JESUS BEFORE THE SANHEDRIM.

The next verse in order (the 66th) reads thus: "And as soon as it was day, the elders of the people, and the chief priests, and the scribes, came together, and led him into their council, saying — "

This verse has given the critics no little trouble. They cannot reconcile it with the three preceding verses; and so they settle the difficulty by a very summary process. Dr. Robinson, in his Harmony of the Gospels, places this verse and the five that follow it, before the 63d, 64th, and 65th verses. So does Dr. Doddridge; and so probably do all the harmonists. But these violent transpositions of the text are exceedingly dangerous. Once admit that a verse is out of place, and where is the process of transposing to stop? What limit is to be put upon the re-arrangement of the canon of Scripture? Who is to decide what verses are in, and what are out of place? All tampering with the word of God is calculated to weaken our reverence for it, and to shake our faith in the integrity of the text. We are far from supposing that all the events recorded by the Evangelists, took place in the very order in which they are related. But we do believe that we have the record itself, just as it was written, and that the writers had their reasons for their peculiar methods of narration. John, for instance, being an eye-witness to the transactions in the house of Caiaphas, mentions, with great precision, the time of Peter's first denial, and places it before the arraignment of our Lord. Matthew and Mark do not withdraw their eyes from the great central figure, Jesus, before the high-priest, to notice the side-scene between Peter and the servants. They first see what will be the fate of their Master, before they turn their eyes to his denying disciple. The three Evangelists have followed their own tastes and inclinations, in their account of a matter where the point of veracity was in regard to a fact, not in regard to the time of its occurrence.

Select any two witnesses of an event, in which great and small incidents were mixed up, and you will most likely observe the same difference in their accounts. The one may group the great incidents together, and speak of them first; the other may relate every thing, without regard to its relative importance, just in the order in which it happened. Luke differs from John and the other two Evangelists, in his location of the denial of Peter. Whereas John places the first denial before the arraignment of Christ, Matthew and Mark, all the denials subsequent to this maltreatment, Luke places the three denials just before the outrageous proceeding in the house of Caiaphas.

We have no doubt that John and Luke are both right in what they intend to convey. We believe that the first denial of Peter was before the arraignment of our Lord, and that the last two, which (as we have seen) occurred close together, were after his informal condemnation, but before the soldiers and servants began their rude and wicked sport. Peter was with the group around the fire in the court, watching, with the most intense interest, the progress of the trial. As soon as the men about the fire perceived that informal judgment had been pronounced against the prisoner, they turned upon Peter, and urged that if the Master were guilty, so must be the disciple. Peter, in rapid succession, denied twice, even with oaths and cursing, all knowledge of Him from whom he had received so many distinguished marks of kindness and love. The glorious prisoner, so soon as the council judged him to be "guilty of death," was placed in the hands of the Roman guard for safe-keeping. These soldiers, according to their national custom, began a course of wanton and brutal treatment. The servants around the fire soon joined in, and Peter seems to have been entirely overlooked and forgotten. This seems to us a natural account of the whole matter, drawn from the narratives themselves. The internal probability is strongly in favour of Luke's location of the last two denials. We cannot think that after the soldiers and servants had once begun their abuse of the leader, they would any longer trouble themselves about the follower. But while we believe that Luke is strictly accurate in regard to the time of the last two denials, we can see nothing improper in his mentioning the first denial in the wrong place. He thought it most suitable to notice all three denials in the same connection. We cannot blame him for this, any more than we can blame the historian for grouping together in a single chapter the events of different periods. Matthew and Mark dispose of the trial and maltreatment of our Lord before they mention the several denials of Peter. Neither can we blame them for this, any more than we can blame the historian who treats of military transactions in one chapter, and of trade, agriculture, and mechanic arts in another. We all recognize his right, when treating of facts, to make such an arrangement of them as suits him best.

We have returned once more to the case of Peter, because we had promised an explanation of the discrepancy between the Evangelists, and because it illustrates our objection to the system of transposing verses of Scripture. We object to transposition, because we believe it to be latitudinarian and dangerous, and because we believe that the Evangelists have had a design in the order of their narratives, which is frustrated, or least liable to be frustrated, by interchanging their verses. Matthew is remarkably inattentive to time and place. He may, for example, appear to speak of a thing as happening in Judea, which really took place in Galilee. But he may thus place two things together to make a contrast, or to show a connection between them, or to deduce a moral. The motive of the writer, whatever it may be, is interfered with by this transposing process. In the case under consideration, there is a still more serious objection to the transposition. It violates the truth of history.

We have no doubt whatever, that Luke, in the 66th verse, describes the removal of the Jewish court from the house of Caiaphas to the council-chamber within the temple. Conybeare and Howson call this chamber gazith, but Calmet calls it hanoth, and says that the room gazith had long ceased to be used. It matters not by what name we call it, provided we mean by it a room in the temple. The word employed by Luke in the 66th verse, does not settle the question. They led Jesus "into their council," not into their council-room. The equivalent expression with us would be, they led him into court, whether that body was sitting in the court-house, or in any other building appropriated to its use. We cannot decide, then, by the phraseology, that the Sanhedrim removed from the house of Caiaphas to the temple. But we can decide with absolute certainty that there was a removal, after daylight, to some place. "And as soon as it was day, the elders of the people, and the chief priests and the scribes came together, and led him into their council, saying," &c.

Now, remember that Luke had most explicitly stated that the chief priests, and captains of the temple, and the elders, were present at the arrest in Gethsemane. What does he mean, then, by speaking of their coming together at daylight, as though for the first time? A simple and natural solution of the difficulty is, that the court adjourned, after the informal judgment in the palace of the high-priest, to meet again in the council-room of the temple. As it was not quite day when sentence was passed, the members may have dispersed in all directions, and even gone home to report their proceedings. They all went off, with the full purpose of meeting again, according to adjournment. And it is this assembling in the temple which Luke speaks of, in the verse under consideration.

Moreover, the words, "led him into their council," naturally suggest a change of location. And as all the transactions before, which Luke had mentioned, occurred in the house of Caiaphas, it seems reasonable to infer that this Evangelist means to say, that Jesus was led to some other place. The language does not absolutely imply this; but we may surely, without extravagance, draw this deduction from it. At any rate, we are constrained to believe that Jesus was led from the spot where he was maltreated, to some other place. And if we take this, in connection with the specific mention of daylight, we may safely conclude that he was taken to the temple. There would then be no technical objection to his condemnation, either on account of the time when it was made, or the place where it was made. And we have already seen, that he could not be condemned legally, neither could he be condemned anywhere else than in the temple, without an irregularity.

The view just given of two sittings of the court, is fully endorsed by the learned Dr. Scott. He says: "From the narratives of the two preceding Evangelists, it appears, that after the council had condemned Jesus, they separated, and met again early in the morning; and the words here used, ' as soon as it was day,' &c, seem to refer to this latter meeting of the council. Nor is it improbable that the high-priest should put the same questions to our Lord, that he had done the night before; both to see whether he would stand to what he had said, and that such members of the council as had been absent might hear his answers." But while Dr. Scott recognizes two sittings of the court, he does not perceive that the second sitting was in the temple. Nor are we aware that any critic has noticed the change of venue.

Some hold that all the proceedings were in the palace of Caiaphas; others, that all were in the council chamber within the temple. Not one, so far as we know, has noticed that the informal trial was in one place, and the regular trial in another. And yet, we think that the two scenes were present to the mental vision of the prophet, when he wrote, " He was taken from prison, and from judgment." Hengstenberg says, that the word rendered prison, means, properly, "confinement," and then, in a subordinate sense, "violent oppression." Rosenmuller renders it "restraint." Dr. Alexander interprets it to mean "distress." Bishop Horsley says that it means " constraint of power, just or unjust, lawful or unlawful." And so there have been hundreds of different translations of the original Hebrew.

Of course no argument can be based upon language so ambiguous and so doubtful. The two things specified seem, however, to point to different localities, and we throw out this suggestion for whatever it is worth. We have something stable to rest our opinion upon, in the parallel statements of Matthew and Mark. The former says, " When the morning was come, all the chief priests and elders took counsel against Jesus, to put him to death." The word rendered counsel, might have been rendered council, with just as much propriety; and this is the rendering of it in Acts xxv. 12: " Then Festus, when he had conferred with the council" &c. With this slight change, Matthew would say, that the Jews held a council, organized a court against Jesus, not with the design of giving him a fair trial, but of putting him to death. There is then the most perfect agreement between Matthew and Luke. The latter speaks of the Jews leading Jesus into their council; the former, of the organizing of this council. There can be no doubt that the Sanhedrim is designated. The first three Evangelists mention, with great precision, those who composed the council; and they were the same three orders of chief priests, scribes, and elders, which constituted the Sanhedrim. Mark says, "And straitway in the morning the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes, and the whole council, and bound Jesus," &c. The conjunction and, before bound, is omitted in the text of some versions. The literal translation would then be, " and without delay in the morning, the chief priests held a council with the elders and scribes, and the whole council binding Jesus, carried him away and delivered him to Pilate."

It is evident from this examination, that the first three Evangelists agree, in speaking of the assembling of the Sanhedrim, the highest tribunal of the Jews, at early dawn. Now, observe that Matthew had distinctly stated that the arresting party, on their return from Gethsemane with our Lord, found the scribes and elders assembled in the house of Caiaphas, (chap, xxvi. 57.) Remember, too, that he expressly states that the whole Sanhedrim sought false witness against Jesus. "Now, the chief priests, and elders, and all the council (sunedrion) sought false witness against Jesus." If all were assembled in the house of Caiaphas, why call a second meeting? The object could not be, as Dr. Scott supposes, that those who had been absent at the first sitting, might hear for themselves the confession of our Lord. We are explicitly told by Matthew that all were present, none then could be absent. Nor is it at all likely, that in the exasperated state of the minds of the Jewish rulers, any would desire to be absent. Furthermore, why are the Evangelists so specific in their allusion to daylight? Even John, who is so brief in his notice of the trial, is particular in stating that Jesus was led at an early hour to the judgment-hall of Pilate. Take the view that the court met after daylight in the temple, because sentence could not be passed legally at night, and elsewhere than in the council-chamber; the whole difficulty will then disappear in regard to two meetings, and in regard to the specific allusion to the time of the second meeting.

66. " The trail which hunters and Indians follow (says the Scientific American) is not so much composed of tracks or footprints, as of indescribable little signs, such as leaves and blades of grass bent or turned, twigs broken, and other things so small and faint that they cannot be shown to any one, yet which, when all put together, make a kind of line along the ground." Who so silly as to suppose that the enemy sought by the Indian, or the game sought by the hunter, made purposely this impalpable path, in order to be pursued and overtaken? If so, why did they not make it broader, better beaten, and more distinct? By like delicate signs, something dropped here, a slight mark made there, have we been enabled to trace up the coincidence between the Evangelists. Who, then, can accuse them of designed correspondence? If such had been the object, why did they not make the harmony more perceptible, more evident, more unmistakable? So far is their agreement, in regard to the two sittings of the court, from being palpably plain, that it has only been discovered by rigid scrutiny and careful search. Fabulists would not write in this manner. Whatever harmonies there might be in their respective statements, would be brought out too conspicuously to be overlooked.

The last five verses of the twenty-second chapter of Luke are in these words: " Art thou the Christ? tell us. And he said unto them, If I tell you, ye will not believe. And if I also ask you, ye will not answer me, nor let me go. Hereafter shall the Son of man sit on the right hand of the power of God. Then said they all, Art thou then the Son of God? And he said unto them, Ye say that I am. And they said, What need we any further witness? for we ourselves have heard of his own mouth."

The Sanhedrim had met for the sole purpose of condemning Jesus on his own confession. With a specious appearance of fair dealing, and with all regard to their legal forms, they now inquire whether he will adhere to his former acknowledgment of his Messiahship, "Art thou the Christ? tell us," now convened in the right place, and at the right hour, whether you still claim to be the Christ. Your confession will now be made under more solemn circumstances, do you still abide by it?

Such, we understand, to be the meaning of the question propounded to Jesus. And however repugnant may be to us the thought of condemning a man on his own confession, a condemnation of this kind would not be inconsistent with a Jew's ideas of justice. We must not forget that the Jewish government was a theocracy, and that the Mosaic code appealed largely to the conscience. The guilty person was to be his own accuser, and was required to make public confession of his most secret sins. The whole system of trespass and sin-offerings rested upon this principle: "And it shall be, when he shall be guilty in one of these things, that he shall confess that he hath sinned in that thing. And he shall bring his trespass-offering unto the Lord, for his sin, which he hath sinned." Lev. v. 5, 6. "Then they shall confess their sin, which they have done; and he shall recompense his trespass with the principal thereof, and add unto it the fifth part thereof, and give it unto him against whom he hath trespassed." Numb. v. 7. And so we read of public confessions of sin by Hezekiah with his people, by Ezra, by Nehemiah, &c.

The case of Achan furnishes a fine illustration of the Jewish idea of the duty of the public confession of sin. After the lot had fallen upon Achan, Joshua said unto him, "My son, give, I pray thee, glory to the Lord God of Israel, and make confession unto him; and tell me now what thou hast done; hide it not from me. And Achan answered Joshua, and said, Indeed I have sinned against the Lord God of Israel, and thus and thus have I done." Joshua vii. 19, 20. This extract shows the assumption on Joshua's part, that God would be glorified by the confession of sin to the ruling power. And this idea seems to have been thoroughly instilled into the Jewish mind. Criminals, on their way to execution, were required to confess the justice of their sentence. The man who had wronged his neighbour, even unwittingly, was compelled to make acknowledgment to him of the wrong committed. And the sin-offering to the Lord was virtually a public confession, before all Israel, of some sin committed. The whole Mosaic dispensation thus familiarized the people with the notion that it was incumbent on the transgressor to confess his guilt; so that they seemed to feel that a man could not be lawfully put to death, without his own acknowledgment of guilt. Observe, that Achan had been detected by the casting of the lot. God had thus given his testimony against him; but Joshua seems to have been unwilling to execute him until he had heard his own confession. So too was it in the case of Jonah, when the lot fell upon him; the force of his Jewish education manifested itself; his whole system of training forbade the concealment of his sin, and he cried aloud, "lam a Hebrew; and I fear the Lord, the God of heaven, which hath made the sea and the dry land. . . . . Take me up, and cast me forth into the sea; so shall the sea be calm unto you: for I know that for my sake this great tempest is upon you." How clearly does this prove that the Israelite was reared up in the belief that it was a sacred duty to confess his sin. When the fugitive prophet was a little boy, his Jewish mother had taken him up to the temple, and he there saw the people weeping, and praying, and confessing their sins — he looked around, and saw smoking altars and bleeding victims — all making public proclamation of guilt. And when he had acquired the rudiments of learning, the roll of the sacred Scriptures was put in his hands, and he read of the sin of hiding his transgression. And when he became a well-grown lad, and followed his father to see the whole congregation stone a malefactor, without the walls of the city, he heard the doomed man confess the justice of his sentence.

67. The point which we now make, relates to the harmony of Luke's statements with the Jewish judicial system. He tells that a confession was demanded of Christ, as the basis of a verdict against him. Such a proceeding is utterly repugnant to our notions of justice and fair-dealing. We might then be disposed to reject Luke's evidence, because of its unnaturalness ', but, upon investigation, we find that the Evangelist is sustained by the whole scope of the ceremonial and civil laws of the Mosaic economy. It is difficult U give too much weight to this point. A fact is related, which seems too absurd and preposterous for belief; but we find it corroborated by parallel facts of the same or similar kind. All this looks but little like a forgery. The framers of a fiction, which they wished to be believed, would be guarded in stating things that would excite doubt and suspicion. The boldness of the Evangelist furnishes, then, a presumption of his honesty; and this presumption becomes proof, when we find that his seeming rashness is but the natural stroke of a writer, too absorbed in his narration to think of accommodating it to the views and sentiments of his hearers.

We have assumed, in the foregoing argument, the truth of the Old Testament Scriptures, or at least the existence of the Mosaic economy, with its sacrifices and confession of sin. We need only to assume the existence of the Jewish theocratic polity, and we will find Luke's account consonant with it. But suppose that the infidel has the effrontery to deny the existence of the Hebrew system of sacrifice and confession, he cannot deny that there was a record of such a system, long before Luke wrote. And this acknowledgment will make as much against the unbeliever as the reality of the Jewish code. For it amounts to an acknowledgment of the correspondence of Luke's testimony, with that of a whole "cloud of witnesses," who preceded him. We care not which horn of the dilemma the poor sceptic may choose; either of them will be found sufficiently troublesome.

There is a delicate and plainly undesigned harmony between Mark and Luke in regard to the second assembling of the Sanhedrim. We have seen that the 1st verse of the 15th chapter of Mark expresses the promptness with which the council met at the first dawning of light. The whole verse evinces the utmost eagerness and impatience, on the part of the court to dispose of the case of Jesus of Nazareth, as soon as they could do so, consistent with the letter of the law. Luke, in his 66th and 67th verses, harmonizes with Mark in the most casual and undesigned manner. He shows that the members of the court, in their feverish and excited state of mind, do not wait for the high-priest, as the presiding officer, to interrogate our Lord. They all speak together, and demand of him with united voice, the confession before made in the house of Caiaphas. And this intemperate zeal the wicked judges show throughout the trial. Once more they vociferate together, "Art thou then the Son of God?" (Verse 70.)

Now, we have here exhibited as perfect an example as can well be conceived, of complete, and yet wholly unintended agreement. It is idle to suppose that Luke, by his casual allusion to the eagerness of the council, meant to make a correspondence with Mark's allusion to the earliness of the hour. But we will not let. the matter rest here. The hurried meeting in the morning, the rapid despatch of business, the clamorous speaking together, the dispensing with witnesses, (verse 71,) these are all in perfect harmony with what had been said before, of the Sanhedrim's fear of the common people. They are all in keeping with the arrest of Jesus by night, beyond the walls of the city. They are all in keeping with the association of a portion of the Roman guard with the arresting party, so as to awe the friends of Jesus, and prevent a rescue of the prisoner. They are all in keeping with the effort of the high-priest in his own house, to hasten a verdict, by extorting a confession through the means of a solemn adjuration.

68. We have had occasion more than once, to call attention to the difficulty of making a consistent narration. The novelist is justly thought to have achieved a miracle of art, who commits no solecism in his representations of character, no discrepancy in the several parts of his tale. We believe that this feat has never been accomplished by any uninspired writer; the mere approximation to it confers distinction. But if it be next to impossible for a narrator, with his own conception, his own plan, his own arrangement, to make a congruous story, it is altogether impossible for him to frame a fiction that shall comport in all respects with three other fictions, having the same slight distinction here, and the same faint resemblance there, the same shade of meaning in this place, and the same delicate colouring in that place. With facts to guide them, four men can produce agreeing narratives; just as four boys, with the same model of penmanship before them, can produce copies strikingly similar. Each copy may have its distinctive peculiarity, but the inclination, the curvature, the general shape of all the letters will be the same. But let them attempt this similarity, without a model to guide them, and an experienced scribe will detect at a glance, the greatest difference in the sloping, pointing, and turning of the letters in the respective copies. The Evangelists have given their several accounts, all bearing marks of individual manner and style, temperament and tone of thought, but, at the same time, so closely resembling, as to prove that they were shaped after the same model of truth.

We notice that our Lord promptly answers the question, "Art thou the Christ?" and does not require to be adjured, as in the house of Caiaphas, before he will speak. It is true that he answers, under a sort of protest against the question, and gives reasons that would justify silence — reasons which had previously influenced his mind. In all this, he has left a noble example for our imitation. He did not rashly precipitate himself into danger. So long as there was a chance for life, humanly speaking, he did not disdain to use the lawful means for its preservation. Therefore, he declined to criminate himself in the palace of the high-priest, until he was put upon oath, and could not refuse to respond, consistently with the Jewish jurisprudence. Now, however, when informal sentence had been passed, and nothing remained but to confess the offence with which he was charged, he no longer hesitates about answering. He determines to "fulfil all righteousness," and to comply with the minutest requirements of the Hebrew law. Therefore, as he had responded to the adjuration of the high-priest, in obedience with the Mosaic code, so now he makes confession, in compliance with the same stern system. His conduct is thus seen to be the very farthest removed from the mad enthusiasm of the fanatic on the one hand, and the shrinking policy of the worlding and the coward, on the other hand. He did not court danger in the spirit of wild and intemperate zeal, or vainglorious bravado; neither did he seek to shun it by the tricks of the timid and the fearful. He neither exhibited the fiery ardour of the zealot Jehu, nor the weakness and vacillation of the feeble Peter. He neither sought nor avoided danger. Therefore, he took all proper precautions for his own safety, consistent with truth and the requisitions of the Mosaic code. Never was there manifested a nicer blending of regard for personal rights with regard for the letter of the law. Never was there manifested a juster mingling of a due care of life, with a calm disposal of the issue into the hands of Him who controls all events. And it was this fearlessness of death, united with a proper appreciation of the value of life, which gave such calmness, dignity, and propriety to the deportment of the Son of God, in the presence of his murderers. This it was that made his conduct free alike from the weakness of cowardice, and the recklessness of religious phrenzy.

69. The point which we now make, relates to the consistency of the Evangelists, in- the representation of the character of our blessed Redeemer. They all mention incidents in his life, which show a courage far superior to that displayed on fields of blood and carnage. They all mention incidents in his life, which show the most consummate prudence; so that, in his whole career, it is equally impossible to point out a single act of timidity, or a single act of fanatical audacity. One of the first of his public deeds, of which we have any record, required the highest degree of intrepidity. It was no common exercise of courage to drive the traders out of the temple, in face of the opposition of those interested in the speculation; and in face of the opposition of the priests and Levites, to whom was committed the care of the temple, and who would naturally resist all interference with their prerogatives.

When he talked with the woman by Jacob's well, he frankly told her that salvation was of the Jews; and did not seek to conciliate her favour by pandering to her Samaritan antipathies and prejudices. In Nazareth, he proclaimed fearlessly the doctrine of God's sovereignty; but when the irritated multitude attempted to cast him down headlong from the brow of the hill, upon which the city was built, he prudently passed "through the midst of them, and went his way." When the Pharisees censured his disciples for plucking the ears of corn on the Sabbath, he confronted and confounded their accusers by a reference to the conduct of David; so that the boldness of the defence was admirably tempered with the skill and tact with which it was made. In like manner, he did not hesitate to heal the man with the withered hand; but he gave such cogent reasons in justification of doing works of necessity on the Sabbath, that the Pharisees were afraid to lay hands on him, seeing that he had satisfied the minds of the common people with regard to his act of healing. When the Scribes and Pharisees gathered about him, demanding a sign from heaven, he did not fear to say, "An evil and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign, and there shall no sign be given it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas." Here was independence shown in refusing a sign, and courage in denouncing the inquisitiveness of those who wished to pry into the secret things of God, while neglecting to reform the secret sins of their lives. At the table of the Pharisee, he exposed the hypocrisy of the Scribes and Pharisees, who " tithed mint and rue, and all manner of herbs, and passed over judgment and the love of God." And when questioned by a lawyer, in the dining party, he boldly said, "Woe unto you also, ye lawyers; for ye lade men with burdens, grievous to be borne, and ye yourselves touch not the burden with one of your fingers." In the synagogue of Capernaum, on a certain occasion, he proclaimed the truth so faithfully, pungently, and powerfully, that even his own disciples were offended, and "many of them went back, and walked no more with him." Here was exhibited heroism as a religious teacher; but it was not associated with reckless hardihood.

As a man, he took all proper care of his life: for we are told, that after these things he walked no more in Jewry, because the Jews sought to kill him. Notice, that it is not said that he feared the Jews — he merely took those precautions which a brave man would take, who did not fear death in the path of duty; but who, nevertheless, would not rashly expose his life. And with what calm dignity, and indifference to danger, did our Lord rebuke, in his Sermon on the Mount, the false doctrine and wicked practices of the Scribes and Pharisees! And so too at Capernaum, he seized the opportunity afforded by his defence of his disciples for eating with unwashenhands, to refute the vain traditions of those who were constantly weakening the word of God to strengthen the commandments of men. On his final departure from Galilee, he would not go up with his disciples, because his time was not yet come: "But when his brethren were gone up, then went he also up to the feast, not openly, but as it were in secret." When, however, he had made his appearance at the feast, "He went up into the temple and taught," so fearlessly, that the people said, " Is not this he whom they seek to kill? But lo, he speaketh boldly, and they say nothing to him." Here we have again the faithfulness of the preacher of righteousness united with the prudence and caution of the man. The chief priests were so indignant at the scathing rebukes then administered, that they sent officers to arrest him; but the officers returned, saying, "Never man spake like this man." At this same feast, so boldly did he reprove the unbelieving Jews that they "took up stones to stone him." Again, he did not disdain to use the means for personal security, and therefore he "hid himself, and went out of the temple, going through the midst of them, and so passed by." At the festival of the dedication, when the Jews, offended at what he taught in regard to his oneness with the Father, sought once more to kill him, " He escaped out of their hand, and went again beyond Jordan, into the place where John first baptized; and there he abode."

Matthew, in his twenty-third chapter, tells us of the fearful woes uttered by our Lord against the Scribes and Pharisees, but a few days before his crucifixion. Never were hypocrisy, false teaching, cunning, fraud, and all wickedness, so fully and so fearlessly exposed, rebuked, and denounced. The most influential, malignant, and revengeful sects of the Jews were publicly reproved, in the very seat of their power, and in the very presence of their friends and partisans. And remember, that this was done by "the carpenter's son;" the man who had "not where to lay his head;" the man who had but twelve timid adherents, and these doubtful too about his character, his person, and his office.

We admire the bravery of the warrior, who, surrounded by his armed host, can look with composure upon danger. But there is a courage higher than that of the battle-field. Luther showed more true greatness of soul at the Diet of Worms, than MacDonald in the bloody charge at Wagram. There is a sort of shoulder-to-shoulder courage inspired by discipline, which even timid men may acquire. But there is a loftiness of spirit, which enables the possessor to stand unmoved, though alone and friendless, in the midst of the jeers, the taunts, the threats, and the insults of an assembled multitude: and this was the spirit of Jesus of Nazareth. The summary that we have given of the incidents of his life, has been purposely brief, and is therefore incomplete and imperfect. Still it has shown that no danger could intimidate him, and that no collections of men could deter him from proclaiming the truth. But while, as a religious teacher, he always declared the whole counsel of God, yet, as a man, he never wantonly risked life. And thus he united in himself, in the highest degree, the qualities which he recommended to his disciples — the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove. He acted out himself the directions which he gave to them — "when they persecute you in this city, flee ye into another." We do not expect the infidel to believe the recorded incidents of our Lord's life, but we expect him to believe that there is in existence a record of those incidents. And this latter belief will be fatal to hi3 creed, or rather to his want of creed; for consistency of narration is ever considered to be a strong proof of the veracity of witnesses: and none can deny that the Evangelists have been consistent in their account of the words and deeds of Jesus Christ. They represent him as uniting throughout his entire life, the greatest prudence with the highest courage; they tell of his combining the most fearless denunciations of error and wickedness with the strictest attention to the preservation of life. They show that no flattery could seduce him, and no danger could divert him from reproving sin in every guise and shape; and yet that he did not court death in a spirit of religious fanaticism. And this consistency of narration, the Evangelists preserve to the last. They tell of the arrest of Jesus, when he had gone out privately by night, away from the vicinity of his enemies and persecutors. They tell of his dignified silence in the house of Caiaphas, and his refusal to say anything to his own prejudice. They tell of his calm acknowledgment of his Messiahship, when it became his duty to make confession.

How has it happened that the Evangelists alone, of all the multitudinous writers of the world, have succeeded in describing a consistent character? Three of those who accomplished what thousands have attempted in vain, were illiterate men; two of them were fishermen. How has it happened that a few despised Galileans have surpassed so many myriads, possessing genius, taste, learning, refinement, and cultivation? We do them but faint justice, when we acknowledge the perfection of their description. The perfection of the character described must also be taken into account. If Jesus were a mythical hero, how did these rude fishermen get the idea of such a man? History afforded no exemplar, the traditions of mankind furnished no model. The heroes, the sages, the demigods of antiquity bore no resemblance to Jesus of Nazareth. What then guided his biographers, in their narration of his mighty works, his wonderful discourses, his consummate prudence, his matchless courage, his patience, his love, his forbearance, his indomitable zeal, his untiring industry, his calm resignation to the will of God, his cheerful submission to the laws of man, his touching devotion to kindred and friends, his exalted patriotism, his kindness to enemies, his forgiveness of persecutors, his indifference to the seductions of flattery, his superiority to the prejudices of his age and nation, his refusal of proffered honours and distinctions, his contempt of all the tricks and artifices by which popular favour is won, his uncompromising integrity, his habitual prayerfulness, his attention to the weak, the poor, the despised of the world; his tenderness with children, his kindness and gentleness with his friends, his serene and dignified deportment with opposers of the truth, his affectionate sympathy 'with the afflicted and the bereaved? Whence did these toilers on Lake Gennesareth get the idea of such a man, holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners? How are we to explain the fact that we are indebted to these rude and unlettered men for the representation of the only perfect Being, uniting: all that is bold and resolute in man, with all that is gentle and lovely in woman — yea, combining god-like intelligence and powers with all that can be imagined of the generous, the noble, the disinterested in unfallen and uncorrupted humanity? Well might Rousseau think that the conception of such a character would be as great a miracle as the existence of the character himself. Aye, there is one trait of the character of Jesus of Nazareth, which could never have entered into the heart of man. Not one of our apostate race could ever have conceived of a being so perfectly unselfish as the man of Gethsemane, the man of Calvary.

The predominant characteristic of our degraded natures is utter, uncompromising selfishness. "The trail of the serpent is over us all." "Man walks in a vain shadow," a shadow of his own casting. However lofty and erect may be his bearing, he is ever accompanied by this image of himself flitting on the ground, reminding him of his dual egoism, his double selfishness, and of his alliance with all that is low, earthly, and grovelling. The first wail of the infant is the plaint of selfishness. My and mine are among the first words formed by his childish lips. His rattle, his toys, his play-things are jealously watched and contended for. The sports around the schoolhouse must be conducted according to his selfish notions; his school-boy rights are battled for with selfish zeal and determination. Parents and teachers, equally regardless of the claims and privileges of others, strive in vain to check the growing evil. Selfishness is now the ruling element of the boy's life. He comes out into the world, armed cap-à-pie with a complete panoply of egotism. He will thrust out of his way, all who are weaker than himself, and he in turn will be pushed aside by the more powerful. And hence the world is full of wars and fightings, fraud and treachery, wiles and stratagems, intrigue and double-dealing, professed friendship and real hate, affected humility and unbounded pride, want of sympathy with others, and tender concern for self, "hatred, emulation, wrath, strife."

All these have their root in unmitigated selfishness. This is the fountain and the origin of the whole evil. From this cause the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint. This it is that leaves its slime and defilement upon all that is lovely and beautiful in the universe of God. This it is that rejects the Son of God, and treats with contempt the proffers of his gospel. But for the sovereign interposing grace of the Spirit, none could be found so unselfish as to be willing to be a mere cypher, a negation, a nullity in the plan of salvation. But for this interposing grace, all would want to be saved by their own works, and not by the righteousness of Christ. The unbounded, the immeasurable, the infinite pride and selfishness of man, rise in rebellion against the humbling doctrines of the cross. He will give glory to himself for his salvation, and not to the sovereign Father, the merciful Son, and the interceding Spirit. Thus he ever compasses himself about with his own sparks, and walks in the light of his own fire, and the sparks he has kindled. Isa. l. 11. Thus, he is not merely selfish with his fellow-worm of the dust, but also with his Maker, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. All history, all experience, and all observation confirm what the Scriptures teach, that death alone can extinguish man's selfishness. It is seen as a flickering flame around the cradle, it burns with a lurid glare in the walks of life, it goes out with a ruddy glow in the grave. Alas! for poor, miserable, degraded human nature!

The annals of our race, the eulogies of friends, even the apotheoses of mythology furnish not a single example of an unselfish being. Whence, then, did the Evangelists draw their idea of such a personage? They uniformly represent Jesus of Nazareth as superior to the motives, the principles, the views, the feelings, that influence our selfish natures. Satan, with his three temptations in the wilderness, appealed to selfisnness — to the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life — to the pain arising from hunger, the love of power and dominion, and the love of display and vainglory. But Satan addressed in vain these selfish considerations to our precious Redeemer. There was no selfishness in his nature upon which these temptations could take hold. He who left his Father's bosom, and his home in the skies, to endure the contradiction of sinners, to suffer, to bleed, and to die for enemies and persecutors, could not be other than a purely disinterested being. In nothing were his own inclinations and his own interests consulted: yea, his very will was lost in that of the Father. "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" was his reply, when a lad of but twelve years of age, to the earnest remonstrance of his mother. He said to the gainsaying Jews, "I seek not my own will, but the will of the Father, which hath sent me." And when his disciples wondered at his not eating after a long journey, he replied, "My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work." And this will was ever carried out in weariness and watching, in hunger and thirst, in suffering and sorrow, in trial and temptation, in peril and persecution, at home and abroad, at all times and under all circumstances.

Equally unselfish was the Saviour in his intercourse with the creatures his own hands had formed. And so he talked with the woman by the well of Samaria, about the waters of salvation, when he was faint with fatigue, and thirsty, from his dusty travel. And so he went about doing good, consulting not his own ease and comfort, but thinking only of healing the sick, curing the diseased, raising the dead, giving sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf, making whole the halt and the maimed, and preaching the gospel to the poor. And so he rebuked the proud hypocrite who needed to be rebuked, and gave grace to the humble penitent who needed to be encouraged. And so he washed the feet of his own disciples, and permitted them to sit at the table, while he administered to their wants as a servant waits on his master. And so he allowed his chosen watchers to sleep in Gethsemane, and he contended alone with the powers of hell and the spirits of darkness. And so, when the arresting party came, with the infernal Judas at their head, he thought not of his own safety, but of that of his fickle and faithless followers; and therefore he boldly advanced before them, acknowledged that he was the person sought, and demanded that his disciples should be let go. And so in the palace of Caiaphas, he refused to name his disciples, that none might be convicted through his words. And so on the way to Calvary, he who had wept over false and bloody Jerusalem, turned to the wailing women, and said, " Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children." Pie forgot the dreadful agony awaiting him, in his tender solicitude for the daughters and children of the city of his slanderers and murderers. And when the nails were rending his flesh, and tearing his nerves, he was thinking not of his own excruciating suffering, but of the wrath of God against his enemies; and therefore he prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

"Amazing pity! grace unknown,
And love beyond degree."