Philip's informing him that the miracles performed by Jesus of Nazareth gave ground to conclude that he was the Christ, of whose appearance there was then a general expectation. "What," says that weak and narrow-minded man, "do you expect the Messiah to come from so contemptible a place as Nazareth?" Yet, when, at the desire of Philip, he is prevailed upon to go and see him; as soon as he appears, with what unreserved openness does He, who knew all that was in man, overlook his prejudice, and celebrate him as a pattern of truth and sincerity of heart! How different from this is the conduct of peevish mortals? Does one hear the least surmise of a reflection supposed to have been cast upon him by another! How hard does he find it to forgive the mortal injury: how few can ever bring themselves heartily to love those who have taken the smallest liberty of this kind!

Excepting two of Christ's miracles, one of which it is needless to mention at present, its effect being of no material consequence at all, but as an emblem of the future destruction of the Jews, and the other was a just punishment on the sufferers; the direct tendency of all of them was kind and beneficial, and suitable to the character of the Saviour of the World, who came to deliver mankind from vice and misery. What blessings might not be expected from one, whose appearance in the world was signalized, not by vain triumphs, and honorary gifts; but who expressed his goodness to mankind in giving food to the hungry, sight to the blind, health to the diseased, the use of reason to the distracted and possessed, pardon to the wounded conscience, heavenly knowledge to the unenlightened mind, and the prospect of endless happiness to the anxious and doubtful?

When his perverse enemies, with a degree of impiety never equalled before or since, accused the best of characters of the worst of crimes; alleging that he, who came to destroy the kingdom of Satan, was guilty of a collusion with Satan; thus effectually defeating the highest and most powerful means of conviction and reformation that could be offered to free and rational agents; how does he receive their impious accusations? Not with a deadly stroke from that hand which could wield all the thunder

of heaven; but with a calm remonstrance on the absurdity of their accusation, the greatness of their crime, and the fearful vengeance they were drawing upon themselves..

What superior sagacity does he show in defeating the artful and ensnaring questions put to him by the crafty and the learned! How does he answer, not only to men's words, but to their thoughts and designs! Let the conversation between him and Nicodemus be an example among many. Of which, the following short account will serve to illustrate this observation, which is highly necessary to be attended to, in order to enter into the beauty and propriety of many of our Saviour's discourses and

answers.

This teacher and ruler of the Jews having secretly some opinion of our Saviour as a prophet, and desiring to have some particular conversation with him, goes to him in the night to avoid giving umbrage to his fellow-doctors; being unwilling to be suspected of any inclination to dissent from the established and fashionable opinions. He begins with acknowledging the reality and the greatness of the miraculous works performed by him. To which compliment our Saviour returns an answer which seems very abrupt; but is exactly suited to the character and design of Nicodemus. The sense of it is as follows:

"I understand what you mean by coming to me thus privately; but that you may at once be able to judge of the doctrine which I teach, to see how unsuitable it is to all manner of worldly views, and may not be deceived into an opinion of your being of a character and temper fit to be a disciple of mine; I tell you at once, That as the bulk of mankind are, it is necessary for one who would enter upon the profession of the pure and spiritual religion, which I am come into the world to teach mankind, to be as much changed in his disposition and practice as if he was to be new born."

Nicodemus, not expecting our Saviour to answer to his thoughts, puts a very absurd construction upon his words. Our Saviour condescends to explain the metaphor he had used, and to inform Nicodemus that he meant it in a spiritual and emblematical, not a literal sense. He then goes on to the following purpose:

"If you mean to enter upon the spiritual religion which

I teach, you must not be surprised that I lay the foundation of my doctrine, not in a set of new ceremonies and outward observances, but in a total change of heart and life. For you must resolve upon giving up your present secular schemes, and becoming indifferent to all worldly pursuits, when they come in competition with real internal goodness."

He afterwards gives Nicodemus some account of his mission, and design in coming into the world: and concludes with condemning the obstinacy and carnality of the people, and of Nicodemus himself among the rest, and shows, that his and their prejudices in favour of their errors, and attachment to their vices, were the cause of their opposition to his pure and spiritual doctrine. Nicodemus being only a little more inquisitive, and having a little more candour in his disposition, than the rest of the Jewish doctors; but not enough to carry through all difficulties and trials, is treated thus plainly and roughly by him, who exactly knew what was in every man, and not finding the religion of Jesus to his mind, leaves him and returns to his former profession, without having any good effect wrought upon him by the conversation, that we know of, except that he seems, by one instance in the sequel of the history, to be more inclinable to favour him than the rest of his fraternity. A character, this of Nicodemus, fatally common among Christians. To be in the way toward the kingdom of God, and yet, through a defect of some one necessary virtue, or a fatal attachment to some one favourite vice, to come short of it at last.

To return, how ready is he to find an excuse for the unpardonable stupidity of his disciples, in suffering themselves, the last time they were to enjoy his company before his death, to be overcome with sleep, while they saw the anguish their Master was in, which, in a Being of his power and intrepidity, might justly have alarmed them with the expectation of somewhat to the highest degree terrible and shocking! And good reason there is to conclude, that the approach of death was not all that produced in. him those dreadful emotions of horror and amazement. Does he not suffer the traitor himself to follow him for several years, to partake of his counsels, to hear his Divine doctrine? Does he not forewarn him of the wickedness

he had in his heart, and give all advantage for relenting? Even when he advances to betray his Lord with a treache rous embrace, does he strike him dead with a word? Though they all make their escape, and leave him in his extremity, does he punish or even reproach them, after his resurrection, for their unfaithfulness to him, for whom they ought to have laid down their lives, who came to lay down his life for them?

Let the noble and heroic behaviour of the Prince of Peace, toward his wicked and implacable enemies, be considered. How does he show himself above their utmost malice! Does he not go on still in his calm dignity, and equal goodness, in spite of their utmost fury, till he has finished his ministry, and the time comes for him to return to the state of happiness and glory he had left? When their hour, and the power of darkness prevails, with what meekness does he give himself up into their cruel hands! When they come to apprehend him, and struck with the majesty which surrounded him, fly back and fall before him to the ground, he exerts no vindictive power against them, though he could with a word have struck them so as they should have risen no more, and could have called legions of angels, who would have thought it their honour to have been commanded to interpose for his deliverance. But though he wrought a miracle to avoid regal power, he works none to escape an infamous death.

Behold the innocent arraigned before the guilty! The most amiable of characters treated worse than the most odious deserver at any human hands. The future Judge of Mankind brought before a human tribunal. He who did no sin, and in whose mouth was found no guile, sentenced to die, and a robber and murderer pardoned. They, for whom the Saviour of the world came from heaven to give his precious life, long to imbrue their hands in the very blood which was to be shed for them. O the diabolical fury of hypocrisy detected! Crucify him; Crucify him cry the bloody priests, and the blinded people echo back the maddening voice. But will the Lord of life suffer himself to be spoiled of life by a set of miserable worms whom he can crush to nothing in a moment? No. He lays it down of himself; no man takes, or can take it from him. He came to lay down his life for the life of the world.

And if daring mortals will be so impious as to stretch forth unhallowed hands against him, the decree of heaven will nevertheless be fulfilled, and they, who will heap damnation upon themselves, shall be left to the destruction they have sought. Yet hold your butchering hands, unthinking wretches. Or if his sacred blood must stream to wash a sinful world from guilt; let the High Priest with reverence offer him on the altar, the true, the last, the only effectual sacrifice for sin. So shall you, and your nation, escape the destruction which hangs over you. They harden their rocky hearts against all sense of pity. They urge their own destruction. Let not then the eye of day behold so black a deed. Let heaven hide its face from such a sight. They pierce those hands whose salutary touch gave health and strength, and those feet which went about doing good. They stretch him on the cross. They stop their ears against the groans of suffering innocence. But the inanimate earth feels, and shakes with horror at the impiety of her inhabitants. The rocks burst in pieces, and nature is in agonies. The sleep of death is broken by the convulsion. The graves open their throats, and cast up the ghastly dead. An unseen hand rends the veil of the temple, and exposes the holy place, into which it was forbidden to enter. His agonies now grow stronger. His pangs redouble. The choirs of angels mourn the sufferings of their Prince. Hell is moved, and the dæmons enjoy a short triumph. Darkness covers the face of nature, and chaos seems ready to swallow all. He calls on his God and Father, the witness of his innocence, and approver of his obedience. He prays for those by whose murdering hands he dies. He raises his voice aloud. His strength is yet entire. But having finished the work, and the prophecies being accomplished, by his own original power over his own life, he resigns his soul into the hands of the Supreme Father of All, and, bowing his head, expires. He dies; and yet his murderers live. His death raises a guilty world to life. Tremendous mystery! Not to be explained till the veil of time be rent asunder, and eternity exposes to view the amazing scene of Divine Government, too vast for mortal comprehension. Glory to God in the highest! On earth peace, and good-will

towards men!