them in a perfectly natural
way. In short I conceive it may be confidently affirmed,
that no error can be detected in these narratives which
does not tend directly and decisively to establish far
more than it does away.
The books which we have now been examining are
invaluable for the saving knowledge which they give us
of Jesus Christ, of whose life they are the record, and
of whose spirit they are an unconscious illustration. In
him I see a revelation of religious truth, and conse*
quently a disclosure of the will of God, a representation
of the perfection and destiny of man. When we see
Jesus Christ as he is, we have come to the knowledge
, and possession of Christianity. He shows us what God
is and what He would have us to be. In the spiritual
and immortal lineaments of Jesus, we discover our own

IN THE LIFE OF CHRIST.

439

immortality, and in sympathy with him we come to feel
and know ourselves to be immortal. To estimate him
is to grow in Christian knowledge, and to become wor
thy of the Christian name.
It is a character of no ordinary force which has for
eighteen hundred years commanded the respect of the
world. Christianity, in the forms in which it has been
for ages extensively represented, has shown but few
features of a heavenly origin. It has been set forth
before the world as a religion identified with a most
magnificent and complicated structure of outward ce
remonies. Its sanction has been claimed for the exer
cise of a power, which knew hardly any limit, over
national affairs and the rights of private opinion. At
one time it was promulgated by bishops clad in mail
and demanding faith at the point of the sword. And
in all periods of its history, the appeal for its security
and, its triumphs has been directly made to the civil
arm, or to those prejudices and passions which for ever
war against human liberty. Under the banner of the
Cross, that symbol of the divine power of an unresist
ing spirit, acts of the bloodiest violence have been per
petrated, the most merciless persecutions carried on.
Opinions concerning God and man have been pub
lished under the name of Christianity, contradicting
not only the first dictates of the understanding, but
every natural sentiment of justice and mercy ; and the
terrors of this world and the next have been threatened
upon the faintest whisper of dissent. In fine, that which
has been called Christianity, instead of taking its place
in the van of human interests, has been found opposing
the progress of our race by all the weapons which
ignorance and passion could supply. Not by one only,
but by all denominations of its friends, has our Religion

440 THE SUCCESSORS OF CHRIST,
been made to occupy more or less decisively this po
sition. When these things are considered, the question
arises ' how comes it — by what means — by what prin
ciple of vitality— has Christianity maintained itself for
long ages in the world ? Forced, through the unwise
zeal of its friends, to ally itself with the worldly inte
rests and passions of men, taking so little pains to ad
dress the better principles of our nature, — how is it
that amidst all vicissitudes and the various and in
creasing lights of civilization, it has not long ago been
shaken to its foundations, levelled with the dust, and
swept a.way with the fragments of many preceding and
contemporaneous empires V I find the principal answer
to this inquiry in the person of its Founder, in the sim
ple force of his character.
It was this which wrought the most powerfully for
Christianity at its first introduction, when it came, un
armed with any worldly power, to rebuke the passions
of the selfish, and dissipate the darkness which men
loved. The great spring of action in the hearts of the
first promulgators of our religion was the sentiment
of ardent affection and reverence with which Jesus
Christ inspired them. The love of Christ constrained
thenar?' It was for his sake that they accounted it joy
and triumph to toil and suffer, and with the kindling
idea of him were blended their best hopes and aims.
And this it was1, by the way, which constituted the
wide^ difference between him and them, and which
makes his fortitude so much more wonderful than
theirs. He had no human precedent to which he could
look, and from which he might draw strength and ani
mation. No one had gone before him by whose memory
his human sympathies might be encouraged, and whose

INSPIRED BY AFFECTION FOR HIM. 44I
example might cheer him onward. Only the highest
source of Inspiration was open to him— the simple
thought of God, and to appreciate this so that it might
stand in the place of all other supports, an elevation
of mind was necessary of which we can but faintly con
ceive. His successors on the contrary were aided by
all those human affections which found an all-animating
object in him, and the devoted love which he awakened
was their efficient motive to do and endure.
It may be asked whether those, who were active in
the first establishment of his religion, were not moved
by those great moral principles which he taught. Un
doubtedly they were. But then it was these principles,
not merely, nor chiefly, as they were presented in words
to their understandings', but as they were far more
divinely expressed in his character to their hearts.
Truth, not abstractly, but as it filled and transfigured
his whole being — this it was that kindled in them a
noble zeal, "the light of the knowledge of the glory of
God in the face of Jesus Christ." What words could
convey to them such a sentiment of love as was ex
pressed in his Cross !
Or again it may be intimated that it was the mira
cles he wrought, that operated so powerfully in con
vincing and urging onward his followers. It is true his
works of power did much ; they filled an important
and indispensable place in producing that state of feel
ing in his disciples, requisite to qualify them to carry
on what he had begun. But then the main power of
his miracles lies not in their mere power, but in their
relation to his character, which they help far more
strikingly than any thing else to glorify. What a depth
of tenderness is laid open, how touching his meekness,
what a new lustre is added to all the virtues he exem
plified, when we consider them as the virtues of one
56

#

442 HIS LIFE-
endowed with more than regal gifts ; with powers ex
ceeding all that Fortune or Genius has ever bestowed
on man ! Look at the case whichever way you will,
the result is the same. It was by the force of his
character that the apostles were swayed.
And so it has been and must be always. No cause,
religious or political, good or bad, has ever gained a
foothold in the world, except by the impulse of a lead
ing mind, the energy of some prominent -character,
some one individual, who has been to its adherents the
embodiment of the object at which they have aimed*
Individuals of this description have so often and so
mournfully abused their influence to selfish purposes,
they have been so ready to take advantage of the idola
trous attachment of their fellow-men, that it has failed
to be seen how deeply this mode of influence is founded
in the nature of man. Thus the maxim has gone forth
— " principles, not. men," a sound maxim, but only in a
qualified sense. The truth is, principles at best are but
imperfectly set forth in a verbal form. Language is
an artificial sign and an inadequate one. It may meet
and satisfy the understanding and answer , important
purposes, but it reaches the great springs of human
action only indirectly and by aid of association. The
conduct, the life of a human being is the true, natural,
divine symbol whereby great truths are made to kindle
our strongest affections. So that in the very nature of
things, men, living men are required to express in their
lives to other men, the great purposes with reference
to which they are to be moved.'/
I make these remarks to show that the stamp of
divinity is as visible upon the mode in which Chris
tianity has been communicated to man, as upon its sub
stance. The great truths, the paternal providence of
God and another life, have been acknowledged to be

THE WORD OF GOD. 443
great and important, worthy of God to teach. But the
manner in which they have been revealed has not been
recognised, as equally worthy of the Deity. ' Why,' it
has often been asked, ' why were not these truths writ
ten out upon the firmament, so that all men might read
without the possibility of mistake, or proclaimed, as by
an archangel's trump, so that the whole world might
hear ?' Alas ! there is much written from of old in
unfading characters all over the sky, the earth and the
sea. There are myriads of voices sounding on from
eternity to eternity through all the heights and depths
of the universe, — but where is the seeing eye, the hear
ing ear ? Such methods of revelation as above pro
posed are mere human devices. The mode actually
adopted in the Christian dispensation harmonizes per
fectly with the deepest principles of human nature, and
displays the same wisdom by which that nature was
fashioned. Man has been addressed through man.
One has been raised up to communicate the life of
truth through his own life, to point men not into space
but into their own souls, there to read the will and be
hold the countenance and discern the spirit of God. In
his spiritual features beams the glory of God. The cha
racter of Christ is the Rock of Christian faith, the high
tower which cannot be hid by the thickest clouds which
steam up from the ignorance and corruption of earth,
and which assures us that the city of God is there, the
dwelling-place of unchanging Truth.
As it was from the character of its Founder that
Christianity received its first impulse, so by the same
force has it been sustained under the crushing weight
of the corruptions by which its brightness has been
darkened and its beauty deformed, and from the enor
mity of these corruptions we may form some idea of

444 THE SOUL OF HIS RELIGION.
the force by which they have been resisted. This has
been its shield amidst the deep wounds which it has
received in the house of its friends. The common im
pression is, that1 it owes the influence it has retained,
amidst the errors of its adherents, to its great moral
principles. True. But, to repeat what 1 have said,
these principles in an abstract, verbal form, separated
from the life of him by whom they were; promulgated,
lose nearly all their peculiar power. A moral system
of almost equal excellence might be gathered from the
records of ancient wisdom. Gibbon has remarked in
one of his notes thai he finds the great social law of
Christian love stated in the plainest terms by a writer
who flourished ages before Christ. Take from Chris
tianity the original exposition of truth which it presents
in its Founder, suppose it to have been first taught by
one whose life gave no significance to his words, and
it is evident at once hpw much it must lose. On the
contrary, we might erase from the Christian Records
every general precept, yet so long as the acts and suf
ferings of Jesus were remembered, they would retain
an all^commanding influence. The superiority of ac
tions to words has passed into a proverb. But where
is it so strikingly shown as in the Religion of Jesus
Christ ? His precepts recommend themselves to our
reason; but the application we allow. them is narrow
or comprehensive according as we appreciate him.
We understand them no further than we understand
him. When men, outraged by its corruptions, have
been disposed to abjure Christianity altogether, the
pure and generous character of its author, dimly dis
cerned indeed^but yet seen in something of its truth,
has commanded their respect and prevented them from
rejecting a religion promulgated by lips so pure and

SAVING FAITH. 445
eloquent. The greatest sceptics have confessed that
'the character of Christ is too great and too natural not
to be a reality.
When we turn from the past to the present and the
future, and inquire by what means the improvement of
mankind individually and collectively is to be most
effectually promoted, we find in the character of Christ
untold resources of wealth and power. " Political re
form, pressingly enough wanted, can indeed root out
the weeds; but it leaves the ground empty, ready
either for noble fruits, or new worse tares ! And how
else is a moral reform to be looked for but in this way,
that more and more good men are, by a bountiful
Providence, sent hither to disseminate Goodness ; lite
rally to sow it, as in seeds shaken abroad by the living
tree ? For such in all ages and places is the nature of
a good man ; he is ever a mystic, creative centre of
goodness ; his influence, if we consider it, is not to be
measured ; for his works do not die, but being of eter
nity, are eternal ; and in new transformation and ever
wider diffusion, endure, living and life-giving." Then
let him whose character is acknowledged to be the
best and purest ever exhibited on earth — let him live in
the faith and imagination of men. To ascertain our
destiny — to know the hidden aim of our being, we need
not gaze into the sky, or pry fruitlessly into Futurity.
The end of life is revealed in Jesus Christ. He is the
model whereby- all men may fashion themselves.
When he appears, not personally but morally, not to
the outward eye, but to the inward sense, we shall be
come like him for we shall see him as he is.
When the character of Christ is felt, then exists that
principle of action denominated in the Scriptures, faith,
—the faith that saves the soul. Then will the destiny
of man be realized. He who contemplates Jesus Christ,

446 IN THE LOVE OF CHRIST
as he is presented in the brief and simple sketches of
his life, as a pattern of disinterestedness, self-command,
and piety, before whose imagination and affections that
wonderful being stands distinctly revealed, such a one
must feel the force of the character of Christ. He be
holds a being, the greatest that ever trod this earth,
not merely fpr the extraordinary powers he possessed,
but for the uniform humility, the touching self-forget-
' fulness, with which he bore his great gifts; one who
disregarded all the seductions of ambition and power,
in whom the hosannas of multitudes never excited one
throb of vain glory, whose tenderness, overflowing. all
artificial distinctions, poured a tide of mercy into the
hearts of the degraded and miserable; one who suf
fered fatigue and hunger and thirst, and contumely and
violence, that he might comfort, correct, and bless our
race ; out of whose heart, in the very, agonies of death,
broke words of affection for his mother, and prayers for
those who tortured him. Such was the man of Naza
reth. But how vain, are words to describe his original
excellence ! Could we bnly bring up before our minds,
the spotless and venerable idea of him ; could our cold
and sluggish imaginations only picture him in his youth,
in 'the serenity of that blessed countenance, in that at
titude of unspeakable love, yearning to gather the
whole family of the suffering and afflicted, even as a
bird gathereth her young under her wings ; — could the
eye of the soul be so cleansed as to see him as he was,
then we should not need to be told of the power of his
character. In the reverence, gratitude, and love which
would overflow our minds, gushing up from a thousand
hidden springs, we should have a present proof of liis
moral force, of his power to sweep away from the heart
all the false idols and temples we erect there, and to
cover it with the unfading verdure and the immortal

IS SALVATION. 447
fruits of true and evergrowing goodness. If we have
ever been in any degree impressed with the wisdom
and excellence of Jesus, by the emotions we have some
times felt, let us pause and consider what a transforma
tion must be wrought in him, who discerns this illustrious
being not partially and by glimpses transient and far
bjfetween, but who cherishes his pure idea in the inner
most recesses of his mind, amidst his best sensibilities,
studying all the beautiful details of his life with an
ever-present conviction of reality, learning to conform
all his ideas of greatness to him as an unerring stand
ard ! Must not a mind, thus occupied, be strong in the
goodness which it loves ? And if strong in goodness,
then saved, yes, saved- — O, how truly saved ! being de
livered from all corrupting passions, from all those false
prepossessions, to which those who live in the world
without a pure object to look at and to love, are ever
so exposed,— being redeemed from all iniquity, and in
spired with an affection for all that is holy in imagina-
tion,_upright and benevolent in act.
If a great and good vman were now to appear, such
as this age, and many preceding ages, had not produced
nor approached, a great public benefactor, an example
of every private virtue, and it were our privilege to be
associated with him daily, intimately, by the respect
and love he would inspire, would not every generous
and virtuous sentiment be called into action ? Would
not our cheeks be crimsoned with shame at the bare
thought of doing any thing abhorrent to the nature of
our revered friend ? Could any thing act upon us so
powerfully as such a fellowship with living virtue ? Of
precisely this nature is the force of the character of
Christ, and this is the way in which he who believes in
Christ attains to that blessedness, which the Scriptures
describe as the presence of God, Heaven, Salvation.

448 HE ANIMATES
To live in a Christian land, among Christian institu
tions ; to profess the Christian faith in one or another
form,— this is not faith in Christ, although thousands
hugfthe delusion. It is to have the sacred image of
his excellence set up at the very fountain-head of one's
spiritual being,— this is faith, living, Christian, saving
faith. He who cherishes it will, aye, he mUst be saved.
The decree is writ in the very constitution of the soul.
The world has suffered from nothing so much as
from false ideas of greatness! The passion for military
glory has been the fruitful cause of slavery, bloodshed,
and crime. How little has the experience of its fatal
results hitherto done to teach men wisdom ! How is
this deadly charm ever to be broken, save by the for
mation of a nobler idea, the creation of a better taste,
the erection of the true standard ?•. In Jesus Christ,
the real greatness of our nature — the glory of a pacific,
all-enduring temper — is revealed. Let him then be
lifted up before all eyes, and all hearts will be touched,
and the sword and the spear and the banner bathed in
blood will be buried at the foot of the cross, and it will
be felt that all other courage is fear, all other glory
shame, in comparison with that spirit which subdues by
mercy and reigns by suffering.
Once more. There is a wide and mournful need of
confidence in the omnipotence of moral truth. This it
is that the wise in all ages have most seriously wanted.
They have had, as it has been said of a certain poli
tical party, " more of the wisdom of experience than
the wisdom of hope," and they have " looked for their
Future — only in the direction of the Past." Look at
the wise and the educated and the thinking at the pre
sent day. How faint and sickly are their hopes of the
moral improvement of our race ! Things are deemed
impossible, for the instant accomplishment of which

THE HOPES OF HUMANITY. 449
only that simple energy of will is required, which a
sure faith in the vitality of moral truth would imme
diately create. In these circumstances how unspeaka
bly precious, (could it only be brought home to the
heart !) the memory of one in whom no trait is more
conspicuous than a calm and unfaltering confidence in
truth, and this too in a condition of things apparently
the darkest and most hopeless ! Without a single de
cisive token of success, he uniformly looked upon the
great revolution he commenced, as already consum
mated. In no respect is his example more original and
inspiring. In nothing does he stand so pre-eminently
alone, far above all other teachers, as in his perfect
faith in human nature. He scattered fearlessly abroad
the seeds of truth, and trusted in God that they would
germinate and grow. Whereas all other teachers have
divided their doctrines into esoteric and exoteric —
philosophy for the initiated, and fables for the vulgar.
And at the present day, how frequently is it said in
regard to any new and more rational tiew of religion
' It is all very true. I understand and believe it. But
it will not do to disseminate such views. The gene
rality of men cannot appreciate them.' I say nothing
of the modesty of this sentiment. It reveals the very
worst kind of infidelity, and our sabbaths, our churches,
and all our multitudinous institutions of Religion are
but a dead and delusive show, so long as man believes
not in man. Jesus Christ went down directly among
the most ignorant and degraded, and well did he de
scribe it as the most decisive attestation to his divine
authority, that he delivered the glad messages of Truth
" to the Poor."
But I have done. To bring the man of Nazareth,
the elder brother of our race, the chosen son of God,
57

450 CONCLUSION.
the'Revealer of God and man, more within the reach.
of human sympathies ; to show that such, in the un
speakable grace of God, are the Records of his life,
that the remotest generation may cherish, not merely
a traditional, but a personal faith in him ; that in the
very form and structure of the Gospels there are the
means by which every man may be brought into per
sonal intimacy with him, beholding him, as it were,
face to face, is the ultimate aim of the present work ;
and gives it whatever value it may be found to possess.
How imperfect it is, how ail-inadequately I have
touched upon the great subject, I feel deeply. Still it
has been a delightful employment. If it fail to awa ken
interest in other minds, I do not say I shall not be dis
appointed. But I shall be ungrateful to the Giver of all
good if I ever cease to acknowledge, with fervent
thankfulness, the confirmation it has afforded to my
own faith.

THE END.

ERRATA.

Page 101, 13th line from the bottom for these read those.
118, 16th " top " acts " arts.
119, 17th " " " nature " mature.
170, 12th " bottom " become read became.
172, 2d " top " discussions read dissensions.
265, 2d line of note for Do you believe 1 read Do you believe.

GIESELER'S CHURCH HISTORY.

CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD, Philadelphia.
HAVE JUST PUBLISHED,
A TEXT-BOOK OP
ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY:
By J. C. I. GIESELER,
Doctor of Philosophy and Theology, and Profegsor of Theology in Gottingen.
TRANSLATED FROM THE THIRD GERMAN EDITION,
By FRANCIS CUNNINGHAM.
In 3 volumes, 8vo.

RECOMMENDATIONS.
FROM PROFESSOR STUART, OF ANDOVER, MASS.
Theological Seminary, Andover, 25th July, 1836.
The undersigned has frequently consulted Gieseler's Church History, as published
by the author in German : and he has no hesitation in saying, that on the whole he
prefers it, for purposes such as he has had in view, to any other church history within
his knowledge. His particular reason for this is, the uncommon diligence, judgment,
and accuracy, with which the writer has given the essence of the sources on which he
relies for important facts and documents; by virtue of which one is enabled in a good
measure to judge for himself what the state of the original testimony is. This is a.
If privilege which must often be abandoned, for the most part, in reading many writers
in this department of history, inasmuch as they only give their own judgment and
estimation of facts, without enabling the reader to form his.
With some of the theological opinions of Gieseler, the writer of this supposes himself
to disagree; but these are seldom admitted to be the guide of his historical statements.
In general, I think great candour, accuracy, and thorough search, are developed in
Gieseler's work, although its studied brevity Cuts off detail which now and then would
be grateful to the reader.
I fully admit the learning and ability of Neander, as a Church historian ; but Giese- .
ler places one in a better condition to judge for himself than Neander does, who gives
his sources very meagerly, and seems to expect thai you will always take his own
views as well-grounded and correct. Gieseler places his reader in a condition in which
he is enabled to pursue his investigations to any extent that he pleases. On this ac
count, I use him as my most common manual, when I have occasion to pursue a topic
which belongs to his department, and as a manual for consultation, I think this work
can hardly fail ofthe patronage of our American community. MOSES STUART.
FROM PROFESSOR EMERSON, OF ANDOVER, MASS.
Judging from such portions as I have read of Gieseler's work, (perhaps onc.fourth
ofthe whole,) I am happy to concur in the above commendation. I would just add,
that I am particularly pleased with his plan and the divisions of his work, and shall be
happy lo see it in a good English dress. RALPH EMERSON.
FROM PROFESSOR HODGE, OF PRINCETON, N. J.
Princeton, July 29, 1 836.
I have been led to entertain a very high opinion of the merits of Gieseler's Ecclesias
tical History; not only from the success of the work in its own country, but from a

knowledge of its plan and from an occasional inspection of its contents. Its distin
guishing feature is the copious citation of authorities and the extracts from the early
writers given in the notes. It thus opens before the student the very sources of histo
rical knowledge, and presents the events and opinions of former #ges in their original
form and spirit. I therefore think'that Mr. Cunningham has performed a very impor
tant service in rendering this work accessible to the Christian public. C. HODGE. * *
FROM PROFESSOR SEARS, OF NEWTON THEOLOGICAL INSTITUTION.
Newton Theological Institution, August 15, 1836.v
I am happy to learn that you have translated Gieseler's Manual of Church History.
For the distinguished author, whose acquaintance I had the pleasure of making while
in Germany, I entertain sentiments of very high respect ; and though differing from
some of his theological opinions, I regard his manual as the most perfect text.book be
fore the public. Neander's work has another design, Mosheim's can no longer be used,
Guericke's is too polemical and unattractive, and Hase's too brief. Gieseler is, to say
the least, the second, and in some respects the first Ecclesiastical historian of the age ;
his critical accuracy is unrivalleo? his method clear, his literary notices complete, and
his authorities very copious and well chosen. B. SEARS.
FROM PROFESSOR WARE, OF CAMBRIDGE, MASS. August 6, 1836.
I am glad to learn that your translation of Gieseler's Church History is to appear
soon. A better book than we before had, for the study of Ecclesiastical History, was
greatly wanted: and this work, it seems to me, gives fairer promise, than any other
with which I am acquainted, to supply that want. ' ,-
The plan, and the arrangement and distribution of parts, has great advantages; and**
the extreme brevity ofthe text is well compensated by constant reference in the notes
to the original sources, copious citation of authorities, and an ample and minute supply
of dates. The liberal and impartial spirit running through the work is worthy also of
all commendation. . HENRY WARE.
The appearance of this work is highly creditable to the American press, and the
translator and publishers will alike receive the thanks of the student of Ecclesiastical
History for this important addition to his means of knowledge. It professes to be a
Text-Bpok, and so it is; for the text, although it presents a clear and continuous view
of the history ofthe church, is exceedingly compressed ; and the main body of the work
consists of copious citations in the form of notes, from the original authorities. These
full and apposite extracts, instead of bare references, afford a desirable opportunity to
the student of judging for himself on the various topics which are presented in the text.
They display also the immense research and learning ofthe writer, who undertakes to
be the guide of others in this department of theological education. The arrangement
ofthe work is obvious and natural, and much to be preferred to the old division into
centuries. — The Presbyterian.
The history ofthe Christian church is of universal interest, as forming so important
a part of the religious history of mankind. To the theologian it is indispensable. It
is important to the general student from its intimate connexion with the history of
learning, of philosophy, of ethics, and of the arts. Without it no one can gain a
thorough knowledge of Ecclesiastical law, or the laws of Christian states.
We hope Gieseler's Text- Book will be adopted as a theme for the classes in our Co;
leges and Theological Seminaries; and if the youth ofthe next course are thoroughj_
drilled according to Gieseler's mental exercises, they will be far more competent to
stand to their spiritual arms, and to combat the multiplied corruptions of Christianity
which have proceeded from the grand Eastern and Western Anti-Christian associations,
than their predecessors.
,One ofthe great difficulties in the study of Ecclesiastical History has been this, to
bring the multifarious and discordant materials into order and compactness, so that the
prominent points could be clearly discerned, and the cardinal and permanent topics be
divested ofthe rubbish under which they have been concealed. In this aspect particu
larly Gieseler's Text-Book is invaluable. The student is not embarrassed with records
of antiquated temporary heretics whose infatuations died with them, and the memorial
of whom is equally perplexing and nugatory. The materials of these volumes are nqt
a compound of redundant and irrelevant trifles, but the annals are of a' sterling cha,
racter, and stimulate to more extensive research. — American Protestant Vindicator.

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In one volume, ISwic, with 50 engravings.
THE EVERY DAY BOOK:
A COLLECTION OF
ENTERTAINING AND INSTRUCTIVE READING;
CONSISTING OF ADVENTURES, NATURAL HISTORY, BIOGRAPHICAL
SKETCHES, POETRY, &C.

In a neat bookcase, witli shelves, with or without glass front.
THE LIBRARY OF INSTRUCTIVE AMUSEMENT;
BEING A CHOICE COLLECTIOV OF FIFTY VOLUMES OF USEFUL AND
ESTEKTAINING BOOKS, BOU>D UNIFORMLY, ALL ILLUSTRATED BY ENGRAVINGS,
AND ADMIRABLY SCITED FOR FAMILIES OR SCHOOLS.

Ia eight volumes, each containing about 50 colored engravings ; 37i cents each.
THE CHILD'S FAIRY LIBRARY;

COMPRISING

1. Fairy Gift.
2. Fairy Book
3. Fairy Amusement.
4. Fairy Stories.

5. Fairy Gem.
6. Fairy Entertainment.
7. Fairy Tales.
8. Fairy Present.

These little volumes contain a very choice collection of F;ury Tales, many
original, all rewritten. The engravings by the best French artists.

In one volume, 18mo.
TEE PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY,
AND THE
PRIVATE AND POLITICAL RIGHTS AND OBLIGATIONS
OF MANKIND.
BT JONATHAN DYMOND.
ABRIDGED, AND PROVIDED WITH QUESTIONS, FOR THE USE OF
SCHOOLS AND OF YOUNG PERSONS GENERALLY.
B? CAROLINE M. KIRKLAND

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS, NEW YORK.

FOR YOUNG PERSONS.
In eight volumes, illustrated by more than 1 ,000 engravings.
Each volume sold separately.
PARLEY'S MAGAZINE.
OF INSTRUCTION AND ENTERTAINMENT FOR
THE YOUNG.

In one volume, 18 mo., illustrated by engravings, Cloth gilt.
THE YOUNG MAN'S
EVENING BOOK
OF USEFUL AND ENTERTAINING READING,
containing biographigal notices ; personal adventures ;
Sketches in natural history ; poetry; interesting anecdotes;
popular science j incidents of travel, &c.

In one large square volume, illustrated by upwards of
One hundred engravings.
THE HISTORY OF
SANDFORD AND MERTON;
BY THOMAS DAY.
A NEW EDITION.

In press.
THE ADVENTURES OP
QUINTIN HAREWOOD
AND HIS BROTHER BRIAN
BY PAUL PRESTON.
In one volume, 18mo.j illustrated by 50 engravings, Cloth gilt.
THE WINTER EVENING BOOK
OF AMUSING AND USEFUL READING;
CONTAINING PERSONAL NARRATIVE ; INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL J
POPULAR INFORMATION IN SCIENCE ; POETICAL SELEC
TIONS J AND OTHER SUBJECTS SUITED.TO INTEREST
AND IMPROVE THE MIND.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS, NEW YORK.

FOR YOUNG PERSONS.
In one volume ISmo., with engravings.
TRUE STORIES
FROM ANCIENT HISTORY.
OHRONOLOQICALLY ARRANGED FROM THE CREATION OF THE WORLD TO
THE DEATH OF CHARLEMAGNE.
BY A MOTHER.

In Press.
TRUE STORIES
-.FROM MODERN HISTORY.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
In one volume square.
THE FAIRY GIFT;
A CHOICE COLLECTION OF FAIRY TALES.
ItLUBTRATED BY UrWVRJ)1* OF TWO H"Nr>HFD ENGRAVINGS, FROM
DESIGNS SY THE MOST CELERRATF.D FRENCH ARTISTS.

Match lo the above
THE FAIRY GEM.
A NEW COLLECTION OF FAIRY TALES.
WITH 180 ENGRAVINGS.
In one volume l&no., with numerous engravings.
THE PARLOR BOOK
OF
INTERESTING AND INSTRUCTIVE READING;
CONTAINING SKETCHES IN NATURAL HISTORY ; PEn-ON'AI. ADVUNTIIRESJ
SCENES OF FOREIGN TRAVEL; BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES, ETC.

In one square volume, 150 engravings.
DRAWING FOR YOUNG CHILDREN,
A COLLECTION OF PROGRESSIVK DRAWING COPIES, WITH
DIRECTIONS AND A SHORT TREATISE.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS, NEW YORK.
FOR YOUNG PERSONS.

In one vol. ISmo. cloth, illustrated by 50 engravings.
THE SUMMER DAY BOOK
OF
AMUSING AND INSTRUCTIVE READING;
CONTAINING PERSONAL NARRATIVE; NATURAL HISTORY J ANECDOTES;
SCENES AND INCIDENTS OF FOREIGN TRAVEL, ETC., ETC.

In one square volume, paper or in cloth,; eith coloured prints.
FAIRY RHYMES;
THE MOST POPULAR FAIRY TALES, IN VERSE.
1 BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED.

In one handsome volume, 18mo.
ALDA, THE CAPTIVE:
BY
MISS AGNES STRICKLAND.
In one vol. \8mo.; with engravings.
THE LEISURE HOUR BOOK,

INTERESTING AND USEFUL READING;
A COLLECTION OF ORIGINAL AND SELECTED READING, DESIGNED AS AH
ATTRACTIVE SOURCE OF RATIONAL AMUSEMENT
FOR HOURS OP LEISURE.

In one vol., 18m.o cloth, with 24 copper plate engravings.
THE FRUITS OF ENTERPRIZE,
EXHIBITED IN THE ADVENTURES OP
BELZONI IN EGYPT AND NUBIA:
In which an account is {riven of his discoveries among the Pyramids, In
the Ancient Tombs, qrnottg The Ruins of Temples and Cities, in the Der-
erts, and on the Shores of the Rpd Sen ; related In a very interesting
manner.

BOOKS PUBLISHED BY C. S. FRANCIS & CO., NEW YORK.
In om volume. Initio., cloth.
A NEW HOME — WHO'LL FOLLOW?
OK,
GLIMPSES OF WESTERN LIFE.
BY MRS. MARY CLAVERS, AN ACTUAL SETTLER.
Third Edition

"This is a work of striking merit, auch as wo do not often meet with in these
days of repetition and imitution. The real enjoyments of forest life are set forth
in their true colors ; but the real inconveniences, and annoyances, and sacrifices
which belong to it, »ro not extenuated. " * * * *
" It is one ofthe most spirited and original works which have yet been produced
in this country." — North American Review.
" This work shows evidence of a genius for description very uncommon, even in
these days of clever narrative. Done with a nervo, an elegance of quotution and
allusion, a playfulness of style, and a pure and Chmtian-like spirit of resignation
und *ood humur, which warrant us in pronouncing it ono ofthe first productions of
the Jay. More eminently readable matter has not fallen under our notice for a long
tjrae<» ^_ Grant's London Journal.
"One ofthe cleverest productions of the season; containing very interesting
and lively pictures of Western life, character, and manners." — New York Review,
" Mrs. Clavers's sketches are lively, fresh colored, and characteristic. Wc
- recommend the book to all who have any appntite for what is humorous and
graphievn the light literature of America." — London Mheneum.
"This hook is agreeable as a whole; valuable as ;i picture of daily household
life and of village socioty in a new Western settlement, and curious for its glimpaes
of love and marriage, of a more sentimental kind, in the United States." — London
Spectator. /¦-
" One Of the most natural, pleasant, and entertaining books that we have read
for a twelvemonth." — Knickerbocker.
"This is a real view ofthe settlers in the far West, and, we imagine, gives a more
minute and faithful account of their daily life than any book of travels that has been
published." — London Literary Gazette.
"The mo*t amusin^ and spirited work, descriptive of life in the West, that we
have permed since we read Mr. Hoffman's Western Tour. The volume is spiced-
withmany beautiful descriptions of natural scenery, and abounds in classic allu-
sious and happy illustrations." — The Corsair.
"This work gives us a simple picture of ( a home on the outskirts of civiliza
tion ' «nd presents us with an * unvarnished tale ' ofthe life -of the emigrant. It is
um»in» in the extreme, and so vivid in its coloring, that, as we read, we might
almost "fnncy ourself in Michigm, participating with the fair authoress in the
vicissitudes and troubles of getting domesticated in a shingle palace." — Boston
Transcript.

In two volumes, 19mo., cloth.
FOREST LIFE.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
«A NEW HOME-WHO'LL FOLLOW?"

C. S. FRANCIS & CO. are Agents for the following Reviews
and Magazines, and forward them regularly to all parts of the
country : — - Priceper year.
North American Review, . g5 00

American Journal of Medical
Sciences,  5 00
Silliman's Journal of Science, GOO
Dial,  .3 00
Democratic Review, 5 00
Christian Examiner, . . . . 4 00
Museum of Foreign Literature, 6 00
Journal of Franklin Institute, 5 00
Bell's Medical Library, . . 5 00
Knickerbocker Magazine, . . 5 00
Law Library,  10 00
Southern Literary Messenger, 5 00
Godey's Lady's Book, . . 3 00
Graham's Lady's and Gentle
man's Magazine, . . 300
Lady's Companion, . . . . 3 00
Merchants' Magazine, . . . 5 00

„ Price per year.
Parley's Magazine, . . gl 00
Monthly Miscellany of Reli-
. gion "and Letters,  3 00
Monthly Chronicle, . . . . 3 00

3003003003 on
400

REPRINTS.
London Quar. Review, .
Edinburgh Review, . .
Foreign Review., . . .)!"£
Westminster Review,
Blackwood's Magazine,
Dublin University Magazine, ,. 4 00
Bentley's Miscellany, . . . 50U
Medico-Chirurgical Review, . 5 00
Penny Magazine, . . . . 2 25
London World of Fashion,
(monthly,)  .800

C. S. F. & Co. also import all the British Periodicals, and they
will supply Individuals, Clubs, Societies, and Public Institutions,
with whatever, Periodical works, American or English, they may
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