Chapter III: Part 3

But, all other examples of patience dwindle into nothing when compared to the example of Christ. What a beautiful picture of his patience the prophet Isaiah gives when he thus speaks of him: “He was oppressed and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; he is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.” Is. liii: 7. He let his enemies say all manner of evil things against him falsely; he let them mock him,—and smite him on the face,—and spit upon him. Yes, he whom the angels of heaven had been accustomed to honor and worship, as they bowed in reverence before him, allowed himself to be so shamefully treated by sinful worms of the dust, by the very men he had come down from heaven to save; and yet, he never spoke one cross or angry word to them! How wonderful this was! How amazed the angels must have been when they saw it! Oh! what an example of patience we have in Jesus! And if we call ourselves the friends and followers of Christ, let us try to have the same mind in us that was in him, by imitating the example of his patience. There is no way in which we can do so much good to others, and make them think well of the religion of Christ, as by trying to practise the same patience which he practised.

“How to Learn Patience.” A good many years ago there was a celebrated physician in Germany, named Boerhave. He was famous for his learning and also for his piety. He had learned well this lesson of patience. One day he had been greatly provoked, but without getting angry in the least. A friend who had witnessed it, asked him if he knew what it was to be angry. “O, yes,” said he, “my temper was naturally very violent and passionate.”

“Then, pray tell me,” said his friend, “how you ever learned to be so patient.” Now mark what that great and good man said in answer to this inquiry.

“I learned to be patient,” was his reply, “by doing two things; one was by thinking of Christ; the other was by asking him to help me.”

We may all learn patience in this way.

“A Soldier’s Example of Patience.” Some years ago an English missionary in India baptized a soldier. This man had been a famous prize-fighter in England. He was a powerful, lion-looking, lion-hearted man. With a single blow he could level the strongest man to the ground. The men in his regiment were all afraid of him. He had not been in the habit of going to church, but, as he afterwards told the missionary, “he sauntered into the chapel one evening, hardly knowing where he was going.” What he heard that night led him to repentance and he became a Christian. The change which took place in his temper and conduct was very surprising. The lion was changed into a lamb. A month or so after this, when they were dining in the mess-room one day, some of his comrades, who had always been afraid of him, began to ridicule him on account of his religion. One of them said, “I’ll find out whether he is a real Christian or not;” and taking a bowl of hot soup, he threw it into his breast. The whole company were alarmed at this. They looked on in speechless silence, expecting to see the roused lion leap up, and spring in fury on his foe. But he quietly opened his waistcoat, and wiped his scalded breast. Then turning calmly round he said, “This is what I must expect. If I become a Christian, I must suffer persecution. But my Saviour was patient, and I want to be like him.” His comrades were filled with astonishment. But they were satisfied he was a true Christian and he had no more trouble from them. The patience of Christ is the third lesson for us to learn from his trial.

_The fourth lesson taught us by this subject is—THE HUMILIATION OF CHRIST._

If we desired to put the whole history of the life of our blessed Saviour into a single sentence, I do not think we could find a better one than that which the apostle Paul uses when he says of him that—“_He humbled himself._” Phil. ii: 8. Before he came into our world he was “in the form of God, and thought it not robbery to be equal with God.” This means that he was God. Now if he had chosen to become an angel, holy, and pure, and good, he would have had to humble himself very much, even for that. But, instead of becoming an angel, he became a man. And, in becoming a man, he took our nature upon him in its fallen state. He was made like us in all points, except sin. How he humbled himself here! And, in coming into our world, if he had chosen to come as one of the richest men in it,—as a great king or emperor—that would have been an act of great humiliation. But he came as a poor man. He was one of the poorest men that ever lived on the earth. He had made the world, and was the owner of all its treasures, and yet he could say of himself with truth—“The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his head.” What humiliation there was here! We see his humiliation in the poverty and suffering that he endured. His whole life was an act of humiliation. But how greatly this humiliation was increased during the time of his trial! Think how his back was torn by the cruel scourges! What humiliation was there! Think how he was mocked, and insulted! Think how the soldiers put an old purple robe upon him: how they platted a crown of thorns, and put it upon his head; how they put a reed in his hand in mockery for a sceptre: how they bowed the knee before him in scorn, and cried—“Hail! king of the Jews!” How wonderful this was O, never let us forget the humiliation of Christ! And when we think of all this—how can we, as Christians, ever feel proud? Our great duty is, as the apostle says, to be “clothed with humility.” No wonder that Augustine, one of the old fathers of the early church, when asked—“What is the first thing for a Christian to learn?” should have said—“humility.” “What is the second?”—“humility.” “And what is the third?” should still have said—“humility.”

“Examples of Humility.” A converted South Sea Islander was helping to translate the New Testament into his native language. On coming to the passage, “Behold what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God;” I. John iii: 1, he hastened to Mr. Williams, the missionary and said, “No, no, this is too much, too much! let us say—‘Now are we allowed to kiss God’s feet.’” That man was clothed with humility.

A pious nobleman in England was in the habit of attending a prayer meeting in the country village where he lived, and where a few of the poor people of the neighborhood were accustomed to assemble on a week-day evening. When he first came in they were surprised to see him, and they all rose up at once to offer him the best seat in the room. This troubled him greatly. He gently said to them, “Please take your seats my friends, and have the kindness not to do this again. When I go to the ‘House of Lords,’ I go as one of the lords of the realm. But when I come to this cottage prayer meeting, _I come simply as a disciple of Jesus among my fellow disciples_, and must be allowed to take any seat that may be empty.” That nobleman was clothed with humility.

“The Humble King.” A French monarch was found one day by some of his attendants engaged in instructing out of the Bible a boy belonging to his cook.

They said it was beneath his dignity as the King of France to be engaged in teaching the child of his cook. His answer was a noble one. “My friends,” said he, “this boy has _a soul that is as precious as mine, and it was bought with the same precious blood_. If it was not beneath the dignity of my Saviour, the King of heaven, to die for him, it is not beneath my dignity as king of France to tell him what has been done for his salvation.”

That king was clothed with humility. The humiliation of Christ is the fourth lesson taught us by this trial.

_The last lesson we learn from the history of the trial is about—THE GLORY OF CHRIST._

Perhaps some may think it strange to speak of the glory of Christ in connection with this part of his history. Here we see him betrayed, and deserted by his own disciples. He is delivered into the hands of his enemies. They pretend to try him. But it is only the form of a trial through which he is made to pass. He is charged with great crimes. These cannot be proved against him. But still he is condemned to the most disgraceful of all deaths. He is handed to the soldiers to do what they please with him. And is it right to speak of the _glory_ of Christ in connection with such scenes as these? Yes. For this was just what Jesus did himself. It was, as he was about to enter on all this humiliation and suffering, when Judas went out from his presence to betray him, that Jesus said:—“_Now_ is the Son of man glorified.” Thus he himself connected the thought of his glory with these very scenes. And surely he was not mistaken. He knew what he was saying.

Now just think what it is in which true glory consists. It is not in wearing fine clothes. It is not in occupying high positions. It is not in having people say fine and flattering things about us. No; but it is in thinking, and feeling, and saying, and doing, and suffering that which is right and according to the will of God. And _this_ is just the position that Jesus was occupying during his trial. He was fulfilling the will of God in things that were the hardest of all for him to do and to suffer. And _that_ was what made him glorious.

If we were asked to point to that part of our Saviour’s life in which he appears to us in the greatest glory, there would probably be considerable difference of opinion among us. Some of us, no doubt, would point to his transfiguration; some to the times when he walked upon the water, or controlled the winds and the waves with his word; and others would point to the times when he healed the sick, or raised the dead, and cast out devils. But it was not so. No; but it was when he was betrayed and forsaken—when he was condemned to death, and mocked, and insulted by his enemies that Jesus appeared most glorious: for it was then that he was showing, in the strongest possible light, his desire to do his Father’s will and the greatness of his love for the people he came to save. It is not clothing, but character that makes us great or glorious. And the more we try to be like Jesus, in doing the will of God as he did it, in this part of his life, the greater will be the glory belonging to us.

And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple from him, and put his own clothes on him, and led him out to crucify him.—And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children. For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say, ... to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills, Cover us. For if they do these things in a green tree, what shall be done in the dry?—_St. Mark xv: 20; St. Luke xxiii: 27-31._

_NOTE BY THE ARTIST_

_Needless to say, the route followed by the actual “Via Dolorosa” is lost beyond recovery, its very direction being entirely dependent upon that of Calvary, the site of which has for long been a matter of controversy. In any case the veritable Path of Sorrow lies concealed beneath a mass of débris, the ruins of the ancient city upon which modern Jerusalem is built. The street in the painting does not form part of the traditional route; it is the “Street of the Shoemakers,” a coincidence which recalls the mediæval legend of “The Wandering Jew,” who, it may be remembered, was a follower of this craft._

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“The True Hero.” A number of boys were playing after school one day. The playground was on the bank of a river. One of the biggest boys was named Tom Price. He was the strongest boy in the school. He loved to get up quarrels among the boys to show how easily he could whip any of them. But there was one boy in the school who never would fight. His name was Joe Wilson. He was not so big or so strong as Tom Price. But it was not this which made him unwilling to fight. He was trying to be a Christian. He knew it was wrong to fight, and so he always refused to do it.

One day Tom Price agreed with some of the other boys to try and force a fight on Joe Wilson. So while they were playing after school, Tom knocked Joe’s cap off his head, and it fell into the river.

“Tom threw your cap over on purpose, Joe,” said one of the boys; “fight him for it.”

“Yes, give it to him, Wilson,” said the other boys, “we’ll see that you have fair play.”

Price squared off and stood in a fighting position. “I won’t fight,” said Wilson. “I’m sorry you threw the cap over, Price; for it was all but new, and I don’t see any fun in such mischief. But, I’m not going to fight about it.”

“Come on, if you dare,” said Price, shaking his fist at him. All the boys gathered round and urged Wilson to “go on, and give it to him.”

“No, I don’t think it right to fight,” said Wilson, “and I won’t do it.”

“Coward! coward! he’s afraid,” cried the boys. “I am not a coward,” said Wilson; “I dare do anything that’s right. But this is not right, and I won’t do it.”

“Go home, coward! go home, coward!” shouted the boys after him, as he turned to go home.

He had not gone far before there was a sound of a heavy splash. “He’s in! He’ll drown!—he can’t swim! Price is drowning,” cried the boys as they stood on the edge of the bank.

Joe Wilson heard these shouts and ran to the bank of the river. He saw Price struggling in the stream. The other boys were running about and shouting, but they were afraid to go in. In a moment Joe Wilson threw off his jacket, stepped back a few paces—ran—and jumped into the river. He swam out to Price—caught him by the hair of his head, and managed, though with great difficulty and at the risk of his own life, to bring him safely to the shore. Wilson walked quietly home, not only to change his wet clothes, but also to avoid the praise of those who but a moment ago were calling him a coward.

An old gentleman was standing there who had witnessed this whole scene. As soon as Wilson was gone, he called the boys to him and said: “Boys! learn a lesson from what has just taken place. Don’t mistake a hero for a coward next time. The boy who is afraid to do what he knows to be wrong in God’s sight, is the true hero. He is not afraid of anything else; not afraid of man—of danger—or of death.”

The point of greatest glory in Joe Wilson’s conduct that day was not when he bravely plunged into the river. No; but it was when he nobly stood his ground among his companions, and said “I think it wrong to fight; and I won’t do it.”

And so, even amidst the sorrowful scenes of our Saviour’s trials, we see his glory shining out in the way in which he did and suffered what was according to the will of God.

And from this study of the trial of our Saviour, let us carry away with us the five lessons of which we have spoken.

These are the lesson about the weak ruler:—the wicked priests:—the patience—the humiliation—and the glory of Christ.

THE CRUCIFIXION

We read in St. Matthew’s gospel these three simple, but solemn words: “_They crucified him._” Chap. xxvii: 35. Here we have set before us the greatest event in the history of our Saviour while he was on earth. They tell us of the most important event that ever took place in our own world, or in any other world. We have no reason to suppose that Jesus ever took upon himself the nature of any other race of creatures, as he did take our nature. We have no reason to suppose that he ever died, in any other world, as he died in ours. How wonderful this makes the thought of his crucifixion! And how diligently we should study it, and try to understand what it was intended to teach! This is what we come now to do. And in doing this, the two great things for us chiefly to consider, are—_The history of the Crucifixion; and its Lessons_.

And in looking at this history the first thing for us to notice is—_the place of the crucifixion_.

In speaking of this place, St. Matt. xxvii: 33, says it was—“a place called Golgotha, that is to say a place of a skull.” St. Luke xxiii: 33, says it was a place “called Calvary.” Golgotha is a Hebrew word, and Calvary is a Latin word; but they both mean the same thing, namely a skull, or the place of a skull. Some have thought that this name was given to it because it was the spot where public execution took place and criminals were buried. But there is no proof of this. It is often spoken of as “the _hill_ of Calvary”: but it is never so called in the New Testament. It is supposed to have received its name from the fact of its being a smooth and rounded piece of ground, resembling somewhat the shape of a skull, and looking like what we call the brow of a hill. Exactly where this place was we cannot tell. In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem they show a hole in a rock, which they pretend to say was the very hole in which the cross of Jesus was placed. But it is impossible to prove this. And the thought which shows how unlikely this is to be the Calvary where Jesus died is this, that Jesus died _outside_ the walls of Jerusalem, but this is _inside_ the walls, and we know that the city at that time was much larger than the present city. The apostle Paul tells us that “Jesus suffered _without the gate_.” Heb. xiii: 13. We are sure then that Calvary, or Golgotha, the place of the crucifixion, was outside the walls of Jerusalem, but nigh unto the city. This is all that we can find about it with any certainty.

The _time of the crucifixion_ is the next thing to consider. It was on Friday of the last week of his earthly life. What is called “Good Friday,” in the week before Easter, known as Passion Week, is kept by a large part of the Christian Church in memory of this event.

As to the hour of the day when the crucifixion took place, there is some difference in the statements made by the different evangelists. St. Matthew says nothing about the hour when Jesus was crucified. He only says that during the time of the crucifixion, “from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.” St. Matt. xxvii: 45. This means from twelve o’clock at noon, till three o’clock in the afternoon. St. Luke and St. John both say that it was—“_about_ the sixth hour,” when this great event took place. But it is clear from their way of speaking of it, that they did not wish to be understood as stating the time very exactly. St. Mark says—ch. xv: 25, “And it was the third hour, and they crucified him.” There seems to be a disagreement between these statements. But it is easy enough to reconcile the difference. There are two ways of doing this. One is by supposing that when St. Mark says: “It was the third hour, and they crucified him,” he was speaking of the time when they began to make preparations for the crucifixion, while St. Luke and St. John refer to the time when the preparations were all finished, and the crucifixion had actually taken place.

But there is another way of reconciling this apparent difference. The Jews were accustomed to divide their day into four parts, corresponding with the four watches into which the night was divided. Beginning at six o’clock in the morning, which was the time when their day commenced, they sometimes called the first three hours, from six to nine o’clock, the first hour. The next three hours, from nine to twelve o’clock, they called the second hour; and then, according to this way of reckoning, the three hours following, from twelve to three o’clock, would be the third hour. And if _this_ was the way in which St. Mark was speaking, then his _third_ hour would agree exactly with the sixth hour mentioned by St. Luke and St. John. And so, when we think of the time of the crucifixion, we may remember that Jesus hung upon the cross, in dreadful agonies, from “about” twelve o’clock at noon-day until three in the afternoon. O, how long and painful those hours must have seemed to him!

The next thing to notice is—_the manner of the crucifixion_. Suppose that you and I had been standing on Calvary at the time of our Saviour’s death: what should we have seen? Why, lying there on the ground, we should have seen the great wooden cross, on which Jesus was to suffer. It is made of two pieces. There is one long, upright piece of timber, and a shorter one fastened across this upright beam, at the upper end. There is Jesus standing by—bound, and bleeding, and crowned with thorns. The soldiers take him and lay his body on the cross, with his back towards it. They stretch out his arms to their full length, along the upper beam of the cross. They take heavy hammers and drive great rough nails through the palms of his hands, and through the tender part of his feet. How terrible the suffering caused by every blow of those hammers! And see, when this is done, the soldiers raise up the cross, and place the lower end of it in a hole they had prepared for it. It comes down with a jar. What terrible tortures that jar sends through every part of the suffering Saviour’s frame! About the middle of the cross is a projecting piece of wood, to form a sort of seat, so as to prevent the whole weight of the body from hanging from the nails, and tearing the flesh of the hands and feet. And there the Son of God is left to suffer tortures that cannot be expressed, till death shall come and bring relief.

_The witnesses of the crucifixion_ is the next thing of which to speak.

Near the cross was his mother and the good women who were her companions. John is the only one of the apostles found near the cross at the time when their Lord was crucified. The soldiers and the priests were there. The walls of Jerusalem were, no doubt, lined with people looking anxiously on; and crowds of strangers were standing by, beholding this sad event; for Jerusalem was always full of persons from a distance at that season who came to keep the feast of the Passover. And then, if our eyes had been opened, as the eyes of Elisha’s servant were, (II. Kings vi: 17), so that we could have seen as spirits do, we should have beheld multitudes of angels among the spectators of the crucifixion. We should have seen them hovering over the cross and gazing with wonder on the sight that met their view there—the Son of God—hanging on the cross in agonies and blood!

_The wonders attending the crucifixion_ is another thing to notice. There was the darkness over all the land from the sixth to the ninth hour, or from twelve to three o’clock. This was not a natural darkness caused by an eclipse of the sun, for the Jewish Passover was held at the time of the full moon, and it is impossible to have an eclipse then. No; it was a miraculous darkness. The sun hid his face, as if he was ashamed to look on and see

“When God, the Mighty Maker died,
For man, the creature’s sin.”

And then there was an earthquake. The great globe itself seemed to tremble at the thought of the dreadful deed that was taking place on its surface. The solid rocks were rent in pieces. The graves were opened, and many of the dead buried in them rose, and came back to life. And then, at the same time, the vail of the temple—that thick, strong vail—which hung between the holy place and the most holy place, without any one touching it, was rent in twain from the top to the bottom. This was done by miracle. If you and I had been there, with our eyes opened, as I said a little while ago, we should probably have seen two mighty angels, taking hold of that vail and rending it. These were the wonders that attended the crucifixion.

And then there are _the words spoken by Jesus on the cross_, to notice. Seven times the blessed Lord opened his mouth and spoke as he hung amidst the torturing agonies of the cross. The first time he spoke there, was to pray for his murderers. St. Luke xxiii: 34. Then he spoke to his disciple John, who was standing near the cross, and asked him to take care of his mother. St. John xix: 25-27. Then he answered the prayer of the dying thief, and told him he should be with him in paradise that day. St. Luke xxiii: 39-43. Then he said—“I thirst.” St. John xix: 28. Then came the awful cry which he uttered when his Father in heaven forsook him and left him alone. St. Matt. xxvii: 46. Then he said—“It is finished!” St. John xix: 30. Then he “cried with a loud voice,” and said—“Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.” St. Luke xxiii: 46. And then he meekly bowed his head and died.

Such is the history of the crucifixion—the most solemn, the most awful, the most important event that ever took place since the world was made.

And there were also two other, malefactors, led with him to be put to death. And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on the right hand, and the other on the left. Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots. And the people stood beholding. And the rulers also with them derided _him_, saying, He saved others; let him save himself, if he be Christ, the chosen of God. And the soldiers also mocked him, coming to him, and offering him vinegar. And saying, If thou be the king of the Jews, save thyself. And a superscription also was written over him in letters of Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew, THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.—_St. Luke xxiii: 32-38._

_NOTE BY THE ARTIST_

_In spite of all that has been spoken and written on the subject, the site of the place called “Golgotha” remains, as has been said, and must always remain, undecided. But to those who can maintain an open mind, unbiased by sentimental associations, the weight of evidence bears heavily against the traditional Calvary (which shares with many other “sacred sites” the shelter of the church of the Holy Sepulchre) and in favor of a little knoll overhanging the grotto of Jeremiah, about an arrow-flight beyond the Damascus Gate of Jerusalem._

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A great many very valuable lessons are taught us by the history of the crucifixion. We can speak of only five.

The first lesson taught us by the crucifixion is—_the lesson of forgiveness_.

It was probably while the Roman soldiers were driving the rough nails through his tender hands and feet, or just after the cross was set up in its place, that Jesus taught us this lesson. He looked on his murderers with a pitying eye. If he had asked God to punish them, as they deserved for their cruelty, or if he had spoken to them ever so severely, it would not have been surprising. But though they were causing him so much suffering, when he had done them no harm, still there was not one angry feeling in his heart towards them, and not one unkind word fell from his lips. Instead of this, he lifted up his eyes to heaven, and offered the prayer—“_Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do._” Here we have the most perfect pattern of forgiveness the world has ever known. If we wish to be true followers of Jesus, we must try to be like him in this respect. We must learn well this lesson of forgiveness.

“Examples of Forgiveness.” Dr. Duff, the late excellent missionary to India, once read our Saviour’s sermon on the mount to some Hindoo young men whom he was teaching. As he read on he came to the passage in which Jesus says, “I say unto you love your enemies, bless them that persecute you, and pray for them that despitefully use you, and persecute you.” One of the young men was so impressed by our Saviour’s words that he exclaimed, with great earnestness, “O how beautiful! how divine! this is the truth!” And for days and weeks afterwards he would exclaim, from time to time, “_Love your enemies!_ who ever heard such teaching? How beautiful this is! This is heavenly teaching!”

“A Forgiving Boy.” “Mamma,” said little Charley, “now I’ve got a new sled, what shall I do with my old one?” Presently he added, “Mamma, there’s a chance to do something real good.”

“What is it, Charley?”

“Why, you see, mamma, if there’s any boy I hate, it’s Tim Tyson. He’s always plaguing and teasing me and all the other little boys. It never does any good to get cross, for that is just what he likes: but then Tim likes sledding very much and he has no sled. I’ve a notion to give the old sled to him. It will show him that I forgive him. It might make him think, and do him good. Mightn’t it?” “Yes, it might,” said the mother.

So Tim got Charley’s sled. The kind, forgiving spirit of the little boy he had teased so much touched him greatly. It made him think. It did him good. After that Tim never teased Charley again, or any of the other little boys.

“How a Bishop Taught Forgiveness.” There was once a good bishop who lived at Alexandria in Egypt. One day a nobleman came to see him. He told the bishop about a person who had done him a great wrong. He got very angry about it. “I never will forgive him,” said he, “as long as I live.”

Just then the bell tinkled for prayers in the bishop’s private chapel. He rose to go into the chapel and asked the nobleman to follow him. The bishop kneeled at the railing of the little chancel. He asked his friend to repeat the Lord’s prayer after him, sentence by sentence. This was done till they came to the sentence “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” When the bishop had offered this prayer he waited for the nobleman to say it after him, but he was silent. He said it again but there was no answer. Then the bishop was silent and gave his friend time to think. Presently the nobleman rose to his feet and said:

“I dare not offer that prayer, while I feel as I now do. It would be asking God never to forgive me. I must forgive if I expect to be forgiven.”

Then he left the chapel, sought out the person who had injured him, and told him that he freely forgave him. After this he went back and finished his prayer with the good bishop.

The lesson of forgiveness, is one lesson taught us by the crucifixion of our Saviour.

The second lesson we are here taught is—_the lesson of duty to our parents_.

When we think of Jesus hanging on the cross and bearing all the dreadful pains of crucifixion, it seems to us that he must have been so fully occupied with his own terrible sufferings as to have had no thought or feeling for any one but himself. But it was not so. He did not forget his duty to his mother even then. He saw her standing by his cross weeping. Joseph, her husband, was no doubt dead. She would have no one now to take care of her. John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, was standing near his mother. Jesus looked at his mother, and told her to consider John as her own son. Then he looked at John, and turning his eye to the weeping Mary, he told John to treat her as his own mother. And from that time John took the mother of Jesus to his own home and took care of her, as if she had been his own mother. How thoughtful and tender this was in Jesus! How much it was like the loving Saviour! And how touchingly we may learn from this crucifixion scene the lesson of our duty to our parents, and especially to our mothers! No child can ever fully repay a faithful, loving mother for all that she has done. Let us try to follow the example which Jesus set us from the cross about our duty to our parents.

Let us look at some examples of those who have learned and practised this lesson.

“The Polish Prince.” Here is a story of a Polish prince who had a very good father. This young man was in the habit of carrying the picture of his father in his bosom. And when he was tempted to do anything that was wrong, he would take out this picture and look at it, saying, “Let me do nothing that would grieve my good father.”

“Ashamed to Tell Mother.” Some boys were playing one day after school. Among them was a little fellow whom his companions were trying to tempt to do something wrong. “I can’t do it,” said he, “because I should be ashamed to tell mother of it.”

“Well, but you needn’t tell her; and she won’t know anything about it.”

“But I should know all about it myself, and I’d feel mighty mean if I wouldn’t tell mother!”

The boys laughed at him and said: “The idea of a boy running and telling his mother every little thing! What a pity you weren’t a girl!”

“You may laugh about it as much as you please,” said the noble little fellow, “but I’ve made up my mind never, as long as I live, to do anything I would be ashamed to tell my mother.” That boy was a hero. He was doing just what Jesus would have done in his place. Many a boy would have been saved from ruin if he had only acted in this way.

“Honoring His Mother.” “Is there a vacant place in this bank, which I could fill?” asked a boy with a glowing face, as he stood, with cap in hand, before the president of the bank.

“There is none,” was the reply. “Were you told that we wanted a boy? Who recommended you?”

“No one recommended me, sir,” calmly said the boy. “I only thought I would see.”

There was an honesty and manliness about the lad which pleased the president and led him to continue the conversation.

“You must have friends who could help you in getting a situation; have you told them?”

With a saddened feeling, the boy said: “My mother told me it would be useless to try without friends,” then apologizing for the interruption, he turned to go away; but the gentleman detained him, saying: “Why don’t you stay at school a year or two longer, my young friend, and then try to get a situation?”

“I have no time for school,” was his reply. “I study at home, and keep up with the other boys as well as I can.”

“Then you have had a place already,” said the officer, “why did you leave it?”

“I have not left it, sir,” quietly answered the boy.

“But you wish to leave it. What is the matter?”

The boy was confounded for a moment—but presently said—“I want to do more for mother, sir.”

These brave words of the boy touched the gentleman’s heart. And grasping the hand of the little fellow he said:—“My boy, what is your name? and where do you live? You shall have the first vacancy, for a boy, that occurs in the bank. And in the meantime if you need a friend, come to me. But now tell me frankly, why do you wish to do more for your mother? Have you no father?”

The boy’s eyes filled with tears. He had to make an effort before he could speak. But recovering himself directly he said:

“My father is dead: my brothers and sisters are dead. My mother and I are left alone to help each other. But she is not strong, and I wish to do all I can for her. It will please her, sir, that you have been so kind to me, and I am very much obliged to you.” And then leaving his name and residence with the gentleman, he made a bow and retired.

It was not long before the president of that bank called to see this boy and his mother. He cheered their hearts by telling them that he had a situation for the boy, who found a warm friend in him as long as he lived. God’s blessing followed that boy, and he rose to occupy an important position in the bank. And God’s blessing will always follow those who learn and practise the lesson Jesus taught us on the cross—of honoring our parents.

The third lesson we may learn from the crucifixion is about—_the power and willingness of Jesus to save_.

This lesson is taught us by what took place between Jesus and the dying thief, as they each hung upon the cross. Jesus was crucified between two thieves. One of them cast reproaches upon Jesus, as he hung by his side. The other rebuked his fellow thief; and then, turning his eyes towards Jesus, said—“Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.” Jesus at once heard and accepted his prayer, and told the thief that he should be with him in paradise that day. This was one of the most wonderful things that took place in connection with the crucifixion of our Saviour. There were many wonders in it. It was wonderful that this dying thief should have understood so clearly as he did the true character of Jesus. It was wonderful that he should have had faith to trust the salvation of his soul to one who was dying what seemed to be a criminal’s death. It was wonderful that he should have repented truly of his sins, and have prayed earnestly, as he did, while hanging on the cross. It was wonderful that Jesus was able and willing to pardon him, to change his heart, and make him fit for heaven at the last hour of his life. And it was wonderful that Jesus was so ready to help and save another at the very time when he was suffering so much himself. The apostle Paul tells us that “he is able to save unto the _uttermost_, those who come unto God through him.” Heb. vii: 25. There could not be a more striking illustration of the power and willingness of Jesus to save sinners than we have here in the case of the dying thief.

But illustrations of the same kind, though not so striking as this, do often occur.

“The Cleansing Fountain.” There was once a man who had been a very great sinner. He had long been in the habit of committing all sorts of wickedness. But at last he grew weary of his evil ways, and wanted to become a Christian. But he thought his sins were too great to be forgiven. A Christian man talked and prayed with him. To encourage him he repeated the first verse of the hymn, which says:

“There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins;
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.”

But the poor man shook his head, and said, “There’s nothing in that for me. My sins are too great to be washed away.” Then his friend repeated the second verse:

“The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;
And there may I, though vile as he
Wash all my sins away.”

“That means _me_,” said the penitent sinner. He was encouraged to pray to Jesus, and he found that he was able and willing to save him.

“Muckle Bess—A Hopeless Case.” This was the name of a woman who lived in Scotland many years ago. Her history illustrates very well the point now before us, and shows the power and willingness of Christ to save. She was the daughter of a good, pious farmer. But she was led into evil company. She left her father’s house, and became a most wicked and abandoned woman. She was a terror to every one, even to the wicked people among whom she had gone to live. At last she left them and spent her time in wandering among the highlands, living like a wild beast, stealing what she could get to eat, or to wear, and sleeping in barns or stables, in sheepfolds, or in the dens and caves of the mountains. She used to roam over the country begging, or stealing, cursing and swearing, and doing all sorts of wicked things. Everybody was afraid of her. No one thought of speaking to her, or even of praying for her; and every one looked upon her case as hopeless.

At one time, when Muckle Bess had passed middle life, there was a great religious interest among the churches in that part of the country.

On one Sabbath day they were holding services in the open air. A great crowd of people had gathered round the minister. To the surprise of every one, who should appear, at the outside of the crowd, but poor Bess. Ragged, and wild-looking, she seemed just like the witch of Endor. The women trembled at the sight of her, and the men thought she had only come for mischief. But she sat quietly down on the grass and listened to the preaching. It led her to think of her wicked life, and filled her heart with anguish. Presently she rose to her feet, stretched out her brawny arms, and cried in tones of agony that melted the hearts of all who heard her, “Oh, thou God o’ my fathers; oh, thou God o’ bonnie Scotland, that has been steeped in blood for thy name’s sake; look on me a wretched sinner, who has scorned thee, and robbed thee, and defied thee! Hast thou na’ promised cleansin’ to them whose sins are scarlet and crimson? And whose sins are o’ deeper dye than mine? God, be merciful to me a sinner!” And then she sank sobbing to the earth.

The stillness of death was over that congregation. The minister paused till poor Bess’s sobs were no longer heard. Then he went on with the sermon. He spoke of the love of Christ in being willing to suffer and die for us. He told of his power and readiness to pardon and save all who truly turn to him, and referred to the case of the dying thief to prove the truth of what he said. This touched the heart of poor Bess, and led her to feel that there might be hope, even for her. Then she rose to her feet again, and cried, “Hear me, ye people o’ God! Hear me, ye angels above! Hear me, ye powers o’ evil, while I vow afore ye all, that I will e’en tak’ him at his word, and leave it there!”

From that time Muckle Bess became a changed woman. She went back to her father’s house to live. But she occupied her time in going from house to house, to tell the story of Jesus and his love. And the rest of her life she spent in speaking kind words and doing kind acts to all about her. She was never tired of telling, with tears of heartfelt gratitude, what Jesus had done for her soul.

How beautifully this story illustrates the power and willingness of Jesus to save!

The fourth lesson we learn from the crucifixion of Christ is about—_the depth of his sufferings_.

The sufferings of his body were very great. When the Roman soldiers beat him on the back with their rods, his flesh was torn, and made to quiver with pain. Then his brow was torn by the sharp points of the crown of thorns that were pressed upon his head. His hands and feet were torn by the rough, cruel nails that were driven through them. And when the cross was set upright in the earth, and his body was hanging by those nails, who can tell the agony that must have been wringing every nerve in it? Think of him as hanging thus for three or four dreadful hours! how long the moments must have seemed that made up those hours! And if he tried to change his position in the slightest degree, every movement must have increased the torture he was feeling a hundred fold.

But this was not all: this was not half the suffering that Jesus endured. If he had been feeling peaceful and comfortable in his mind while all this was going on, he would not have cared much for these bodily pains. But he had no such feeling. His mind or soul was enduring sufferings much worse than those which the scourges, and the crown of thorns, and the crucifixion, caused to his body. He said to his disciples as he entered Gethsemane—“My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.” This was the sorrow he felt from thinking that his Father in heaven was angry with him, and was looking at him as if he were a sinner. He had taken our sins upon himself, and God was treating him as if he had really been a sinner. He was bearing the wrath of God that we had deserved for our sins. The apostle Paul tells us that—“He was made a curse for us.” Gal. iii: 13. We cannot understand what Jesus had to feel when this curse came down upon him. But it was this which wrung from him that bitter cry when the darkness came around him, as he hung upon the cross,—“My God! My God! why hast thou forsaken me?”

This made the sufferings that Jesus bore for us greater than we can tell, and greater than we can understand.

This part of our subject we must leave without attempting any illustration. There never was any sorrow or suffering like that which he bore for us. I know of nothing that could be used as an illustration here. This thought of the sufferings of Christ is like one of those places in the ocean which is so deep that we cannot get a line long enough to reach the bottom.

_And then the last lesson for us to learn from the crucifixion of Christ is about—THE WONDERS OF HIS LOVE._

The apostle Paul tells us that the love of Christ—“_passeth knowledge_.” Ephes. iii: 19. He says the riches of this love are “_unsearchable_.” The love of Christ is like a mountain, so high that we cannot climb to the top of it. It is like a valley, so deep that we cannot get down to the bottom of it. It is like a plain, so broad that we cannot get to the beginning of it, on the one hand, or to the end of it on the other. And when we are looking at Jesus as he hangs upon the cross, we are in the best position we ever can occupy for trying to understand the wonders of his love. It was the love of Jesus which made him willing to come down from heaven and “humble himself unto death, even the death of the cross.” It was the love of Jesus which made him willing to be nailed to the cross, and to hang there in agony and blood, till as the Te Deum says, he had “overcome the sharpness of death, and had opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers.” And as we stand before the cross of Christ, and think of the depth of his sufferings, and the wonders of his love, we may well ask in the language of the hymn:

“O Lamb of God! was ever _pain_,
Was ever _love_ like Thine?”

And it is this wonderful love of Jesus, in dying for us, which gives to the story of the cross the strange power it has over the hearts of men.

And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, If thou be Christ, save thyself and us. But the other answering rebuked him, saying, Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds: but this man hath done nothing amiss. And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise.—Now there stood by the cross of Jesus his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the _wife_ of Cleophas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus therefore saw his mother, and the disciple standing by, whom he loved, he saith unto his mother, Woman, behold thy son! Then saith he to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that hour that disciple took her unto his own _home_.—_St. Luke xxiii: 39-43; St. John xix: 25-27._

_NOTE BY THE ARTIST_

_Oft-repeated words are apt, for this very reason, to lose the force of their significance; and the Cross of Calvary has furnished so frequent a theme for Christian literature and Christian art, that it is by an effort only, which we do well to exert, that the anguish of that lingering death can even dimly be appreciated. The harrowing details have often been recounted, and it is sufficient here to state in brief, that it comprised, in one awful agony, well-nigh every pang which the human body can be called upon to suffer; withholding for long the boon of death itself, and even the pitiful mercy of isolation. For that “lifting up,” by which artists have striven to indicate the loneliness of Jesus, is not in accordance with the facts of the case. No timber in Palestine is of sufficient size to furnish crosses such as are generally represented, and we are forced instead to picture the patient sufferer during those many fatal hours, as raised but slightly above the level of the ground, and literally face to face with his tormentors._

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“The Influence of the Love of Christ.” We are so accustomed to hear of the blessed Saviour, and his amazing love, that it often gets to be a familiar story to us, and so it does not have its proper influence on our hearts. But it is different with the missionaries of the gospel. When they tell the heathen about Jesus, and his love, it is new to them, and sometimes it has a strange effect upon them. Here is an instance of this: