sion was not a severe, but momentary, conflict, with no considerable previous sorrow or difficulty. It was a mighty struggle at the close of a whole life of woe. From the manger to the cross our Lord was acquainted with grief. He endured the contradiction of sinners against himself. His ministry was rejected, his person was despised, his miracles were ascribed to the influence of Satan, his doctrine was perverted and his Father blasphemed. Often he was grieved because of the hardness of the people's heart. He wept at the approaching destruction of Jerusalem; and even his own disciples were not unfrequently, from their slowness of heart, an occasion of sorrow. Now, if the soul of righteous Lot was vexed at seeing and hearing the conversation of the wicked; and if the royal Prophet exclaimed, O that I had wings like a dove, for then would I flee away and be at rest! what must the perfectly holy Jesus have felt through the course of his ministry! For grief like this, perpetually recurring, even though it should not be in itself severe, is yet by its continuance unspeakably painful. To judge, then, of the extent of our Saviour's sufferings, we must remember that they were constant and uninterrupted.

But they were also EXTREME. No mind can conceive, no tongue express, what that meek and holy Redeemer suffered; especially in his

last bitter passion. His soul was made an offer ing for sin. "Infinite justice passed sentence, and infinite power put it in execution*." He was poured out like water, and all his bones were out of joint, his soul also in the midst of his body was even like melting wax. Then was the pro

phetic prediction fulfilled, Awake, O sword, against my shepherd, against the man that is my fellow, saith the Lord of Hosts. O direful moment! O unspeakable anguish! See the Son of the Most High prostrate in the garden of Gethsemane! His soul is exceeding sorrowful even unto death. Thrice he entreats his Father, if it be possible, that the cup may pass from him. He is sore amazed. His soul is troubled. He is in an agony. His sweat is, as it were, great drops of blood falling on the ground. An angel descends to strengthen him. O extremity of woe! Is this the holy Saviour; this the Lord of glory; this the incarnate Deity?

But follow the sacred victim. From the garden he is led to be betrayed, buffeted, mocked, spit upon, blindfolded, dragged from one judgment-seat to another, devoted by the multitude to crucifixion. The sentence of death is extorted. He is condemned. Behold him as he stoops under the burden of the cross

which he is compelled to carry. And now he arrives at Calvary. His hands and feet are nailed to the accursed tree; his head is crowned with thorns. In this pitiable state behold the King of heaven and earth! In speechless agony he hangs upon the cross. At last even his heavenly Father withdraws from him, and forsakes him. The darkness which surrounded the cross was but an emblem of the sufferer's soul. Who can speak the mysteries of the scene? All the other sorrows of his passion are not to be compared with the dereliction which he now endured. How bitter the pang of separation from God is, can be best told by those who most ardently love him. His presence is life. It has made apostles sing praises in prison, and martyrs triumph at the stake. What then must the Son of God have now felt, whose love to his Father was perfect, and whose union with him was inexpressibly intimate! Of no other part of his passion did the Saviour utter a complaint; not of his sufferings in the garden, or at the bar of Pilate, or when nailed to the cross; not under the insults of the Jews; not of the thorns, the nails, the vinegar, the gall; not of the flight of his disciples. But when his heavenly Father withdrew the communications of his presence, he exclaimed in the depth of his anguish, Eli, Eli, lama sabacthani, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Then

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was the travail of his soul. Then did he endure the wrath of God, the curse of the law, the temptations of the powers of darkness, all the woe arising from a full view of the evil of sin, and of the accumulated guilt for which he was about to atone. Well may the Greek church have adopted the remarkable language which occurs in her Litany, "BY THINE UNKNOWN AGONIES." Yes, what we know of these agonies is little, is but a faint image of the incomprehensible and unutterable reality of the sufferings which he endured. We are able only to say that he sustained all that pain of which his perfect human nature was capable; all the anguish inflicted by the anger of God, the penalty of sin, the terrors of judgment, the assaults of the devil. And if in this world a single drop of divine wrath falling into the conscience of a sinner, has at times quenched every hope, and involved him in inconceivable misery, darkness, horror, and despair; who shall measure the depth of that agony when all the vials of eternal wrath were poured out even to the dregs on the head of the Redeemer?

But in the next place the sufferings of our Lord were altogether VOLUNTARY. This circumstance adds an infinite dignity to his passion, that it was the fruit of spontaneous love. He loved us, and gave himself for us. No man took his life from him, but he laid it

down of him

self. In the midst of his anguish he could have prayed the Father, and he would have sent him more than ten legions of angels. And yet he hastened to the garden; he was straitened till he had finished his work; he spake frequently during his ministry of the decease he should accomplish at Jerusalem; he said to Peter, who would have dissuaded him from suffering, Get thee behind me, Satan; for thou art an offence unto me. It was this spontaneous mercy of our divine Lord, which increased the value of all he endured. If he had suffered merely in the ordinary manner of a martyr, the case would have been totally different. But he freely undertook the painful task. He exhibited throughout his passion that cheerful faith, submission, zeal, meekness, and charity, which marked the voluntary sufferer, and for which the eternal Spirit strengthened him. This sheds a lustre round the infamy of the Cross, and constitutes it, not merely an example of the purest holiness, but a sacrifice of the highest virtue. The moment we recollect the spontaneous nature of our Lord's humiliation and death, the glory of the passion begins to appear. The external ignominy is merged and lost in the beneficent and sublime motive; or rather serves to illustrate and commend the love of Christ in so freely and graciously sustaining it.

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But the sufferings of Christ were EXPIA