EMORY UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
SACRED
Biography and History,
OR,
fllusirafioirs nf ±bc |joIit jstriptarts.
c o S T A I n i x o
Descriptions of Palestine, Ancient and Modern;
LIVES OP THE
AND OF j
CHRIST AND THE APOSTLES. I
!
VITH NOTICES OF THE MOST EMINENT REFORMERS, LUTIIER, j
MELANCTHON. CALVIN, &c.
AXD SKETCHES OF THE RUIN'S OF THE CELEBRATED CITIES,
PALMYRA, NINEVEH, JERUSALEM,
AXD OTHERS MENTIONED IX THE SACRED WRITINGS.
EDITED BY
OSMONI> TIFFANY,
Author of "The American in China," "Brandon, or a Hundred Years ago," &c
JUttstyatyd ttrith numerous Jteautiful j&teel (Hnjgrauhtxjfj.
SOCIAL CIRCLE, GEO.:
PUBLISHED BY E. NEBHUT.
I 8 6 0.
Ij
PREFACE.
The Publishers have been convinced for a long time past
that a work of this kind was much needed and would be
welcomed. It is an indisputable fact that many books relat¬
ing to sacred history and character are singularly dull, and
repll instead of attract the reader. While, therefore, it has
been their aim to collect material from the best sources, they
have also aimed at making a popular and readable work.
Attention is asked in the first place to the Table of Con¬
tents, which presents a rich and varied feast, and then the
reader may examine the pages of the work, sure to find
something in reward for his critical examination of them.
The most striking and interesting episodes of the Old
Testament have been chosen ; the lives of the patriarchs,
Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, will be found fully illustrated,
and the exquisite story of Joseph, perhaps the most touch¬
ing and beautiful narrative in the whole compass of literature,
sacred or profane, will be found in detail.
Of the Kings, Saul, David and Solomon appear in these
pages, each of whom were mighty in their day and generation,
and each of whom by their lives present special instances of
" warning to those disposed to wander from the true and nar¬
row* path that leads onward toward eternal life. Of the
Prophets itjh'as been thought sufficient to introduce only the
IV PREFACE.
four greatest, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel, with a
critical account of the books they have left behind them.
The Life of Christ will be found complete, of that charac¬
ter which will fully satisfy the religious inquirer, and is fol¬
lowed by accounts of the Apostles and other celebrated per¬
sonages connected with the mission of our Saviour. Accounts
of the greatest of the Reformers have been added, and also
valuable information on the state of some of the most famous
ruined cities of the East, derived from the best and most
recent authorities—Botta, Layard, etc. The Publishers, in
conclusion, have only to express their conviction that the
present work will prove one of the most readable, compre¬
hensive, and reliable of the American press.
Jauuaby 1, 1860.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PART I.
PALESTINE AND ITS EARLY PEOPLE.
paqb
PALESTINE.—In Modern Times—Taking of Jerusalem by Titus—The
Reigns of Diocletian—Julian—Justinian—Chosroe^—Subdued by Omar—
The Caliphs—Godfrey of Bouillon—Saladin—The Mamalukes—The
Turks—Beauty and Fertility—Desolation—Plain of Zabulon—Soil—
Crops—Animal Productions—Inhabitants—Population, Aneient and Mod¬
ern—History of—Call of Abraham—The Descendants of Shem—Of
Ham—Of Japhet—Posterity of Canaan—Language of—Divisions of States
—Vale of Siddim—Kings in—Social Condition of—Agricultural and Pas¬
toral—Not "Warlike—Knowledge of Money—Phoenician Tribes......... 11
Chap. I. ABRAHAM.—Family of—Departure from Land of the Chal-
dees—Death of Abram's Father—Abram Commanded to Depart—Lot
goes with him—Their Flocks and Herds—Arrives in Land of Canaan—
The Lord Appears unto him—He builds an Altar to Jehovah—His "Wan¬
derings—Famine in the Land—He proceeds to Egypt—Passes his "Wife
as his Sister—She attracts Pharaoh—Departure from Egypt—Pastoral
"Wealth—"Wars with the Kings—Lot made Prisoner—Rescued by Abram—
Abram promised a Son—His Vision—He takes Hagar as a Concubine—
Ishmael Born—He Entertains Angels unawares—The Birth of his Son
Foretold to him—Destruction of Sodom—Removes from Mamre 29
Chap. H. ISAAC.—Birth of Isaac—Sarah's Jealousy of Hagar—Hagar
Driven Out—Ishmael's Danger—Abraham Commanded to offer up Isaac—
Departs with him to Place of Sacrifice—Isaac Saved by God's Command
—Death of Sarah—Abraham buys the Field of Machpelah for a Burial
Place—He Seeks a "Wife for Isaac—His Servant, Eliezer, sent to obtain
one in Mesopotamia—Meeting with Rebekah—Marriage of Isaac and
Rebekah—Abraham Marries his Second Wife, Keturah—Death of Abra¬
ham—Of Isaac. 53
Chap. III. JACOB.—Esau and Jacob—Rebekah's undue Fondness for
Jacob—Disguiae3 Jacob as Esau—Story of the Mess of Pottage—Isaac
Blesses Jacob—Esau's Return from Hunting—Discovers the Fraud—His
Anger—Isaac's Distress—Jacob Flees—His Dream—He Journeys to La-
ban's Home—His Marriage with Leah by Laban's Craft—His Marriage to
Rachel—Birth of Joseph—Return of Jacob—Reconciliation with Esau.. 68
Chap. TV". THE STORY OF JOSEPH.—Jacob's Love for Joseph—Jeal¬
ousy of his Brothers—Joseph's Dreams—His Coat of Many Colors—Pro¬
posal to Kill him—Reuben Interposes—He is put into a Pit—Sold to
Traders traveling to Egypt—In Potiphar's Household—He excites the
VI TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
Love of Potiphar's Wife—Her Efforts to Seduce him Joseph languishes
in Prison—The King's Dream—Joseph's Explanation—Joseph's Marriage
to Asenath—The Famine—Jacob's Sons buy Corn in Egypt-Have no
Remembrance of Joseph—Joseph's Trials of his Brethren—He make3
himself known to them—The Brothers' Joyful Return Home—Jacob goes
to Egypt—His Meeting with Joseph—Introduction to Pharaoh—Death of
Jacob—Of Joseph
Chap. V- MOSES.—Persecutions of the Hebrews—Parentage of Moses—
He is Exposed on the Nile—Discovered by the Daughter of Pharaoh
His Education—His Sympathy with his Countrymen—Kills an Egyp¬
tian—His Marriage—Exile of Forty Tears—Fearful Sufferings of the Is¬
raelites—The Burning Bush—Mission of Freeing the Hebrews—Return
to Egypt—Appeal to the King—His Obstinacy—The Ten Plagues—The
Hebrews Depart—Pursued by Pharaoh—He and his Host Drowned in the
Red Sea—The. "Wilderness—The Law Delivered on Mount Sinai—Idola¬
try of the Hebrews—Murmurings of the People—Condemned to Forty
Tears' Wandering—Moses Views the Promised Land and JDies. 96
Chap. VI. SAUL—Born 1096 B. C— Election as King—Slaughter of the
Ammonites—War with the Philistines—"With the Amalekites—Saul and
Samuel Part—Samuel Annoints David as future King—Saul's Jealousy
of David—Attempts to Kill him—Last War with the Philistines—His
Death Foretold—Death of Saul and his three Sons 140
Chap. VII. DAVID.—His Touth—Combat with Goliath—Death of Saul—
David King—Supposed to have given Jerusalem its Name—Removes the
Ark to Jerusalem—His Glory—Foreign Alliances—Seduces Bathsheba,
the Wife of Uriah—Uriah Slain in Battle—The Birth of Solomon—Ab¬
salom's Rebellion and Death—Wars with the Philistines—Census of the
People—Solomon Anointed—Crowned—Death of David. 152
Chap. VIII. SOLOMON.—Marries an Egyptian Princess—Prepares to
build the Temple—Immense Preparations—Foundation of Temple Laid—
Description of the Building—The " Molten Sea"—The Ark placed in the -
Temple—The King's Palaces—Foreign Commerce—Fame of Solomon
Abroad—His great Fleets—Solomon's Magnificence—Horses and Chariots
—His Harem—Concubines—His Wisdom—Visit of the Queen of Sheba—
Solomon's Idolatry—His Death 165
Chap. IX. ISAIAH.—First of the Four Great Prophets—Conflicting Ac¬
counts of him—His Zeal—Division of his Book—Idolatry of his Time—
His Prophecies and other Writings 188
Chap. X. JEREMIAH.—The Son of Hilkiah—Laments the Destruction
of Judea—Accounts of his Death—His Prophecies—His high Reputa¬
tion—His Book of Lamentations—Its Pathos and Beauty. 193
Chap. XI. EZEKIEL.—Descended from the Tribe of Levi—Supposed to
have Prophesied in his Thirteenth Tear—Accounts of his Life—His
Visions—Detail of his Works—His Energy and Sublimity. .. 201*
Chap. XII. DANIEL.—Descended from Kings of Judah—Interprets the
Handwriting on the Wall—Alarm ofBelshazzar—Belshazzar Slain—Dan¬
iel in the Lion's Den—Daniel's Prophecies—Their Remarkable Accuracy 201
TABLE OF CONTENTS. VH
PART II.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
PAGE
Chap. I. Influence and Aid of Christianity—Coming of the Messiah Fore¬
told—Mary—The Annunciation 215
Chap. II. The Decree of Taxation—Birth of the Saviour—The Flight into
Egypt—Massacre of the Innocents—Death of Herod 225
Chap. III. Youth of Jesus—Disputes with the Doctors—John the Bap¬
tist—Baptism of Jesus 232
Chap. IV. Christ Tempted in the "Wilderness—John Speaks of him as the
Messiah—Christ's First Miracle at Cana 237
Chap. Y. Christ drives the Money-Changers out of the Temple—The Wo¬
man of Samaria—Miracle at Capernaum—And in Nazareth 244
Chap. YI. Jesus calls Simon, and Andrew, James, and John—His Sermon
on the Mount—The Lord's Prayer 252
Chap. YIL Christ Heals the Sick 261
Chap. vjlll. The Miraculous Draught of Fishes—Subdues the Storm—
Casts out Devils 264
Chap. IK. The Sick at Capernaum—Heals a "Woman of Bloody Flux—
Raising of Jairus' Daughter—Restores the Blind to Sight—Appoints his
Twelve Apostles 269
Chap. X. Confers on his Apostles the Power of "Working Miracles 280
Chap. XL Christ Denounces the Cities which Refuse to Believe in him—
The Repentant Harlot 284
Chap. XII. The Pool of Bethseda—The Cripple made "Whole—He Heals
one with a "Withered Hand on the Sabbath Day 289
Chap. XTTT. The Parable of the Sower—Christ goes to Nazareth—Execu¬
tion of John the Baptist 296
Chap. XIV. Jesus Retires with his Disciples—The Miracle with Five
Loaves and Two Fishes—Christ Walking on the Sea—Peter's Trial of
Faith 303
Chap. XY. Christ at Jerusalem—Retires to the Coast—The Deaf and
Dumb Man Cured 310
Chap. XYL Christ's Charge to Peter—The Transfiguration 315
Chap. XYII. Christ Descends from the Mount—Returns to Capernaum.. 315
Chap. XYHL The Feast of Tabernacles—Jesus Appears at the Temple
—His Discourse—The Woman taken in Adultery 323
Chap. XIX. Christ Heals one Blind from his Birth—The Parable of the
Good Samaritan 336
Chap. XX. The Family of Bethany—The Feast of the Dedication—Cast-
W ing out Devils 345
Chap. XXI. The Jewish Sects 350
Chap. XXII. Christ at the Pharisee's House—The Parable of the Mar¬
riage Supper and of the Unjust Steward 357
Chap. XXTTT. Lazarus' Resurrection—Effect of this Great Miracle 364
viii " TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGE
Chap. XXIV. The Widow and her Two Mites—Jesus Foretells the De-
struction of Jerusalem—The Parable of the "Wise and Foolish Virgins, etc.
Chap. XV. "Washing the Feet of the Disciples—The Last Supper °
Chap XXVI. The Last Supper, continued—Judas' Departure—The Gar-
394
den of Gethsemane—Christ's Agony
Chap. XXVII. Judas comes with the Chief Priests, Elders, and Soldiers
Judas' Kiss
Chap. XXVIII. The Disciples' Terror—Peter's Denial of Christ 408
Chap. XXIX. Christ Examined—His Firmness and Patience 411
Chap. XXX. Christ before Pontius Pilate—Judas' Remorse 411
Chap. XXXI. Pilate Releases Barabbas—His Intercession for the Saviour
—Rage of the Populace and Priests 421
Chap. XXXII. Christ's Execution—The Two Thieves—Christ's Mother
at the Cross—The Saviour's Death ". 421
Chap. XXXIII. Christ's Body placed in the Tomb—The Tomb Guarded. 436
Chap. XXXIV. The Resurrection of Christ 439
Chap. XXXV. Meeting with the Disciples—The Incredulity of Thomas. 446
Chap. XXXVI. The Disciples go up to Jerusalem—Christ's Last Appear¬
ance to them—His Character—The Religion he Founded 454
Chap. XXXVII. Benefits of the Christian Religion—Examples of-—The
Good—Awful Warnings from the End of the Wicked 460
PART III.
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
ST. PETER.—His Birth and Parentage—Meeting with Christ—Beholds hia
Transfiguration—His Presence at the Last Supper, and at Gethsemane—
Denies Christ—His Remorse—Christ appears to him after Death—He
Heals a Cripple—His Seizure and Imprisonment—Miraculous Deliver¬
ance—His Execution
ST. PAUL.—First known as Saul of Tarsus—Present at the Martyrdom of
Stephen—His Conversion—Preaches the Gospel of Christ—Heals the
Cripple at Lystra—Journeys with Barnabas—Delivered from Prison—His
Visit to Athens, etc. His Epistles—Return to Jerusalem—Paul before
Felix—Agrippa—Journey to Rome—Journey into Spain—Execution at
Rome 488
ST. ANDREW.—His Birth—Joins Christ—His Labors—His Crucifixion".506
SU. JAMES THE GREAT. The Son of Zebedee—Converts his Accuser
on the way to Execution—Both Beheaded together 509
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST.—A probable follower of John the Bap¬
tist—Preaches in Asia—Seized by Order of Domitian—Thrown into Boil¬
ing Oil—Miraculously Saved—Death in Old Age
ST. PHILIP.—Skilled in the Law and the Prophets—His Labors—Scourged
and Hanged 513
TABLE OF CONTENTS. ix
PAGB
ST. BARTHOLOMEW.—A Gallilean—Saluted by our Lord—Death in Ar¬
menia. 515
ST. MATTHEW.—Follows Christ—Preached in Judea—Martyrdom in
Ethiopia. 517
ST. THOMAS.—His Incredulity—In Parthia—Persia—Ethiopia—and In¬
dia—Perhaps in China. 521
ST. JAMES THE LESS.—Chosen Bishop of Jerusalem—Accused and
Condemned—Thrown from a Pinnacle and Stoned to Death 522
. ST. SIMON, THE ZEALOT.—Journeys and Preaches, probably in Africa—
Crucified in Britain 524
ST. JUDE.—Preaches in Lybia—Conflicting accounts of his Death 525
ST. MATTHIAS.—Chosen in place of Judas—Death Uncertain. 526
ST. MARK.—Sent into Egypt—Martyred at Alexandria 527
ST. LUKE.—Born at Antioch—Travels with St. Paul. 529
ST. BARNABAS.—His Mission—Stoned to Death 530
ST. STEPHEN.—Parentage and Country Unknown—His "Works—Stoned
to Death 534
TIMOTHY.—Converted by St. Paul—In Macedonia—At Ephesus 535
TITUS.—A Convert of St. Paul's—Bishop of Crete.. 537
THE VIRGIN MART.—Miraculously Conceives—Birth of Christ—Joseph
and Mary go to Jerusalem—Mary at the Cross—Place of Death Uncer¬
tain. 538
MARY THE SISTER OF LAZARUS.—Great Friendship with our Sa¬
viour—Her Faith 544
JOSEPH.—Related to Christ 546
JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA.—Begs of Pilate our Saviour's Body 546
NICODEMUS.—Visits Christ by Night—Embraces his Doctrines—Assists
to take him from the Cross 541
JOHN MARK—Cousin to St. Barnabas—Accompanies him to Cyprus... 549
CLEMENT.—Fourth Bishop of Rome—His Letter to the Corinthians 550
MARY MAGDALEN.—Christ casts out of her Seven Devils—Follows him
to Mount Calvary—He first appears to her after the Resurrection 551
PART IV.
GREAT REFORMERS.
LUTHER.—Born at Eisleben, 1483—Humble Origin—John Tetzel—Lu¬
ther's Dispute with him—Summoned—Appeals to the Pope—Disputation
with Eckius—The Papal Bull—Luther Excommunicated—Origin of the
Reformation—Luther Summoned to Worms—His Seizure and Friendly
Imprisonment—His Marriage—Success of the Reformation—Luther's Death 553
KNOX.—His Birth and Education—Change of Doctrines—Takes Refuge in
the Castle of St. Andrews—Seized and Imprisoned—Reformation in Eng¬
land—'Queen's Dislike of Knox—His Boldness—His Illness and Death—
His Character and Works. 563
X TABLE OF CONTENTS.
pagb
CALVIN".—His Birth—Early Life—Settles in Geneva—His Power and In¬
fluence there—Execution of Servetus—Death of Calvin—His Character
574
and Influence.
HELANCTIION.—Birth and Boyhood—Education—Attracted by Luther-
Embraces his Doctrines—His Preaching—His Peaceful Disposition His
Death—Literary "Works ^82
PART V.
REMAINS OF ANCIENT EASTERN CITIES.
THE RUINS OF PETRA.—City of the Rock—Famous in Ancient Times
—Lost for many Centuries—Magnificent Rock Temples—Mount Hor—
Tomb of Aaron 591
JERUSALEM.—Ancient Names—View from Mount Olivet—Measurement
of Distances—Most Remarkable Ruins—Tombs—Pool of Siloam, eta—
Gates—"Wailing Place of the Jews—Caves 597
TYRE.—Ancient Colony of—Sieges of Tyre—The Crusaders at—Actual
State of—Power, "Wealth and Splendor of. 609
BAALBEK.—The "City of the Sun,"—Ancient "Writers on—Its History—
"Walls and Towers—Magnificence of the Buildings—Present Aspect....: 616
PALMYRA.—Owes its Origin to Solomon—History—Zenobia—The Ruins
—The Temple of the Sun—Modern Desolation. 621
BABYLON".—Its former Immensity—The Euphrates—History of the City—
Birs Nimroud—Ruins—Excavations 625
NINEVEH.—The City of Ninus—Description of the Prophets—Excava¬
tions—Botta—Layard—The Great "Winged Bull—Ruins in all parts of the
World. 632
PART FIRST.
PALESTINE AND ITS EARLY PEOPLE.
PALESTINE.
Palestine formerly denoted the whole land of Canaan,
bounded on the north by Syria, on the east by Arabia De-
serta, on the south by Arabia Petrea, and on the west by the
Mediterranean Sea. It extended about 140 miles from north
to south, between 31° 10' and 33° 15' of north latitude, and
was of very unequal breadth. It was originally occupied by
the Canaanite nations, who were conquered by the Israelites
under Joshua. From this period to the Babylonish captiv¬
ity, it was called the land of Israel, and the name Palestina
was restricted to the maritime tract extending southward
from Joppa to the frontiers of Egypt, inhabited by the Phi¬
listines, which was successively subjected to the kings of
Israel, Syria, Egypt, Persia, and Macedonia. After the re¬
turn of the Jews from Babylon, the whole country from Tyre
to Egypt was recognized in the enumeration of the Roman
provinces by the name of Palestina, consisting of four prov¬
inces, viz., Judea, Samaria, G-alilea, and Perea. In modern
times, the term Palestine denotes a Turkish pachalic, which
includes the territory between the pachalic of Damascus and
the Mediterranean Sea; and between two lines drawn from
the sea-coast, the one southward of Gaza, and the other north
of Joppa, so as to comprise only the country of the Philis¬
tines, together with a portion of Judea and Samaria. But
the name is generally employed to denote the whole of what
is called the Holy Land, and was formerly comprehended in
12
palestine.
the Roman province of Palestina. It is generally divide
into the following districts : Gaza, Hebron, Elkods, or Jeru¬
salem, Naplos, or Naplousa, or Nablous, Harite Jouret-Cafre-
Kauna, Nazareth, Japheth, and the country beyond Jordan-
As this work proceeds, we shall give more extended no¬
tices of the land of Palestine, but it will be sufficient in this
place to observe, that after the taking and destruction of
Jerusalem by Titus, a.d. 72, Judea ceased to be the resi¬
dence of the Jewish people, of whom only a small remnant
was left in the country. These scattered relics of the once
renowned tribes of Israel having again raised the standard of
rebellion against the power of Rome, the emperor Hadrian
completed the desolation of their capital, and built another
city on its ruins, which he called iElia Capitolina. In the
reign of Diocletian, the name of Jerusalem was almost for¬
gotten ; but the scattered bands of the Jewish race were
often attempting to make head against the succeeding em¬
perors of Rome. After the unsuccessful project of Julian to
reassemble the nation, and rebuild the city of Jerusalem,
there is little recorded in history of their state and that of
their native land, till the year 501, when they openly revolted,
in the reign of Justinian. Jerusalem was taken by Chosroes,
king of the Persians, in the year 613 ; but was recovered by
Heraclius in 627. Nine years afterward, Palestine was sub¬
dued by the caliph Omar, the third in succession from Mo¬
hammed ; and in consequence of the contentions which arose
among the rival dynasties of the Mohammedans, the country
was involved in troubles and calamities for more than 200
years. In 868, Palestine was overrun by Ahmed, the sov¬
ereign of Egypt; but was again brought under the dominion
of the caliphs of Bagdad about the beginning of the tenth
century. Passing repeatedly through the hands of various
invaders, but remaining chiefly in the possession of the
caliphs of Egypt, Palestine was occupied by the Fatimites of
Cyrene in the year 1078, when the crusaders appeared on its
frontiers; and Godfrey of Bouillon was elected king of its
captured metropolis in 1099. Saladin, the conqueror of Asia
wrested the greater part of the Holy Land from the hands of
the Christian princes in the year 1188, and the Baharite sul-
PALESTINE.
tans of Egypt completely expelled the remaining crusaders in
1291. In 1382, the Circassian Mamelukes having usurped
the supreme authority in Egypt, became masters of Pales¬
tine ; but in 1517 the Turks of Constantinople, under Selim,
extended their conquests over all Syria and Egypt.
The beauty and fertility of the Holy Land, so much cele¬
brated in ancient times, both by sacred and profane writers,
are scarcely discernible in its present desolate and neglected
condition. The culture of its finest plains has long ceased.
Its springs are buried beneath heaps of rubbish. The soil of
the mountains, formerly kept up by terraces and covered by
vines, is washed down into the valleys, and its eminences,
once crowned with woods, have been stripped bare, and
parched into barrenness. This melancholy change is not
owing to any deterioration of the soil or climate, but to the
degeneracy of the inhabitants, who groan under the most in¬
tolerable oppression, and are exposed to every kind of pillage.
But still there are many delightful spots to be seen, which
confirm the accounts of its ancient fruitfulness, and prove its
capability of being rendered a plentiful and populous coun¬
try. The plain of Zabulon is everywhere covered with spon¬
taneous vegetation, flourishing in the utmost luxuriance.
The plain of Esdraelon is a vast meadow, covered with the
richest pasture, and the country around Rama resembles a
continued garden. The variety and beauty of the different
kinds of cardenas, or thistle, are sufficient indications of a
fertile soil. The new globe thistle particularly (the stem and
leaves of which are of a dark but vivid sky-blue color) grows
to such a size in many parts of Palestine, that some of its
blossoms are nearly three inches in diameter. The soil is
often sandy and mixed with gravel, and in some places, such
as in the neighborhood of Tiberias, it is black, appearing to
have been formed by the decomposition of rocks, which have
a volcanic aspect. The crops principally cultivated are, bar¬
ley, wheat, maize, cotton, linseed, and sesamum. The water¬
melons of Palestine excel those of any other country in the
world. The country is very full of wild animals. Antelopes,
especially, are numerous. The chameleon, the lizard, ser¬
pents, and all sorts of beetles, are frequently to be seen.
■ ■■ - 1 ■ ■ ■ 'fcvy 1 "t
14
The inhabitants are a mixture of Christians and Mohammed¬
ans, often difficult to be distinguished from each other. The
former occupy the valleys of Libanus under Maronite bishops,
and the Druses, who have a religion peculiar to themselves,
possess the mountains of Antilibanus. The country is often
overrun by plundering tribes of Arabs. The population is so
very thin, and the aspect of the country so desolate, that a
doubt has been thrown upon the accounts of its population
in ancient times, which, from the statements of Scripture,
can not have been less than six millions. This would allow
a proportion of 800 to 900 to every square league, which is
thought altogether incredible. But in the time of the em¬
peror Yespasian, it is described by profane writers as actually
containing six millions of inhabitants. The present moun¬
tainous country of the Druses has been estimated to contain
forty thousand fighting men. The mode of living in eastern
countries is favorable to the support of a numerous popula¬
tion, on less produce than in other quarters of the world.
The fertility of the country is acknowledged to be very great,
and the cultivation of the land is known to have been carried
in former times to the utmost extent. The limestone rocks
and stony valleys were covered with plantations of figs, vines,
and olive trees. The hills were formed into gardens from
their bases to their summits. The sides of the most barren'
mountains were rendered productive by being formed into
terraces, whereon the soil was accumulated with astonishing
labor. There are still many vestiges of this extraordinary
cultivation, sufficient to prove that not a spot was neglected,
and that the most unpromising situations were rendered fer¬
tile by the labors of industry.
PALESTINE'S EARLY PEOPLE.
The history of the Hebrews may begin most properly with
the call of Abraham, which, according to Hales, took place
in the year of the world 3258, after the deluge 1062 years
and 2153 years before the birth of Christ. The ages which
had passed since the deluge, concurring with the still long
duration of human life, had again replenished with people
PALESTINE.
15
the regions around the original seats of the human race. That
most wonderful event, the confusion of tongues, which oc¬
curred six hundred years after the deluge, must have greatly
accelerated, and even compelled more energetic movements
than had previously taken place.
The descendants of Shem appear to have extended them¬
selves gradually over the regions east and north-east of the
river Tigris ; the children of Japhet spread themselves into
Asia Minor, whence it was their ultimate destination to bo
impelled into Europe, and to fill the length and "breadth of
that continent. The posterity of Ham remained in chief
possession of Mesopotamia ; they also formed settlements at
the head of the Persian Gulf and Arabia, and in Canaan ;
they established empires in Assyria and Egypt; and, as their
numbers multiplied, they advanced into Ethiopia and other
remoter parts of the African peninsula.
The history of Japhet's race is a blank in the early ac¬
counts of the Scriptures, and that of Shem's is little more.
The sacred historian confines his notice to one family of
Shem's descendants; and the intercourse of that family with
the races of Ham is the circumstance which evolves far more
information concerning their early history and condition than
we possess concerning any of the other descendants of Noah.
From all that history tells, they appear to have been the first
authors of the arts of civilization and social life. But, re¬
membering the other races of which authentic history takes
no occasion to speak, this need not be positively affirmed.
That, however, very important advancements had, even in
this remote age, been made by the posterity of Ham, appears
very plainly in the early intercourse of the Hebrew patriarchs
with Egypt.
A division of the posterity of Canaan, the youngest son
of Ham, left the Arabian shores of the Eed Sea, and settled
in the country whose history we have undertaken to write ;
and they gave to it the name of their father, from whom also
they are, collectively, called Canaanites. They manifestly
were not very numerous at the time this history opens.
They did not by any means fill the country, but lived dis-
' persed, in detached and independent clans; and, contented
JLO
PALESTINE.
"with, the use of such lands around their towns as they needed
for their own subsistence, they beheld without jealousy pow¬
erful emirs, even of the race of Shem, establish themselves in
the plains and feed their cattle in the vacant pastures. The
time for territorial contests had not yet come, and probably
the settled Canaanites regarded the presence of the Bedouin
sheiks as an advantage, relieving them from the need of
attention to pastoral affairs, by affording a ready market
where they might obtain milk, butter, cheese, meat, and
skins, in exchange for their surplus corn and other vegetable
produce ; and they appear to have been quite sensible of the
advantages of an open traffic with the pastoral chiefs.
Their language was the same as that of Abraham and the
other patriarchs, who at all times speak to them without the
medium of an interpreter. This was also true ages after,
whenever any communication took place between the descend¬
ants of Abraham and the Canaanites or the Phoenicians.
They were divided into a number of small, independent com¬
munities. Every town, with a small surrounding district,
and probably some dependent villages, appears to have been
a sovereign state, acknowledging the control of no superior,
but being in alliance with its neighbors for common objects.
The vale of Siddim alone, smaller than one of our ordinary
counties, is known to have contained five of such states. It
appears to have been the plan, as the population increased,
to establish new cities and new states on ground not previ¬
ously appropriated; in which case, the tendency to consoli¬
date numerous small states into a few large ones would not,
in ordinary circumstances, arise till the country was fully
peopled. We may well be astonished at the prodigious num¬
ber of small states which the Hebrews found in Palestine on
their return from Egypt; but we do not, with some, infer
that they were equally numerous in the time of Abraham.
On the contraVy, it seems more rational to suppose that, in
the long interval, the towns and states went on increasing
with the population. That towns and states were as numer¬
ous in choice localities, such as the fertile vale of Siddim in
the time of Abraham, as in that of Joshua, we can well un¬
derstand ; but not so in the country at large. It seems alst>
PALESTINE.
17
that the states, though fewer, were not larger at the former
date than the latter, the extent of ground, which they divided
being proportionally smaller.
And the comparison, perhaps, holds further ; for the
meleks or kings of these tiny kingdoms do not appear to have
heen more than chief magistrates, or patriarchal chiefs with
very limited powers.
All the states in the vale of Siddim had kings, and all we
know of them is that they were the military leaders in war.
From the answer of the king of Sodom to Abraham, waiving
all claim to the goods which the patriarch had recovered from
the Mesopotamian spoilers, without any reference to the
wishes of his people in this matter, we may infer that, as
might be expected, the melek had higher powers in all war¬
like matters than were allowed to him in the affairs of peace.
The only other act of a Canaanitish king which we meet with
implies nothing in this respect. This was the act of Mel-
chizedek, the king of Salem, who brought refreshments to
Abraham and his party when he returned from the slaughter
of the kings.
The mention of this remarkable person leads us to observe
that there is not in Scripture the least indication that the
Canaanites were idolaters in the time of Abraham, or indeed
at any time before the house of Israel went down into Egypt.
The king of Salem is expressly declared to have been a priesit
of the Most High God ; and whenever suitable occasion
offers, it appears that the Canaanites knew and reverenced
the God of their fathers. It is true that they knew not this
God as Abraham knew him ; and it is more than likely that,
with some exceptions, such as that of Melchizedek, they had
sunk into that state of indifference, and of ignorance concern¬
ing God's characters and attributes, which was but a too suit¬
able preparation for that actual idolatry into which they ulti¬
mately fell. But that there was any positive idolatry in the
time of Abraham, or before the patriarchs left the land, we
see no reason to conclude. If we look at the remarkable case
of the destruction of Sodom and the cities of the plain, we
can not fail to observe that idolatry is nowhere alluded to as
one of the crimes for which the inhabitants were punished.
18. PALESTINE.
They were punished because they were u sinners be ore e
Lord exceedingly," and because there were not among them
any righteous or just men. What the character of their sins
was, we know. The repugnance of Isaac and Rebekah to the
marriage of their sons with Canaanitish women, has often
been alleged as a proof that they were by that time become
idolaters, even by many who allow that they were not such
in the time of Abraham. But the cited case proves nothing
whatever, and could only have been adduced from that igno¬
rance of the manners of the East which is now in a course of
removal. The ideas of the patriarchal emirs required that
their sons should marry into their own families, and this
would have been frustrated by marriage with Canaanites. If
this argument for the idolatry of the Canaanites be applica¬
ble to the time of Isaac's latter days, it must be equally ap¬
plicable to the time of Abraham, for he was as anxious as
Isaac could be that his son should obtain a wife from the
house of his fathers in Padan-aram. But this argument is
used by those who confess that the Canaanites were not idol¬
aters in the days of Abraham.
We have little information concerning the social condi¬
tion, arts, and occupations of the Canaanites at this early
date. That " the Canaanites by the sea," that is, the Phoe¬
nicians, had already taken to the sea, and carried on some
traffic with the neighboring coasts, is very likely, but more
than we can affirm. But we know that the people of Canaan
lived in walled towns, in the gates of which public business
was transacted. They cultivated the ground ; they grew
corn ; and, as they had wine, they must have cultivated the
vine; which they probably did upon the sides of the hills,
terraced for the purpose according to that fashion of vine cul¬
ture which has always prevailed in that country. Some find
in the Perizzites a body of Canaanitish pastors, moving about
with their flocks and herds, without any fixed dwelling But
as all this is founded upon a doubtful etymology we shall
lay no stress upon it. Doubtless the Canaanites had cattle
and paid some attention to pasturage ; but the presence in
their unappropriated lands, of pastoral chiefs like Abraham
who, by making it their sole pursuit, enjoyed peculiar advan-
PALESTINE. 19
»
tages in the rearing of cattle, and could offer the produce of
their flocks and herds on very easy terms to the settled inhab¬
itants, was likely to prevent the latter from being much en¬
gaged in pastoral undertakings. Of their military character
at this early period we know little, and that little is not
much to their advantage. They were beaten in every one of
the warlike transactions of this age which the Scriptures
relate, or to which any allusion is made. Doubtless every
adult male knew the use of arms, and was liable to be called
upon to use them when any public occasion required..
They had arrived to the use of silver as a medium of ex¬
change, and that the silver was weighed in affairs of purchase
and sale involves the use of the scale and balanced beam. In
what form they exhibited the silver used for money we know
not with any certainty; they certainly had no coined money;
for even the Egyptians, who were far before the Canaanites
in all the arts of civilization, continued long after this to use
circular bars, or rings, of silver for money ; and, most likely,
the silver money of the Canaanites bore the same form.
The description of the burying-ground which Abraham
bought for 400 shekels of silver of Ephron the Hittite, may
perhaps inform us concerning the sepulchres in which the
Canaanites liked to bury their dead. It was a cave in a spot
of ground well planted with trees.
Seeing that there will hereafter be frequent occasion to
mention by name the several tribes of Canaanites inhabiting
the land, and that some of them are historically connected
with the early history of the Hebrews, it will conduce to the
clearness of the ensuing narrative, if, in this place, these
tribes be enumerated, and their several seats pointed out.
While the whole of the fiation, collectively, bore the name
of Canaanites, as descended from Canaan, there are occasions
in which the Scriptures apply the name in a special manner
to a part of the whole. Thus, in Exodus iii. 8, we read,
" the place of the Canaanites, and the Hittites, and the Am-
'orites, and the Perizzites, and the Hivites, and the Jebu-
sites and so in other places, except that the Girgashites
are sometimes also named. We know that there were many
tribes not included in this list of names, and the question is,
20
PALESTINE.
to which or to what portion of those unnamed, the name of
Canaanites is here given. The question is thought a per¬
plexed one, and there appear some serious objections to all
the explanations which we have seen. "We therefore satisfy
ourselves with the notion, that this is merely a method of
summary statement to avoid the frequent repetition of a long
list of names : that, first, " the Canaanites" are put for all
those clans not intended to be particularly enumerated; and
then follow the names of those tribes which were best known
to the Hebrews, and of the most importance to them. This
view is confirmed by our observing that the tribes not named,
and which we, therefore, suppose to be included under the
name of Canaanites, are precisely those most remote from the
early Hebrews, and with whom they had the least to do.
That they are in other texts described as situated " at the
sea/' corresponds with the same intimation. In a general
sense, it will, under this explanation, be found to embrace,
primarily, those several branches of -the posterity of Canaan
which settled on the northern coast, and were, collectively,
known in general history as the Phoenicians. The matter
appears to have been thus understood by the Seventy; for
they render the Hebrew in Josh. v. 1, for " kings of the
Canaanites (which were by the sea)/' by "kings of the
Phoenicians and many ages after, the names were inter¬
changeable ; for the woman whom one Evangelist (Matt. xv.
22) calls " a woman of Canaan/' is called by another (Mark
vii. 26) " a Syro-Phoenician woman."
Whether the families of Canaan, in migrating to the
country to which they gave his name, were headed by his
sons, from whom they took their own distinguishing names,
or removed after their deaths, dooe not by any means appear.
The question does not seem of much importance, except as it
might help to fix the time of the first occupation of the coun¬
try , and we allude to it merely that no forms of expression
which we may incidentally use, should be considered to in¬
volve the expression of any opinion on the subject. There is
however, sufficient evidence that the Canaanites had been a
good while settled in the land, and we are repeatedly assured
PALESTINE.
21
in Scripture that the Hittite city of Hebron was founded
seven years before Zoan in Egypt.
The Hebrew patriarchs, during their sojourn in Canaan,
never approached the borders of the Phoenicians, and, conse¬
quently, they are not mentioned in the history, unless under
the name of Canaanites. Indeed, we should not have been
assured that the Phoenician tribes were descended from
Canaan, were it not for the genealogy in Gen. x., which gives
us a list of his sons, and assures us that all their families set¬
tled in Canaan. In this list the name of Sidon occurs first,
as that of Canaan's first-born son. He was the father of the
Sidonians, the chief of the Phoenician tribes ; and the great
commercial, and very ancient city of Sidon, the mother of the
still greater Tyre, was called after him. The list includes
other names which can not but be considered as those of
families which, along with the Sidonians, history compre¬
hends under the Phoenician name. Such are the Arkites,
the Sinites, the Arvadites, and the Zemarites, whose territo¬
ries seem to have extended along the coast, northward from
the town and territory of Sidon.
The ancient Phoenician city of Area probably took its name
from the Arkites, and, therefore, will serve to indicate their
situation. Area stood nearly midway between Tripoli and
Tortosa, and about five miles from the sea, among the lower
ranges of Lebanon, fronting the sea-board plain. Here, on a
situation commanding a beautiful view over the plain, the
sea, and the mountains, Burckhardt found ruins, which he
supposes to be those of Area, consisting of large and exten¬
sive mounds, traces of ancient dwellings, blocks of hewn
stone, remains of walls, and fragments of granite columns.
To the north was a hill, apparently artificial, still bearing
the name of Tel Arka, and on which the temple or the cita¬
del probably stood in former times.
In the parts adjoining was an ancient city bearing the
name of Sin, and which, in connection with other circum¬
stances, may be thought to indicate the situation of the
Sinites. This city had, so far back as the time of Jerome,
long been ruined by war; but the site on which it once stood
still retained this ancient name.
22
PALESTINE.
The Arvadites are said by Josephus to have occupied and
given their name to the small island of Aradus, called Arpad
and Arphad in the Scriptures*, and the inhabitants of which
are by Ezekiel mentioned along with the Sidonians, as taking
an active part in the maritime commerce of Tyre, ^his
island, which is about one league from the shore, and not
above a mile in circumference, ultimately became the port
and chief town of this enterprising and prosperous section of
the Phoenician people; and there was a time when even
Romans regarded with admiration its lofty houses, built with
more stories than those of Rome, and its cisterns hewn in the
rock. All this, except the cisterns and some fragments of
wall, has passed away; but Arvad is still the seat of a town,
and, being a mart of transit, its inhabitants are still all en¬
gaged in commerce. Though the island was the favorite seat
of the people, as their wealth and peace were there safe from
the wars and troubles of the continent, and their shipping
needed not to hazard the dangers of the coast, they were by
no means without possessions on the main land, for their do¬
minion along the shore extended from Tortosa, which lay
opposite their island, northward to Jebilee. They were,
therefore, the most northernly of the Phoenician people."}"
The Zemarites are mentioned next to the Arvadites, and,
correspondingly, they are usually, and with sufficient reason,
placed next to that people, southward, on the coast, where,
twenty miles to the south of Antaradus, and four miles to
the north of Orthosia, close upon the shore, was a town called
Zimyra, to the site of which the name of Zumrah is still
given.
The Arkites, Sinites, Arvadites, and Zemarites, are
scarcely mentioned liistovicdlly in the Scriptures; and, were
it not for the tenth chapter of G-enesis, it would be unknown
to us that they claimed a common origin with the other in¬
habitants of Canaan. Indeed, their territory can scarcely be
considered as within the limits of Canaan proper • and their
distance, as well as their being ranked in the general Phceni-
* 2 Kings, xix. 13; Ezek., xxvil 8.
f See Josephus, i. 6, 2; Strabo, v. 15; Pococke, ii. 2? ; Yolney ii. 140 . r
S. Buckingham'a Arab Tribes, 523. ' '
PALESTINE.
23
ciaii body, with which the relations of the Jews were neutral,
and sometimes amicable, secured them a happy exemption
from that notice in the sacred records, which would have re¬
sulted from such hostile acts as took place between the Jews
and the other Canaanitish tribes.
This much may at present suffice concerning the Phoeni¬
cians, whose historical importance is of later date than the
times of which we now more particularly treat.
Next to the Zemarites, the Hamathites are moptioned in
the list through which we are passing; and, on several ac¬
counts, we were disposed to include them in the preceding
statement as one of the Phoenician tribes; but, as our in¬
formation concerning the Phoenicians makes it difficult to
regard them otherwise than as a people inhabiting the coast,
which the Hamathites did not, it seems as well to notice
them separately.
Their situation is determined, without any difficulty, by
that of the city of Hamath or Hamah, so called after them,
and which, after having borne the Greek name of Epiphania,
imposed upon it by the Macedonian kings of Syria, has now
resumed its ancient name. It is situated sixty miles inland
from the Mediterranean, eastward from Antaradus, and not
less than 100 miles to the north of Damascus: it was, there¬
fore, distant from the country known to the patriarchs; and,
although its territory appears to have reached to some extent
southward, it was not involved in those wars which attended
the conquest of Palestine by the Hebrew people. Yet,
although scarcely more noticed, historically, in Scripture
than the kindred tribes which have already passed under our
notice, it happens that the name of Hamath is of very fre¬
quent occurrence there. This is because the territory of the
Hamathites lay on the extreme northern border of the Prom¬
ised Land, whence " the entering in of Hamath" is often
mentioned as a point to which the extreme line of northern
boundary was drawn. But this boundary appears to have
only ceased to be nominal during the reigns of David and
Solomon, whose dominion, doubtless, extended to the bor¬
ders of Hamah, if it did not include a part or the whole of
the Hamathite territory.
24
PALESTINE.
Hamah is one of those few very ancient towns which still
exist as places of some note. It is situated on both sides of
the Orontes; and is, for that country, a well-built and com¬
fortable town, the population of which is estimated at 30,000.
The town has still, in one sense, a territory, being the seat of
a district goveftment, which comprehends 120 inhabited vil¬
lages, and over seventy or eighty which have been abandoned.
We have taken the names of the above tribes in the order
which thoir relative situations in the north rendered the most
convenient. The remainder we shall go through in the order
in which the Scriptures enumerate them.
This brings us to the people called "the children of
Heth" and the Hittites. They were settled in the southern
hills about Hebron and Beersheba. The Hebrew patriarchs
had their encampments much in that part of the country,
and appear to have lived on good terms with their Hittite
neighbors, by whom they were treated with respect and con¬
sideration.
The Jebusites, who are more noted in later history than
in that of the patriarchs, were seated among the hills to the
north of those which the Hittites occupied. Their territory
extended to and included the site of Jerusalem, of which, in¬
deed, they appear to have been the founders ; but whether
before or after the date at which this history commences, we
have no means of knowing. But, in a later day, we find
them there in a city which they called Jebus, from which it
was not until the time of David that they were entirely ex¬
pelled. That they were able to maintain their post so long
in the very heart of a country which the Israelites had sub¬
dued, warrants the conclusion that they formed one of the
most powerful of the Canaanitish clans.*
The Amoiites appear to have been the most powerful and
widely spread of the Canaanitish nations. The prophet
Amos poetically describes the strength and power of the
Amorite, by telling us that his " height was like the height
of the cedars, and he was strong as the oaks." It is indeed
likely that here, as is certainly the case in other places, such
* Gen., xv. 21; 2 Sam., v. 6, 1 Chron., xi. 4.
PALESTINE.
25
as Gren. xv. 16, the Amorites are taken by a synecdoche of
eminence for all the Canaanitish tribes; but by this fact
their superior importance is just as strongly intimated. As
this sometimes renders it doubtful whether the proper Amo¬
rites may be particularly intended or not, and as they were,
moreover, of a remarkably encroaching disposition, it is not
quite easy to fix their original seats with precision. It would
seem, however, that they were first settled among the moun¬
tains to the west of the Bead Sea and of the southern part of
the Jordan. While the Israelites were in Egypt, the Amo¬
rites crossed the Jordan, and, dispossessing the Moabites and
Ammonites of the country between the rivers Jabbock and
Arnon, established there an independent kingdom, which the
ensuing history will bring conspicuously under our notice.
The original seats of the tribe to the west of the Dead Sea
and the Jordan "were not, however, vacated, but the old and
new settlements, separated by the river and the lake, do not
appear to have had any dependence on each other. Indeed,
it may be important to bear in mind that, in the early ages
of which we speak, when the pressure of circumstances drove
forth part of a tribe to seek new settlements, the now fami¬
liar idea of the necessary relations of dependence and subjec¬
tion on the part of the offset towards the government of the
original body, was one that never entered the minds of either.
It was a discovery of later ages. This had its advantages;
but it had the counterbalancing disadvantage, if it be one,
that, seeing that the separation was in every way effectual,
and that the emigrants had no right to look to the parent
body for protection and support, they were obliged at the
outset to be heedful that their own separate resources were
adequate to the objects they had in view. Hence, emigra¬
tions by tribes or sections of tribes seeking new settlements
were only made by large bodies of men, which contained in
themselves every provision then thought necessary for inde¬
pendent existence, conquest, self-protection, and self-support.
This cause and this effect acted reciprocally on each other,
the effect reacting to perpetuate the cause by which it was
produced. The strong and vigorous offsets, expecting no
assistance and intending no subjection, took care to put them-
26
PALESTINE.
selves above the need of help; and that they did so, prevented
the parent state from entertaining any notion that assistance
might be called for, and, as a consequence, that subjection
might be proper. This was the state of things at the begin¬
ning. Colonies had thus no infancy or adolescence, during
which it was needful that they should lean upon the parent's
supporting arm, till they grew to the full stature of a nation.
Yet the several branches of the same family were not un¬
mindful of one another. The relations of the several states
springing from the same source, to each other, and to the
parent state, appear in general to have been those of friend¬
ship and alliance, with a greater readiness to coalesce for
common purposes than was usually shown among unrelated
tribes.
This statement, though intended for larger application,
is introduced here for the immediate purpose of showing how
there came to be an independent Amoritish kingdom in the
country beyond Jordan.
At the time of the Hebrew conquest, the Amorites had
not only extended eastward beyond the Jordan, but westward
towards the Mediterranean. The allotment of Dan, and the
western portion of that of Ephraim, extended over the plains
and valleys west of the central hills, and their western border
approached as near to the sea as the previous occupation of
the coast by a powerful people would allow. But we learn
from a very instructive passage* that both the tribes had to
contend for this portion of their domain with the Amorites.
The Ephraimites, though the most successful, were not able
to drive them out, as was their object, but were obliged to be
content with making them tributary: but the Danites were
entirely kept out of the plain by the Amorites, and obliged
to confine themselves to the mountains, in consequence of
which a body of them were ultimately compelled to seek out
a remote settlement in a part of the country unappropriated
by any kindred tribe.
We have been drawn into xnese anticipatory details by
the desire of making the position of this important member
* Judges, i. 34-36.
PALESTINE.
27
of the Canaanitish family clearly understood. It will, how¬
ever, be borne in mind that much of its relative importance
was the growth of a later age than that at which this history
commences.
Of the Girgashites very little historical notice is taken;
indeed, we know little more of them than that their name
occurs in the list of the nations by which the country was
occupied. It is supposed that they were seated along the
upper Jordan, and more particularly upon the eastern bor¬
ders of the lake of Gennesareth. This conclusion is founded
chiefly on the fact that this district continued, even in the
time of Christ, to bear the name of " the country of the Ger-
gesenes." That we do not meet with them in history among
the nations which warred against the Hebrews, the Jewish
writers account for by telling us that they evaded the contest,
as one from which they had no hope, and emigrated to Africa,
where they ultimately settled in a country which from them
took the name of Gurgestan.
The Hivites, also called the Avim, are said to have been
originally settled in the advantageous district afterwards
occupied by the Philistines; on their expulsion from which
by that people, they were unable to obtain situations for the
whole of their body, and therefore separated, one part of them
settling to the north of the Jebusites, in what afterwards be-
O y
came the finest portion of Benjamin's lot, and where, on the
return of the Israelites from Egypt, they were in possession
of the " great city" of Gibeon, and other important towns.
The other portion withdrew to the more vacant territory
beyond Jordan, and established itself about Mount Hermon.
Some think that the Hivites originally on the coast were
wholly destroyed by the Philistines; and that these other
settlements—the existence of which is undisputed—had been
previously established, and femained undisturbed by that
event. But the account which we have given seems to result
more clearly from a comparison of the several texts which
bear on the subject.*
We have now gone through the list of the families which
* Deut., ii. 23; Josh., ix. 17 ; x., 2 ; xi., 3; xiii., 3.
28 PALESTINE.
are expressly described in the tenth chapter of Genesis, as
being descended from Canaan, and as occupying the country
which received his name. The list is very valuable, if only
as enabling us to know, when the name of any clan occurs,
whether or not it belonged to the common Canaanitish stock,
or was derived from some other source, which knowledge
sometimes throws a light upon the transactions in which we
find them engaged.
I
CHAPTER I.
abraham.
In the district of northern Mesopotamia, which is called
in Scripture "Ur of the Chaldees," being apparently the
large and fertile plain of Osroene, dwelt a wealthy pastoral
family, descended, in the line of Heber, from Shem the son of
Noah. The living head of this family was Terah.
This man had three sons, Haran, Nahor, and Abram. Of
these sons the last-named was the youngest, having been
borne by Terah's second wife, fully sixty years later than
Haran, his elder brother. Haran died prematurely in the
land of his nativity, leaving one son named Lot, and two
daughters called Milcah and Sarai. According to the custom
of those times, the two surviving sons of Terah married the
daughters of their dead brother; Milcah becoming the wife
of Nahor, and Sarai being married to Abram.
Abram, the youngest son of this family, is the person—
the one man—with whom the history of the Hebrew people
commences; for on him the Almighty saw proper to confer
the high distinction of setting himself and his future race
apart among the nations, in fulfillment of the great object
which we have already indicated.
The fame which this appointment has brought upon the
name of this great patriarch has produced much anxious in¬
quiry into that part of his history which transpired before
our more authentic and undoubted records introduce him to
our knowledge, which is not until he was sixty years of age.
The traditions of the Jews and Arabians speak much of his
early life; but our certain information offers only the few
facts of parentage and connection which we have just sup¬
plied.
All accounts out of Scripture, and not therein disagreeing
30
ABRAHAM.
with. Scripture, state that Abram was of purer faith than his
countrymen, and on that account left or was obliged to leave
his native land. This may be true or not; for although
Scripture states his proceeding as the result of an immediate
command from heaven—we know not, from the same au¬
thority, what previous enlightenments, what line of conduct,
what difficulties, what past or present thoughts, prepared the
patriarch to receive and to be guided by the divine command.
There were such, doubtless; and even the command has the
tone less of an original suggestion than of an authoritative
interposition to decide a question which a the father of the
faithful" had entertained, but found it difficult to determine.
It is not clear from Scripture that the father and surviving
brother of Abram had by this time been brought over to his
religious views. Its slight intimations seem to imply that
they had not: nor does their going with him, when he de¬
parted from Ur of the Chaldees in obedience to the heavenly
call, necessarily imply their participation in his religious sen¬
timents, since various other considerations are supposable
which might have influenced them, and they might even have
recognized the authority of that divine Being who spoke to
Abram to direct his and even their own course, without being
convinced, as Abram was, of his exclusive claim to honor and
obedience.
So the whole house of Terah departed with Abram from
the land of the Chaldees, and proceeded until they arrived at
"Haran," or, more properly, " Char ran" (as in Acts vii. 2),
where, for some cause not declared to us—but probably the
increasing infirmities of Terah, together with the temptations
of a rich pastoral district for their flocks and herds—they
were induced to abide many years. After fifteen years, the
father of Abram died in Haran, $t the then reasonable old
age of 205 years.
Abram was then at the ripe middle age of seventy-five
years, when the divine command, made to him fifteen years
before, was renewed, with a slight but significant variation of
its terms. The first command required him to leave his
country and his kindred, or his natural connections in the
general sense, and was not considered necessarily to involve a
ABRAHAM.
31
separation from his immediate family; but the second call
was more precise and stringent, requiring him to leave not
only his country and his kindred, but also his "father's
house." The divine intentions being confined to his poster¬
ity, which as yet had no existence—for he had no child, his
wife being barren—it was judged right to isolate him com¬
pletely from all such natural and social ties as might inter¬
fere with this object. This was hard to bear, and God knew
that it was; and, therefore, although it was designed that his
faith should be tried to the uttermost, and made manifest as *
an example to his posterity and to the people of future ages
and distant lands, these trials did not come upon him in one
overwhelming command, but were made successive, after in¬
tervals of repose—rising one upon another, as his trust grew
progressively stronger in that great Being, the special object
of whose care he had become. We shall see this throughout
the history of this patriarch.
When the patriarch received his first call, the circum¬
stances in which he was then placed, and the privilege of
being still permitted to remain with all those who were, by
natural ties, dearest to him, probably made the commanded
migration indifferent or even desirable to him, and therefore
no promises with reference to the future are held forth to
encourage his obedience. But now, when he seems to have
been more prosperously and happily situated, saving the re¬
cent grief o* his father's death, the command to depart is
accompanied, for the first time, by that high promise which
was destined to cheer and bless his remaining life. This call
and the annexed promise are thus given in the scriptural nar¬
rative :—" Then the Lord said unto Abram, Depart from thy
land, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto
the land which I will shew thee. And I will make of thee a
great nation, and I will bless thee and make thy name great,
and thou shalt be a blessing; and I will bless them that bless
thee, and curse them that curse thee; and in thee shall all
the families of the earth be blessed." (Gen., xii. 1-3.)*
The land to which he was to go is not named, either on
* The passage is here given as translated by Dr. Hales, more precisely than
in our public version.
32
ABRAHAM.
this or the former occasion; but the difference in the form of
expression may have sufficed to intimate to Abram, that the
country appointed for his sojourning would now be more dis¬
tinctly indicated to him.
So Abram separated himself from the household of Nahor,
his only surviving brother, and departed, not at that time
knowing the point of his ultimate destination, but relying
upon the guidance of the divine Being whose command he
was obeying. Lot, the son of his dead brother Haran, and
brother to his wife Sarai, joined himself to him. For this no
reason is given, but may be found in the fact, that while
Abram remained without issue, Lot was his natural heir;
besides, it appears that Lot entertained an exclusive belief in
the Grod of Abram, which there is some ground for suspect¬
ing that Nahor and his household did not. Lot had a house¬
hold and property of his own, and the united parties must
have formed a goodly pastoral company, such as may still be
often met with crossing the plains and deserts of the East in
search of new pastures. "We are told that they went forth,
" and all their substance that they had gathered, and the
souls that they had gotten in Haran," which last clause ap¬
plies to the " little ones" of their households—being the chil¬
dren which had been born of their slaves during the fifteen
years of their stay in Haran.
Those who are, from reading or traveled observation, con¬
versant with the existing manners of the Asiatic pastoral
tribes—as the Arabians and the Tartars—can easily form
in their minds a picture of this great migrating party. Un¬
der the conduct of their venerable emir, and the active direc¬
tion and control of his principal servants, we behold, from
the distance, a lengthened dark line stretching across the
plain, or winding among the valleys, or creeping down the
narrow pathway on the mountain-side. That in this line
there are hosts of camels we know afar off, by the grotesque
outline which the figures of these animals make, their tall
shapes and their length of neck; and that the less distin¬
guishable mass which appears in motion on the surface of the
ground is composed of flocks of sheep, and perhaps goats, we
can only infer from circumstances. On approaching nearer,
JL
ABRAHAM. 33
we find tliat all this is true, and that, moreover, many of the
camels are laden with the tents, and with the few utensils
and needments which the dwellers in tents require; and, if
the natural condition of the traversed country he such as to
render the precaution necessary, some of the animals may he
seen hearing provisions and skins of water. The baggage-
camels follow each other with steady and heavy tread, in
files, the halters of those that follow being tied to the harness
of those that precede, so that the foremost only needs a rider
to direct his course; hut nevertheless women, children, and
old men are seen mounted on the other burdens which some
of them bear. These are slaves, retainers, and other persons
not actively engaged in the conduct of the party, and not of
sufficient consequence to ride on saddled dromedaries. Such
are reserved for the chiefs of the party, their women, children,
relatives, and friends, and are not, unless it happen for con¬
venience, strung together like the drudging animals which
bear the heavier burdens.
For the youths and men of vigorous age, the slaves and
shepherds, there is active employment in directing the orderly
progress of the flocks, and in correcting the irregularities,
friskings, and breaches which sometimes occur. In this ser¬
vice they are assisted .by a stout staff, crooked at one end—
the origin of the pastoral and episcopal crook—which, how¬
ever, is but sparingly used by those most accustomed to the
flocks, their familiar voices being in general quite sufficient
to control and guide the sheep; and of their voices they
make no stinted use, but exert them liberally in the incessant
utterance of loud cries and shouts, reproaches, warnings, and
encouragements. The feeble of the flock are very tenderly
dealt with; the progress of the whole is but slow, on account
of the lambs, and the ewes great with young; and some of
the shepherds may be seen bearing in their arms the weaker
lambs of the flock, or those which had been lately yeaned.
The men engaged in these services are on foot, though a few
of the principal may be on camels, or, preferably, on asses,
if there be any of those animals in the troop. The whole
conduct of the oriental shepherds supplies many beautiful
allusions and metaphors to the sacred writers of the Hebrews
3
34 ABRAHAM.
—as where the prophet says that the good shepherd " shall
gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his "bosom,
and shall gently lead Jhose that are with young." (Isa., xl. 11.)
We have introduced this short description of the pastoral
migrations with the view of enabling the reader to form some
idea not only of this migration of Abram and Lot, but of the
various'other removals which are so frequently mentioned in
the history of the pastoral patriarchs.
Nicolas of Damascus, an ancient author cited by Jose-
phus, states that Abram, coming from the country of the
Chaldeans, which is above Babylon, with a large company,
tarried for a season at Damascus, and reigned there, before
he went into the land of Canaan. He adds that the name of
Abram continued to be very famous in all the region of Da¬
mascus, in which there was a place still called Beth-Abram
(the house of Abram). Justin, in his extravagant account
of the origin of the Jews, also numbers Abram among the
kings of Damascus. There is nothing in Scripture to coun¬
tenance this story, which is probably based on some tradition
that Abram encamped for a while near Damascus, in his way
to Canaan: even this we do not know; but it seems not un¬
likely, as that city lay on the most convenient route from
Haran to the land of Canaan, and as the subsequently favored
domestic of the patriarch, whom he on one occasion describes
as having been " born in his house," is, in another, called by
him Eliezer of Damascus.
The history in Genesis gives us no account of this journey,
which is the same afterwards made by Jacob, and the longest
ever made by the Hebrew patriarchs. We are only told, with
inimitable brevity, that " they went forth to go into the land
of Canaan; and into the land of Canaan they came." It would,
to us, have been interesting to follow the route which was on
this occasion taken. But, in our existing want of informa¬
tion, it is only necessary to observe that some writers tell us
needlessly of the frightful deserts which Abram crossed in this
journey. But we need not necessarily conclude that the pres¬
ent great desert of Syria was a desert then. And, if it were
seeing that flocks of sheep can not, like a herd of camels be
conducted across a parched desert, destitute of herbage and
ABRAHAM.
35
of water, as the deserts of Syria and Arabia are during sum¬
mer, it will follow that the transit was made, if at all, in the
early spring, when, from the recent winter and vernal rains,
the Syrian desert, at least in its northern part, becomes a rich
prairie, covered with fragrant and nutritive herbage. But no
situation which has been assigned to Haran requires that the
patriarch should at all cross this desert in journeying thence
to the land of Canaan. Proceeding westward from beyond
the Euphrates, he would skirt this desert on the north, and
then, turning southward, he would follow the course of the
mountains which border it on the west, being with little in¬
terruption most of the way in the enjoyment of the fine pas¬
tures and abundant waters of the plains and valleys which
border, or are involved among, the Syrian mountains.
'Arriving at last in the land of Canaan, the patriarch was
arrested by the rich pastures of Samaria, near the mountains
of Ebal and Gerizim ; and in the beautiful valley of Moreh,
which lies between these mountains, and where the city of
Shechem was not long after founded, Abram formed his first
encampment in the land.
Not long after his arrival, the Lord favored the patriarch
with a more distinct intimation of his intentions than any
which he had hitherto received, by the promise that he would
bestow on his posterity the land into which he had come.
From this time forward Abram and the other patriarchs were
constantly taught to regard the land of Canaan as the future
heritage of their children.
Abram testified his gratitude and adoration by building
there an altar unto Jehovah, who had appeared unto him.
A pastoral chief has no other alternatives than either to
remove frequently to the new pastures which his flocks and
herds require, or, retaining his household long in one place,
to send forth his flocks, under the charge of trusty persons,
to distant pastures. The former was the course which Abram
took. His next recorded removal was about twenty-four
miles from the plain of Moreh, southward, toward the vale of
Siddim, where the valleys of the hilly country north of the
plain of Jericho offer fine and luxuriant pasturage. In this
district the patriarch pitched his tent near a mountain on the
36
ABRAHAM.
east of the place then called Luz, but to which., in a later day,
Jacob gave the name of Bethel. There also the patriarch
"built an altar to Jehovah, and called upon the name of Je¬
hovah."
"When the exhaustion of the pasturages rendered further
removals necessary, we learn that his progress was southward.
In those days there arose a famine in the land of Canaan,
doubtless caused—as scarcity usually is caused in that coun¬
try—by one or more seasons of excessive drought. It is the
peculiar felicity of Egypt that its soil does not need local
rains to awaken its productive powers, which are called into
most vigorous operation by the periodical overflowings of the
river Nile. There may be scarcity even in Egypt, for the
river sometimes fails of its due redundance ; but this happens
but rarely, and when it does occur, the causes which produce
it are to be found in the droughts of that remote country in
which the river rises, or which it traverses in the early part
of its course. But as these remote droughts which stint the
water of the Nile and produce scarcities in Egypt—which has
itself no adequate rains in its lower country, and none in its
upper, to compensate for this want—are seldom so extensive
as to have any serious influence in the countries which border
on that land in which the river terminates its course, it fol¬
lows that there is seldom any coincidence between the scar¬
cities of western Asia and those which occur, with compara¬
tive rarity, in Egypt. Thus that singular country has, in all
ages, been regarded as the granary of western Asia, not only
from the extraordinary fertility produced by the periodical
inundation of its soil, but from the circumstance that it
might be expected to furnish a supply of corn at the very
time when other countries were consumed with famine-pro¬
ducing droughts.
It is interesting to learn that this was the state of matters
in the time of the patriarchs, who on all occasions looked to¬
wards Egypt, whenever a scarcity of corn was experienced in
the land of Canaan.
So now, Abram, being in the south of the Promised Land,
heard that there was corn in Egypt, and determined to pro¬
ceed thither with his household. Josephus adds that he also
ABRAHAM.
37
wished to ascertain the religious sentiments of the Egyptians,
and to teach them or to he taught by them ; which is consis¬
tent enough with the traditionary history of Abram's earlier
life, but has no warrant in Scripture.
Arriving on the borders of Egypt, the patriarch had an
opportunity of making comparisons between the Egyptian
women and his own wife, greatly to the advantage of the
latter. She appears to have been a very fine woman ; and,
under the present circumstances, her comparatively fresh com¬
plexion, as a native of Mesopotamia, gained by the contrast
with the dusky hue of the Egyptian females. It is true that
Sarai was at this time sixty-five years of age ; but this age is
not to be estimated by the present standard of life, but ac¬
cording to the standard which then existed, by which the
wife of Abram could not seem to her contemporaries of more
advanced age than a woman of thirty or thirty-five appears
to us.
Knowing the attraction of his wife's beauty, and being
perhaps aware of some recent circumstances in Egypt which
were calculated to awaken his apprehensions for the result,
the heart of Abram failed him, in the very point in which the
hearts of all men are more weak and tender than in any other,
and he resolved to take shelter under an equivocation. He
therefore said to his wife—" Behold now, I know that thou
art a fair woman to look upon : therefore it shall come to pass,
when the Egyptians shall see thee, that they shall say, ' This
is his wife and they will kill me, but they will save thee
alive. Say, I pray thee, thou art my sister : that it may be
well with me for thy sake, and my soul shall live because of
thee." (Gren., xii. 11, 13.) This was accordingly done ; and
we are instructed by this, and other similar incidents, that
the men who figure in the history before us as the best and
holiest in aggregate character, were not such immaculate rep¬
resentatives of ideal perfection as shine in common history
and romance, but as true human beings, " compassed about
with infirmities/' as all men are, and tempted, as all men are,
by their passions, doubts, or fears ; and by such temptation
too often drawn aside from the right path. The whole of the
sacred book offers to us not a single character exempt from
38
ABRAHAM.
temptation ; and it tells us of only One whom all temptation
left " without sin." >
It appears that Ahram did not over-estimate the enect
which the beauty of Sarai was likely to produce upon the
sensitive Egyptians. The attractions of the fair Mesopotam-
ian stranger were speedily discovered, and "became the theme
of many tongues. She was at last seen by some of " the
princes of Pharaoh and the report of her beauty becoming,
through them, the talk of the court, soon reached the ears of
the Egyptian king.
In Europe the tendency of civilization is to procure in¬
creased respect from the governing powers for the personal
liberties and privileges of the people, and for the rights of
property and the sanctities of private life ; but this rule has
ever been reversed in the East, where the most civilized na¬
tions have always been those in which the natural immunities
of man have been the least regarded, and in which no natural
or social privilege existed on which the sovereign despotism
might not, if it so pleased, lay its iron hand freely. Here we
have a very early instance of this. Egypt had doubtless at
this time reached a higher point of civilization than any other
countiy of which the sacred history takes notice—and here
we read of the first act of despotism which that history re¬
cords. Abram was, in the first place, afraid that he should
be slain for the sake of his wife, for which reason he reported
her as his sister; but no sooner did the reputation of tlie
beauty of this alleged sister of a powerful emir—a stranger
taking refuge in the country—arrive at the ears of its sove¬
reign, than he sent to demand her for his harem. This is
what the sovereigns of the most "civilized" oriental states
often do, as a matter of royal right, when stimulated by the
sight or rumor of a beautiful female among the sisters or
daughters of their subjects j and the present case is a remark¬
able evidence of the early existence of this most offensive
privilege of oriental despotism. It is evident that the pat¬
riarch had no appeal from the authority which made this
grievous demand; and yet could not himself have been a
willingly consenting party. That Abram was not the subject
of the Egyptian king, but a newly-arrived stranger of distinc-
ABRAHAM. 39
tion, rendered this a still stronger act of despotic power than
it might otherwise have seemed; and it was probably from
this consideration that Pharaoh sought to pacify or propitiate
the patriarch by making him valuable presents, suitable to
his condition as a pastoral chief—such as " sheep, and oxen,
and he-asses, and men-servants, and maid-servants, and she-
asses, and camels." Some reflection has been made upon the
conduct of Abram in accepting these presents ; but those who
are acquainted with the usages of the East know that he dared
not refuse them.
So Sarai was taken to the house of Pharaoli. This la¬
mentable result of his weak equivocation did not so far rouse
the patriarch's faith or courage as to make him avow the ac-
actual relationship between her and himself. But at this
juncture it pleased God to interfere to prevent the evil con¬
sequences which human means could not well have averted, by
inflicting on Pharaoh and his house " great plagues because
of Sarai, Abram's wife." What these plagues were we are
not clearly told ; but probably some grievous disease of such
a nature as, joined to some intimation to tha^ effect, rendered
it manifest to him that the infliction was intended to prevent
or punish his designs upon the wife of another man. On
this the king sent for Abram, and, after rebuking him with
some severity for the dissimulation of his conduct, which had
placed all parties in a dangerous position, desired him to take
his wife and leave the country, at the same time giving orders
to his people to facilitate his departure.
By the time the patriarch returned from Egypt to the
land of Canaan the scarcity which had driven him thence
appears to have ceased. He retraced his steps through the
southern part of the country, and at last arrived at the place
between Bethel and Hai where his tents had been before ;
and at the altar which he had formerly built upon one of the
neighboring hills he again enjoyed the satisfaction of " calling
upon the name of Jehovah."
Since Abram and Lot were formerly encamped in the
same place, their substance had been greatly increased. We
are now told that " Abram was very rich in cattle, in silver,
and in gold." The royal gifts of the king of Egypt had no
40
ABRAHAM.
doubt contributed considerably to the increase of bis previous
stock of cattle \ and as the precious metals are mentioned
among the articles of bis wealth immediately on bis return
from Egypt, tbey were most likely obtained in tbe same
country, either by the gift of the king or from the sale of the
produce of his flocks to the townspeople. This is, indeed,
the first occasion on which the precious metals are mentioned,
in ail history, as articles of property and wealth—that is, as
shown by subsequent transactions—as the representatives of
value. Lot, who had hitherto been the constant companion
of Abram's migrations, was also rich, having great posses¬
sions of " flocks, and herds, and tents." That he also is not
said to possess silver and gold is a rather remarkable omis¬
sion, and may be significant.
Their united pastoral wealth was so great that it became
manifest that the two parties could not remain together much
longer. There is not, indeed, any scarcity of water in the
district in which they were then encamped; but the land
unappropriated by the Canaanites in that part of the coun¬
try was insufficient to furnish free pasture to all their flocks
and herds ; and hence quarrels about the choice and rights of
pasture arose between the shepherds of Abram and Lot, who
were probably more zealous about the separate interests and
rights of their masters than they were themselves. Lot, how¬
ever, does not in his general character appear to have been at
all indifferent to his own interests ; and the generous and dis¬
interested proposal which Abram made to prevent all future
difference or difficulty, looks very much like an answer from
him to some remonstrance or complaint which his nephew
had been making. He said, " Let there be no strife, I pray
thee, between me and thee, and between my herdmen and
thy herdmen ; for we be brethren. Is not the whole land
before thee ? Separate thyself, X pray thee, from me i if
thou wilt take the left hand, then X will go to the right j or
if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left."
In the life of a Bedouin pastor the concession of a choice of
pasturage to another chief is the most extraordinary act of
generosity which he can possibly show, in consequence of the
large interests which are involved ; and, under all the circum-
ABRAHAM.
41
stances, it becomes almost sublime when the claims of the
party to whom the concession is made to the right of selec¬
tion are onlv equal, or, as in the present case, inferior to those
of the conceder. An English grazier may have some idea of
this, but it is only by a Bedouin that it can be fully appre¬
ciated.
Lot made no scruple of availing himself of the advantage
which his uncle's liberal proposal gave to him. From the
heights on which they stood the vale of Siddim offered a most
inviting prospect. It was well watered everywhere, which
alone is a great advantage to the possessor of flocks and
herds, which, with the exuberant vegetation which resulted
from it, with the prospect of fair cities here and there, gave
it the aspect of a terrestrial paradise. The low, broad, and
warm valley, fertilized by the fine river which passed through
it, also suggested a resemblance to the rich valley of the Nile,
from which they had lately come. Lot, beholding all this,
made choice of all the plain of the Jordan for his pasture-
ground, and soon after removed to it with all his possessions.
We are told that " he pitched his tent toward Sodom," or
made the neighborhood of that city his head-quarters, not
probably caring so much as Abram might have done about
the depraved character of the inhabitants ; for he could not
well have been ignorant of the fact that the men of Sodom
were notoriously " wicked and sinners before the Lord ex¬
ceedingly/'
Now at last, by the operation of circumstances, without
any immediate command from God, Abram was brought to
that state of complete isolation from all his natural connec¬
tions which the divine purpose, to preserve his future race
apart and unmixed, rendered necessary. But, although this
present separation, which left the patriarch, more completely
than before, alone in a strange land, was not immediately
caused by the divine interposition, no sooner had Lot taken
his departure than the Lord again manifested his presence to
Abram, to cheer and encourage him by the renewal, in more
distinct terms, of the promises formerly made to him. To
the childless man was promised a posterity countless as the
dust, the future inheritors of the land in which he dwelt,
42 ABRAHAM.
"which, land he was now directed to traverse in its length and
breadth, to survey the goodly heritage of his children, and
to take, as it were, possession of it in their "behalf.
In obedience to this direction, Abram broke up his camp
near Bethel and departed, proceeding first towards the south.
His next encampment was formed about a mile from the town
of Arba (afterwards called Hebron), in the fair and fertile
valley of Mamre, where he pitched his tent under a terebinth
tree, which became in after ages famous for his sake
The patriarch was still at this place when his history
brings us acquainted with the first warlike transaction of
which any record remains.
It appears that, in this age, the Assyrian power predom¬
inated in western Asia ; and we should not wonder if it be
ultimately discovered that even the " Shepherd kings" of
Egypt were Assyrian viceroys, which discovery would throw
great light on several circumstances in the lives of the patri¬
archs. Be this as it may, we learn that, some years before
the date at which we are now arrived, an Assyrian force had
crossed the Euphrates, and made extensive conquests in Syria.
This force appears to have been composed of detachments
from the several small nations or tribes which composed or
were subject to the Assyrian empire, each commanded by its
own melech or petty king. Of these kings, one named " Ched-
orlaomer, king of Elam," probably Elymais, appears to have
been left viceroy of the conquests west of the Euphrates.
This chief, in the end, resolved to carry his arms southward,
and with this object took with him, not only the warriors
drawn from his own clan, but those commanded by three
other of such " kings/' namely, Amraphel, king of Shinar (or
Babylonia) ; Arioch, king of Ellasar ; and another called
Tidal, who, from his title, " king of Goim," or, if we trans¬
late the word, "of peoples," may seem to have ruled a mixed
people or union of small tribes. Although the history only
requires the mention of the vale of Siddim, we think it
wrong to infer from thence that no other district of southern
Syria was involved in the consequences of this expedition.
The intermediate country, particularly on the coast of the
Jordan and the country beyond, possessed by the Horim of
43
Mount Seir, probably experienced its.effects, although wo
only read that the four commanders made war with the five
petty kings of the plain, being Bera, king of Sodom ; Birslui,
king of G-omorrah ; Shinab, king of Admah ; Sheniber, king
of Zeboim ; and the unnamed king of Bela, afterwards called
Zoar. Being defeated, these five kings were made tributary
to Chedorlaomer, whom we have supposed to have been vice¬
roy of the Assyrian conquests west of the Euphrates ; and in
this state of subjection they remained twelve years. But, in
the thirteenth year, some unrecorded circumstance encouraged
the kings of the plain to withhold their tribute, in which act
we may reasonably conclude that other districts of southern
Syria concurred. The year following, Chedorlaomer and the
kings that were with him undertook a new expedition to
punish the revolters ; and that they did not proceed at once
against the kings of the plain, but went to the countries be¬
yond the vale of Siddim, and only noticed it on their return
northward, seems to us to give a very clear sanction to our
conclusion—that other neighboring districts were also subju¬
gated by the Assyrians thirteen years before, and participated
in the revolt of the thirteenth year. And this conclusion is
further strengthened by the fact that the mere incidents of !
this expedition would seem to have been far more important
than what we must otherwise suppose to have been its sole or
principal object. Coming from the north, the Assyrian com¬
manders traversed the country east of the Jordan, overthrow¬
ing in their way the gigantic races by which that country
appears to have been inhabited. The river Jordan at this
time flowed on in a widened stream, beyond the vale of Sid¬
dim to the eastern arm of the Red Sea ; and continuing their
progress southward, along the eastern borders of that river,
the invaders smote the Horim who dwelt in the caverns and
fortresses of Mount Seir. Where they crossed the J ordan we
know not, but we next find them returning northward along
its western border, reducing the tribes who inhabited the
verge of the wilderness of Paran, on the south of Palestine,
namely, the Amalekites, and such of the Amorites as abode
on the south-western borders of the vale of Siddim. Arriving
at last at that vale, the five kings by whom it was ruled went
44 * ABRAHAM.
forth to give them battle. But they were defeated and fled.
Now the vale of Siddim was of a bituminous nature, and its
surface was in consequence much broken up into deep pus
and fissures, into which a large number of the natives who
had been in the battle were, in their flight, driven by the vic¬
tors. Those who escaped, knowing that the towns offered no
safety, fled to the neighboring mountains. The conquerors
then proceeded to ravage the cities of the plain. In this they
met with no opposition, as all the adult population fit to
bear arms had been defeated in the battle. They took all
the movable property and provisions and departed, carrying
away with them as captives ,the women, children and other
people whom they found in the towns. That they did not
burn the towns and destroy the people, indicates that the
usage^ of war were less barbarous in this age than they after¬
wards became—perhaps because war was as yet a new thing,
and human life continued to be regarded as a thing too precious
—even to those who held it in their power—to be needlessly
sacrificed.
Among the prisoners was Lot, who, it appears, had relin¬
quished the custom of dwelling in tents, and the peculiar char¬
acter of a nomade shepherd, and had taken the first step in¬
to the usages of settled life, by dwelling in a fixed abode, in
a town, sending forth his shepherds to the pastures with his
flocks and herds. The evil city of Sodom was that in which
he had his residence ; and for this choice of an abode he suf¬
fered on more than one occasion. As a stranger, he had prob¬
ably not been expected by the king of Sodom, or had declined
to go forth to the battle ; and his servants, who alone could
have rendered his aid of much consequence, were probably
abroad with his cattle. Be this as it may, Lot, with his
family and goods, were among the spoil with which the con¬
querors departed northward, from the vale of Siddim on their
homeward march.
The news of this calamity, which had befallen his nephew
was borne to " Abram the Hebrew" by one of those who had
escaped. The patriarch was then still encamped in the val¬
ley of Mamre ; and he acted on this occasion with all the de¬
cision and promptitude which attend all the operations of a
ABRAHAM.
nomade chief. He instantly called out all of his people who
were able to bear arms'"", and in whom he could most confide
—these were the servants who were " bom in his own house,"
or camp, than which they knew no other home, and were at¬
tached to their master as to a father. The number of these
was 318 ; and when we make a proportionable addition of
slaves bought by himself f in the course of his life, and those
presented to him by the king of Egypt, on whose naturally
weaker attachment to him the patriarch did not on this occa¬
sion make any claim, we obtain a much clearer idea of his
j wealth and the extent of his establishment than without this
| incidental statement we should have been able to realize.
| Three Amoritish chiefs, brothers, by name Mamre (from
whom the valley took its name), Eshcol, and Aner, who were
friends and allies of Abram, joined him with their clans ; and
we need not suppose that they did this entirely out of regard
to the patriarch, as is usually stated, seeing that they also
had an interest in the matter, for the tribe to which they be¬
longed had, as we have seen, been smitten by the Assyrians.
The four nomade chiefs, having united their forces, hast¬
ened in pursuit of the four conquering kings, and overtook
them about the place wrhich was in the after-times called Dan,
near the sources of the Jordan. The assault was exactly in
such style as still prevails among the Bedouin tribes, wThich
avoid, whenever possible, a clear open fight with a superior or
even an equal force, but rather seek their object by sudden
surprises and unexpected attacks ; opportunities for which
are easily found by the neglect, even to infatuation, of cm-
ploying sentinels and scouts. So Abram, overtaking by night
the forces which he pursued, or rather, probably, delaying till
the night season his advance upon them, divided his people
so that they might rush in at once upon them from different
* "Whenever this expression, "able to bear arms," is used in the oarly chap¬
ters of the history, it must always be understood to mean all tho adult males not
disqualified by sickness, accident, or age. Among nomado tribes, to this day,
every male is versed in the use of arms from childhood, and takes his part in the
military operations of his tribe. This also continues to be the case, even in the
first stages of settled life.
\ That Abram had purchased slaves appears in Gen., xvii. 12.
ABRAHAM.
quarters, and by overturning the tents and creating all possi¬
ble confusion, suggest to the enemy, thus roused from their
rest, exaggerated ideas of such numerous assailants as it must
be hopeless to resist. The slaughter, as such affairs are man¬
aged by nomades, is not generally great, and was probably the
less on the present occasion, from the fear which the pursuers
must have been in, of injuring, in the darkness of the night,
those whom they came to deliver. Struck with a panic, the
Assyrians fled, leaving behind them all their spoil; and, lest
they should have leisure to reflect and rally, Abram chased
them about eighty miles, as far as a place called Hobah, to
the north of Damascus.
His victory over Chedorlaomer was won, not in open fight,
but by a sudden surprise in the night season. He soon after¬
ward returned to his encampment in the valley of Mamre,
and Lot to his abode in Sodom.
It appears very likely that the patriarch was trebled by
some apprehensions of the return of the Assyrians, in greater
force, to avenge their defeat; for to some such fears would
seem to have been addressed the encouraging words which the
divine voice afterwards spoke to him : " Fear not, Abram : I
am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward." But the
heart of the patriarch was then faint from the thought of
promises long postponed, and hopes long deferred, and he ven¬
tured to give expression to his feelings, and asked, Where was
his hope of reward, when posterity was still withheld from
him, and he saw no other prospect than that he should have
to adopt his house-born servant, Eliezer, of Damascus, as his
heir. This, while it hints the existence of a custom of adop¬
tion still very common in the East, is remarkable for its omit¬
ting to notice any claims which Lot might be supposed to
have in preference to Eliezer, and, perhaps, intimates that the
estrangement between the uncle and nephew was greater than
appears ; or that some usage or custom, which we can not
detect, operated to oppose the succession of Lot when the
separation of his clan from that of Abram had taken place.
The Lord only rebuked his distrust by new promises. He
assured him that no adopted son, no blood relation, should be
his heir, but his own very child; and again he was drawn
ABRAHAM.
47
forth, and bade to look on tlie stars of heaven, and count them
if he was able, for his seed should be as numerous as they.
On this, Abram's wavering faith in the divine promise was
strengthened, and he again believed. The Lord then pro¬
ceeded to remind him that he had been brought from a far
country to inherit the land in which he dwelt: and was as¬
sured that he should inherit it indeed. Iiis faith again started
at this, and he asked, " Whereby shall I know that I shall
inherit it ?"
In those days, when men would make a most solemn cove¬
nant with each other, they proceeded thus : they took one of
every kind of beast or bird used in sacrifice, being a heifer, a
she-goat, a ram, a turtle-dove, and a young pigeon. The
beasts they divided, and laid the pieces opposite each other,
at such, a distance that a man could pass between them ; but
the birds, being small and of the same kind, were not divided,
but placed entire opposite each other. Then the party mak¬
ing the agreement or covenant passed between the pieces, de¬
claring the terms by which he bound himself to abide. As |
this was the strongest and most solemn method Abram knew J
of contracting a binding obligation, God thought proper to i
make use of it on this occasion.
The patriarch was directed to make the customary arrange¬
ments, and having made them, he remained till evening watch¬
ing the carcases, to protect them from injuries by beasts or i
birds. " And when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell
upon Abram ; and lo ! an horror of great darkness fell upon
him." Then it was that God made a larger and more distinct
declaration of his intentions than the patriarch had hitherto
received. He was informed that his early descendants should
be afflicted four hundred years in a strange land, after which
they should be brought forth from that land with great riches,
to take possession of the promised-country, the utmost limits
of which, even to the Euphrates, were now defined, and the
existing nations specified whose domains they should possess.
Many reasons might seem obvious for the delay of which
Abram is now first warned; but the only one assigned on
this occasion is, that the iniquity of the nations to be dispos¬
sessed was " not yet fullby which we are disposed to un-
j
48
ABRAHAM.
derstand that they had not yet cast God utterly from their
knowledge, into whatever errors of practice and opinion they
had fallen. To Abram himself it was promised that he should
be gathered to his fathers in peace, and buried in a good old
age. The sun was now set, and it was dark, when the patri¬
arch saw a cloud of smoke, like that of a furnace, accompanied
by a flame of fire, pass between the severed parts to ratify the
covenant; and by that fire the victims were probably con¬
sumed.
Sarai, the wife of Abram, desired a son no less fervently
than her husband. But she had been considered barren be¬
fore she left Mesopotamia ; she was now seventy-five years of
age; and she had waited ten years since their hearts were
first gladdened by the promise of an heir. She therefore
thought the case was hopeless as regarded herself; and began
to reflect that, although a son had been promised to Abram,
it had not been said, and did not necessarily follow, that this
son should be the fruit of her own womb. Explaining these
views to the patriarch, she prevailed upon him to resort to a
custom of the time, of which there are still some traces in the
East, under which the man takes a secondary wife, whose
children become his undoubted heirs, equally with any other
children he may have ; and if the woman is the slave or at¬
tendant of the chief wife, or is provided by the chief wife, the
children are, in a legal point of view, considered hers ; and,
in the same point of view, the condition of the actual mother
remains unchanged, though in practice it necessarily sustains
some modification from the operation of the feelings arising
from the connections which are formed, especially when her
children are grown up. The female whom Sarai proposed to
Abram as her substitute was her own handmaid, a woman of
Egypt, named Hagar, who may be supposed to "have been one
of the female slaves whom the king of Egypt gave to the pa¬
triarch.
In due time it was known that Hagar had conceived • and
the prospect of becoming the mother of Abram's long-prom¬
ised heir had a mischievous effect upon her mind, leading her
to treat her mistress with disrepect. r Sarai, through whose
preference and management all this had been brought about,
ABRAHAM.
was stung to the quick by this treatment, and complained of
it to Abram with some sharpness, insinuating that, without
some encouragement from him, Hagar durst not be so imper¬
tinent to her. The patriarch himself, respecting the rights
of his wife, and displeased at Hagar's presumption (which
those who know any thing of oriental women of her class, will
believe to have been very coarsely and offensively manifested),
reminded Sarai that the Egyptian was still her bondservant,
and that her authority was sufficient to prevent or punish the
treatment of which she complained. Being thus assured that
he would not interfere, Sarai proceeded to a more unsparing
exercise of the powers with which she was invested than the
raised spirits of the Egyptian bondmaid could brook ; and
she therefore fled, directing her course towards her own coun¬
try. It is a terrible and.a perilous thing for a woman, alone
and on foot, to pass the desert which lies between the land of
Canaan and Egypt ; and we know not how one might do it
and live. Nor did Hagar accomplish this enterprise ; for she
was as yet but upon the borders of the desert, and was tarry¬
ing for refreshment and rest by a well of water, when an angel
of God appeared to her, and persuaded her to return and sub¬
mit herself to her mistress, encouraging her to obedience by
the assurance that the child she then bore in her womb would
prove a son, whom she was directed to name Ishmael [God
attendeth], because the Lord had attended to her affliction.
She was also assured that this son should be the parent of a
numerous race ; and that while in his character, as typifying
that also of his descendants, he should be wild and fierce as
the desert ass—liis hand against every man, and every man's
hand against him—he should never be expelled or rooted out
from the domain which God would give to him. Thus in¬
structed and encburaged, Hagar returned to her master's camp
in the valley of Mamre ; and in due -season brought forth a
son, to whom, in obedience to the angel's direction, Abram
gave the name of Ishmael.
After the birth of Ishmael thirteen years passed away,
during which it would seem that both Abram and Sarai were
satisfied to rest in the conclusion that the son of Hagar was
the long-promised and divinely-appointed heir of the patri-
4
50
ABRAHAM.
arch. They had the less doubt of this, seeing that Abram
was now on the verge of 100 years old; and the age of Sarai
was only ten years less.
During the heat of the day the interior of the tent is us¬
ually close and oppressive; and the Bedouin likes then to sit
near the entrance, on the shady side, that, while protected
from the sun, he may enjoy the comparative freshness of the
open air. Abraham was sitting thus, when he saw three
strangers approaching, who bore the appearance of wayfaring
men. Exactly as a Bedouin would do at the present day, the
patriarch no sooner saw them than he hastened to press his
hospitality upon them. For the reason we have just stated,
he did not ask them into his tent, but invited them to sit
under the shade of his terebinth tree, until victuals should
be got ready for them, and water brought to refresh their feet
and cleanse them from the dust of travel. To be allowed
thus to entertain strangers is the first personal ambition of
the less-corrupted Bedouins ; and so sincerely do they feel
that they are the favored parties, and so deep the shame to
them of having their hospitality rejected, that we are not—
as our differing customs might suggest—to suppose that the
patriarch on this occasion proceeded in a manner unusual to
him, although there was that in the dignified appearance of
one of the three strangers, which, while it led Abraham to
single him out as the proper person to be addressed, may
have induced him to accost him as " my lord," and to " bow
himself towards the ground" more reverently than was his
wont. This dignified stranger graciously accepted the invita¬
tion of the patriarch, and desired him to do as he had said.
The manner in which Abraham proceeded to provide an
entertainment for the strangers, and the expedition with
which this appears to have been accomplished, afford us much
instruction, and serves to show very clearly that the main
usages of nomade life are unchanged to this day. The prep¬
aration of bread, even to the grinding of the corn is the ex¬
clusive work of women ; and as the bread is made merely as
the temporary occasion requires, and none is kept on hand
from one day to another, a baking of bread always attends
the arrival of a stranger. Abraham, therefore, hastened into
abraham. 51
the tent to Sarah, and desired her to make ready quickly three
measures of fine flour, and to knead it and bake cakes upon
the hearth. He then hastened to the herd, and took from
thence a calf, " tender and good," which he gave to one of
his young men to slay and dress ; and this indicates the an¬
tiquity of another Bedouin custom, of slaying an animal for
the entertainment of a stranger arrived in camp ; and also
shows that even then the Orientals had no objection to meat
which had been cooked before the vital warmth had departed
from it. Abraham had only promised to bring "a morsel of
bread to comfort their hearts but now, with the bread, he
brought the calf, with some of those preparations of butter
and milk, for which pastoral tribes have in all ages been re¬
nowned. Having brought the meat, he sat not down with
them to partake of it, but according to a still subsisting
method of showing respect, he stood by his visitants under
the terebinth tree while they ate.
Sarah remained in the tent. The women do not generally
make their appearance on such occasions ; and it is considered
in the last degree impertinent for a stranger to take any no¬
tice of their existence, or to make any inquiries about them.
Abraham must therefore have been not a little startled when
the seeming principal of the strangers abruptly asked him,
" Where is Sarah thy wife ?" and that the stranger should
know her by a name so recently imposed, may well have in¬
creased his surprise. He answered, shortly, " Behold, in the
tent." On which the stranger, by declaring that Sarah should
in nine months become the mother of a son, revealed his high
character to the patriarch; and, accordingly, he is, in the re¬
mainder of the Recount, distinguished by the ineffable name
of Jehovah. As they were sitting just outside the tent,
Sarah herself, who was within it, heard what passed, and she
laughed incredulously to herself, knowing well that not only
had she ever been barren, but that she was past the time of
life at which all the women of her day ceased to bear chil¬
dren. On this the Lord asked why she had laughed, and why
she was incredulous, for was there any thing too hard for the
Lord ? and he ended in repeating the terms of the assurance
he had just given. Sarah, being afraid, and knowing that no
52
abraham.
one could have heard her laughter, ventured to deny that she
had laughed, but was stopped by the rebuke, " Nay, but thou
didst laugh."
Soon after, the strangers arose and departed, directing
their course toward the vale of Siddim, and Abraham went
with them a part of the way. As they proceeded, the Lord
condescended to make known to him the object of the present
motion towards Sodom, which, speaking after the manner of
men, as one who needed to examine and inquire before pro¬
ceeding to judgment, he does in these words: " Because the cry
of Sodom and Gomorrah is great, and because their sin is very
grievous ; I will go down now, and see whether they have done
altogether according to the cry of it, which is come unto me ;
and if not, I will know." The other two then went on in ad¬
vance towards Sodom, while Abraham remained alone with the
Lord. The patriarch knew what interpretation to put upon
the last ominous words; and the character of the inhabitants
of the plain was too well known to him to permit him to
cherish a hope for them as matters now stood. He therefore,
having himself had large experience of the Lord's tender mer¬
cies, ventured, although feeling that he was but " dust and
ashes," to draw near and speak to him on their behalf. It
was not possible, he knew, but that the Judge of all the
earth should do right; and, therefore, far must it be from
him to slay the innocent with the wicked. But, yet more,
the patriarch urgently desired that, for the sake of only a
few just men in Sodom, the whole city might be spared. He
named fifty; but after this request had been granted, his
recollection of the intense corruptions of Sodom made him
anxious to reduce the number to the lowest possible limit;
and therefore, by successive petitions, all readily yielded to
him, he gradually brought down the number to ten, for the
sake of which small number of righteous men the Lord de¬
clared that even Sodom should not be destroyed.
The Lord then departed on his way, but not—at least n'ot
in bodily form—to Sodom ; and Abraham returned to his
tent in Mamre.
The wicked city of Sodom having finally rejected every
invitation to repentance, and laughed to scorn and outraged
ABRAHAM. 53
the messengers of the Most High God, wae at length suddenly
destroyed. It will not, however, enter within our province
to detail here the story of its annihilation.
Not long after the destruction of Sodom, Abraham re¬
moved from the valley of Mamre, where he had lived so many
years, and proceeded southward towards the desert border of
Palestine, and encamped near a place called Gerar, between
Kadesh and Shur. What occasioned his removal at this par¬
ticular juncture does not appear ; but it has been with suf¬
ficient plausibility conjectured that he could not bear the
stench which at that time arose from the sulphureous lake
where the cities of the plain had been.
In the next chapter we shall trace the subsequent career
of Abraham to his death and burial.
CHAPTER II.
isaac.
The joy, so long expected, and so long delayed, came at
last; and at the date specially appointed by God, being ex¬
actly one year from the time that Abraham entertained the
angels under the terebinth tree, Sarah gave birth to a son.
To this son the name of Isaac was given, with a joyous feel¬
ing which suggested to Sarah a more pleasant application
of the name than in the circumstances which gave the first
occasion for it. She nourished the infant from her own breast,
probably not? less than three years ; and a great feast signal¬
ized the day on which the heir of the promises was weaned.
In consequence of the changes and modifications of feeling
and expectation which the event quite naturally occasioned,
the birth and growth of Isaac did not bring unmixed satis¬
faction to the family of Abraham. Sarah, a woman on the
verge of old age, unexpectedly gratified with a son, naturally
enough threw the whole force of her affections upon him, to
the gradual neglect and ultimate dislike of Ishmael, to whom,
as her actual blessing, she appears to have been considerably
attached before her greater blessing in Isaac came. Of Ha-
gar's feelings we know nothing positively, but from our pre¬
vious knowledge of her, we can readily conclude that it was
with no pleasant impressions that she saw the consequence of
her own son, now growing up to manhood, much diminished,
and many of his expectations superseded by the young stranger.
The mind of the rough youth himself appears to have been
somewhat irritated by the comparative neglect into which he
had fallen ; and he seems to have occasionally manifested un¬
kind feelings towards the child by whom this had been uncon¬
sciously produced. The patriarch himself appears to have
been the least altered of the three. The sturdy character of
ISAAC.
55
Ishmael was not likely to be displeasing to a pastoral chief;
and while the heart of Abraham was large enough for both
his sons, each of whom he was willing to see in the several
stations which Providence had assigned them before their
birth, it is probable that his first-born still possessed a higher
place in his affections than the infant Isaac had yet won.
An occasion soon occurred on which the operation of these
different feelings was manifested. At or not long after the
O O
great feast which Abraham made when Isaac was weaned,
Ishmael grievously offended Sarah, probably not for the first
time, by some derision or ill-treatment of the young heir, to
which Hagar appears, in some way or other, to have been a
party. The wrath of Sarah was warmly excited, and she pas¬
sionately insisted to Abraham that Hagar and her son should
both be sent away, declaring that " the son of this bondwoman
shall not be heir with my son, even with Isaacwhich is prob¬
ably leveled at some intention which Abraham was known to
entertain of dividing his actual property between his sons, leav¬
ing to Isaac the heirship of those higher hopes which belonged
to him. Such an intention was in itself so proper and cus¬
tomary, that in a later age it was applied to such cases by the
law of Moses. The demand of Sarah was very grievous to the
patriarch. But God, who, on a former occasion interposed to
prevent a separation, and obliged Hagar to return to the mis¬
tress from whom she had fled, now indicates his high approval
of the course which the displeasure and passion of Sarah had
suggested. This difference of procedure is evidently another
instance of the operation of the divine intention of keeping
the chosen race alone and apart from even collateral combina¬
tions. Yet He, who knew well the nature of those affections
which He has implanted in man to bless and cheer his exist¬
ence, gave not his sanction to this harsh requirement without
words of kindness, followed by the renewed promise—"And
also of the son of the bondwoman will I make a nation, be¬
cause he is thy seed"
To mark the alacrity of obedience which the patriarch
ever manifested when his course was indicated by a clear com¬
mand from God, we are told that he "rose up early in the
morning" to set forward the bondwoman and her son upon
56
ISAAC.
their way. We are not told of the explanations and farewells
which passed on this occasion ; but it is preposterous^ to sup¬
pose there was any thing harsh in this dismissal. ^ "W e doubt
not that Abraham's household knew that he was in the habit
of receiving directions from God, by which his measures had
been at all times directed; and that he had trained up all be¬
longing to him into the habit of feeling that when such a
direction had been received, nothing further remained to be
considered. Abraham may or may not have told Hagar of
Sarah's demand and her cause for it ; but, questionless, he
did tell her of the divine command, of the necessity which it
imposed upon him, and of the promise with which it was at¬
tended ; and Hagar's own submission, on a former occasion,
to a command from the same supreme authority, sufficiently
intimates that she could not but feel the obligation of obedi¬
ence under which her master lay. Furnished with a skin of
water, and with such provisions as travelers take with them,
she departed with her son from the tents of her lord, and his
father, and wandered in the desert of Beer-sheba. Here her
supply of water was soon spent; and the young Ishmael, less
inured than his mother to privation, grew faint from thirst
and weariness, and seemed likely to perish in the deserts which
were his promised heritage. There was no remedy but water ;
and water his mother saw none, and expected not to find there.
The case was hopeless in her eyes. That the lad might not
die in her sight, she laid him down under the shade of one of
the desert shrubs, and withdrawing herself to some distance,
she sat down upon the ground and wept aloud. The moans
of the child and the cries of his mother were not unheard in
heaven ; and the pitying voice of the angel of God called to
her, saying, " Wha,t aileth thee, Hagar P Fear not; for God
hath heard the voice of the lad where he is. Arise, lift up
the lad, and hold him in thine hand ; for I will make him a
great nation." The attention was thus guided to a distant
well, to which she hastened to fill her vessel, and returned to
give the lad drink. All was well with them then. They soon
after met with a party of Bedouin pastors to whom they joined
themselves, and remaining in the deserts, Ishmael soon dis¬
tinguished himself by the expert use of the favorite weapon
ISAAC.
57
of that early age, the bow—ho "became an archer," and ac¬
quired a character in conformity with that which the divine
predictions had assigned to him. In the East the mother
usually takes all but the entire direction in the marriage of
her son; and, agreeably to this usage, as soon as Ishmael be¬
came of proper age, Hagar procured a wife for Ishmael out
of the land of Egypt, to which she herself belonged. We
may now leave them and return to the tents of Abraham.
The Jewish doctors count up ten trials of Abraham's faith
and obedience. Nine of these we have told. The tenth and
last was of all these the most terrible, and from which, pro-
portionably, the character of the patriarch came forth with
the greater splendor—with the resplendence of gold refined in
many fires. He had dwelt many years in Beer-sheba, and his
son Isaac had reached the age of twenty-five years, when the
astounding command came that he was to immolate this son
—the heir of the promises—as a sacrifice to Jehovah. It
being the design of God to render the patriarch an eminent
example to all his future posterity of unquestioning obedience,
whereby he might worthily claim the title of " The Father
of the Faithful/' every circumstance was accumulated which
seemed calculated to render obedience more difficult to him.
Even in the requirement itself, the proposed victim is indi¬
cated by a variety of tender appellations, rising in their value
by an admirable climax from the first to the last, every one
of which must have entered like iron into the soul of the pa¬
triarch : " Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou
lovest—and offer him there for a burnt-offering upon one of
the mountains which I will tell thee of."
We do not imagine that the idea of a father sacrificing his
son to Grod as a burnt-offering was new to Abraham. In
after times we know it was but too common ; and it appears
probable that in those times which lie beyond the reach of
our knowledge, the notion had crept in, that as the life of a
son, and especially of the eldest, the only, or of a very dear
son, was the most valuable and precious offering in their
power to present, it must needs be the most acceptable and
meritorious in the eyes of the gods they worshiped. Hence,
as the most sensible of the Jewish writers conjecture, Abra-
58
ISAAC.
ham understood that this highest sacrifice, by which, as he
knew, the heathen manifested their zeal for their false gods,
was required of him as a test of his zeal for the true God.
But how he could reconcile such a command with the prom¬
ise of a numerous posterity through this very Isaac, might
not appear very evident, did we not learn from the New Tes¬
tament, that so confident did he feel that this promise would
and must be accomplished, that he believed that God would
restore Isaac again to life after he was sacrificed. Curbing,
therefore, the force of his paternal emotions, he, with the
usual alacrity of his obedience, "rose up early in the morn¬
ing," and made the necessary preparations for the journey and
for the sacrifice, directing the ass on which he usually rode
to be saddled, and the wood required for a burnt-offering to
be cleaved. He then departed with Isaac, attended by two
of his young men. On the third day they arrived within a
distant view of the place which God had appointed for this
awful act; and it proved to be that Mount Moriah on which,
in after ages, the temple of Solomon was built; and this site
was probably selected with a prospective reference to that cir¬
cumstance, as well as to the mysteries of which the neighbor¬
hood was to be the scene in ages to come.
Here, while the place was still some way off, Abraham
alighted from his ass, and fearing lest the young men might
be disposed to interfere, or, perhaps, apprehending that the
act which he was about to execute might, through such wit¬
nesses, be drawn into a precedent, he directed them to remain
there with the ass, while he and Isaac went yonder to wor¬
ship. The father and son passed on in silence, Isaac bearing
the wood which, unknown to him, was destined to consume
his own body, and Abraham taking the knife and a vessel
containing the fire with which the wood was to be kindled.
As they thus proceeded, it occurred to Isaac to ask the nat¬
ural but, under the circumstances, very trying question—
" My father, .... Behold, the fire and the wood ■ but where
is the lamb for a burnt-offering ?" To this Abraham only
answered, " My son, God will provide himself a lamb for a
burnt-offering." But as they proceeded, or when they arrived
at the top of the hill, the patriarch must have explained to
isaac.
his son that he was himself the victim which God had pro¬
vided ; and that the pious and dutiful youth then Lowed in
submission to the will of God and the desire of his father is
evinced by the circumstances ; for any act of compulsion was
morally impossible by an old man of one hundred and twenty-
five years upon a vigorous youth of twenty-five years, whose
strength is evinced by his ability to carry all the wood re¬
quired for such a sacrifice ; and his submission must have
been founded on the conviction that his father was right in
that which he was doing. The altar was built; the wood
was disposed properly upon it; Isaac laid himself down upon
the wood ; and lest the weakness of the flesh should shrink in
this fiery trial, he submitted to be bound : and then the pa¬
triarch—with feelings which a fond father can understand
without any description, and which none else would under¬
stand if described—lifted up his hand to smite the life which
was doubtless far more precious to him than his own. The
trial was complete. The uplifted arm was arrested, and the
intense feelings of that solemn moment were calmed in an
instant by a most welcome voice from heaven, which cried :
" Abraham ! Abraham ! . . . . lay not thine hand upon the
lad, neither do thou any thing unto him; for now I know that
thou fearest God, seeing that thou hast not withheld thy son,
thine only son, from Me." And as the patriarch heard these
words, his eyes fell upon a ram which had been caught in a
thicket by its horns, and joyfully recognizing in this the vic¬
tim which God had provided for a burnt-offering, he hastened
to offer it on the altar in the place of his son Isaac ; and
never, surely, from the beginning of the world till now, was a
religious act performed with such released feelings as those
which attended this sacrifice. In memory of this event, and
with a happy allusion to his own ambiguous answer to the
question of Isaac, as well as to its most unexpected accom¬
plishment, he called the name of that place JAHOH JIREH
—the Lord will provide.
This act of perfect obedience being consummated, it
pleased God to reward the faith he had thus proved, and not
found wanting, by the renewal of all his former promises, in
terms so express and so strong, and confirmed by the highest
60
ISAAC.
of all possible sanctions—" By Myself have I sworn that the
patriarch could not but receive it as a firm and settled matter;
and hence it does not appear that any further promise was
made to him during the remainder of his life. Cheered by
this promise, Abraham returned happily to Beer-sheba with
his son, whom he had, as it were, received again from the
dead, and who must now have become all the dearer to him,
for the signal proof he had given of his pious resignation and
filial piety.
After this twelve years passed away, during which we
only know that Abraham received news from Mesopotamia,
informing him that the family of his brother, Nahor, was in
a flourishing condition, and that he had many children, and
some grand-children. During this time, it appears, also, that
Abraham removed his camp from Beer-sheba to his old station
in the valley of Mamre, or at least to some place near Hebron.
Here, at the end of the twelve years, Sarah died, at the age
of 127 years ; and it is remarkable that she is the only woman
whose age, at the time of death, is mentioned in the Scrip¬
ture. At this time, and probably from the time of her be¬
coming a mother, Sarah occupied a separate tent from that
of her husband. And now, when her death was announced
to him, he left his own tent, and sat down at the door of hers,
" to weep for her," this being the mode of proceeding which
custom required.
The death of Sarah raised a new question, which hitherto
there had been no occasion to consider. It has been an an¬
cient custom among the Bedouin tribes not to bury their dead
just where they happen to die, but to have a burial place
within their respective territories, to which they bring the
bodies of such of the tribe as die within its district. In con¬
formity with this custom Abraham now wanted a suitable
burial-ground, appropriated to the special use of his family,
and in which the remains of all of that family who died in
the land of Canaan might be laid. He therefore applied to
the Hittites, dwelling in Hebron, to obtain the permanent
grant of a piece of ground proper for this purpose. The ac¬
count of the interview is curious and interesting, from the
light it throws upon the position of Abraham and the man-
61
ners of the time. The wealthy and powerful patriarch ap¬
pears to have been popular with the Hittites, or was rather,
perhaps, regarded by them as one whom it was their interest
to oblige. He was received with great attention ami respect,
and when his wish was understood, the choice of all their
sepulchers in which to bury his dead was readily and freely
offered to him. On this the good patriarch rose up and !
bowed to the children of Hetli, and then proceeded to explain j
more clearly the object he had in view. He wanted a family J
burial-place for a permanent possession, and there was a field,
called Machpelah, well planted with trees, and with a good
cave at the end of it, which would exceedingly well answer
his purpose, if the owner, one Ephron, then present, could
be induced to sell this property to him. This person, without
waiting to be pressed, readily, and with much tact, answered
for himself: " Nay, my lord, hear me ; the field give I thee,
and the cave that is therein, I give it thee ; in the presence
of the sons of my people [as witnesses] give I it thee : bury
thy dead." Now this looks very fair ; but the readiness of
the man, the tone of the whole speech, with the parade of
" give—give—give," so much reminds us of certain passages
in our own oriental experience, that Ephron and his speech
find no favor in our eyes. We are convinced that, with all
this apparent generosity, the man had a keen eye to his own
interests, and saw clearly that it might Be a more profitable
thing to lay the emir "under an obligation, than to sell him
the ground outright. Besides, if Abraham was, as seems
to be the case, a much more important person than Ephron
himself, he could not have received this land as a present, ac¬
cording to the usages of the East, without making a more con¬
siderable present in return. It seems to us that Abraham
quite understood all this. He rose, and after bowing generally
to the congregation, addressed himself particularly to Eph¬
ron, and insisted on paying for the field with money ; and
this person, seeing him resolute, at last named the price.
" The land is worth four hundred shekels (weight) of silver
but still, in exact conformity with the character we have as¬
signed him, he takes care to add, " What is that betwixt me
and thee ?" As he had thus been brought to name a sum in
62 ISAAC.
the presence of so many witnesses, Abraham immediately
weighed out the quantity of silver he required, and thus
closed the bargain with a degree of address, which shows that
he was a judge of character, and knew how to deal with such
persons as Ephron. Thus was acquired the first possession of
the Hebrew race in the land of Canaan—that possession a
sepulcher.
There is not in the East any grief like the grief of a
mother for her son, or of a son for his mother ; and there
were circumstances calculated to give peculiar intensity to
the mutual attachment of Sarah and Isaac. The grief for the
loss of his mother, acting upon the quiet and passive charac¬
ter of Isaac, must have been very strong ; and it was proba¬
bly the sense of privation and continued distress which he
manifested that put it into the mind of Abraham, about three
years after Sarah's death, of providing a wife for his son, who
was then about forty years of age. In meditating such an
object, a Bedouin chief would naturally first think of keep¬
ing up the family connection, by seeking for his son a wife
from the household of his brother; and, in fact, the young
man is held to have the first claim to the hand of any female
which the house of his uncle will supply. To the influence
of such feelings was, in the case of Abraham, added an anx¬
iety to keep pure and unmixed the race which G-od had
chosen. This explains the strong interest which Abraham
and the other patriarchs took in providing wives for their sons
from among ther own connections. On the present occasion,
Abraham called his trusty old servant, Eliezer of Damascus,
and made him take a solemn oath to go to the family of his
brother Nahor, in Mesopotamia, and bring thence a wife for
Isaac, if one willing to come could be found there, giving him
entire authority to conclude the marriage—which, in itself,
is a remarkable illustration of the ideas on which oriental
marriages are usually concluded.
Eliezer departed with a train suitable to the importance of
his mission, and calculated to impress a proper notion of his mas¬
ter's consequence upon those to whom he was going—consisting
of ten camels, with a proper proportion of attendants, and
with valuable presents for the damsel and her friends ; it being
ISAAC.
63
then, as now, the custom of the East to purchase the bride
from her friends at a high price, as well as to make presents
to herself, instead of the bride bringing a dowry to her hus¬
band.
It would seem that Nahor's family still lived in the town
(Chai^-an) where Abraham left it. Like Lot in Sodom, they
lived in a house—and, so far, hail relinquished th« character
of the pure pastoral nomades who dwell in tents, although,
the flocks were still sent out to distant jiastures under the
care of the younger branches of the family, and of shepherds
whose mode of life was like that of the Bedouins. Or, which
is as likely, if not more so, the head establishment lived in a
house only from the latter end of autumn to the spring,
spending the rest of the year in tents—a practice which still
prevails among some of the pastoral tribes of western Asia. I
How many days Eliezer's journey took we know not ; but
it was towards evening when he arrived in the vicinity of his
place of destination. His intimate acquaintance with Be¬
douin habits then suggested to him the measures which
seemed best calculated to insure the object of his journey.
In that age, as now, the duty of drawing water from the wells
devolved upon the young women of every Bedouin household ;
and the sheikh's own daughter is not above taking her share
in a service which is not by any means considered degrading
—so much otherwise, indeed, that the young women find
much employment in meeting at the well, and talking to¬
gether of their small affairs. When Eliezer reached the well, i
the time of the evening had nearly arrived at which the fe¬
males are wont to come forth to draw water ; and he knew
that among them he might expect to see the destined bride
of his young master. He therefore allowed his camels to
kneel down, in their usual posture of rest, resolving to remain
there, as one who tarried for leave to give water to them from
that well. While thus waiting, he prayed to the God of his
master Abraham to give him good speed that day ; and, being
deeply impressed with the responsibility of the duty he had
undertaken, he ventured to propose a sign whereby the kind¬
ness of her disposition should be made to indicate the female
appointed to be the wife of Isaac. He was yet speaking,
64
ISAAC.
when the young women came to discharge their evening duty.
To one of them his attention was particularly drawn by her
great beauty ; and as she was returning from the well, with
her pitcher on her shoulder, he ran to meet her, with the«re-
| quest that she would allow him to take a draught of water
I from her vessel. She said, " Drink, my lord and vpth the
! utmost alacrity lowered her pitcher from her shoulder to her
hand, to give him drink. When he had finished, she hastened
again and again to the well, emptying her pitcher into the
trough, to give the camels water; while the admiring stranger
pondered in his mind whether this, being the sign he had re¬
quired, did not sufficiently indicate the future bride of his
master's son. To assist his conclusions he took from his
treasures a nose-jewel and a pair of bracelets, both of gold,
and presented them to her, asking, at the same time, whose
daughter she was, and whether her father's house afforded
room where his party might lodge. To his great joy, her
answer proved her to be the very woman of whom Abraham
had already heard in Canaan—namely, Rebekah, the daughter
of Bethuel, one of the sons of Nahor. She also told him,
not only that there was room for his party, but also chopped
straw and corn for the camels. The good old servant, now
convinced that he had found the right person, bowed his head,
and blessed, aloud, the Grod of Abraham, who had thus led
him to the house of his master's brethren. No sooner had
these words fallen from him, than Rebekah ran home to tell
all this to her friends.
All this time Nahor does not seem to have been alive—at
least his name does not appear in any part of this transaction ;
and although Bethuel, the father of Rebekah, still lived, the
management of all affairs appears to have fallen into the hands
of his son—the keen and active Laban—who no sooner caught
the meaning of his sister's hurried statement, and saw (as the
narrative is careful to add) the valuable presents which had
been given to her, than he hurried forth, and warmly invited
Eliezer into the house. There, with the usual promptitude
of eastern hospitality, a meal was ready for him and his com¬
panions by the time they had attended to their camels and
washed their feet. But the faithful servant was too much
ISAAC.
65
interested in the result of liis mission to sit down and eat
before he had declared his errand. This he did in a precise
and simple narrative of what has already been related—in
which, however, he, with much address, was mindful to let
his audience know of Abraham's great wealth, and of the
prosperity with which he had been favored. So Laban, in
his own name, and that of Bethuel, declared that the visible
traces of divine direction in this matter left them without an
answer ; and then, without taking the trouble to consult Re-
bekah, added, "Behold, Rebekah is before thee; take her,
and go, and let her be thy master's son's wife, as the Lord
hath spoken." On this the overjoyed steward bowed his
head in thanks to God. Then he drew from his store of
precious things, ornaments of gold and silver, and costly gar¬
ments, and gave them to the elected bride; and also to her
brother and mother he made the valuable presents which they
were entitled to expect. The next morning Eliezer rose early,
and, rather unexpectedly, required permission to return to
his master with the bride. They wished him to tarry a few
days ; but as he persisted, and Rebekah professed her willing¬
ness to go at once, no farther opposition was made.
Women in the East consume but little time in preparing
for even an extensive journey ; and Rebekah, being soon
ready, was dismissed by Laban with the very characteristic
oriental blessing, " Be thou the mother of thousands of mil¬
lions, and let thy seed possess the gate of those which hate
them." The nurse is a very respectable and influential per¬
sonage in an eastern household, and often accompanies the
young female she has nourished to the new home which mar¬
riage gives her, and where she becomes her chief adviser and
confidant. So now, Rebekah's nurse and some of her damsels
wore sent with her. They were mounted on camels, and de-
departed, Eliezer and his men leading the way.
It was eventide when the party arrived in the neighbor¬
hood of Abraham's camp ; and the contemplative Isaac had
walked forth into the fields to meditate, and was the first to
discover the advancing camels. He walked on to meet them;
and his destined bride, observing him approach, asked Eliezer
who he was ; and hearing the answer, " It is my master," she
5
ISAAC.
dismounted from the camel, and enveloped herself in the vail
of a bride, by which Isaac might distinguish her from the
others, and would know that the mission of his servant had
not been unavailing. Having learnt from Eliezer all that had
taken place, Isaac took Rebekah to the tent of his mother,
Sarah, which belonged to her as the chief woman of the tribe.
He loved her, and she became his wife. Then, first, he began
to feel comfort since his mother's death.
All the circumstances of this expedition are, like others in
the patriarchal history, eminently illustrative of the condition
of life to which they belong ; and they abound with such
strong and finely-discriminated traits of character and natural
feeling, that the writer who wishes to leave upon the mind of
the reader distinct and characteristic impressions of the ages
and the conditions of life through which his history leads, may
well be reluctant to submit the details which lie before him to
the curtailment and condensation which his limitations may
require.
Soon after Isaac's marriage, Abraham, remembering that
he was to be " the father of many nations," took to himself
a second wife, Keturah, who was probably one, perhaps the
chief, of the handmaids who had been " born in his house, or
bought with his money." By her he had six sons, Zimran,
Jokshan, Medan, Midian, Ishbak, and Shuah; all of whom
before his own death, thirty-seven years after, he sent with
suitable allowances into the country east and south-east of
the Promised Land, where they became the founders of Ara¬
bian tribes, some of which are often noticed in the Jewish an¬
nals, and some remaining traces of whose names may to this
day be discovered in Arabia. Thus Abraham disposed of his
sons by Keturah in his own lifetime, lest at his death they
should be disposed to interfere with the superior claims of
Isaac, and, probably, lest any of them should settle in the
land of Canaan, which was that son's destined heritage.
While thus Abraham was becoming the father of many na- «
tions, the beautiful wife of Isaac proved to be barren. " Of all
the patriarchs," says Bishop Hall, " none made so little noise
in the world as Isaac ; none lived either so privately or so in¬
nocently : neither know I whether he approved himself a bet-
ISAAC.
67
ter son or a husband ; for the one, he gave himself over to the
knife of his father, and mourned three years for his mother ;
for the other, he sought not to any handmaid's bed, but in a
chaste forbearance reserved himself for twenty years' space
and prayed. Rebekah was so long barren." After this she
conceived, and brought forth twins, whose fortunes were pre¬
dicted before their birth ; for their struggles, as if for superi¬
ority, in her womb, engaged her attention, and she entreated
God to show her what this might mean. The answer was,
that two nations, two manners of people, were in her womb ;
and that of these the one people should be stronger than the
other, and the elder should serve the younger. When they
came into the world, the first-born exhibited a very hairy ap¬
pearance, on which account the name of Esau [hairy] .was
given to him ; the other had hold of his brother's heel in the
birth, and received the name of Jacob \]ieeT\ from that circum¬
stance. Characteristic instances, these, of the manner in
which, as now, among the Bedouin tribes, names were im¬
posed upon children with reference to any unusual appearance
they exhibited, or any little incident that occurred at the time
of their birth.
Nothing further is recorded of Abraham till he died (b.c.
1978), at the age of 175 years, " an old man, and full of
years/' His body was deposited beside that of Sarah in the
cave of Machpelah, which he had bought of Ephron the
Hittite ; and it is very interesting to note that the wild son
of Hagar united amicably with the placid Isaac in rendering
the last of duties to their common father ; and as the act of
burial in the East very speedily follows death, this leaves us
to infer that Ishmael had been summoned from the desert to
receive the dying blessing of the patriarch.
Isaac himself died at what was even in those early times
considered the good old age of 180 years. Following the
plan adopted in this work, other events of his life, being much
bound up with the history of Jacob, will be given in the next
chapter.
CHAPTER III.
jacob.
Esau and Jacob were fifteen years of ago when their
grandfather Abraham died. As the lads grew tip, xhey mani¬
fested characters as different as those of Ishmael and Isaac
had been. Esau was the Ishmael of this generation, but Jacob
was not the Isaac. Esau cared little for the mote quiet and
inactive duties of pastoral life, but he was abroad in the open
country, where his careless and impulsive character found a
congenial, because active and excitable, employment in hunt¬
ing and shooting down with his arrows the gazelles and other
wild animals which that region offered. Jacob, on the other
h&nd, was a plain and quiet man, not taking any interest in
such hunting excursions as those of his brother, but remain¬
ing for the most part at home among the tents, and acquiring
much knowledge of the shepherd's unostentatious and hum¬
ble duties. The character of Esau, rather than that of J acob,
is the one in which a Bedouin father is most likely to take
pride ; and hence it is no wonder that Isaac had much more
regard for Esau than for his brother, the more, perhaps, as
the former was enabled to show his father frequent and accep¬
table marks of his affection and respect by bringing for his
eating the more choice game that he had killed. Isaac was
also willing to regard his first-born as the heir of the prom¬
ises ; for although we see no reason to agree with those who
think that Rebekah did or could conceal from him the com¬
munication concerning them which she had received from
God before their birth, yet that communication, as inter¬
preted with the bias of his affection for Esau, might not seem
to him very clearly to establish the divine intention to assign
to his youngest son the same preference which he had him¬
self obtained over Ishmael. But this intention seemed very
JACOB.
69
clear to Rebekah herself, who interpreted the Lord's answer
to her by the light of her own affection for Jacob. He was
her favorite. She proved a somewhat crafty and unscrupu¬
lous woman, and Jacob's natural disposition, till he got ad¬
vanced in years, lay rather in the same direction ; and, besides
this bond of sympathy between them, his more gentle and
congenial character, together with his being more constantly
at home, naturally recommended him to a higher place in his
mother's affection than that which the more boisterous and
careless Esau occupied. Jacob knew from his mother the
superior destiny which awaited him ; and, at her suggestion,
kept himself on the watch for an opportunity of getting from
Esau a formal transfer or relinquishment of the higher natural
claims which he might be supposed to derive from the acci¬
dent of a few minutes' earlier birth. Such an opportunity
was not long wanting.
Jacob was one day preparing a savory pottage of lentiles,
which, or the mode of preparing which, was a novelty in that
part of the country, having been lately introduced from
Egypt. While he was thus occupied, Esau came in from a
severe day's hunting, famishing with hunger and faint from
fatigue. Under such circumstances the coarsest fare would
have seemed pleasing to him ; but the savory smell and
tempting reddish appearance of the pottage was absolutely
enchanting. The uncivilized or semi-civilized man is a child
in his appetites at all times ; and the hunger of such a man
is a madness. Jacob was too sharp a youth not to know this,
and he did not over-estimate the importance of his pottage
when, on Esau's begging passionately for a share of " that
rec[—that red" (not knowing its name), he demanded his
birthright as the price of the indulgence. We incline to think
that he had before been teased on this point, at less favorable
moments, and had resisted ; but now he was in the state of
one who would deem all prospective benefits and privileges
cheap, in comparison with the present good of a cup of cold
water. He therefore exclaimed fretfully—" Behold, I am at
the point to die : and what profit shall this birthright do to
me ?" Seeing his brother so ready to take the bait, Jacob
was not content with a mere off-hand agreement, but to make
70
JACOB.
the bargain secure would not part with his pottage till it was
confirmed by oath ; Esau then got his mess.
When, at the age of 137 years, Isaac's eyesight had failed,
and other infirmities of age had grown upon him, he imagined
that the day of his death could not be far distant, and pre¬
pared to confer upon his first-born, in a formal blessing, that
full inheritance of the promises made to Abraham, which he
desired him to possess, and which he unadvisedly deemed
himself qualified to bestow. He accordingly said to Esau,
" Take thy quiver and thy bow, and go out to the field, and
take me some venison ; and make me savory meat, such as I
love, and bring it to me, that I may eat; that my soul may
bless thee before I die."
This did not escape the ears of Eebekah, who, finding
that her husband was at last about to bestow on Esau what
she herself considered the due of Jacob, immediately, with the
ready ingenuity peculiar to her sex, thought of a device
whereby this plan might be frustrated, and the important
blessing diverted to the son she better loved. She proposed
this plan to Jacob ; but even he was startled at its boldness,
and urged some objections; but as these were not objections
of principle, and only arose from fear of the consequences of
detection, they were easily removed by his mother, who was
very willing to take all the consequences on herself, and he
then submitted to her direction. He went and fetched two
good kids from the flocks, with which Kebekah hastened to
prepare savory meat, such as Isaac loved. She then produced
a dress belonging to Esau, for Jacob to put on ; and, when
he was clad, fastened about his hands the skins of the goats,
to imitate the hairiness of Esau ; and then she gave him the
savory mess, with bread, to take to the blind old man. This
was a deservedly anxious moment to both 'Jacob and his
mother; for they had two fears—one, lest Isaac should detect
the imposture, and the other, lest Esau should return before
all was over. But all took effect according to their wish;
for although some probable doubt about the fitness of his own
course made Isaac guarded and suspicious; and although his
ear, sharpened by blindness, enabled him to detect the differ¬
ence of the voice, and the quickness of the assumed Esau's
JACOB. 71
return excited his surprise, the feel and fresh smell of the
dress which Jacob wore, and the hairiness of his hands, lulled
his doubts, and he received the savory mess which the de¬
ceiver brought, and afterwards drank the wine which he
offered. Them he said, " Come near now, and kiss me, my
son; and when Jacob went near to kiss him, he said, ' See,
the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which Jehovah
hath blessed ; therefore God give thee of the. dew of heaven,
and the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine ;
let people serva thee, and nations bow down to thee: be lord
over thy brethren ; and let thy mother's sons bow down to
thee : cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be
every one that blesseth thee.'"
The design having thus succeeded, Jacob left his father ;
and he had scarcely departed when Esau returned from his
hunting, and, with the game he had killed, prepared such
savory meat as his father loved, and bare it to him. We may
imagine the consternation of Isaac when the well-known
voice of his beloved son exclaimed, "Let my father arise, and
eat of his son's venison, that thy soul may bless me." He
trembled very exceedingly, and said, Ll Who ? where is he who
hath taken venison, and brought it me, and I have eaten of
all before thou earnest, and have blessed him ? yea, and he
shall be blessed."
The impetuous Esau was aghast at this intimation ; he
cried, with a great and exceeding bitter cry, and said to his
father, " Bless me, even me, also, 0 my father !" To which
Isaac could only reply by reminding him that his brother had
come with subtilty, and taken the blessing intended for him.
This called to Esau's mind his earlier wrong ; and, adverting
to the double meaning of his name, he said, " Is not he rightly
named Jacob ? for he hath supplanted me these two times
but again he returned to the single point in which his hope lay,
and exclaimed, " Hast thou not reserved a blessing for me ?"
This must have reminded Isaac, perhaps with some compunc¬
tion, that in blessing, as he supposed, his first-born, he had
not, intentionally, kept in view any blessing for his youngest
son. Now, convinced of an overruling control which pre¬
cluded him from recalling the blessing he had. unknowingly
72
JACOB.
given to Jacob, lie answered, " Behold, I have made him thy
lord, and all his brethren have I given to him for servants ;
and with corn and wine have I sustained him : and what shall
I do now unto thee, my son ?" But Esau, fairly overpowered,
and incapable of taking in any but one broad idea, persisted
in his right to an equivalent blessing, if not exactly the one
intended for him. " Hast thou but one blessing, my father ?
bless me, even me also, O my father ! And Esau lifted up his
voice, and wept." The blind old man must have been deeply
tried, not only in witnessing this affliction of his son, but to
feel that his wishes and hopes for him had been brought to
nothing. But then, or just before, he received such a clear
impression or vision as to his son's future lot as enabled him
to gratify his wish. " Behold, thy dwelling shall be remote
from the fatness of the earth, and from the dew of heaven;
by thy sword shalt thou live, and thou shalt serve thy
brother : but the time will come when thou shalt prevail,
and shalt break his yoke from off thy neck."
Isaac was too much humbled by the consciousness of his
own share in the wrong-doing, and by the certainty he now
possessed that Jacob was the real heir of the blessing he had
obtained, to harbor any resentment, or to make any com¬
plaints ; on the contrary, while Esau was still the beloved of
his heart, he began henceforth to take unusual interest about
one whom lie now recognized as the peculiar object of the
divine favor. But as for Esau, his resentment was fierce and
deep, and only to be appeased by blood. He knew that all
the blessings promised to Abraham must descend in the line
of Isaac, who had no sons but himself and Jacob ; and, there¬
fore, while in slaying his crafty brother he would gratify the
hatred he now felt towards him, he inferred that he should
by the same act become the heir of all. Him, therefore, he
determined to destroy ; but out of regard to his father, whom
he sincerely loved, he determined not to execute his purpose
while he lived—the rather that his end seemed then, to him¬
self and others, to be at no great distance—though he actu¬
ally lived above forty years after these trying events.
The blunt and open character of Esau disqualified him
from keeping his own secret. His intention transpired, and
JACOB. 73
was reported to Rebekah; who was seriously alarmed, and
proposed to Jacob that he should proceed, secretly, to her
brother Laban, in Mesopotamia, and remain with him a little
while till Esau's resentment should subside.
In proposing the plan of Jacob's journey to Mesopotamia
to Isaac, his wife thought it right to spare him this new |
trouble ; and therefore she merely stated what was doubtless
one of the reasons which made the journey the more desirable
in her eyes, though it was not the only one or the principal.
She reminded him of the marriage of Esau to the daughters
of Canaanites, and what a serious calamity it would be if Ja¬
cob, now the recognized heir of the promises, should be led to
follow his brother's example. As his shrewd wife suspected,
Isaac caught at this, and himself proposed the very plan she
had herself arranged. He sent for Jacob, and charged him
not to take a wife from among the Canaanites, but to proceed
to Padan-Aram [Mesopotamia], and there seek a wife among
his cousins, the daughters of Laban, his mother's brother.
He ended with the broad and cheerful recognition of Jacob as
the heir of the promises, and blessing him as such.
Jacob proceeded on his long journey to Mesopotamia,
making, in the first place, for the fords of the Jordan, which
river his course obliged him to cross. On the second or third
evening he arrived in the neighborhood of a town which bore
the name of Luz, on account of the numerous almond trees
which grew there ; and here he determined to spend the
night.
| Having procured from the neighboring town such refresh-
j ments (including oil) as he needed for his present relief and
j for his use in the morning, he lay down to rest, placing a
stone under his head for a pillow. He appears to have been
in a dejected state of mind, occasioned by the recent separa¬
tion from his father and mother, the prospect of the toilsome
journey before him, and the uncertainties of his future lot.
But now he was cheered by a dream which conveyed to him
a lively notion of the watchful providence of God, and as¬
sured him of the divine protection. He beheld the similitude
of a ladder, which seemed to connect earth with heaven ; and
on this ladder he saw the angels of God descending and as-
74
JACOB.
cending, proceeding on and returning from the missions en¬
trusted to them by One who appeared above, and who, at
last, spoke to Jacob himself, and, alter announcing himself as
the Jehovah of his fathers, Abraham and Isaac, proceeded to
recognize him as the heir of the promises, and to renew to
him, in express terms, the covenant made with Abraham;
and then, mercifully compassionating his depressed state and
forlorn condition, the divine vision added, "And, behold, I
am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou
goest, and will bring thee again into this land ; for I will not
leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee
of." Jacob, who had not before been favored with any mani¬
festations of that Jehovah of whose greatness and goodness,
and of whose especial regard for their race, he had often heard
Abraham and Isaac speak, awoke with deep awe, and ex¬
claimed, " Surely Jehovah is in this place, and I knew it
not." And then he added, with some terror, " How dreadful
is this place ! This is none other but the house of God, and
this is the gate of heaven." In allusion to what he said on
this occasion, the place was thenceforward called Bethel \the
house of God] by himself and his descendants, in which name
the more ancient one of Luz was soon lost.
Jacob proceeded on his journey, and in due time arrived
at the famous old well of Charran, where Eliezer had first
seen Rebekah. Here he found some shepherds of that place
waiting with their flocks. Being himself well versed in all
the usages of pastoral life, he was struck that they did not
at once water their flocks ; but, on inquiring the reason, was
told that different flocks were entitled to water from that well,
and that the well could not be opened till they were all on the
ground, or rather, till all the shepherds of those flocks were
present. Continuing to talk with them, he learned that they
knew Laban, that he was well, and that his home flock was
kept by his daughter Rachel, for whose presence they were
then actually waiting before they opened the well. While
they were thus in talk, Rachel came with her sheep, and the
kind stranger—the forlorn son of a wealthy house—hastened
to render a mark of civility and attention which was probably
not less acceptable to her than were the ornaments of gold
JACOB. 75
which her aunt had received from his father's servant at that
place ; with the ease of an accomplished shepherd, he removed
the stone from the mouth of the well and watered her flock
for her ; and when he had done this, he drew near to her and
kissed her, and told her, with many tears, that he was her own
cousin, the son of Rebekah, her aunt. Rachel ran to bear
these tidings to her father, who instantly hastened to meet
his sister's son, and embraced him, and kissed him, and
brought him into the house.
During Jacob's stay he had not been unobservant of La-
ban's two daughters. The eldest of them, Leah, was afflicted
with a disorder in her eyes, but seems in other respects to
have been an agreeable and sensible woman. The other,
Rachel, whom he had first seen at the well, was very beauti¬
ful, and as she participated in the care of the flock, there were
more points of sympathy between her and Jacob, and he saw
more of her than of Leah, who, as the eldest daughter, was
much engaged in the household affairs. On all these grounds
it was natural that the heart of Jacob preferred Rachel; in¬
deed, he loved her deeply.
To the fair and even liberal proposal of Laban, his nephew
therefore made answer, that he only desired that Rachel might
be given to him for wife; and that, seeing he had not where¬
with to pay for her the price which custom required, he was
willing to give his services for seven years, as an equivalent.
Laban readily closed with this proposal; and the arrange¬
ment thus made, is, to this day, not unusual in Syria with
young men who have nothing but their services to offer the
family from which they desire a wife.
Usage required that a month should pass between the
formation and completion of such an agreement; and when
the month was expired, Jacob demanded his wife. On this,
Laban assembled a large party of his friends, to keep the
wedding-feast, which, it seems, even at this early date, lasted
during a week. On the first evening, Laban led his vailed
daughter to the chamber of her husband, which was left in
darkness : thus it was not until the morning that J acob dis¬
covered that the wily Laban, instead of giving him his be¬
loved Rachel, had brought him his less favored daughter,
76
JACOB.
Leah. This was enough to throw a meeker man than Jacob
into a passion ; but, on being reproached with his conduct,
Laban coolly answered, that it was not tlie custom of the
country to give the younger daughter in marriage before the
elder. This is so conformable to oriental ideas, that it is very
likely to have been true ; but is was his duty to have told
this to his nephew when the agreement was made, instead of
forcing upon him, for a wife, a woman he did not wish to
marry, in the place of one whom he truly loved. But his real
object was to get rid first of his least attractive daughter, as
well as to secure a longer claim upon the valued services of
his sister's son. Accordingly he added, that, when he had
completed the matrimonial week due to Leah, there would be
no objection to his taking Rachel also, provided he would un¬
dertake to serve another seven years for her sake. Circum¬
stanced as he was by the guile of Laban, Jacob was compelled
to agree to this ; and we are touchingly told that the further
seven years which he served for Rachel, " seemed to him but
a few days, for the love he had to Jier."
To Jacob's former indifference towards Leah, was now
added the disgust which her evident participation in the fraud
practiced upon him was calculated to inspire. But it turned
out that Leah had a ground of exultation over her favored
rival, in the fact that she bore four sons to her husband, while
her sister was barren. Finding this to be the case, Rachel
bethought herself of giving to Jacob her handmaid, named
Bilhah, whom she had received from her father on her mar¬
riage, under the notion that the children which this woman
might bear would be counted as hers. It will be remembered
that Sarah had given her handmaid, Hagar, to Abraham,
under a similar idea. The plan so far succeeded, that Bilhah
became the mother of two sons, both of whom received from
Rachel names expressive of her exultation. Leah, finding
how her sister's plan answered, and that she had herself ceased
to bear children, persuaded Jacob to-take also her handmaid,
Zilpah, and by her he had also two sons j then Leah herself
recommenced bearing, and had two sons and a daughter. At
last the cries of Rachel herself were heard in heaven ; her
womb was opened, and she conceived and bare a son Joseph,
JACOB. 77 I
the favored and beautiful, who fills so large a placo in the
history of the patriarchs. Thus the fourteen years passed
away, during which Jacob must have been much disturbed by
the bickerings and heart-burnings of his wives ; and at the
end of which he found himself the father of eleven sons and
a daughter.
After Jacob had sojourned many years with Laban, being i
frequently imposed upon, as he had been before, by this rapa¬
cious and unprincipled man, he determined to return to his
native place ; which he finally did, in spite of the determined
j opposition of his father-in-law.
Although he had good reason to dread the displeasure of
Esau on his return, yet we learn that the heart of the sturdy
hunter had become softened, and on seeing Jacob approach
he ran to meet him, fell on his neck, embraced, and kissed
him, when both lifted up their voices and wept.
Jacob, at last, after several delays, crossed the Jordan,
and settled first at Shechem, passing about eight years here.
In this place his daughter Dinah was ravished by Shechem, the
son of Hamor, which led eventually to a terrible revenge on
the part of Jacob's sons against the Shechemites. He, soon
after this revenge, which greatly displeased him, departed
from Shechem for Bethel, staying there a brief season. On
journeying further south, he lost his best beloved Eachel,
after she had given birth to a son, Benoni. Here, also, Reu¬
ben, his' eldest son, caused him further grief by corrupting
Bilhah, his handmaid. He then journeyed on to Mamre,
being present at the death of his father Isaac. His brother
Esau, who was also present, then departed on his return to
the land of Seir, leaving Jacob encamped in the valley of
Mamre.
It seems very likely that, while Isaac lived, Jacob was
careful to keep his flocks at a distance, under the care of his
sons, lest, if his own and his father's were together, Esau,
when he came to claim his inheritance, might be led to fancy
that his brother had already enriched himself out of Isaac's
property. Be this as it may, it is certain that, whenever we
hear of Jacob's flocks and herds, they are always at some
place distant from the valley of Mamre. So now, two or
78
JACOB.
three years after his arrival at that place, we find his sons
with the flocks northward, near their former station at
Shechem.
The sacred historian, whose example we have followed,
conducts the life of Isaac to its close before he commences
the long history of Joseph, although its earlier scenes took
place not long after Jacob's arrival at Mamre. This story of
his beloved son is so intensely interesting ; it is so surprising,
and withal so natural; it is so perfect, every minute detail
bearing so importantly on the ultimate result, that the most
simple story in the world might, in one point of view, be taken
for a labored production of such consummate skill as would,
in a fiction, immortalize its author's name ; and the whole is
withal told with such unaffected simplicity and natural pathos,
that through half the world the story is impressed from very
infancy upon the hearts of countless thousands, and its cir¬
cumstances are in every place as familiar as household words.
While the Jew takes pride in the glory of Joseph, and the
Christian admires the wisdom and power of God which his
history displays, the Moslem is never tired of calculating the
personal qualities which he ascribes to him—his form polished
as the box tree and erect as the cypress, his locks falling in
ringlets, his forehead shining with immortal beams, his eye¬
brows arched, and his eyelashes shading his sleepy eyes, his
eyes beaming mildness, the eyelashes darting arrows, his lips
smiling and shedding sweets, his words " dropping honey,"
and his pearly teeth, between his ruby lips, like the lightning
playing upon a western sky.
A story thus familiarly known, and which can not be told
in other words than that of the original historian without
great injury to its force and beauty, it does not seem desira¬
ble to relate more in detail than may be necessary to carry on
the historical narrative, unless when it offers circumstances
which seem to need explanation, or which appear calculated
to throw light upon the manners and institutions of the
time.
We shall now proceed with the exquisite story of Joseph,
giving, also, according to our plan, a sketch of the latter
years of J acob.
CHAPTER IV.
the story of joseph.
There were many obvious circumstances which might
concur in rendering the first-born of his Rachel particularly
dear to Jacob. He was the offspring of many prayers, his
birth had been the subject of unbounded joy, and his father
had beheld him as the constant object of maternal tenderness
to his beloved wife. When she died, Joseph was also proba- (
bly the only one of the household who could fully sympathize
with Jacob, and mingle tears with him ; for to the others
Rachel appears to have been more an object of jealousy than
love. It seems also that J oseph was distinguished above all
his brethren by his wisdom and his engaging disposition, if
not bf his superior beauty. These causes had their full effect. I
Jacob did love Joseph exceedingly; and was at so little pains
to conceal his partiality, that he bestowed upon him a much
finer dress than any of his brothers wore—" a coat of many
colors." The other sons of Jacob, some of whom were not
much older than Joseph, seem, upon the whole, to have been
a wild and headstrong set of men, with less respect for their
father than we usually find in the East. They were displeased
at his partiality for Joseph ; and their consequent dislike of
the youth himself grew to absolute hatred when they learned
to regard him as a spy upon them, from finding that, ou his
return home, after having been out with them in the distant
pastures, he was in the habit of telling his father about their
evil courses. Joseph also began to have dreams, which were
easily interpreted to promise to him some future superiority
over them all; and these dreams, which he freely related to
them, served much to strengthen the aversion with which he
was already regarded by his brothers. Even Jacob himself
became grave when one of these dreams seemed to intimate
80
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
that not only his other sons, but himself, should, at some fu¬
ture day, bow down before Rachel's son. That dream, in
which Joseph thought himself engaged with his brothers in
binding sheaves in the harvest field, may possibly intimate
j that Jacob had begun to follow the example of Isaac in pay-
| ing some attention to agriculture.
! Jacob's sons were thus engaged in their fields at Shechem,
i and as they had been for some time away, Jacob resolved to
' send Joseph, who was at home, to inquire of their welfare
| and bring him word again. He went.
When he approached, his brothers knew him afar off by
his coat of many colors, and said one to another, " Behold
this dreamer cometh and, after some conference among
themselves, they came to the resolution of murdering him,
and of telling their father that he had been slain by some
wild beast. " And we shall see," said they, " what will be-
| come of his dreams." But Reuben, whose own recent crime
! against his father made him unwilling to be a party in bring-
| ing any new grief upon him, affected a horror of shedding a
I brother's blood, and proposed that they should rather cast
! him into a deep pit, near at hand, which had been du£ to re¬
ceive and preserve the rain water, but which at that advanced
season of the summer was exhausted. They agreed to this
proposal, with the view of leaving him there to perish ; but
I it was Reuben's intention to return in their absence and de-
! liver him, to restore him safe to his father.
Joseph had not been long in the cistern before his brothers
observed the approach of a caravan of Arabian traders, who
were on their way to Egypt, bearing to the markets of that
already civilized and already luxurious country the spices and
perfumes of the distant East. They knew that such parties
were always glad to buy up slaves in their way for the same
market, and therefore it occurred to Judah that it would be
more profitable to sell him than to leave him to perish, while
by thus disposing of him, they might get rid of him effec¬
tually without loading their consciences with his death. To
this the others readily agreed. They therefore drew Joseph
j out of the pit and offered him to the Ishmaelites, who agreed
to give twenty shekels weight of silver for him; and the bar-
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
81
gain being completed, they departed with him to the land of
Egypt.
Reuben was not a party to this transaction, as ho hap¬
pened to be absent at the time ; and he was greatly afflicted,
and, according to the oriental method of expressing passionate
grief, rent his clothes, when he returned to the cistern to de¬
liver Joseph, and found him not there. He went and told his
brothers, but, whether they acquainted him with what had
taken place, or left him in the persuasion that Joseph had
been killed or stolen unknown to them, we are not informed.
We only know that they slew a kid and dipped in its blood
the envied dress of which they had stripped their brother
when they cast him into the pit ; and they sent it to Jacob,
saying they had found it in that state, leaving him to judge
whether it was his son's robe or not, and to draw his own in¬
ferences. He knew the many-colored coat ; and drew, as
they desired, the inference that some evil beast had devoured
his beloved son. " And Jacob rent his clothes, and put sack¬
cloth upon his loins, and mourned for his son many days.
And all his sons and all his daughters rose uj) to comfort
him; but he refused to be comforted; and he said, 'Fori
will go down into the grave unto my son mourning.' "
When the Ishmaelites who had bought Joseph arrived in
Egypt, they exposed him for sale, and he was purchased for
the domestic service of Potiphar, an officer of high rank in
the court of the Egyptian king, and chief of the royal police.
Instead of repining in his new situation, he applied himself
with great diligence and fidelity to the discharge of his duties.
These qualities are too rare and valuable in a newly-purchased
slave to escape the master's notice. Soseph's conduct engaged
Potiphar's attention and won his esteem ; and when he more¬
over found that his slave was blest with singular prosperity
in all his undertakings, he raised him to his confidence, and,
in the end, he intrusted the management of all his concerns
to him, making him steward, not only over his household, but
over his lands.
He had been ten years in the service of Potiphar, and had
reached the fine age of twenty-seven years, when it happened
that his extreme comeliness attraoted the attention of his
6
82 THE STOKY OF JOSEPH.
master's wife. Finding him insensible to her slighter seduc¬
tions and overtures, she at last came to declare to him plainly
her criminal desires ; and this she did one day, when all the
family were from home, in so very passionate a manner, that
Joseph, not deeming it safe to stay and plead, as he had been
wont to do, his obligations to his master, and his duty to his
God, abruptly withdrew, leaving in her hand his outer gar¬
ment, of which she had laid hold.
As might be expected, the love of Potiphar's wife was
turned to bitter hatred by this affront, and she resolved to be
the ruin of the man by whom her advances had been repelled.
The means by which this might be effected would readily oc¬
cur to the sharp invention of a resentful woman. She raised
a terrible outcry ; and when those who were within hearing
hastened to the spot, she declared that Joseph had made an
attempt upon her virtue, but when he heard her cries he fled,
leaving behind him his mantle. The promotion of a foreign
slave, descended from a class of men hateful to the Egyptians,
to the chief authority in the large household of Potiphar, was
calculated to raise the envy and jealousy of other members of
that household. This the woman knew, and, artfully appeal¬
ing to feelings so well calculated to make their ears greedy for
a tale to his disadvantage, she said, " See, he [Potiphar] hath
brought in an Hebrew unto us to mock us." He was by her
accused of criminal intent, and thrown into prison by Poti¬
phar.
Joseph had been about a year in the prison when Poti¬
phar received into his custody two of his brother officers of
Pharaoh's court, the chief butler and the chief cook, who had
given the king some cause of deep offense ; and he, willing to
show them all the attention which his duty allowed, recom¬
mended them to the especial care of J oseph.
One morning Joseph observed that the countenances of
the two great officers were more downcast than usual, and on
asking the reason they told him that it was because they could
procure no interpretation of the singular dreams with which
their sleep had been visited. He then desired to hear their
dreams; and, knowing their superstitious notions, took the
opportunity of hinting that the interpretation of dreams,
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
83
when they were of any importance, did not depend on rules
of art, but, to be true, must be suggested by God, who thus
sometimes saw fit to convey warning and admonition. The
dreams themselves, being pictures of actual circumstances,
are, so far, illustrative of the usages of the Egyptian court.
The butler's dream shows how a grape-sherbet, (not "wine,")
was made for the royal drink. He beheld a three-branched
vine, full of ripe clusters, which he seized, and pressed their
juice into Pharaoh's cup, which he then delivered into the
king's hand. Joseph told him that this dream signified that
in three days Pharaoh would come to a decision on his case,
and would restore him to his former office. " But think on
me," continued Joseph, " when it shall be well with thee, and
show kindness, I pray thee, unto me ; and make mention of
me unto Pharaoh, and bring me out of this house : for, in¬
deed, I was stolen away from the land of the Hebrews ; and
here'also have I done nothing that they should put me into
the dungeon."
The chief cook was encouraged by this interpretation to
tell his dream also. He had seemed to bear on his head three
trays ; the uppermost contained all kinds of baked meats for
the king's table. But, as he passed across the court of the
king's palace, the birds of the air came and stole them from
the basket. This dream was interpreted by Joseph to signify
that in three days the king would decide upon his case also ;
but, instead of restoring him to his post, would cause him to
be hanged on a tree, where the birds of the air should come
and devour his carcase.
All happened as Joseph had been enabled to foretell. On
the third day from that the king's birthday occurred; and
we are instructed that even at this early date birthdays were
celebrated with rejoicings. Pharaoh made a feast for his great
officers ; and it being, seemingly, customary for him to dis¬
tinguish the occasion by acts of grace and favor where they*
could be worthily bestowed, he now pronounced his decision
respecting the two great officers then in prison. The chief
butler he pardoned, and restored to his place, but, having
found no ground for clemency in the case of the head cook,
lie commanded him to be hanged. To this account the sacred
84
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
historian adds the significant announcement, " Yet did not
the chief butler remember J oseph, but forgat him."
After this two years passed away, and Joseph still re¬
mained in prison.
At the expiration of that time the king of Egypt himself
had two remarkable dreams by which he was greatly troubled.
It is still usual for the cattle in the hot valley of the Nile,
when they are driven to the water, to enter the stream and
stand there as long as they are allowed, solacing themselves
in the cool wave. Pharaoh thought that he was standing on
the bank of the river, when he beheld seven beautiful fat
heifers come up out of the water, and feed in a meadow.
After a while there came up at the same spot seven of the
leanest and most ill-conditioned heifers that the king had
ever seen, and stood beside the others on the river's brink;
and, in the end, the seven fat and beautiful heifers were de¬
voured by them. The king awoke : and when he again fell
asleep dreamed that he saw spring up, on one stalk, seven
good and plump ears of corn ; and after that sprang up seven
other ears of corn, thin, and blighted by the east wind ; and
by these the first were devoured. As these dreams appeared
to have a certain significance and analogy not common in
dreams, the king was, in the morning, more than even usually
anxious to have them interpreted ; but none of the interpret¬
ers and diviners, none of the " wise men," who customarily
gave the interpretation of his dreams, were able to assign any
satisfactory meaning to them ; and their failure brought to
the mind of the chief butler the dreams of himself and the
chief cook in the prison-house, with the exact accomplish¬
ment of the interpretation which Joseph had given. Of this
he gave the king a brief but clear account; and Pharaoh,
happy in the prospect of relief from the unusual trouble of
an uninterpreted dream, sent an order to the chief of the^
royal police to release Joseph, and send him to the palace.:
When this order arrived, J oseph was just allowed time to
shave his head and beard, and change his raiment, and was
then hurried off to the royal palace, and presented to the king.
The sovereign said to him, "I have dreamed a dream, and
there is none that can interpret it: and I have heard say of!
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
85
thee, that "when thou hearest a dream thou canst interpret
it." But the faithful Joseph, not willing to encourage even
a kingly delusion, answered, u It is not in me: God shall
give to Pharaoh an answer of peace." Then the king, with¬
out further parley, related his dreams ; and Joseph told him
that they had both the same (signification, which was, that
seven years of exuberant plenty were coming, and that they
would be followed by seven years of the severest scarcity ever
known—so severe that the land would be consumed, and the
preceding years of plenty be utterly forgotten. This principle
of the dreams being explained, the connection of both of them
with the river obviously suggested to all who heard the
dreams and their interpretation, that t}ie years of plenty
would result from an unusually favorable succession of those
inundations by which the valley of the Nile is fertilized ; and
that the ensuing years of scarcity would be caused by the
failure of its waters to rise to the fertilizing limit.
Joseph, perceiving at once how the exuberant supplies of
the seven fertile years might be so husbanded as to meet the
deficiencies of the seven years of scarcity which were to follow,
proceeded to state his views in this matter to the king, and
advised that some discerning and wise men should be invested
with full powers to give effect to the measures which he had
suggested- The king, struck not less by the interpretation
of his dreams than by the wisdom of the plans by which
Joseph proposed to avert the evils which that interpretation
threatened, asked the great persons then present, "Can we
find such a one as this is, a man in whom the spirit of God
is ?" And on their assent, he addressed Joseph, saying,
" Forasmuch as God hath showed thee all this, there is none
so discreet and wise as thou art: thou shalt be over my house ;
and according unto thy word shall all my people be ruled:
only in the throne will I be greater than thou." And then,
after a pause, he proceeded more formally to invest him with
this high office. He drew the signet-ring from his finger, and
placed it upon the finger of Joseph, conveying to him, by
that act, the highest powers he could delegate, saying, as ho
did it, " See, I have set thee over all the land of Egypt." He
then ordered him to be arrayed in vestures of fine muslin,
86
the story of joseph.
such as only royal and high, persons wore , after w ic e
placed, with his own hands, a chain of gold about his neck.
And, it being usual to promulgate with high pomp and cere¬
mony such acts of royal favor, and make known the authority
which had been conferred, the king commanded that Joseph,
thus nobly arrayed, should be conducted in grand procession
through the city, in the second of the royal chariots; and
that men should go before him to cry, " Bow the knee."
And that he might establish him in his position, by secur¬
ing him the countenance and support of the priestly order
—which was indispensably necessary to him—the king got
him married to Asenath, the daughter of Potipherah, the
chief priest of On, fetter known by its later Greek name of
Heliopolis—the city of the sun. This city was in all ages a
sort of ecclesiastical metropolis of Lower Egypt—the prime
seat of the sacred mysteries and higher science of the coun¬
try ; and was, as such, the fountain from which the Greek
philosophers and historians were allowed to draw the scanty
information which they have transmitted to us. For these
reasons, as well as because the sun, which was there wor¬
shiped, was, as in other idolatrous systems, one of the first,
if not the chief, of the gods—and in Egypt the rank of the
priests was proportioned to that of the gods to whom they
ministered—there can be no question that the priest of On,
into whose family Joseph married, was one of the most emi¬
nent and influential of his illustrious order. The marriage
was, therefore, doubtless a great temporal advantage to
Joseph, whatever may be said of it in other respects. By
this marriage Joseph had two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim,
before the years of famine came.
Soon after his elevation, Joseph made a progress through¬
out the land, in order to acquaint himself thoroughly with
the materials with which he had to work, and to determine
the particular arrangements which might be necessary to giye
effect to the measures which he contemplated.
In his tour of survey, Joseph directed the construction
of immense granaries in the principal cities, and established
proper officers, who were charged with the duty of buying up
one fifth of all the corn produced during the seven years of
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
87
plenty, within tlie surrounding district, tlie borders of which,
met those of other districts, for which other cities with public
granaries were the centers of collection.
Those years of famine came at the appointed time. It
appears that the dearth was very general, and not by any
means confined to the valley of the Nile.
The famine began to be felt very severely in the land of
Canaan, when the news came that strangers were allowed to
buy corn in Egypt. Jacob heard it, and determined to send
his sons to bring a large quantity. lie detained with him
only his youngest son Benjamin, the only son of his beloved
Eachel now remaining to him, and who had succeeded to the
place in his father's tenderest affections wjiieh his full-brother
Joseph had once occupied. Benjamin was at this time
twenty-six years of age. Jacob's sorrowful remembrance of
Joseph's loss made him reluctant to trust his Benjamin from
home, especially on such a journey ; " Lest," said he, " per-
adventure, some mischief befall him."
Among the foreigners wh<5 came to buy corn in Egypt
were the ten sons of Jacob. It seems that, although the
Egyptians themselves could purchase their corn of the officers
whom Joseph had appointed for the purposes of the distribu¬
tion, no strangers could obtain corn until they had received
the special permission of Joseph. The sons of Jacob there¬
fore presented themselves at his audience; and now, fulfilling
at once the dreams which in their anger they had vainly en¬
deavored to frustrate, they bowed themselves before him as
"the governor over the land." Twenty-two years had passed
since they sold him for a slave. He was then a mere lad of
seventeen, and now had reached the staid age of thirty-nine ;
a great change had therefore taken place in his personal ap¬
pearance, and they could scarcely have known him under any
circumstances, much less now, when he appeared bef< >re them
as a great Egyptian lord, surrounded by every circumstance
of honor and distinction, and speaking to them through an
interpreter. Little could they think that this was he whom
they must have supposed, if alive, to be the slave of some
Egyptian master, whose cattle he fed, or to the humblest of
whose household wants he ministered. But they were recog-
88 THE STOBY OF JOSEPH.
nized by Joseph ] and seeing only ten of them, all of whom
he knew, and that the one wanting was he whom, from his
youth, he would have guessed to be the son of his mother, he
appears to have apprehended that they had sacrificed him also
to their jealousy of their father's only remaining favorite. He
therefore acted so as to learn from them the prosperity of his
father's house, and also the fate of his brother, without mak¬
ing himself known to them. He put on a harsh manner, and
" spake roughly unto them/' charging them with being
" spies," come to see the " nakedness of the land."
They protested their innocence ; and, in their anxiety to
repel the charge, they entered into a particular detail of the
circumstances of their family : in which they afforded him
the information he desired—namely, that his father was alive
and well, and that his brother Benjamin was at home with
him. Anxious to see his brother, and to assure himself that
their statement was true, Joseph made his appearance the
test of their sincerity :—" Hereby ye shall be proved : by
the life of Pharaoh ye shall not go forth hence except your
youngest brother come hither. Send one of you, and let him
fetch your brother ; and ye shall be kept in prison, that your
words may be proved, whether there be any truth in you : or
else, by the life of Pharaoh, surely ye are spies." These re¬
peated asseverations indicated strong emotions of resentment
at the remembrance of their cruelty ; and his conduct in the
end proved it, for he " put them all together into ward three
days." He made them taste for three days the sufferings he
had undergone for three years, and probably in the very same
state prison. But the third day his anger cooled, and he
reversed the former sentence, and dismissed them all but one,
Simeon, whom he kept as a hostage for the appearance of
Benjamin. From the tried cruelty of Simeon's disposition,
in the perfidious massacre of the Shechemites, he had prob¬
ably been the most active against Joseph himself.
On their return home, they told their father all that had
befallen them. His pathetic comment was—"Me have ye
bereaved of my children r Joseph is not, and Simeon- is not,
and ye will take Benjamin away: all these things are against
me." The offer of the more earnest than sagacious Eeuben
THE STORY OF JOSEPH, 89
to undertake the responsibility of Benjamin's safety, with the
addition, " Slay my two sons, if I bring him not to thee/'
ministered little comfort to the afflicted patriarch, who per¬
sisted—" My son shall not go down with you; for his brother
is dead, and he is left alone: if mischief befall him by the way
in the which ye go, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs
with sorrow to the grave."
Thus the matter rested for the time ; at length they pre¬
vailed with him, departed again, and arrived in Egypt. One
morning they made their way to the place where Joseph daily
transacted his business concerning the sale and distribution of
the corn. When he saw them, accompanied by a youth whom
he guessed to be his brother Benjamin, the son of his own
mother, he directed " the ruler of his house" to take them
home to his dwelling-house, and to slay and make ready; for
it was his intention that they should dine with him at noon.
The steward did as he was ordered, and took them to his
master's house. This proceeding occasioned considerable
alarm in the minds of Jacob's sons, who thought that per¬
haps some pretext was sought against them, for making them
bondsmen and taking away their asses, in connection with
the money which was due for the last supply, and which they
had found returned in their sacks. They therefore spoke to
the steward, stating how the matter really stood; and he,
who probably knew how they were related to his master, and
what were his intentions towards them, answered them kindly,
assuring them that nothing was on that account imputed to
them. He also produced their brother Simeon; and, after
having brought them into the house, gave them water to
wash their feet, and provender for their asses.
When J oseph came home they brought him their present,
and bowed themselves down reverently before him. " And
he asked them of their welfare, and said, ' Is your father well,
the old man of whom ye spake ? Is he yet alive ?' And
they answered, 1 Thy servant, our father, is in good health ;
he is yet alive.' And J oseph said, ' Blessed of God be that
old man !' And they bowed down their heads, and made
obeisance. And he lifted up his eyes, and saw his brother
Benjamin, his mother's son, and said, ' Is this your younger
90 THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
brother, of whom ye spake unto ine ?' And he said, c God
be gracious unto thee, my son !' And Joseph made haste,
for his bowels did yearn upon his brother; and he sought
where to weep; and he entered into his chamber, and wept
there."
He then washed from his face all trace of tears, and re¬
turned to them, mastering for a while his strong emotions.
He commanded dinner to be brought; but as it was an abom¬
ination to an Egyptian to eat with a tent-dwelling shepherd,
Jacob's sons were seated apart from Joseph and his Egyptian
guests. They were also placed according to their seniority,
at which they were greatly astonished, for some of them were
so nearly of an age, that this discrimination implied a more
intimate knowledge of them, in some quarter, than they could
suppose that any one there possessed. When the small round
tables were brought in with the provisions, Joseph conferred
on Benjamin a truly oriental mark of esteem, by heaping the
table which was placed before him with five times the quan¬
tity of food which the other tables bore. After the dinner
they drank wine together and were merry.
Joseph had one more trial in store for his brothers before
making himself known' to them. He wished to make their
conduct towards Benjamin a test of the present state of their
feelings, and of such repentance of their conduct towards him¬
self as would make them shrink from allowing harm to befall
one whom their father so tenderly loved. With this view he
directed his steward privately to introduce his silver drinking-
cup into the mouth of the youngest brother's sack; and when
they were at some distance from the city, to pursue them,
and, after a thorough search, to bring the pretended thief
back to him. All this was punctually executed : and when
the cup was found in Benjamin's sack, they were very far
from manifesting any indifference—very far from pursuing
their way, and leaving him to that slavery in Egypt, to which,
in by-gone years, they had consigned his brother. They rent
their clothes in bitter anguish, and all returned to the city.
When they reappeared before Joseph they fell on the
ground before him; and not seeing how Benjamin could be
cleared from what must seem so plain a case, they only an-
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
91
swered Joseph's reproaches by declaring tliat Benjamin and
they were all his slaves. To this Joseph answered that such
was not his intention: only he with whom the cup was found
should become his bondsman; but as for the rest, they might
return in peace to their father. Now was the time for Judah
—he at whose proposal Joseph had been sold for a slave, on
the one hand, and who, on the other, had become the surety
that no harm should befall the son of his father's ri<rlit hand
©
—now was his time to redeem his character, and full nobly
did he discharge that duty. "We can not give his speech en¬
tire, nor need we; for who has not often turned to that most
perfect pattern of natural and affecting eloquence which was
ever delivered ? Joseph could no longer act a part in such a
scene as this—he could refrain himself no longer, but wept
aloud, and made himself known to them, crying, " I am
J oseph !" Being thus reassured, his brethren rose from before
his feet; and he kissed them all, and wept upon them.
The rumor had reached the king that Joseph's brethren
were come, and it is a pleasing evidence of the esteem in
which he was held, and the regard which he had conciliated,
that a domestic incident which was calculated to be a satis¬
faction to him was highly agreeable to Pharaoh and all his
court. The monarch sent for him and authorized him to
express the kindest intentions towards them, and the ut¬
most anxiety for their welfare. He, as well as Joseph, saw
that it would be best for them to come to Egypt, and he had
the consideration to direct that they should be well supplied
with provisions for the way, and that they should be furnished
with carts, in which the aged Jacob, with the women and
young children, might pass from Canaan to Egypt with more
comfort than by the more ordinary means of conveyance. All
this was done, and in dismissing them for their journey, Jo¬
seph gave each of them two suits of raiment, but distin¬
guished his own brother Benjamin by the present of fivo
dresses, with the addition of three hundred shekels-weight of
silver.
We may be sure that this journey home, as their father
was to return to Egypt with them, was performed with much
more speed than the former. Then they had to tell their
92 THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
father of one son taken from him, and another demanded ;
now they had to acquaint him with the recovery of one who
had long been lost, and for whom he had never ceased to
mourn. Joseph had charged them to tell his father of "all
his glory in Egyptand so eager were they to tell it, that, as
they drew near the camp at Mamre, they hastened on before
the carts, and told him—" Joseph is yet alive, and he is gov¬
ernor over all the land of Egypt!" At this most unexpected
and surprising news, "Jacob's heart fainted, for he believed
them not." They therefore told him all the particulars, and
by the time they had done so, the carts had come up to con-»
firm their story. Then the spirit of Jacob revived, and he
said, " It is enough; Joseph, my son, is yet alive. I will go
and see him before I die/'
He soon departed, and on arriving at the confines of Egypt,
sent Judah onward to the capital to acquaint Joseph with his
arrival. On learning this, Joseph entered his chariot, t*.nd
sped to meet his father. They met, J oseph threw himself
upon the neck of his dear old father, and wept upon his neck
a good while. " Now," said the greatly moved Jacob, " Now
let me die, since I have seen thy face, because thou art ygt
alive!"
After the first emotions of this meeting had subsided, Jo¬
seph proceeded to explain to his brothers the further measures
which were necessary. He intended himself to go and announce
their arrival to Pharaoh, after which he would introduce some
of them to the royal presence, and they were instructed what
answers to return to the questions which the Hng would be
likely to ask. He did not conceal from them that " every
shepherd was an abomination unto the Egyptians and his
instructions were skillfully framed with a reference to that
state of feeling.
Joseph's plan for the benefit of his family having thus
happily succeeded, he introduced his father also to the king,
but whether immediately after or not is not quite clear. The
patriarch respectfully saluted Pharaoh, in acknowledgment
of the consideration and favor with which he had been treated*
and the king, much struck by his venerable appearance en¬
tered into conversation with him, particularly inquiring his
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
93
age. Jacob's answer was impressive : " The days of tlio years
of my pilgrimage are an hundred and thirty years : few and
evil have the days of the years of my lifo been, and have nut
attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers
in the days of their pilgrimage." After some further conver¬
sation, probably, Jacob again saluted Pharaoh, and withdrew
from his presence.
The seven years of famine were, in Egypt, succeeded by
abundant and seasonable years ; for the wonted overflow of
the great river was not withheld, and therefore the soil offered
1 all its rich products in great plenty. After having been
cherished by his son during the remainder of the famine, the
aged Jacob lived to see twelve of these fruitful years. Then,
seventeen years from his arrival in Egypt, the partial failure
of his sight, and decay of his bodily powers, gave him warn¬
ing that the day of his death could not be far off. He there¬
fore sent for his son Joseph, and expressed an earnest desire
to lie with his fathers in the cave of Machpelah, and engaged
his son to promise, Jby oath, that his remains should not be
buried in Egypt, but carried to the promised land.
Joseph left his father, satisfied with this assurance, and
returned home ; but he was soon recalled by the intelligence
that Jacob had fallen very ill, and seemed likely to die. This
time he took with him his two sons, Manasseh and Ephraim.
When Jacob heard that he was come, he exerted his remain¬
ing strength, and sat up in the bed to receive him ; and the
cheerfulness and force of expression with which he spoke to
him, and, afterwards, to all his sons, shows that the inner
lamp continued to burn brightly in him, however much his
outward lights and powers had grown dim. He dwelt on the
glorious promises of God to him, especially at Bethel, and
made mention of the death of Rachel, for whose dear sake—
which had first recommended Joseph himself to his peculiar
love—he now proposed to give him a very strong mark of his
regard. This was, to bestow on him, through his two sons,
Manasseh and Ephraim, a double portion—the portion of the
first-born—in that rich inheritance which awaited his race.
Properly, they would only divide as grandsons the single share
of their father ; but he would adopt them among his own
94
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
sons, and as such, they should each, receive a full portion, and
be counted heads of tribes, even as Eeuben, or Simeon, or any-
other of his sons. As Jacob could not see clearly, lie had not
hitherto observed that the lads of whom be spoke were present
with their father ; but now, perceiving that there were some
persons with him, and being told who they were, he desired
them to be brought nearer, that be might bless them. He
kissed them, and embraced them ; and said, tenderly, to Jo¬
seph, " I had not thought to see thy face ; and, lo! God
liath showed me also thy seed." In causing them to kneel
before their reverend grandfather, Joseph placed the eldest,
Manasseh, opposite his right hand, and Ephraim opposite his
left; but J acob crossed bis hands, placing the right upon the
head of the youngest, Ephraim, and the left upon the head of
Manasseb ; and when Joseph attempted to rectify what he
supposed a mistake, his father persisted, telling him that he
acted by the divine direction ; and, in proceeding to bless
them, which be did with great fervency and devotion, he not
only preferred Ephraim to Manasseh, but gave him much the
larger and nobler blessing. And how exactly this prophetic
blessing of the two tribes, which Ephraim and Manasseh
founded, was fulfilled, the ensuing history will show.
After this, the aged patriarch, feeling his strength fail,
and that the hour of his death approached, called all his sons
together, that he might, severally, by that prophetic impulse
which was upon him, tell them " what should befall them in
the last days." This he did in a noble poem—the most an¬
cient which any language has preserved—then laid himself
down on the bed in which he had hitherto sat up, and gently
died. And when J oseph saw that his father no longer lived,
" he fell upon his father's face, and wept upon him, and kissed
him."
J oseph survived his father fifty-four years ; but nothing
further of his public or private history is told us. He died at
the comparatively moderate age of 110 years, but lived to see
the great-grand-children of Ephraim and the grand-children
of Manasseh. But before his death he sent for his brothers,
and, expressing his conviction that God certainly would, as he
had promised, lead them forth in due season from that coun-
THE STORY OF JOSEPH.
95
try, and give them possession of their inheritance in Canaan,
he strictly charged them not to leave his bones in Egypt, but
to bear them away to the promised land, when the time of
their departure should come. The usages of Egypt made the
accomplishment of this duty easy. His body was embalmed,
and kept in a coffin or mummy-case, ready for that day which
no man at that time living was destined to see.
To conclude the history of Joseph, it may be as well to
add here, that, when the house of Israel at last departed from
Egypt, the promise made to him was not forgotten. They
took his body with them, committing it to the care of the
tribe of Ephraim, who bore about the precious charge many
years, in all their wanderings, till they were enabled to de¬
posit it in its appointed place, being that piece of ground near
Shechem which Jacob bought for a hundred shekels of silver
from the Shechemites, and which he bequeathed a little be¬
fore his death to his son Joseph. This spot was included in
the heritage of Ephraim ; and there, in a later day, a noble
monument was erected to the memory of Joseph, which still
existed in the time of Jerome.
-J
CHAPTER Y.
moses.
The interval between the death of Joseph and the birth
of Moses is set down by Dr. Hales at sixty-five years. The
history of this period is given by the sacred writer in a very
few words. He commences by enumerating, once more, the
sons of Jacob, and then informs us that they and all the men
of their generation died before the affliction of the Hebrews
in Egypt commenced. Stephen appears to intimate (Acts,
vii. 16) that they were all taken to be buried in the ground
at Shechem, but whether immediately after death, or whether
their bodies were kept, like that of Joseph, to be carried
thither at a future day, we are not told.
Meanwhile, a new king had arisen who "knewnot Joseph
and, as we read, the Israelites suffered from this monarch
grievous and long-continued persecutions. The execution of
the royal orders was therefore confided to men, " task-mas¬
ters," who were charged with responsibilities which made
them exact very strictly the services required. Thus "the
Egyptians made the children of Israel to serve with rigor :
and they made their lives bitter with hard bondage, in mor¬
tar, and in brick, and in all manner of service in the field ;
all the service, wherein they made them serve, was with
rigor."
It is not to be supposed that such a people as the He¬
brews, and so numerous as they had now become, submitted
very patiently to such measures as these, or that the coercion
which was necessary to their execution was unattended with
expense and difficulty. Finding this, and observing that the
more the Israelites were oppressed the more they multiplied
and spread, the king determined to take effectual measures to
prevent their increase, and ultimately to insure their extinc-
MOSES. 97
tion. To this end orders were given to the midwives to
destroy all the male children at the birth, preserving the fe¬
males—probably with a view to their being ultimately em¬
ployed in the domestic service, or taken into the harems, of
the Egyptians, who on more than one occasion appear to have
much admired the comparatively fresh complexion of the
Hebrew women. But the midwives paid 110 attention to the
command ; and when they were charged with this neglect,
they excused themselves by alleging that the superior vigor
of the Hebrew women left no occasion for their assistance,
and withheld the opportunity of obedience from them. On
this, the enraged king hesitated no longer at a more open ex¬
hibition of his murderous design, and commanded his people
to see that every male Hebrew child which might thereafter
be born was thrown into the river. "What horror then hung
over the house of Israel, to which the abstract love of off¬
spring was an absorbing passion, and all whose future hopes
depended upon and were connected with the possession of a
numerous issue ! Yet now, at this very time, when men in
their weak counsels proposed utterly to root up the vine of
Israel, which had already spread out its branches so widely
and borne such abundant fruit—now, it pleased God to call
into existence the future Deliverer, and to make the very
evils to which his infancy was exposed the means of his prep¬
aration for that high office which was in a distant day to
devolve upon him.
There was one Amram, a son of Kohath and grandson of
Levi, who had been blessed with a daughter, Miriam, and a
son, Aaron, before this time of deep affliction came. Another
son was born soon after the promulgation of the king's mur¬
derous edict. Under that edict those parents who would
avoid the greater horror of seeing their new-born babes torn
from them, and destroyed by the rude hands of the Egyptians,
chose rather themselves to commit them to the broad stream
tenderly and with tears. But the infant born to Amram
proved so very fine a child that his mother was struck with a
more than ordinary reluctance to allow this office to be dis¬
charged. It was postponed from day to day for three months,
during which his existence was kept carefully concealed. But
7
MOSES.
at the end of that time, finding that it was not possible to
hide him longer, and aware that a discovery would bring ruin
upon others who were as dear to her, she determined to resign
him to the providence of God. She took one of the common
baskets made from the papyrus, and strengthened it, and ren¬
dered it impervious to the water by coating it on the outside
with bitumen and inside with the slime of the Nile. When
the babe had been laid in this frail bark, it was placed among
the flags which grew upon the river's brink, and the young
Miriam, then about nine or ten years old, was left to watch
at a distance, to see what might befall her infant brother.
Now, in the good providence of God, it happened that at
this time the king's daughter came down with her maidens to
bathe in the river. As they walked along its bank*the prin¬
cess perceived the ark, and sent one of her damsels to bring it
to her. When she saw the child, its beauty and its tears
touched her heart; and, although she knew that it must be
one of the Hebrew children whom her father had doomed to
destruction, she determined to preserve it. The little girl,
who had now drawn nigh, perceiving that she was moved to
compassion, ventured to ask, " Shall I go and call to thee a
nurse of the Hebrew women, that she may nurse the child for
thee ?" And no sooner did she hear the blessed answer,
" Go," than she ran to make her anxious mother the happiest
of women, by calling her to be the nurse of her own lost child.
11 Take this child away," said the king's daughter to her,
" and nurse it for me, and I will give thee thy wages." And
only a mother can understand, in all their depth, the feelings
of relief and thankfulness with which Jochebed yielded obe¬
dience to this command.
When the child needed a nurse no longer—probably when
he was about three years of age—he was taken home to the
house of the princess by whom he had been saved. The Jew¬
ish traditions give to her the name of Thermuthis, and under¬
take to tell us that she had long been married without being
blessed with any child. Therefore, " the good lady did not
breed him up as some child of alms, or as some wretched out¬
cast, for whom it might be favor enough to live ; but as her
own son—in all the delicacies, in all the learning of Egypt.
MOSES.
99
Whatever the court or school could put into him he wanted
not." She gave him the name of Moses, from some Egyptian
words signifying " taken from the water;" and possibly not
without reference to the name Amosis, which her father bore.
Moses was brought up as the adopted son of Pharaoh's
daughter, and as such was instructed in all that " wisdom"
of the Egyptians which was the admiration and a proverb of
all surrounding nations. The value of the education which
he received need not be lightly estimated.
As Moses grew up he was well acquainted with the re¬
markable History of his own birth and preservation, and with
the history of his people. He could not be ignorant of the
future prospects of the race to which he belonged ; and he
must have known that their bondage in Egypt was limited
to a certain number of years, the term of which might seem
to be at no great distance. The objects and views of the
Egyptians in their oppression of the Israelites could not but
be intimately known to him ; and Stephen, speaking on the
authority of old traditions, seems to intimate that the high
hope of becoming their deliverer was not a stranger to his
heart. Indeed, what we see so clearly, could not be entirely
hidden from himself—that, if they were to be delivered, there
was no man who, from his peculiar position and attainments,
seemed so obviously designed and prepared by Providence to
act in their behalf. He was forty years of age, when circum¬
stances compelled him to take his course as a Hebrew or as
an Egyptian. If, as we have suggested, his Egyptian bene¬
factress had just then with her husband ascended the throne,
it may easily be supposed that this event could not but have
some effect on his position. They possibly felt that they
could no longer, in their public station, and with a view to
the condition of the Israelites in that country, continue to
him their conspicuous favor and support as a Hebrew ; and
may, therefore, have required that he should submit to a
formal act of naturalization and adoption to constitute him
legally an Egyptian. To this there were, in his place, the
highest temptations of honor and grandeur which could well
be offered. But Moses heeded them not. He took his part
with the despised and afflicted bondsmen. He " refused to
100
MOSES.
be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter ; choosing rather to
suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the
pleasures of sin for a season/'
After this refusal, the court was no longer a place for him,
and it then entered his mind to go among the Hebrews;
seemingly that he might make himself personally acquainted
with their condition, and observe whether there was spirit
enough left in them to hail the hope of deliverance, and
make an effort to realize it. Grievous were the sights he saw.
The degradation of the blessed seed of Abraham, his breth¬
ren, filled his patriotic heart with grief; while the oppressive
conduct of paltry officials, who were set over their burdens,
roused him to indignation. These feelings moved him, in one
instance, to a deed which determined his future coursS. Going I
forth one day, he saw a Hebrew atrociously maltreated by an
Egyptian officer, and, kindling at the sight, he interposed,
and delivered the Israelite, by slaying his oppressor. Know¬
ing the consequences of a discovery, he hid the body in the
sand; and since no Egyptian had witnessed the deed, he con¬
cluded that the secret was safe, and that no danger need be
apprehended. Hebrews had seen it, but they could not be-'
tray him; nay, rather, it seemed likely that so decisive and
bold an act, which put him entirely in their power, and
evinced his hatred of their oppression, would suffice to mani¬
fest to them that, although hitherto brought up with, and
living among the great ones of Egypt, he was now ready to
take his stand, decisively, with them, and for them. It was,
if they so pleased to regard it, the first and kindling act of a
revolt against their tyrants, and which, when they understood
that he had laid aside his greatness in Egypt for their sakes,
was likely, had they but the spirit, to draw their attention to
him as the man by whose hand God might deliver Israel.
But they had no spirit: they understood bim not. Oppres- •
sion had already done its work, and of nothing were they so
much afraid as of any circumstance which might involve the
displeasure of their masters: and so that they " did eat meat
to the full," blows were easy to bear, during their time of
service, and labor light. There was also a want among them
of that sympathy of the part for the whole, which is another
MOSES.
101
natural consequence of an enslaved condition. The individ¬
uals who were, from time to time, maltreated, groaned,
indeed: their bodies groaned, but not their souls ; and the
others who beheld it, were only glad it was not their case;
and when, in turn, it became their case, endured it, looking
forward to their time of holiday in Goshen. Moses himself
was, perhaps, the only man of their race, who felt an enlarged
sympathy for the general body of the Hebrew people. This
representation of their case and character is fairly deduced
from the various facts, occurring at different times, which
bear upon it; and the statement of it now will enable their
occasional acts and sentiments, both in Egypt and afterwards
in the desert, to be better understood.
Moses had soon occasion to see something of this. The
day after that in which he had slain the Egyptian, he walked
forth again, and observing two of the Hebrews striving to¬
gether, he kindly and gently interposed to reconcile them,
saying, " Sirs, ye are brethren : why do ye wrong one to an¬
other ?" On which the one who was most in the wrong thrust
him away, sharply answering, " Who made thee a ruler and a
judge over us ? Wilt thou kill me, as thou didst the Egyp¬
tian yesterday ?" This was enough to satisfy Moses of their
general state of feeling, while it assured him that the mani¬
festation of his own disposition to act for them against the
Egyptians, and between them to produce union among them¬
selves, was received with dislike and apprehension, rather
than with gratitude and confidence. It is, moreover, likely
that this disclosure had taken place in the presence of some
Egyptians ; and, on all accounts, it was full time for him to
look to his own safety, looses was now, probably, under the
displeasure of the court; and if he were still in some favor,
he knew that the sovereign could not, with any show of" de¬
cency, interfere to save a Hebrew from the consequences of
slaying an Egyptian—and that, too, under circumstances
which offered to the Hebrews an example of insubordination,
and was calculated to rouse them to revolt. To understand
the full extent of his danger, it should be recollected that the
Egyptian laws against those who deprived a man of life were
inexorably severe. To slay even a foreign slave was a crime
102
MOSES.
punished with death. How much rather, then, when a free¬
man was slaughtered '} and how much more still, when an
Egyptian was slain by one of a foreign race. So far, indeed,
were their ideas in this matter carried, that, to be an acciden¬
tal witness of an attempt to murder, without endeavoring to
prevent it, was a capital offense, which could only be palliated
by bringing proofs of inability to act. Aware, therefore, of
the effects of such a disclosure as that which had been made,
flight was the only alternative now open to him who had -re¬
fused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter. He fled.
It was well that he fled so soon : for the death of the Egyp¬
tian by his hand having transpired, it soon reached the ears
of the king, and was probably related to him with every cir¬
cumstance of aggravation by the jealous courtiers, who may
be supposed to have been glad of this opportunity of com¬
pleting his ruin, The effect was that the king resolved not
to screen him from punishment, but gave orders for his ap¬
prehension.
But Moses was already beyond the reach of pursuit. He
journeyed eastward upwards of two hundred and fifty miles,
and only began to deem himself safe when the deserts of Ara¬
bia Petrsea and both the arms of the Red Sea were between
him and the Nile. In the country of Midian, on the remote
border of the eastern gulf, the travel-worn and thirsty fugi¬
tive sat down, one day, beside a well of water, for refresh¬
ment and for rest. Here he met with an adventure very
similar to that of Jacob in Padan-Aram. Water was scarce
in that region, and the well by which Moses sat seems to have
been the common property of the people in that neighborhood.
While he was there, the daughters of Jethro, the sheikh of a
Midianite clan, came to give water to their father's flocks.
They were busy in drawing water and discharging it into the
troughs for the cattle to drink, when the shepherds of other
flocks came also to the well, and rudely thrust away the wo¬
men to serve their own cattle first. Moses, as might be ex¬
pected from him, flew to their relief, and not only drove back
the churlish shepherds, but watered the flocks of the damsels
for them. This led to his introduction to the hospitalities of
the family to which they belonged ; and, in the end, he con-
f]
MOSES. 103
sented to remain with them, and undertake the charge of the
flocks, which he could lead far oft* to greener pastures and
more abundant waters than could be supplied by the imme¬
diate neighborhood to which the female shepherds were con¬
fined. Moses could not be long among them without mani¬
festing the superiority of his character and knowledge ; and
so much were the family to which he was now attached pleased
with him, that Zipporah, one of the daughters, was given to
him-in marriage ; and by her he had, in the course of time,
two sons, the eldest of whom he called Gershom, and the
youngest Eliezer.
Here he remained forty years, forgotten, probably, by both
Hebrews and Egyptians, or remembered only as a tradition ;
and himself but little heedful now of what he had been, or of
the high designs which had passed through his mind; and
brought up, as he had been, amidst the throng of cities and
the pomp of courts, we may easily believe that the solitary
deserts and unfrequented vales, to which he now was wont to
lead his flocks, had charms for him, by contrast, which he
would not willingly have relinquished to return to the scenes
and circumstances of his earlier Ijfe.
Until toward the end of these forty years, the condition of
the Hebrews seems to have remained much as it had been be¬
fore M6ses left. That it had not growrn worse, and was such
as we'have represented it, appears to be shown from the fact
that the Ephraimites were in a condition to undertake that
expedition against the Philistines which proved so disastrous
for them, and to which wre have already alluded. But Thoth-
mes III. appears from the sculptures to have been an enter¬
prising prince both in the arts of war and peace. He was a
great improver and builder ; a character which could not but
operate unfavorably for the Hebrews by creating a great de¬
mand for labor. It may seem, indeed, to have been a sort of
rule that the best kings for the Egyptians were the worst for
the Hebrews. Heavier exactions upon their services appear
to have been made ; and the tasks required from them were
more onerous ; and the alternating periods of rest allowed to
the several gangs of workmen were probably abridged, if they
did not entirely cease. Never was their bondage so bitter—
«
L
104
MOSES.
their affliction so heavy as now. Their lot became too hard
even for their tried patience to bear any longer. But none of
their chiefs seemed disposed to risk the consequences of mov¬
ing for the deliverance of Israel; and in themselves they found
no help. What then could they do P They bethought them
of crying to God—to the God whose promises to their fathers
offered a large inheritance of hope. They did cry : and God
heard them.
At this time Moses had led his flocks round the eastern
arm of the Red Sea into the peninsula of Sinai, and pene¬
trated to the green and well-watered valleys which are in¬
volved among the mountains of its central region. He was
near the mountain of Horeb, when he beheld before him a
thorn-bush on fire, a circumstance not in itself unusual in
that region : but the wonder was that the bush continued to
burn without being consumed, and without any subsidence
of the'flame. Moses advanced to view this strange sight more
closely ; but, as he drew nigh, he heard a voice, from the midst
of the burning bush, calling him by his name. Astonished, he
answered, " Here am I." Then the voice cried, " Draw not
nigh hither ; put off thy shc^s from off thy feet, for the place
whereon thou standest is holy ground." The baring of the
feet, thus required, was a mark of respect, common to all ori¬
ental nations. The voice then said, " I am the God of thy
fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God
of Jacob." Then Moses hid his face in his robe ; for he was
afraid to look on God : and thus, barefooted and with vailed
face, he stood to receive the divine commands. The voice
now said, " I have surely seen the affliction of my people
which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of
their task-masters ; for I know their sorrows ; and I am
come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyp¬
tians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land
and a large, unto a lan<f flowing with milk and honey
Behold, the cry of the children of Israel is come unto me;
and I have also seen the oppressions with which the Egyp¬
tians oppress them: come, now, therefore, and I will send
thee unto Pharaoh, that thou mayest bring forth my people,
the children of Israel, out of Egypt."
MOSES.
105
Moses heard this announcement, as regarded himself, with
surprised and unwilling cars. " Who am I" said he, " that
I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the
children of Israel out of Egypt ?" He bowed to the sufficiency
of the answer—" I will be with thee but still was most re¬
luctant to undertake an enterprise, the difficulties of which ;
were well known to him. Great as the difficulty was of deal- :
ing with the Egyptians in such a case, that, to a man of his
knowledge, appeared so much less arduous than the task of
securing the confidence and support of the Israelites them¬
selves—slaves in heart, as he knew them to be—and of mak¬
ing them true to their own cause, that the other was quite
lost and forgotten in it. Even after he had been told how he
was to proceed—that he was, on his arrival in Egypt, to as¬
semble the elders of Israel, and announce his mission to them,
with the assurance that they would believe him—his mind
still dwelt on this most serious point. " Behold," he said,
" they will not believe me, nor hearken unto my voice: for
they will say, Jehovah hath not appeared unto thee." Then,
to give him that confidence he so much wanted, as well as to
enable him, to vouch to the Israelites his divine commission,
the Lord empowered him to work three signal wonders—the
first, of turning his rod into a serpent, and of restoring it
again; the second, of making his hand leprous as snow, when
he first drew it forth from his bosom, and of restoring it
again, when he next drew it out; and the third, of turning
water taken from the river Nile into blood.
He was also instructed how he was to act with the Egypt¬
ians ; but, as his proceedings »were in strict conformity with
those instructions, they wrill presently come before us in an¬
other shape. But Moses was now eighty years of age; and,
although this was probably not more than equivalent to the
age of sixty years in our days, the fire of his youth had sub¬
sided ; and, accustomed as he had been for forty years to a
quiet and solitary life, he felt sincerely reluctant to embark
anew in scenes of trouble and difficulty, by undertaking the
. high but arduous emprise now imposed upon him. The self-
confidence of his earlier life had also passed away; and he
was deeply sensible of his own inadequacy to meet the require*-
106
MOSES.
ments of such a task. This he ventured to intimate, dwelling
particularly on the fact that he was not an eloquent man,
and that his slow and impeded utterance would divest all his
statements of any weight which they might otherwise claim.
Even the answer, " I will be with thy mouth, and teach thee
what thou shalt say," did not satisfy one who so anxiously
desired to be excused; and, without making any more objec¬
tions, which he found so well answered, he distinctly begged
that the Lord would be pleased to transfer his choice to some
one more competent than himself for such high service. But
the divine purpose was not thus to be moved. He was told
that his brother Aaron, who possessed all that eloquence
which he deemed so necessary, would come forth to meet him
as he approached Egypt, and would be most glad to see him
once more; he could act as the spokesman of his brother, who,
through him, could deliver, with all due solemnity, the mes¬
sages with which he might be charged.
Moses no longer withstood the divine appointment. His
hesitation and resistance had been that of a man who was but
too well aware of the heavy duties of the high office to which
he was called, and who knew that they must be discharged,
and was determined to discharge them. So, henceforth, we
hear no more of doubt or difficulty. The youth of his mind
was renewed; and, from that day to the last of his protracted
life, all its powerful energies were devoted to the deliverance
and welfare of Israel.
Now Moses departed from " the mount of God," and re¬
turned to Jethro. He made him not acquainted with his
high mission, but requested—" Let me go, I pray thee, and
return unto my brethren which are in Egypt, and see whether
they be yet alive." Jethro answered, " Go in peace." But,
before Moses went, it pleased God to relieve him from any
apprehensions of personal danger from the cause which had
occasioned his flight from Egypt, by conveying to him the
assurance that all those were dead who had sought his life.
Charged with the highest and most arduous mission ever
confided to a mortal, Moses departed from the shores of the
Red Sea to return to# the banks of the Nile. His wife and
two sons were with him, riding upon asses. But at the cara-
MOSES. 107
vanserai, on the way, Moses was threatened with death he-
cause he had left his youngest son uncircumcised ; and Zip-
porah, understanding this, and perceiving that her husband
was so smitten as to be unable himself to execute the act of
obedience, took a sharp flint, and herself performed the opera¬
tion. She was, however, so much annoyed by this occurrence,
that she returned with her two sons to her father.
As the future Deliverer advanced towards Egypt, Aaron
received the divine command to go forth and meet his brother
in the wilderness. They met, and embraced each other;
after which Moses made Aaron acquainted with all that had
happened to him, and the commission which he had received.
They then proceeded together to the land of Goshen.
It appears that the patriarchal government still subsisted
among the Hebrews, not ha'^ng been interfered with, or, cer¬
tainly, not destroyed by the Egyptians. Under this form of
government, the chief authority—such as a father exercises
over his grown children—was vested in the heads of tribes,
and, subordinately, in the heads of clans, or collections of
families. As these were generally men well advanced in
years, they are called collectively " elders" in the scriptural
history. On arriving in Egypt these elders were assembled,
and the eloquent Aaron declared to them what he had heard
from his brother, and the errand on which he was now come.
They concluded by displaying the marvels which Moses had
been authorized to work. The people, who, as we have seen,
had already been brought to look to the Lord for their deliv¬
erance, recognized in this the answer to their supplications.
" They believed: and when they heard that the Lord had
visited the children of Israel, and that he had looked upon
their affliction, they bowed their heads and worshiped."
Moses and Aaron then proceeded to follow, to the letter,
the instructions which had been given in the mount.
They went to the court of Pharaoh, and were probably
attended by the more influential of the elders, although we
only read that the two brothers entered the presence. It
also appears that the mission produced so much excitement
among the Hebrews, that many of those engaged in labor
left their work to watch the result.
108 MOSES.
On. appearing before the king, Aaron announced that Je-
hovah; the God of the Hebrews, had appeared to them, and
had sent them to require the king to allow the Israelites to
go into the wilderness, to hold a feast to Him there. Pharaoh
was doubtless astonished to receive this demand. He replied,
u Who is Jehovah, that I should obey his voice to let Israel
go ? I know not Jehovah, neither will I let Israel go." But
the brothers still insisted on their demand, explaining, more
particularly, that they wished the people to go three days'
journey into the wilderness, there to offer sacrifices to their
God ; and intimated that the Israelites might expect to be
visited by " the pestilence or the sword," unless they were
obedient, which, reflectively, hinted to the king himself that
he might expect to be punished if he prevented their obe¬
dience. To this the king deigned no answer, but dismissed
them with a severe reprimand for putting such wild notions
into the heads of the people, and calling away their attention
from their work, to which they were all commanded to return.
That same day, the king, affecting to attribute this appli¬
cation to the too idle life which the Hebrews were allowed to
lead, determined to bring down the rising spirit by making
their burdens heavier upon them. "Let there be more work
laid upon the men," he said, " that they may labor therein ;
and let them not regard vain words."
Hitherto, those who labored in the brick-fields had been
furnished with all the materials for their work, not only the
clay with which the bricks were formed, but the straw with
which they were compacted; but now it was ordered that
they should no longer be furnished with straw, but should
collect it for themselves, while the same number of bricks
should be exacted which they had formerly been required to
supply. This was a grievous alteration ; seeing that much
of the time which should have been employed in making the
bricks was now consumed in seeking for straw. And this
burden must have become more heavy every day, in propor¬
tion as the straw thus hunted up became scarce in the neigh¬
borhood of the brick-fields. It became at last necessary to
employ stubble instead of straw. This was a common enough
resource when straw could not be easily procured; and old
(
MOSES. 109
sun-dried bricks compacted with stubble instead of straw,
are at this day found not only in Egypt but in Babylonia.
Under all these circumstances the work could not bo done—tho
required tale of bricks could not be given in to the task¬
masters.
The sufferings of the Israelites growing continually heav¬
ier, and Pharaoh having resisted Moses and Aaron's pleading,
and, in the face of the miracles they performed, refused to
permit the poor slaves to depart from Egypt, then commenced
the famous plagues, growing more awful and tremendous in
their progress, whereby God designed to make Pharaoh know
that which he confessedly knew not—that the God of the
Hebrews was the Supreme Lord ; to give evidence to the
world of his power and justice ; and so to exercise judgment
upon the Egyptians for their oppression of Israel, that the
very gods they feared and the elements they worshiped were,
made the instruments of distress and ruin to them.
The river Nile was one of the chief gods of the Egyp¬
tians, and as such was honored with feasts, and sacrifices, and
rites of ceremonial worship. The king went forth one morn¬
ing to its banks, perhaps to render some act of homage ; and
was there met by Moses and Aaron, who, after repeating their
demand, and being again refused, announced, in the name of
Jehovah, the act they intended to perform, and the object,
"In this thou shalt know that I am Jehovah." Then, in
the presence of the king and his servants, the prophet lifted
up his wondrous rod, and therewith smote the river; and at
once its holy and most wholesome waters were changed into
blood, than which nothing could be more abhorrent to the
Egyptians. All the waters of Egypt were derived from tho
Nile, and upon all these waters the change operated. Not
only were all the numerous canals and reservoirs which were
fed by the Nile filled with this bloody water, but even that
which had been preserved in vessels of toood and stone for
domestic use. This last circumstance is particularly men¬
tioned in the sacred narrative, as if purposely to evince the
* miraculous nature of the transaction ; and has therefore been
carefully overlooked by those who have sought to explain this
and the other plagues by the operation of natural and (in
110
MOSES.
Egypt) ordinary causes. This calamity continued for seven
daysj during which, all the fish, that were in tlie river died in
the corrupted and nauseous waters. Many of these fish were
worshiped by the Egyptians; and fish, generally, formed a
large and principal article of diet to them. This was, there¬
fore, a great and complicated calamity while it lasted. The
Egyptians loathing now to drink that water which they prized
beyond all things, and held to be more pleasant and salutary
than any other which the earth could offer, began to dig the
ground in the hope of finding pure water. They did find it;
and this gave the priests an opportunity of imitating the
miracle on a small scale. Nothing could be more easy than
by chemical means to give a blood-like appearance to the
water of some of the wells thus formed, or to water taken
from them. But this was enough to satisfy the easy con¬
science of Pharaoh ; and we are told that "neither did he set
his heart to this also."
When, therefore, according to their instructions, Moses
and Aaron again bore to Pharaoh the message, " Thus saith
the Lord, Let my people go, that they may serve me," they
were again refused. On which Aaron, under the direction of
Moses, smote once more the river, when, lo ! the sacred river,
together with another of the Egyptian gods—the frog—was
once more made the instrument of their punishment. Myriads
of frogs came up from the river, and from all the canals and
reservoirs which it fed, and overspread the land. No place
was free from them, from the hut of the peasant to the palace
of the king. Even though the frogs were a sacred creature,
a people so scrupulously clean and nice as the Egyptians,
must have been terribly annoyed to find that the unseemly
reptiles penetrated to all places, polluting their choicest food
and most costly furniture. They found them everywhere—
in their ovens, in their kneading-troughs, and even in their
couches and beds.
This marvel also the Egyptian priests managed on some
small scale to imitate; but as they could do nothing to remove
the nuisance, Pharaoh began to be somewhat troubled. He*
sent for Moses and Aaron, and begged them to entreat Je¬
hovah to remove the frogs, in which case he would no longer
MOSES.
Ill
refuse to let the Hebrews go to render him sacrifice. Accord¬
ingly; at the time appointed by himself, " the morrow," the
frogs died away from the houses, the villages, and the fields,
"and they gathered them together upon heaps: and the land
stank." But when the king saw there was respite, he again
hardened his heart, and refused to let the people go, regard¬
less of the promise he had made.
Therefore Moses and Aaron were commanded to smite the
dust of the earth, from which instantly rose myriads of gnats,
or mosquitoes, an insect plague well known to Egypt during
summer, but from which the country is free until nearly three
months after the time at which this plague must have been
inflicted. As these most insatiable and persevering insects
form by far the greatest annoyance and distress—because the
most unintermitting—to which life, in warm climates, is sub- |
ject, the prospect of being exposed to it three months earlier
than usual, and of being thus deprived of their usual season
of relief, must have been almost maddening to the Egyptians
—especially when the insects were produced in such multi- !
tudes as on this occasion. It seems surprising to find that J
the priests were unable to imitate this miracle; but, perhaps,
the smallness of the object may, in some measure, account for
this, as it may have prevented that handling and management
to which serpents and frogs were subject. However, this time
they confessed that there was something in this beyond their
art and power—that it was no human feat of legerdemain,
but that they saw in it the finger of a god, or the super¬
natural agency of some demon. This was, indeed, the only |
excuse by which they could hope to cover their own failure ; j
and the acknowledgment was of no immediate value, since it
did not ascribe the power and the glory to Jehovah, the only
true God. They were not themselves prevented by it from
continuing to attempt their emulative wonders ; and the
heart of the king remained unmollified.
Hitherto, it appears, the plagues had been common to the
Egyptians and the Hebrews. We can easily understand that
the latter were included in these visitations, to punish them
for their participation in the idolatries of Egypt, and for their
unbelief. But as this may have contributed to prevent the
112 MOSES.
Egyptians from seeing the finger of the God of the Hebrews
in particular, in the calamities with which they had "been
visited, a distinction was henceforth made, and the land of
Goshen was exempted from the plagues by which the rest of
Egypt was desolated.
The next plague, being the fourth, is of rather doubtful
interpretation The word by which it is described denotes a
mixture, whence some suppose that.it consisted of an immense
number of beasts of prey, of various species, by which the
land was overspread. But it seems better to understand that
every kind of annoying insect is intended. In the preceding
plague there was one species—now there are many. There
are, however, reasons which might suggest that the Egyptian
beetle is rather intended. It is not said that the priests even
attempted to imitate this plague. But whether so or not,
the annoyance was so great that Pharaoh sent for Moses and
Aaron, and proposed a compromise which had occurred to
him—namely, that they should offer to Jehovah the sacrifices
about which they were so anxious in their own land of
Goshen, without going away into the wilderness. But Moses,
with great presence of mind and clear truth, replied, that the
worship of Jehovah required the sacrifice of animals which
the Egyptians worshiped, and never offered in sacrifice ; and
that the Egyptians would certainly rise upon the Hebrews
and slay them if any attempt to offer such sacrifices were
made in their presence. On these grounds he insisted that
the Israelites should go three days' journey into the wilder¬
ness, as the Lord had commanded. The king saw the force
of these reasons; and while he gave a reluctant consent that
they should go into the wilderness, he stipulated that they
should not go very far away.
Moses expressed his readiness to intercede with Jehovah
for the removal of this plague ; venturing to add the caution,
" Let not Pharaoh deal deceitfully any more." But no sooner
had this calamity passed, than the king, heedless of this ad¬
monition, and of his own word, continued his refusal to allow
the departure of the Israelites.
This second breach of faith brought down a judgment
more deadly than any of those which had preceded. This was
MOSES.
113
a grievous murrain, by which numbers of the different kinds
of cattle kept by the Egyptians were slain, while no harm
befell the flocks and herds of the Israelites in Goshen. This
distinction had been predicted to Pharaoh, and he sent to
assure himself whether it had taken place. Nevertheless, his
heart still remained unsoftened, and he still refused to let
Israel go.
The infliction with which this obduracy was punished
consisted of an ulcerous inflammation, of the most painful
and violent description, which broke forth not only upon man,
but upon such of the cattle as the murrain had spared. As
this ulcer appeared upon the scrupulously clean persons of
the priestly " magicians," as well as upon others, their hu¬
miliation was so great that they slunk from the scene, thus
relinquishing even that languid show of rivalry and opposi¬
tion which they had lately manifested. This was the sixth
plague.
The seventh consisted of such a storm of hail as had never
before been known in Egypt, accompanied by terrible thun¬
ders, and by lightning "that ran along upon the ground."
Seeing that rain is exceedingly rare, and hail almost unknown
in Egypt, so formidable a hail-storm as this, predicted as it
was, was one of the greatest marvels that could be produced
in such a climate as that of Egypt.
Still Pharaoh was obstinate with Moses, for when the old
demand was renewed, the king repeated his refusal. Then
the visitation of an army of locusts was threatened, which
should destroy every green thing that the hail had spared.
The stubborn king would not be convinced. Then came the
locusts.
Taking for their appearance the very latest date which the
history will allow, the arrival was so much earlier than usual,
as to render it a circumstance not to be expected in the ordi¬
nary course of events ; and besides this, it should be observed
that, although locusts are common in Arabia, they appear
with comparative rarity in Egypt; the Red Sea forming, a
sort of barrier against them, as they are not formed for cross¬
ing seas, or for long flights. Yet, on the present occasion, the
locusts were enabled, by the aid of a " strong east wind," to>
8
114
MOSES
cross that sea. from Arabia \ and this is another remarkable
circumstance, as the winds which prevalently blow in Egypt
are six months from the north, and six months from the south.
To those whom reading or travel has made acquainted with
the appearance and ravages of these destructive vermin, the
notice which the scriptural narrative here takes of them will
seem remarkably striking and true : " The locusts went up
over all the land of Egypt, and rested in all the coasts of
Egypt; very grievous were they ; before them there were no
such locusts as they, neither after them shall there be such.
For they covered the face of the whole earth, so that the land
was darkened ; and they did eat every green herb of the land,
and all the fruit of the trees which the hail had left: and
there remained not any green thing in the trees, or in the
herbs of the field, through all the land of Egypt." As we are
told that the locusts ate up every green thing which the hail
had spared, the young crop of wheat and rye must be included.
This calamity was so very formidable, that Pharaoh delayed
not to send for Moses and Aaron. He avowed to them his
fault, and begged for one reprieve more. He obtained it by
means of a strong north-westerly wind, which in one night so
completely swept the locusts away into the Red Sea, that not
one could be found in all the land of Egypt. But when re¬
lief had thus been given, it appeared that the king would not
allow the Hebrews to take their families and flocks, though
he was still willing that the men should take the desired jour¬
ney into the wilderness. *
Therefore a new and most extraordinary plague was
brought upon the land. In this land, where even a cloud-
seldom throws an obscuration on the clear face of the heavens,
there was for three days a thick darkness—a darkness which,
in the emphatic language of Scripture, " might be felt" and
which, we are told, prevented the people from seeing one an¬
other. Considering the rarity of any obscuration in the val¬
ley of the Nile, and that the sun was one of the chief of the
gods the Egyptians worshiped, their consternation may be
partly imagined, and is strongly represented in the scriptural
narrative, by their total inaction—no one rose ec from his place
for three days." All this while the Israelites in the land of
moses.
115
Goshen enjoyed the ordinary light of day. As we have no in¬
timation of the agency employed in producing this remarkable
darkness in Egypt, while the Hebrews had light in their dwell¬
ings, we must be content to leave this miracle in the charac¬
teristic obscurity in which, more than any of the others, it is
involved.
This visitation, so well calculated to appal and terrify the
Egyptians, compelled the king to relax his previous determi¬
nation. He now declared himself willing to let the men and
their families go, but he wished to keep their flocks and herds
as security for their return. Moses represented that they were
going for the express purpose of offering sacrifices to Jehovah,
for which cattle would be necessary, and it could not be known
till they arrived in the wilderness what number of cattle would
be required. Therefore he declared in the most peremptory
manner, " Our cattle also shall go with us ; there shall not
an hoof be left behind." But the proud king was determined
not to relinquish this last and only point of security which
would remain to him. Moses, perceiving his obstinacy, pro¬
ceeded to deliver his last and most awful message from Jeho¬
vah, which can not be given in language more condensed or
half so expressive as his own : " Thus saith Jehovah : About
midnight will I go out into the midst of Egypt; and all the
first-bom in the land of Egypt shall die ; from the first-born
of Pharaoh that sitteth upon his throne, even unto the first¬
born of the maid-servant that is behind the mill; and all the
first-born of beasts. And there shall be a great cry through¬
out all the land of Egypt, such as there was none like it, nor
shall be like it any more. But against any of the children of
Israel shall not a dog move his tongue, against man or beast:
that ye may know how that Jehovah doth make a difference
between the Egyptians and Israel. And all these thy servants
[the counselors and nobles then present] shall come down un¬
to me, and bow down themselves unto me, saying, ' Get thee
out, and all the people that follow thee and after that I
will go out." Such a message delivered in so high a tone
did not fail to exasperate the haughty king, who exclaimed
to Moses, in sentences rendered abrupt by passion, " Get thee
from me, take heed to thyself, see my face no more: for in
116
MOSES.
that day that thou seest my face thou shalt die." To which
Moses, with most impressive solemnity, only answered, "Thou
hast spoken well. X will see thy face again no more. He
then went out from the presence of Pharaoh in great anger,
and withdrew finally from the court to join his own people in
the land of Goshen.
His presence was necessary there to make the needful prep¬
arations for that departure which he now saw to he close at
hand. And here it will be observed that the judgments exer¬
cised upon the Egyptians, with the manner in which their
own affairs had been made of such absorbing importance, had,
for the present, made the Israelites very tractable, and dis¬
posed to receive and follow the directions of Moses with atten¬
tion and respect. It also appears that, after what had passed,
Moses was now held in great honor among the Egyptians
themselves, and that not only by the mass of the people, hut
by the chiefs and nobles of the court. This was natural.
Probably they would have made a god of him, if he had been
one of themselves and had acted with them or on their behalf.
It had been usual with Moses to announce a plague only
the day before it came; but on this occasion four days elapsed,
a circumstance which may probably have lulled the fears I
which the king could not but have at first entertained from I
the awful threat of one whose words had not hitherto in any
one instance fallen to the ground.
Among the Hebrews in Goshen th most important cir¬
cumstance of this time was the institution of the Passover.
It was peculiar to this institution that it was founded to
commemorate an event which had not yet occurred, and that
so arranged that it was in the act of being celebrated for the
first time, at the very instant when the event occurred which
it was destined ever after to signalize. The institution was
therefore established with a prophetic reference to a coming j
event—that event being the one of which Moses had spoken
to Pharaoh—the destruction of the first-born of Egypt. |
More precisely, the Passover was ordained for a perpetual,
memorial of the deliverance of the Israelites from the destroy¬
ing angel, when he passed over or spared the houses of the
Israelites, but destroyed the first-born of the Egyptians.
MOSES.
117
Each family had been previously required, at the beginning
of the month Abib (which from henceforth was made the first
month of the sacred year), to take a lamb without spot or
blemish upon the tenth day of the month, to keep it up, and to
kill it on the fourteenth, between the two eveninys. They were
to roast it entire, not breaking a bone of it, and to eat it in
haste, with bitter herbs and unleavened bread, standing, with
their loins girded, their sandals on their feet, and their staves
in their hands, after the manner and posture of hurried pilgrims
about to set forth instantly upon a long journey, through a
dreary wilderness, towards a pleasant land where their toil and
travel were to cease. And they were also required to sprinkle
the blood of the paschal lamb, by means of a bunch of hyssop
dipped therein, upon the lintel, or liead-posts, and upon the
two side-posts of the doors of their houses, to save them from
the destroyer, who, seeing this token, would pass over their
houses without entering to smite the first-born. When these
instructions were delivered, " the people bowed the head and
worshiped. And the children of Israel went away and did
as Jehovah had commanded," and waited in their houses for
the catastrophe which was to work their deliverance.
The tremendous night was not long delayed. While the
Jews were celebrating this newly-instituted feast—at mid¬
night—the destroying angel went forth in a pestilence, and
smote all the first-bom in the land of Egypt—" from the first¬
born of Pharaoh, that sat on his throne, unto the first-born
of the captive that was in the dungeon; and all the first-born
of cattle." And there was a great cry in Egypt—lamentation
and bitter weeping—for there was not a house in which there
was not one dead.
The effect of this dreadful blow was exactly such as Moses
had foretold. The king, his nobles, and the Egyptian people,
rose in sorrow from their beds thai night. The shrieks of the
living, with the groans of those about to die, breaking in upon
the stillness of the night—the darkness of which must greatly
have aggravated the horror and confusion of that hour—made
the people fancy they were all doomed to destruction, and
that the work of death would not cease till they had all per¬
ished. The king himself was filled with horror and alarm.
118
MOSES.
Without truly repenting his obduracy, he bitterly lamented
its effects. It appeared to him that the only method of arrest¬
ing the progress of the destruction was to send the Hebrews
instantly away—in the fear that every moment they tarried
would prove the loss of a thousand lives to Egypt. He there¬
fore sent to Moses and Aaron by that very night—that hour
—to tell them, " Get you forth from among my people, both
ye and the children of Israel; and go and serve the Lord as
ye have said; also take your flocks and herds, as ye have said,
and be gone; and bless me also." And the Egyptian people
also, says the scriptural narrative, were urgent upon them,
to send them away in haste; for they said, <c We be all dead
men." In their anxiety to get them off, lest every moment
of their stay should prove the last to themselves or those dear
to them, the Egyptians would have done any thing to satisfy
and oblige them. This favorable disposition had been fore¬
seen from the beginning, and the Hebrews had been instructed
by Moses to take advantage of it, by borrowing ornaments of
precious metal—"jewels of silver and jewels of gold," with
rich dresses, from the Egyptians. On the principle that, 11 all
that a man hath he will give for his life," there can be
no doubt that, under circumstances which made them con¬
sider their own lives in jeopardy, and when the losses they
had sustained were calculated to make their finery seem of
small value in their sight, the Egyptians were quite as ready
to lend as the Hebrews to borrow. The women also were
authorized to borrow from the Egyptian females : and we
may easily believe that their exertions added much to the
large amount of valuable property which was extracted from
the fears of the Egyptians. With whatever understanding
these valuable articles were given and received, the ultimate
effect is, that in this final settlement the Hebrews received
something like wages—thcgigh, as such, inadequate—for the
long services they had rendered to the Egyptians.
So eager were the Egyptians to get them off, that, be¬
tween persuasions, bribery, and gentle compulsion, the whole
body had commenced its march before daybreak, although it
was not till midnight that the first-born had been slain. They
had no time even to bake the bread for which the dough was
MOSES.
119
ready, and they were, therefore, obliged to leave it in their
dough bags, which they carried away, wrapped up in their
clothes, with the view of preparing their bread when an op¬
portunity might be offered by their first halt. Hurried as
they were, they forgot not the bones of Joseph, which they
had kept at hand, and now bore away with them. On they
marched, driving before them their cattle and their beasts of
burden, laden with their moveables and tents ; and them¬
selves, some, doubtless, riding on camels, some on asses ; but,
from the great number of these required for the women and
children, most of the men doubtless marched on foot. Thus,
laden with the spoils of Egypt, they went on their way re¬
joicing, leaving the Egyptians to the things which belong to
mourning and the grave.
The Israelites finally departed, and encamped, after sev¬
eral days' journey, on the borders of the Red Sea.
The days which had passed had given the Egyptians time
to recover from some portion of their panic ; and their first
feeling, of unmixed horror and alarm, gave place to consider¬
able resentment and regret, on the king's part, that he had so
suddenly conceded all the points which had been contested
between him and Moses, and had allowed them all to depart;
and as for his subjects, such of them as had a profitable in¬
terest in the labors of the Israelites would, to some extent,
join in the king's feelings, as soon as their bondsmen took
any course to intimate that they intended to escape; and the
same intimation would not fail to alarm those who had "lent"
to the Hebrews their "jewels of silver and jewels of gold,"
and who by this time had found leisure to think that they
had too easily parted with their wealth.
When, therefore, the king heard that they had so moved
as to become " entangled in the land," and that the " wilder¬
ness had shut them in," he hastened to avail himself of the
extraordinary advantage they had placed in his hands. " He
made ready his chariot, and took his people with him." He
mustered not less than six hundred chariots, which are said
to be all the [war] chariots of Pharaoh. This is in corres¬
pondence with the sculptures, which show that the Egyptians
made great use in war of such chariots. A large body of in-
120
MOSES.
fantry was also assembled, and the pursuit commenced. Their
light, unencumbered march was, no doubt, much more quickly
performed than that of the Israelites to the same place.
The Egyptians, being satisfied that they had secured their
prey, and that it was impossible for their fugitive bondsmen
to escape but by returning to Egypt, were in no haste to as¬
sail them. They were also, themselves, probably, wearied by
their rapid march. They therefore encamped for the night—
for it was towards evening when they arrived—intending,
probably, to give effect to their intentions in the morning.
As for the Israelites, the sight of their old oppressors
struck them with terror. There was no faith or spirit in them.
They knew not how to value their newly-found liberty. They
deplored the rash adventure in which they had engaged; and
their servile minds looked back with regret and envy upon the
enslaved condition which they had so lately deplored. Moses
knew them well enough not to be surprised that they assailed
him as the author of all the calamities to which they were
now exposed. Is it " because there were no graves in Egypt,"
said they, " thou hast taken us away to die in the wilderness?
Is not this the word that we did tell thee in Egypt, saying,
Let us alone, that we may serve the Egyptians ? For it had
been better for us to serve the Egyptians than that we should
die in the wilderness." This is one specimen of a mode of
feeling and character among this spiritless and perverse peo¬
ple of which Moses had seen something already, and of which
he had soon occasion to see much more. One might be dis¬
posed to judge of their feelings the more leniently, attribut¬
ing them to the essential operation of personal slavery in
enslaving the mind, by debasing its higher tones of feeling
and character, did we not know that the same characteristics
of mind and temper constantly broke out among this remark¬
able people very long after the generation which knew the
slavery of Egypt had passed away.
Moses did not deign to remonstrate with them or to vin¬
dicate himself. It seems that the Divine intention had been
previously intimated to him, for he answered, with that usual
emphasis of expression which makes it a pleasure to trans¬
cribe his words—"Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salva-
MOSES.
121
tion of the Lord, which he will show to you to-day: for the
Egyptians whom ye have seen to day, ye shall see them again
no more for ever. The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall
hold your peace." They were pacified by this for the present ;
but there is good reason to suspect that, if measures of relief
had long been delayed, they would have given up Moses and
Aaron to the Egyptians, and have placed themselves at their
disposal. But measures of relief were not long delayed. When
the night was fully come, the Lord directed Moses to order
the people to march forward to the sea ; on their arriving at
which the prophet lifted up his rod upon the waters, over
which instantly blew a powerful east wind, by which they
were divided from shore to shore, so that the firm bottom of
hard sand appeared, offering a dry road in the midst of the
sea, by which they might pass to the eastern shore. At that
instant, also, the pillar of fire which had gone before the He¬
brews to guide them on their way was removed to their rear,
and, being thus between them and the Egyptians, it gave
light to the former in their passage, while it concealed their
proceedings and persons from the latter.
It thus happened that some time passed before the Egyp¬
tians discovered that the Israelites were in motion. When
they made this discovery, the king determined to follow. It
is by no means clear that they knew or thought that they
were following them into the bed of the sea. Considering
the darkness of the night, except from the light of the pillar,
with the confusion of ideas and indistinct perceptions of a
people who had not been on the spot long enough to make
particular observations, and most of them probably roused
from sleep to join in the pursuit, it seems likely that they
felt uncertain about the direction, and supposed that they
were following some accustomed route by which the Israelites
were either endeavoring to escape or to return to Egypt.
They may even have thought they were going up the valley %
of Bedea, although that actually lay in an opposite direction.
Any thing, however improbable, seems more likely to have
occurred to them than that they were passing through the
divided sea.
By the time the day broke and the Egyptians became
il *- ' ^
122
MOSES.
aware of their condition, all the Hebrews had safely reached
the other side, and all or nearly all the Egyptians were in the
bed of the gulf; the van approaching the eastern shore, and
the rear having left the western. The moment of vengeance
was come. They found themselves in the midst of the sea,
with the waters on their right hand and on their left, and
only restrained from overwhelming them by some power they
knew not, but which they must have suspected to have been
that of the God of the Hebrews. The marine road, plowed
by the multitudes which went before them, became distressing
to them ; their chariot-wheels dragged heavily along, and very
many of them came off from the cars which they supported.
The Lord also began to trouble them with a furious warfare
of the elements. The Psalmist more than once alludes to
this. He exclaims, " The waters saw thee, 0 God, the waters
saw thee ; they were afraidand then speaks as if every
element had spent its fury upon the devoted heads of the
Egyptians. The earth shook ; the thunders rolled ; and most
appalling lightnings—the arrows of God—shot along the
firmament; while the clouds poured down heavy rains, " hail¬
stones, and coals of fire." It deserves to be mentioned that
this strife is also recorded by the Egyptian chronologer, who
reports, " It is said that fire flashed against them in front."
By this time the pursuers were thoroughly alarmed.
"Let us flee," said they, "from the face of Israel; for Je¬
hovah fighteth for them against the Egyptians." But at that
instant the Lord gave the word, Moses stretched forth his
hand over the sea, and the restrained waters returned and
engulfed them all.
This stupendous event made a profound impression upon
the Hebrew mind at large. From that day to the end of the
Hebrew polity, it supplied a subject to which the sacred poets
and prophets make constant allusions in language the most
sublime. Its effect upon the generation more immediately
concerned was very strong, and, although they were but too
prone to forget it, was more abiding and operative than any
which had yet been made upon them. When they witnessed
all these things, and soon after saw the carcases of those who
had so lately been the objects of such intense dread to them,
123
lying by thousands on the beach, " They feared the Lord,
and believed the Lord, and his servant Moses."
The Israelites, now relieved from all fear of the Egyptians,
probably made some- considerable stay at Ain Mousa. The
district was then regarded as " the wilderness of Slmr," a
name of wide extent, a clear trace of which is still exhibited
in the present name of Sdur.
Yery soon after leaving this place, they began again to
murmur against Moses and Aaron, that they had led them
into the wilderness to perish, notwithstanding the miracles
performed to aid and cheer them ; one of them being the fall
of food in the shape of manna from heaven, and the other
the smiting of the rock to obtain an abundance of water, by
Moses. After a decisive victory over the Amalekites the He¬
brew host encamped in peace in the wilderness at the foot of
" the great mountain," which they did on the first day of the
third month from their leaving Egypt.
This was the point of their immediate destination: in
this place they were to behold the glory of their God, veiled
in clouds—to hear his voice amid the thunder—to see his
glances in the lightning—and to feel the power of his right
arm when it shook ,the mountains.
No sooner had they arrived at this place than the opera¬
tion for which they were brought there, of forming them
into a peculiar nation, commenced. The first measure was
to obtain from the Israelites a distinct and formal recognition
of the supreme authority of Jehovah, and the promise of im¬
plicit obedience to it. Moses, who had gone up into the
mountain, returned to the Israelites, with instructions to say
to them, in the name of God, "Ye have seen what I did
unto the Egyptians, and how I bare you on eagle's wings, and
brought you unto myself. Now, therefore, if ye will obey
my voice indeed, and keep my covenant, then ye shall be a
peculiar treasure unto me above all people : for all the earth
is mine : And ye shall be unto me a kingdom of priests, and
a holy nation." As they were unacquainted with any other
priests than those of Egypt, the words in the last sentence
probably conveyed to them the impression that from among
the nations of the earth it was proposed to set them apart to
124
MOSES.
his peculiar service and honor, in like manner as the hierarchy
of Egypt was set apart as a distinct and honored caste from
among the Egyptian people.
The cjieerful and ready answer of the people to Moses,
" All that Jehovah hath spoken we will do," was gladly re¬
ported by him to the Lord, who then answered that on the
third following day He would appear in glory upon the moun¬
tain, in the sight of all the people, to deliver in person the
laws to which he required obedience. Against that time the
people were to purify themselves, and wash their clothes, that
they might appear worthily before their King. Moses bore
this intelligence to the people, and it was arranged that they
should on that day come forth from the camp, and stand, in
an orderly manner, around the base of the mountain ; and
barriers were set up lest any rash persons should break through
to look upon Jehovah, and so perish.
The eventful day arrived, being the fifth day of that month,
and the fiftieth after the departure from Egypt. The morn¬
ing was ushered in with terrible thunders and lightnings, and
a thick cloud rested upon the mountain-top. There was heard
a sound like that of a trumpet, but so exceedingly loud that
the people trembled greatly. They were tjien drawn out, and
stood around the mountain, " to meet .with God." They
found the mountain wholly enveloped in fire, and smoke, and
thick darkness ; for God had descended in fire upon the moun¬
tain, which quaked beneath his feet. No figure or similitude
appeared, but a Yoice was heard from amidst the thick clouds,
giving utterance to the words which form the Decalogue. So
awful and tremendous was the scene, that all the people, and
even Moses himself, feared exceedingly and trembled—the
more especially when they heard that Voice which they had
not deemed that mortal man could hear and still live. They
drew back from the mountain, and entreated Moses that they
might no more hear what they had heard, or see such things
as they had seen ; and desired that he would himself draw
nigh, and hear what else Jehovah, their God, might say, and
report it to them, and they would be obedient, " But let not
God speak with us, lest we die." They then retired still far¬
ther from the mountain, and Moses advanced to the thick
MOSES.
darkness where God was. Then the Lord said to him, " I
have heard the voice of the words of this people which they
have spoken unto thee : they have well said all that they have
spoken. 0 that there tocre swe/i a heart in them, that they
ivouldfear Me, and Iceep all my commandments always, that
it might be well with them, and with their children for ever !
For I will raise them up a prophet, from among their brethren,
like unto thee, and will put my words in his mouth: and he
shall speak unto them all that I shall command him : and it
shall come to pass that whosoever will not hearken unto my
words, which he shall speak in my name, I will require it of
him." After he had heard these tender expressions, which so
strongly exhibit Grod in his paternal character, and this prom¬
ise, which is replete with significance to those who believe that
Jesus Christ is the " Prophet" therein foretold, Moses returned
to the people to dismiss them to their tents ; after which, as
required, he returned to the mountain, to receive from the
Lord the fundamental laws and institutions by which the
chosen people were in future to be governed.
On this first occasion Moses received a number of civil
laws ; and as they referred chiefly to the settled life which the
Israelites as yet had only in prospect, the promise of the herit¬
age in Canaan was renewed, with the intimation that no sud¬
den expulsion of the present inhabitants of that land was
within the divine intention ; but that they would be expelled
by degrees, in proportion as the increasing population of the
Hebrews might enable them to occupy the lands vacated by
the Canaanites.
Moses returned to the camp to make this communication
to the people. They promised obedience to the laws, which
he then communicated to them. Then Moses wrote down all
the words which the Lord had spoken ; and, the next morn¬
ing early, proceeded to build an altar at the foot of the moun¬
tain, and to set up twelve stones, corresponding to the num¬
ber of the tribes. After sacrifices had been offered upon the
altar, Moses took the book in which he had written down laws
and promises which had already been received, and read them
aloud to the people; and when they had again declared their
formal assent to the terms of this covenant, he took the blood
rj=
126
MOSES.
of the sacrifice, and sprinkled it over them, saying, " Behold
the blood of the covenant, which Jehovah has made with you
concerning all these words."
After this, Moses, as he had been direeted, ascended again
into the mountain, attended by Joshua, and accompanied by
Aaron, Nadab and Abihu (two of his sons), and seventy of
the elders of Israel. They entered not into the thick cloud ;
but, although they paused far below it, they were allowed to
obtain a glimpse of that glory of the Grod of Israel which the
cloud concealed. That which they beheld was but—speaking
after the manner of men—the place of His feet, but it ap¬
peared " as it were a paved work of sapphire stone, and as it
were the body of heaven in its clearness."
They ate together, there upon the mountain, on the meat
of the peace-offerings which they had lately sacrificed, and on
which the people were feasting in the plain below.
Moses was then called up into the clouded summit of the
mountain. Before he went he desired those who had come
with him to remain there until his return, and then proceeded,
with Joshua, into the cloud. To the people in the plain, the
higher part of the mountain seems at this time to have ex¬
hibited the appearance of being invested by a thick and dark
cloud, while from the very top arose a large body of " devour¬
ing fire." For six days Moses and J oshua remained under
the cloud ; but on the seventh day Moses was called to the
very top, to which he went, leaving Joshua, probably, below.
He there received instructions for the establishment of a
priesthood, and the construction of a tabernacle, with laws
concerning the Sabbath, and some other matters ; and, in the
end, he received two tablets of stone, on which God had
written the words of those ten principal laws which he had
previously proclaimed in the hearing of all the people.
Moses remained in the mountain forty days, during which
he was divinely sustained, so as to feel no need of food. This
long stay was probably unexpected by himself, and certainly
was so by the friends he had left below, who, after some stay,
how long we know not, grew tired of waiting longer, and re¬
turned to the camp. As the time passed, and nothing further
was heard of Moses, the people became anxious and alarmed,
MOSES.
127
and at last concluded that he had perished in that " devour¬
ing fire" that shone upon the mountain-top. They then
wickedly turned away from the true God, who had delivered
them, and set up, and bowed down to the image of a " golden
calf" as Jehovah.
At that very time Moses, still in the mount, was com¬
manded to descend to the people, in language which made
their sin and the divine indignation known to him. Ho has¬
tened down, and in his descent was joined by the faithful
Joshua, who had waited patiently for him. As they went
down together, the noise from the camp reached their ears ;
and Joshua, whose ideas were of a military character, sup¬
posed it the sound of war. But Moses answered, " It is not
the voice of them that shout for mastery, neither is it the
voice of them that cry for being overcome ; but the noise of
them that sing do I hear."
When they came near enough to notice the calf and the
dancing before it, the anger of Moses was so excited that he
threw from his hands the tablets of stone which he had re¬
ceived from God, and brake them in pieces beneath the
mountain, intending, probably, thereby to intimate that, in
like manner, the recent covenant between God and them was
broken on their part, and, in consequence, rescinded on His.
Then he advanced to the golden calf, which they had made,
"and burnt it in the fire, and ground it to powder, and
strewed it upon the water, and made the Israelites drink of
it," thus adding disgust to ignominy ; for gold thus treated
is of a most abominable taste.
After thus destroying the idol he proceeded to the punish¬
ment of the idolaters themselves. He stood at one of the
entrances to the camp and cried, "Who is on Jehovah's
side ? Let him come unto me \" and in answer, all the men
of his own tribe—that of Levi—gathered around him. These
he ordered to go from one end of the camp to the other, sword
in hand, and slay every one who persisted in his idolatry,
without favor or affection either to their neighbor or their
brother. They obeyed him ; and 3000 men fell that day by
their hands. Nor was this all; for the Lord sent plagues
among the people, to punish them further for this great offense.
128
MOSES.
When the Lord had pardoned his people and received
them again into his favor, he commanded Moses to hew two
tablets of stone, like those which he had broken, and to pre¬
sent them to him on the top of the mount. It was also prom¬
ised to him that, according to his humble request, he should
there obtain a fuller view of the glory of the divine presence
than he had hitherto enjoyed ; as full a view as mortal man
could see and live, but infinitely short of the actual glories
of His presence and His throne. Accordingly, as directed, he
repaired to the mount with the tablets in his hands, and hid
himself in a cleft of the rock. The Lord then descended upon
the mountain in a cloud which hid the glory of his presence
entirely from the people below, but which, as it passed by the
place where Moses lay, enabled him to see as much of that
glory as flesh and blood could bear : but what he did see, he,
with proper and reverent reserve, abstains from describing;
only we know that as.the veiled glory passed by, a voice was
heard proclaiming, "Jehovah, Jehovah, a God merciful and
f gracious, long-suffering, and abounding in goodness and truth.
Keeping mercy to a thousand generations : forgiving iniquity
and transgression and sin ; and that will by no means clear
the guilty ; visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the
children, and upon the children's children, unto the third or
fourth generation." '
I Moses again remained forty days in the mount, without
J meat or drink. At the end of that time he received back the
j tablets of stone, written over with the same words which the
j broken tablets had contained—the ten commandments; and
this was probably intended as a token of the renewal of the
covenant between God and the Hebrew people. Moses knew
not that he had received a ray of that surpassing glory which
had shone upon him, by virtue of which his countenance
beamed with such heavenly light that Aaron and all the peo¬
ple, when he came down, were afraid to approach him. This
light remained upon his countenance, and was so dazzling,
that he found it convenient to cover his face with a vail in
his general intercourse with the people, and appeared unvailed
only when he drew near to God to receive his commands, and
when he repeated those commands to the people, in whose
MOSES.
129
eyes his authority and importance were, doubtless, much en¬
hanced by this splendid peculiarity of his personal appear¬
ance.
During this stay of Moses in the mount, a visionary pat¬
tern of the tabernacle or portable temple, which lie had for¬
merly been directed to construct, was exhibited to him, and
he was commanded to carry into effect the instructions lie
had received, all proceedings thereon having been prevented
by the late unhappy circumstances.
No sooner were the Israelites made acquainted with the
materials which would be required for the works of the taber¬
nacle and its contents, and for the dresses and ornaments of
the priests, than they poured in, with the most profuse liber¬
ality, whatever suitable articles they possessed: so that in a
very short time Moses was obliged to have it proclaimed
throughout the camp, that no more offerings were to be made
for the sanctuary, as there was already enough, and more than
enough for every purpose. The list of the articles contributed
is very interesting, not only as showing the large quantity,
but the nature and quality, of the wealth in their possession,
and all of which they had probably brought from Egypt.
These consisted chiefly of articles in brass, silver and gold,
intended to be melted down for the service required, together
with precious stones, costly woods, rich stuffs, skins, oils,
incense, and spices. The women were eminently distinguished
on this occasion. They contributed their personal ornaments
and trinkets; while their mirrors, of polished brass, were
given up to form the brazen laver. Among all pastoral na¬
tions, the duty of forming into cloth the wool of the sheep,
and the hair of the goat, devolves upon the women, and forms
the principal occupation of their lives; and on the present
occasion the women of Israel were busied in spinning, twist¬
ing, and weaving the clothes required for the hangings of the
tabernacle.
Such was the earnestness of all parties, that the taber¬
nacle, with all its rich furniture, and costly apparatus, to¬
gether with the splendid dress of the high priests, and the
robes of the common priests, were all completed in less than
six months. The tabernacle was erected, and all things con-
9
130
MOSES.
nected with it disposed in proper order on the first day of the
second year of the departure from Egypt. When all was
finished, the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle; and the
more public and outward sign of his presence, the pillar of
cloud—that pillar which became a blaze of fire by night-
rested upon it. The setting of the whole in order probably
occupied a week; for it was not until the eighth day of the
month that the regular services of the splendid ritual were
commenced by the new high priest, who then offered upon
the great altar the various kinds of sacrifices which the law
required. In token of divine acceptance and complacency, a
fire darted forth from that "glory" which represented the
Lord's presence, and consumed the burnt offering. When
the people saw this, " they shouted, and fell upon their faces."
It was afterwards directed that the fire thus miraculously
kindled should be kept up and employed in all the sacred
services.
During the protracted stay at this place, Moses was
favored with frequent intercourse with God, in which he
received the body of laws which bear his name, and which
were delivered not in any regular or systematic form, but as
occasion seemed to require or suggest. At first Moses received
the command from the Lord upon the mountain, under the
circumstance of great solemnity, which we have recorded.
After his second stay of forty days upon the mountain, it
does not appear that he again repaired thither to receive the
divine commands. The next form in which these awful inter¬
views were conducted commenced before this last visit to
Sinai, and appears to have continued until the erection of the
tabernacle. After the sin in the matter of the golden calf,
Moses, it will be remembered, removed his tent to a consider¬
able distance from the camp, and called it the Convention
tent. He seems to have resided there for a time ; and if we
rightly collect the meaning of the sacred narrative, after this
sin had been forgiven, he returned to live in the camp, but
left this tent standing, under the charge of Joshua, who was
always there. Whenever Moses went to consult the Lord, or
to receive his commands, he proceeded to this tent; and
when he entered the tent, the pillar of cloud descended and
MOSES. 131
stood at the door, while the Lord spoke therefrom to Moses.
Whenever Moses left the camp to proceed to this tent, the
people came to the doors of their own tents, and followed him
with their eyes until he entered the tent; and when they saw
the pillar of cloud come and settle at the door, they all arose
and'worshiped, every one at the door of his own tent. After
the erection of the tabernacle, Moses entered it whenever he
sought counsel of G-od ; and then he heard a Voice speaking
to him from between the cherubim above the ark, in the most
holy place.
The Israelites remained at the foot of Mount Sinai eleven
months and nineteen days. During this time the necessary
laws were given ; the tabernacle was set up for the palace of
the King, Jehovah; the regular service of his court was estab¬
lished ; the sanctions of the law were solemnly repeated ; the
people were numbered and mustered for the approaching war;
the order of their encamping, breaking up, and marching,
was accurately settled ; and the whole constitution of the
state was completed.
On the twentieth day of the second month of the second
year after their departure from Egypt, the Israelites were or¬
dered to break up their encampment, and proceed on their
march to take possession of the Promised Land.
Under the direction of the miraculous cloud, the ark went
on in advance, to determine the line of march, and the places
of encampment. When, at any time, the ark, following the
movements of the pillared cloud, began to set forward, Moses
was wont to exclaim, "Arise, 0 Jehovah, and let thine ene¬
mies be scattered; and let them that hate thee flee before
thee !" and when, under the same guidance, it rested, " Re¬
turn, Jehovah, unto the many thousands of Israel \"
For nearly twelve months the Hebrews had now remained
much at their ease in the Sinai valleys, without any other
general labor than the care of their flocks. As soon, there¬
fore, as they had passed beyond the pleasai^ and shady val¬
leys of the peninsula, and were fairly engaged in the stern
and naked desert, they began to complain of the hardships
and fatigues of the journey, and of the obligation of decamp¬
ing and encamping so often. At the third stage these mur-
132
MOSES.
murs became so strong that their Divine King judged some
afflictive mark of his displeasure necessary ; wherefore he
caused a fire (probably kindled by lightning) to break forth,
and rage with great fury among the tents on the outskirts of
the camp. In this the people recognised the hand of God,
and interceded with Moses, at whose prayer the flames'sub¬
sided. In memory of this the place received the name of
Taberah [the burning].
The next affair, which seems to have followed the former
very soon, commenced among these dangerous characters, but
goon involved the mass of the Israelites. They became dis¬
contented with their manna. Pleasant though it were, the
sameness of their diet disgusted them, and heedless of the ne¬
cessity of their circumstances, they longed for the palatable
varieties of food which they had enjoyed in Egypt. The ex¬
cellent meats of that country, and the abundant fish«of its
river—the luscious and cooling melons, the onions, the leeks,
the garlic, and other fruits and vegetables of that rich soil,
they had all been accustomed to eat " freely," so abundant
were they, and so cheap. 1 That they should grow tired of one
particular kind of food, however delicious, when they had
been used to such variety, and that they should look back
upon their former enjoyments with some degree of longing
and regret, is quite natural, and might not be blameworthy ;
but nothing can more strikingly show the unmanly character
which bondage had produced in the then existing race of He¬
brews, than that such merely sensual impulses were able to
gain the mastery over them to such a degree as utterly%to
blind and confound their understanding. With childish
weeping and unreasoning clamor they expressed their longing
for the lost pleasures of Egypt, and their distaste of the
manna, which had for so many months formed their principal
food. As this clamor broke out so soon after the departure
from the Sinai valleys, in which they had so long been en¬
camped, it seem^very likely that they had secretly entertained
the expectation that a change of scene would bring a change
of food, and that they were much disappointed to find that
the manna, and that only, continued to be supplied wherever
they went.
MOSES. 133
The conduct of tlie people oil this occasion was deeply-
displeasing to God: and Moses manifested more than usual
discouragement and annoyance. His address to God on this
occasion shows this, and is not altogether free from fretful-
ness. He rather murmurs at the heavy task which had been
imposed upon him, of managing this unreasoning multitude,
and declares himself unequal to it. In answer to this, God
proposed to strengthen his authority by a council of seventy
elders, to whom a portion of his own spirit should be formally
given; and as to the people, a promise was indignantly made
them, that on the morrow, and for a month to come, they
should eat meat to the full. In reply to some doubts, which
Moses ventured to intimate, as to the feasibility of supplying
so large a multitude, the emphatic answer was, " Is the
Lord's hand waxed short ?"
The same day came the promised supply of meat—given
not in kindness but in anger. As on a former occasion it con¬
sisted of immense flocks of quails, which, being wearied with
their flight across the Red Sea, flew so low and heavily that
vast quantities of them were easily caught by the people. So
abundant was the supply that not only were they enabled to
glut themselves for the time, but to collect a quantity for fu¬
ture use. We are told that " they spread them all abroad for
themselves round about the camp." This was, perhaps, to let
them dry, or to allow the salt to settle before they potted
them away. We are not accustomed to hear of birds being
preserved in any way, but it is remarkable that Herodotus
describes it as usual among the Egyptians to eat, undressed,
quails, ducks, and small birds which they had preserved with
salt. This is confirmed by the sculptures, where men are re¬
presented as in the act of preserving birds in this manner, and
depositing them in jars. No doubt the Hebrews followed the
same process, with which they had become acquainted in
Egypt.
In the very height of their gormandizing, or, as the Scrip¬
ture expresses it, "while the flesh was yet between their
teeth," a grievous plague was sent among them, whereby
great numbers were destroyed. It is probable that the very
indulgence for which they had longed was made the instru-
134
MOSES.
ment of their punishment, and that the extraordinary mor¬
tality was, under the divine control, occasioned by the excess
of the people in the use of a kind of food so different from that
on which they had for so many previous months been princi¬
pally fed.
New troubles and discontents continually arose, some of
them even in the family of Moses himself. The immense host
would not be encouraged. They often passed hours in tears,
crying, "Would God that we had died in Egypt."
The general discontent and alarm soon ripened into a most
dangerous insurrection, and at last they formed the monstrous
resolution of appointing a leader to conduct them back to
their bondage in Egypt. They, indeed, went so far as actu¬
ally to appoint a leader for the purpose. "Yerily this race
were well worthy the rods of their Egyptian task-masters, to
whom they were so willing to return," we might say, did we
not consider that it was by these rods that their spirits had
been broken. Spiritless, however, as they were—unfit as they
were for action, and unwilling to be guided, the gross infatu¬
ation of their present course is most amazing. When they
turned to fulfill their desperate purpose, could they expect
that cloud would continue to guide them, the manna to feed
them, and the " flinty rock" to pour forth water for them ?
And, if they were unmindful of these things, what reception
could they expect to meet from the Egyptians—all whose
first-born had been slain, and whose fathers, brothers, and
sons had perished in the Red Sea on their account I They
might well expect that, if their lives were spared by that un¬
forgiving people, their bondage would be made far more
bitter, and their chains far heavier than they ever had
been.
When their intention was announced, Moses and Aaron
fell to the ground on their faces before all the people. Caleb
and Joshua rent their clothes with grief and indignation, and
renewed their former statements and remonstrances ; but so
mad were the people that they were about to stone these
faithful men, and probably Moses and Aaron, who lay pros¬
trate before them, as well, when—in that moment of intense
excitement—the glory of Jehovah appeared in the cloud
MOSES.
135
above the tabernacle, arresting every purpose, and infusing a
new and present fear into every heart.
From that cloud their doom was pronounced. At the
vehement entreaties of Moses their lives were not swept away
at one immediate stroke. But still, it should be even as they
had said. All that generation—all the men above twenty
years of age when they left Egypt—should be cut off from
their portion in that rich inheritance which they had so basely
intended to forego ; they should all die in that wilderness—
all leave their bones amidst its sands and solitudes, among
* O
which it was their doom to wander forty years (dated from
the time of leaving Egypt), until none of them remained
alive. From this extraordinary doom, which fixed to every
man the extreme limit of his possible existence, and avow¬
edly gave time no object but their death, Joshua and Caleb
were excepted. Thus the two on whom they were about to
inflict death, were destined to survive them all, and to become
the chiefs and leaders of the new generation, on whom the in¬
heritance of the promises was to devolve. The other ten
spies, whose discouragements had formed the proximate cause
of the insurrection, were smitten by some sudden death, in
which the people recognized a punishment from G-od.
The people were thus made sensible of the folly of their
past conduct. But this conviction had not, in the first in¬
stance, any salutary operation, for they attributed this doom
to the cowardice they had displayed, rather than to its real
cause—their distrust of the sufficiency of their divine King
to perform the promises he had made. Therefore, with some
hope, perhaps, of reversing the sentence which had been
passed upon them, they valorously determined to attack the
enemy forthwith—for the border Canaanites had already
taken alarm, and, without taking any offensive measures
against so apparently formidable a host as that of the He¬
brews, remained in a state of preparation on the hills, ready
to guard the passes of the country. Moses earnestly dis¬
suaded them from this enterprise, as contrary to the declared
intention of G-od, as well as against his command, that they
should withdraw from the frontier and retire into the desert.
But they persisted; perhaps from a latent desire, in their
136
MOSES.
present fit of desperation, to try whether they might not he
able, even on their own resources, to arrest the doom which
had gone forth against them. They were repulsed by the
Canaanites with great slaughter. The ebullition of courage
under which they had acted would have been but of short
duration, even had it been attended with better success in
the first instance. By their repulse, they were very forcibly
instructed that they were, of themselves, unequal to the con¬
quest of the country ; and were hence induced to yield a
sullen acquiescense in a measure, with which they would
hardly have been satisfied unless this salutary conviction of
their own weakness had been realized.
Thus they turned from the borders of the " pleasant land"
to wander for thirty-eight years in the Arabian wildernesses.
The history of these years is very briefly told in the ori¬
ginal narative. In Numbers xxxiii. there is a list of the prin¬
cipal stations of the Israelites, from the time they left Egypt
till they arrived on the banks of the Jordan. It, therefore,
includes the places of their principal encampment during
these years of wandering. Much pains ha^re been bestowed
by some writers on the investigation of this list, and in the
endeavor to trace the various names which are there given.
The result scarcely seems worth the labor. The names can
not be traced ; and if they could, it appears of little conse¬
quence to know at what places the Hebrew host encamped
while they were wandering to and fro in the deserts, between
the Sinai mountains and the borders of Canaan, without any
definite purpose, save to consume the time and the people, or
to seek an exchange of pasture ground.
The result of this forty years' wandering in the desert,
and of that expurgation, which in its effect left but two men
who were above sixty years of age, must have presented a
body of men, who, physically and morally speaking, were
singularly calculated for the great and arduous enterprises
which lay before them.
The forty years were now well-nigh closed, and all things
were ready for the advance into the Promised Land. Moses
therefore knew the day of ids death could not be distant for
he had been warned that it was not his privilege to lead the
•moses. 137
people who had so long engaged his care into their inherit¬
ance, but only to behold it afar off. Indeed, his years had
already been protracted to the utmost «pan to which man's
life then reached ; but although not less than 120 years old,
his eye was not yet dim nor his natural strength abated. The
last acts of this able and good man Ave shall describe in the
words of Professor Jahn, whose statements it is always a
pleasure to be able to introduce :
" Moses, having directed the Hebrews thus for during his
life, wished to do all in his power to preserve the knowledge
and worship of Jehovah among them after his death. The
people, and even the magistrates, during the forty years of
his administration, were far from being thoroughly imbued
with the spirit of the theocracy which he had established.
They had so often rebelled, and offered sacrifice to idols, that
it became necessary to have all animals slain at the altar, and
under the inspection of the priests. In their journeyings
through the wilderness they had carried with them portable
shrines of Egyptian idols, and it was but a short time since
they had been guilty of the grossest idolatry. It was evi¬
dently necessary that religion should be made to them, as
much as possible, an object of sense ; that it should be so
closely interwoven with the civil institution that it could be
neither forgotten nor perverted ; and it was particularly de¬
sirable that the new generation should be made to perceive
the nature of their polity, and the relation in which they
stood to the true G-od.
" Moses accordingly wrote for the people an earnest ex¬
hortation to obedience, in which he alluded to the instances
of the kindness, severity, and providence of God, which the »
Hebrews had already experienced ; he exhibited in a strong
light the sanctions of the law ; he repeated the most im¬
portant statutes, and added a few new ones to the code.
These exhortations (which compose his fifth book, or Deuter¬
onomy) he delivered to the magistrates as his farewell address,
at a time when their minds were well prepared to receive
wholesome instruction by the accomplishment of the divine
promises which had already commenced. The genealogists,
138
MOSES. *
each, in his own circle, communicated all to the people, in¬
cluding the women and the children.
"That the latest generations might have-a visible and
permanent memorial of their duty, he directed that, after
they had taken possession of Canaan, the law (or at least its
fundamental principles, and the first development of its sanc¬
tions, as exhibited in Exodus, xx.—xxiv.) should he engraved
on pillars of stone, plastered with lime, and that these pillars
should be erected with appropriate solemnity at Shechem on
Mount Ebal, or, more probably, Mount Gerizim. On this oc¬
casion the priests were to utter particular imprecations against
all the secret transgressors of the law, to which the people
were to assent by responding 'Amen!' at the end of each
imprecation.
"Moses then developed a second time, and still more
minutely than before, the conditions on which Jehovah, their
God and King, would govern them. He cast a prophetic
glance into the most distant futurity, while he declared the
different destinies which awaited them to the latest genera¬
tions, according to their conduct in regard to the law. In full
view of these conditions, and in order to impress them the
more deeply on their minds, he caused the whole people, even
the women and children, again to take a solemn oath of obedi¬
ence ; and that, not only for themselves, but also for their
posterity.
" The official duties of Moses were now closed. He com¬
missioned Joshua, not as his successor, but as a military leader
divinely appointed, to be the conqueror of the land of Canaan,
and to portion it out among the victors. He delivered to the
priests the whole book of the law, that they might deposit it
in the sanctuary with the ark of the covenant. He also left
them a song, in which he represented in the most vivid man¬
ner the perverseness of the nation, their future disobedience
and punishment, repentance and pardon. This song the He¬
brews were to commit to memory, that they might be aware
of the consequences of disobedience, and that, when the threat-
enings were fulfilled, they might think of the law and return
to their duty. Finally, he viewed the land of Canaan from
Nebo, the summit of Mount Pisgah; and then this great
MOSES.
139
man, and distinguished servant of God, was gathered to his
fathers.
u By the institutions which he introduced for the pres¬
ervation of the knowledge of God, he was the means of con¬
ferring an invaluable favor, not only on the Hebrews, hut on
tlie whole human race ; a favor for which no wise or good
man can withhold from him Vis gratitude, whatever objections
he may imagine can be brought against some of his laws."
CHAPTER VI.
saul.
Saul was the son of Kish of the tribe of Benjamin, and
was elected the first king of the Israelites. He was horn
1096 B. C.
It is very important to notice that the election of Saul
was by no means unconditional, or to such unrestricted regal
power as is usually exercised in the East. In fact, the Hebrew
monarchy, as now established, is, we believe, the only exam¬
ple which the history of the East can offer of a limited con¬
stitutional government. Such of these limitations as neces¬
sarily resulted from the peculiar position of the king, as the
regent or vicegerent of a spiritual and Almighty King, have
already been pointed out. But besides these, there were other
conditions not so necessarily resulting from this position, but
judged essential to the welfare of the state and to the objects
of its institution. And these were specially and formally guar¬
antied ; and, together with the others, unquestionably formed
what, in the language of modern politics, would be called "the
constitution" of the Hebrew monarchy. We are told that
aftthe people had accepted, with acclamations, the king on
whom the lot had fallen, Samuel " told the people the man¬
ner of the kingdom, and wrote it in a book, and laid it up
before Jehovah." It was thus deposited in the keeping of the
priests, that it might be preserved safely, and that it might
be at all times seen whether the king observed the conditions
on which the crown had been offered to him and accepted by
him. Here, then, we have not only a constitution, but a writ¬
ten charter. We do not indeed know what powers it conferred
upon the king, or what restraints it imposed upon his will)
we only know that his authority was far less absolute than
that of other ancient oriental kings. It may, indeed, with-
SAUL.
141
out difficulty be concluded, that they were conformable to
those foundations for a limited monarchy which had long be¬
fore been laid by Moses, who was enabled to foresee and pro¬
vide for the exigency which now occurred.
After his election at Gilgal, the king returned to his own
home at Gibeah, where such " presents" were brought him by
the people as oriental kings usually receive, and which form
no inconsiderable portion of their ordinary revenue. As the
product of these offerings was probably more than adequate
to the present wants and expectations of the king, who as yet
assumed no regal state, the question as to the permanent sup¬
port of the kingly government was not yet pressed upon the
attention of either the people or the king. The discontented
parties, however, " brought him no presents." Saul took no
notice of their insults, but wisely "held his peace."
Very soon after Saul's election, the Ammonites, under their
king Nahash, marched into the old disputed territory beyond
Jordan, and laid siege to the important city of Jabesh Gilead.
The inhabitants, avowing their impotence, offered to submit
to the condition of paying tribute to the Ammonites ; but
the insulting and barbarous king refused to receive their sub¬
mission on any other terms than that the right eye of every
one of them should be extinguished, that they might remain
as so many living monuments of his victory. Here again was
a barbarity of which the Israelites were ftever guilty, even in
thought. The people of Jabesh Gilead were so distressed that
they dared not absolutely refuse even these merciless condi¬
tions, but besought a grace of seven days for deliberation.
This they did with the hope that the tribes on the other side
the river might, in the interval, be roused by the news to ap¬
pear for their deliverance. Nor was their hope in vain. Saul
no sooner received the intelligence than he at once and decid¬
edly stood up in his position of a hero and a king, claiming
the obedience of the people, whom he summoned to follow
him to the deliverance of Jabesh Gilead. This call was readily
obeyed; for it ran in the names of Saul and Samuel, and was
conveyed in that imperative and compulsory form which it
was not, under any circumstances, judged safe to disobey.
]Jor he hewed a yoke of oxen in pieces, and sent the pieces by
142
SAUL.
the hands of swift messengers to all Israel, calling them, by
all the penalties of that well-known and dreaded sign, to fol¬
low him. All Israel obeyed with one consent. All the men,
of age to bear arms, quitted their several labors, and hastened
from all parts to the plain of Bezek, where Saul, numbering
his army, found it to consist of 330,000 men, of whom 30,000
were of Judah, which seems rather an inadequate proportion
for so large a tribe. It being already the sixth day, Saul sent
to apprise the citizens of Jabesh Grilead of the help which was
preparing for them, and which they might expect to receive
on the morrow, being the very day they were to surrender
their eyes to the Ammonites.
Accordingly, in the morning, the king, having marched
all night, appeared before Jabesh, at the head of his army,
invested the camp of the Ammonites, and falling upon them
on three different sides, overthrew them with a great slaugh¬
ter. So complete was the rout, that those who escaped were
so broken and dispersed that no two could be found together.
Saul in this action displayed a large measure of those
heroic qualities which the ancient nations most desired their
monarchs to possess. Considering all the circumstances, the
promptitude and energy of his decision, the speed with which
he collected an immense army and brought it into action, and
the skill and good military conduct of the whole transaction,
there are probably feV operations of the Hebrew history which
more recommend themselves to the respect and admiration of
a modern soldier. Its effect was not lost upon the people,
who joyfully recognized in their king the qualities which have
generally been held most worthy of rule ; and so much was
their enthusiasm excited, that they began to talk of putting
to death the small minority who had refused to recognize his
sovereignty. But Samuel interposed to prevent an act un¬
becoming a day in which " the Lord had wrought salvation
in Israel/' So harsh a proceeding would also have been rather
likely to provoke than allay the disaffection of the leading
tribes.
Samuel then invited the army, which comprehended in
fact the effective body of the Hebrew people, to proceed to
Grilgal, there solemnly to confirm the kingdom to Saul, seeing
SAUL.
143
that now his claims were undisputed "by any portion of the
people. This was done with great solemnity, and with abun¬
dant sacrifices of peace and joy.
Saul, now fully established as king, dismissed his numer¬
ous army ; but he retained 3,000 of their number, 2,000 of
which he stationed at Miclimash and Bethel, under his own
immediate orders, while the other thousand were at Gibeah
of Benjamin, under his eldest son Jonathan. Josephus says
that these formed the body-guard of himself and his son.
Jonathan being in southern Palestine, and acting doubt¬
less by the orders of his father, attacked and overcame with
his thousand men the Philistine garrison in Gibeah. Encour¬
aged by this success, Saul caused open war to be proclaimed,
by sound of trumpet, against the Philistines ; and to assert his
authority over the tribes beyond Jordan, who were but too
apt to regard their interests as separate from those of the
other tribes, and who might think themselves exempt from
taking part in a war against a people whose oppressions had
not extended to themselves, Saul directed the proclamation
to be ir^de not only " throughout all the land," but in a spe¬
cial manner it included those beyond Jordan. They did not
disobey, but came with the other Israelites, from all quar¬
ters, to the standard of the king at Gilgal. The people gen¬
erally, though destitute of proper military weapons, were
much inspirited by the success of Jonathan, and by their con¬
fidence in the now tried valor and military conduct of the
king-
Meanwhile the Philistines were not heedless of this move¬
ment among the Israelites. No sooner did they hear of the
defeat of their garrison in Gibeah than they assembled a for¬
midable force, which seemed sufficient to overwhelm all oppo¬
sition. It was composed of 30,000 chariots of war, 6,000
horsemen, and " people as the sand which is on the sea-shore
in multitude." The enthusiasm of the disarmed Israelites
evaporated in presence of this powerful force ; and the army
of Saul diminished every day, as great numbers of the men
stole away to seek refuge in caves, in woods, in rocks, in
towers, and in pits. He probably thought that the aggres¬
sions of the Philistines, and their existing position as the op-
144
SAUL.
pressors of Israel, and their intrusion into the Hebrew terri¬
tory, made his undertaking so obviously just and patriotic as
to render a direct authorization superfluous, as its refusal
could not be supposed : nor are we quite sure that in this he
was mistaken. Be this as it may, Samuel was not willing
that such a precedent should be established; and therefore he
had appointed to meet Saul on a particular day at Gil gal, to
offer burnt-offerings and peace-offerings, and to show him
what he should do, that is, both to propitiate the Lord, as on
other occasions, and to advise Saul how to act in carrying on
the war. On the appointed day Samuel did not arrive as soon
as the king expected. The prophet probably delayed his
coming on purpose to test his fidelity and obedience. Saul
failed in this test. Seeing his force hourly diminishing by
desertions ; and, in the pride of his fancied independence,
considering that he had as much right as the Egyptian and
other kings to perform the priestly functions, he ordered the
victims to be brought, and offered them himself upon the
altar.
The king and the prophet then met, and Samuel highly
disapproved of Saul's conduct. The king, then, aided by
Jonathan, conducted the war against the Philistines with
varied success, but, in the end, with glory to himself. He
also waged war in turn against Moab, Ammon, and Edom.
The several expeditions of Saul against the enemies of
Israel took up, at intervals, the space of five or six years.
During these years, Samuel, without further interference in
political affairs, continued to watch the civil interests of the
people, and to administer justice between them. The au¬
thority which he still preserved in Israel was very great, and
probably not considerably less than it had been at any former
time.
About the tenth or eleventh year of Saul's reign, God
made known to the prophet that the iniquity of the Amale-
kites had now reached its height, and that the time was fully
come when the old sentence of utter extermination should be
executed. Saul was charged with its execution ; and his
commission, as delivered to him by Samuel, was expressed in
the most absolute terms, and left the king no option to spare
SAUL.
145
aught that breathed. Under this supreme order, the king
made a general call upon all the tribes, which brought to¬
gether an army of 200,000 men, among whom there were but
10,000 men of Judah. The deficiency of that tribe in supply¬
ing its due proportion is probably not noticed by the historian
on this and on a former occasion, without some object ; and
that object probably was to convey the intimation that since
the scepter had been of old promised to that tribe, it was dis¬
contented at the government of Saul, and less hearty than
the other tribes in its obedience.
The king led his army into the territory of Amalek.
There he made the most able disposition of his forces, seized
the most favorable positions, and then turned his advantages
against the enemy. A general action followed, in which the
Israelites were victorious, and they pursued the Amalekites to
their most distant and last retreats. Agag, the king, was
taken alive with all his riches. Blinded by his ambition and
his avarice to the danger of acting in defiance of a most posi¬
tive and public command from God himself, Saul determined
to spare the life of Agag, and to preserve the most valuable
parts of all the booty from destruction ; but with a most in¬
sulting or weak mockery of obedience, " every thing that was
vile and refuse, that they utterly destroyed." This led to
serious results, and caused Samuel to part from and to de¬
nounce Saul.
When the prophet and the king separated, the former
proceeded to his usual residence at Ramah, and went no more
to see Saul to the day of his death. Yet as he had a great
regard for a man who, with all his faults, had many good
natural qualities which would well have fitted him for rule
in a simple human monarchy, and who, moreover, was faith¬
ful and even zealous for Jehovah, as his God, however de¬
ficient in obedience to him as his King, the prophet con¬
tinued long to mourn greatly for him, and to bewail the doom
which it had been his painful duty to declare.
After fifteen years, the Lord rebuked Samuel for this use¬
less repining, and commanded him to proceed to Bethlehem,
there to anoint the man worthier than Saul, whom he had
chosen to fill his forfeited place, and to become the founder
10
SAUL.
of a royal house. This was a delicate mission ; for Samuel
knew enough of Saul to fear that he would not scruple to put
even himself to death if the fact came to his knowledge. He
therefore vailed his real object under the form of a public sac¬
rifice, which, in his prophetic character, he had a right to en¬
join. That he still retained his authority as- civil judge is
evinced by the alarm which his unexpected visit occasioned
to the elders of Bethlehem, who " trembled" at his coming,
for fear it should be not "peaceably," but in judgment.
The family to which Samuel was sent was that of J esse,
the grandson of Boaz and Ruth, and, as such, a person of
consideration in that place. Jesse was the father of eight
sons, all of whom were present in Bethlehem, save the young¬
est, David by name, who was abroad with his father's flock.
The whole family was invited by the prophet to be present at
his sacrifice. Samuel knew that the destined king was to be
found among Jesse's sons, but knew not as yet for which of
them that distinction was intended. Still influenced by those
general prepossessions in favor of such personal qualities as
he had formerly beheld in Saul with complaceny and admira¬
tion, Samjiel no sooner beheld the commanding and stately
figure of Jesse's eldest son, Eliab, than he concluded that
" the Lord's anointed was before him." For this he received
the striking rebuke, " Look not on his countenance, or on the
height of his stature ; because I have refused him : for Je¬
hovah seeth not as man seeth ; for man looketh on the out¬
ward appearance, but Jehovah looketh on the heart." It
further appeared that no one of the other sons of Jesse then
present was the object of the divine choice. On this, Samuel,
with some surprise^ asked Jesse whether he had other sons ;
and learning that the youngest, a mere youth of fifteen years
old, was abroad in the fields, he caused him to be sent for.
When he arrived, Samuel was struck by his uncommonly
handsome appearance, especially by a freshness of complexion
unusual in that country, and by the singular fire and beauty
of his eyes. The divine choice was at once intimated to him,
" Arise, anoint him : for this is he !" As in the case of Saul
himself, this precious anointing was significant only of the
divine intention and choice. As Saul had returned to his
SAUL. 147
•
fields, so David returned to his flock. The pat,]} to the I
throne was to be opened by circumstances which did not yet
appear. The anointing was the sign and seal of an ultimate
intention. For the present, David was not more a king, nor
Saul less one, than before.
The doom of exclusion had been pronounced upon Saul at
a time when he was daily strengthening himself on the throne,
and increasing in power, popularity, and fame ; and when
his eldest son, Jonathan, stood, and deserved to stand, so
high in the favor of all the people, that 110 man could, accord¬
ing to human probabilities, look upon any one else as likely
to succeed him in the throne. But when the excitement of
war and victory had subsided, and the king had leisure to
consider and brood over the solemn and declaredly irrevocable
sentence which the prophet had pronounced, a very serious
effect was gradually produced upon his mind and character ;
for he was no longer prospered and directed by God, but left .
a prey to his own gloomy mind. The consciousness that he
had not met the requirements of the high vocation to which,
when he was little in his own sight, he had been called, to¬
gether with the threatened loss of his dominion and the pos¬
sible destruction of his house, made him jealous, sanguinary,
and irritable, and occasionally threw him into fits of the most
profound and morbid melancholy. This is what, in the lan¬
guage of Scripture, is called "the evil spirit" that "troubled
him." That it was not a case of demoniacal possession, as
some have been led by this form of expression to suppose, is
obvious from the effects to which we shall presently advert.
Nor was it needful ; for, as acting upon the character of man,
earth contains not a more evil spirit than the guilty or
troubled mind abandoned to its own impulses.
Not long after David had been anointed by Samuel, the
mental malady of Saul gathered such strength, the fits of
his mad melancholy became so long and frequent, that some
remedial measures appeared necessary. Kemembering that
Saul had always been remarkably sensible to the influence of
sweet sounds, it occurred to his friends that it might be
attended with good effects, were an able niusician retained at
court, to play before the king, when his fits of gloom and
148
SAUL.
horror came upon him. Saul himself approved of this advice,
and directed that a person with the suitable qualifications
should be sought. This reminded one of the courtiers how
skillfully and sweetly he had heard the youngest son of Jesse
play upon the harp ; and in mentioning this to the king he
also took occasion to commend David as a young man of
known valor, prudent in conduct, and very comely in his
person.
Saul himself, ignorant that in him he beheld the " man
worthier than "himself," on whom the inheritance of his
throne was to devolve, received the youthful minstrel with
fervor ; and, won by his engaging disposition and the beau¬
ties of his mind and person, not less than by the melody of
his harp, became much attached to him. The personal brav¬
ery of David, also, did not long remain unnoticed by the
veteran hero, who soon elevated him to the honorable and
confidential station of his armor-bearer—having obtained
Jesse's consent to allow his 'son to remain in attendance
upon him. His presence was a great solace and relief to
Saul; for whenever he fell into his fits of melancholy, David
played on his harp before him; and its soft and soothing strains
soon calmed his troubled spirit, and brought peace to his soul.
David having slain the giant Goliath, which achievement
won for David the highest honor, while it filled the king with
envy, the monarch now discovered that his daughter Michal
was in love with him.
This was far from displeasing him, as he thought it gave
him an opportunity of entrapping the son of Jesse to his own
estruction. He promised her to him, but on the condition
of so difficult an enterprise against the Philistines as he fully
expected would ensure his death. But David, always victo¬
rious, returned in a few days with more numerous pledges of
his valor than the king had ventured to demand; and he was
then married to Michal, who could not with any decency be
refused to him.
In some subsequent actions against the Philistines, with
whom a desultory warfare was still carried on, David displayed
such courage and military skill as greatly increased his re¬
nown in Israel, and increased in the same proportion the ani-
SAUL. 149
mosity of Saul. His hate became at last so ungovernable that
he could no longer confine the dark secret to his own bosom,
or limit himself to underhand attempts against the life of
Jesse's son. He avowed it to his son Jonathan and to his
courtiers, charging them to take any favorable opportunity
of putting him to death. He knew not yet of the strong
attachment which subsisted between Jonathan and David—
that his noble son, rising far above all selfishness, pride, or
envy, loved the son of Jesse even "as his own soul." He
heard the command with horror, and apprised David of it,
counseling him to hide himself until he should have an op¬
portunity of remonstrating on the subject privately with the
king. This he did with such effect, displaying the services
and fidelity of David with such force, that the better reason
of Saul prevailed for the time, and he solemnly swore to make
no further attempt against his life.
But not long after, all the evil passions of Saul were
again roused by the increased renown which David obtained
by a splendid victory over the Philistines. He had scarce
returned to court before he had a narrow escape of being
pinned to the wall by a javelin which the king threw at him
in one of those fits of frenzied melancholy which the son of
Jesse was at that moment endeavoring to soothe by playing on
his harp.
The remainder of the life of Saul presents a sad illustra¬
tion of one who had wandered from the right path, who dis¬
obeyed the commands of the most high God, and was in turn
deserted by him.
David was forced to flee from Saul's wrath, and for long
years suffered from his resentment.
At length the time came when the word of the Lord was
to be fulfilled, and the kingdom to pass from Saul and his
descendants. He was to be overcome by 4he Philistines.
The hour approached, and the appearance of the Philistines
against the Israelites was one of those large operations which
nations can in general only undertake after long intervals of
rest. There seems, indeed, during the reign of Saul, to have
been always a sort of desultory and partial warfare between
the two nations ; but it had produced no measure compara-
150
SAUL.
ble to this, which was intended to he decisive, and was calcu¬
lated to tax to the utmost the resources of the belligerents.
When Saul surveyed, from the heights of Gilboa, the formid¬
able army which the Philistines had brought into the plain of
Esdraelon—that great battle-field of nations—his heart failed
him, Presentiments of coming events cast deep shadows over
his troubled mind. He sought counsel of God. But God had
forsaken him—left him to his own devices—and answerecL him
" neither by dreams, nor by urim, nor by prophets."
The crimes of Saul arose from his disloyalty to Jehovah,
in his Reluctance to acknowledge him as the true king of
Israel. But as his God, he worshiped him, and had no tend¬
ency towards those idolatries by which so many subsequent
kings were disgraced. All idolatry and idolatrous acts were
discouraged and punished by him. In obedience to the law,
he banished from the land all the diviners and wizards he
could find. But now, in his dismay, he directed his attend¬
ants to find out a woman skillful in necromancy, that he might
seek through her the information which the Lord refused to
give. One was found at Endor, a town not far from the camp
in Gilboa ; and to her he repaired by night, disguised, with
two attendants, and desired her to evoke the spirit of Samuel,
that, in this dread emergency, he might ask counsel of him.
He had been dead two years. Whatever might be the na¬
ture of the woman's art, and her design in undertaking to
fulfill his wish—whether she meant to impose on Saul by get¬
ting some accomplice to personate Samuel, who had only been
dead two years, and whose person must have become well
known to the Israelites during his long administration—or
whether she expected a demoniacal* spirit to give him an an¬
swer ; it appears from a close examination of the text, that,
to the great astonishment of the woman herself, and before
she had time t<j utter any of her incantations, the spirit of
Samuel was permitted to appear, in a glorified form, and
ominously clad in that mantle in which was the rent that
signified the rending of the kingdom from the family of Saul.
When the figure appeared, the king knew that it was Samuel,
and bowed himself to the ground before him. From that
awful and passionless form he heard that the doom declared
SAUL.
151
long since was now to be accomplished ; to-morrow Israel
should be given up to the sword of the Philistines—to-mor¬
row Saul and his sons should be numbered with the dead.
At these heavy tidings, the king fell down as one dead, for he
had touched no food that night or the preceding day, and was
with difficulty restored to his senses and refreshed by the wo¬
man and his attendants.
The next day all that had been foretold was accomplished.
Israel fled before the Philistine archers ; and Saul and his
sons, unable to stem the retreating torrent, fled also. The
three sons of the king, Jonathan, Abinadab, and Melchi-shua,
were slain.
Saul himself was grievously wounded by the archers ; and
that he might not fall alive ipto the hands of the Philistines,
and be subjected to their insults, he desired his armor-bearer
to strike him through with his sword ; and the example was
followed by the armor-bearer, when he beheld his lord lying
dead before him. " So Saul died, and his three sons, and his
armor-bearer, and all his men, that same day together."
il
CHAPTER VII.
david.
We have already mentioned in the foregoing chapter some¬
thing of the birth and parentage of David. The great achieve¬
ment by which he won his early fame was his battle with Go¬
liath. On one occasion the Philistines commenced the war
by invading the territory of Jmdah. Saul marched against
them, and the two armies encamped in the face of each other
on the sides of opposite mountains, which a valley separated.
While thus stationed, the Hebrews were astonished and ter¬
rified to behold a man of enormous stature, between nine and
ten feet high, advance from the camp of the Philistines,
attended by his armor-bearer. His name was Goliath. He
was arrayed in complete mail, and armed with weapons pro¬
portioned to his bulk. He stood forth between the hosts, and,
as authorized by the Philistines, who were confident that his
match could not be found, proposed, with great arrogance of
language, that the question of tribute and servitude should be
determined by the result of a single combat between himself
and any champion which might be opposed to him. The Is¬
raelites were quite as much dismayed at the appearance of
Goliath, and at the proposal which he made, as the Philis¬
tines could have expected, or as the Philistines themselves
would have been under the same circumstances. No heart in
Israel was found stout enough to dare the encounter with this
dreadful Philistine; nor was any man then present willing to
take on his single arm the serious consequences of the possi¬
ble result. Then finding that no one of riper years or higher^
pretensions offered himself to the combat, David presented
"himself before Saul, whom he attended as his armor-bearer,
and said, " Let no man's heart fail because of him ; thy
servant will go and fight with this Philistine." But Saul
DAVID.
153
told him that he was unequal to such a contest, " for thou
art but a youth, and he a mail of war from his youth/' The
reply of David was equally forcible and modest: " Thy serv¬
ant tended his father's flock ; and when there came a lion or
a bear and took a lamb out of the flock, then I pursued him
and smote him, and snatched it from his mouth ; and if ho
rose against me, I caught him by the beard, and smote him,
and slew him. Both lions and bears hath thy sertaut smit¬
ten, and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of
them. Let me go and smite him, and take away the reproach
from Israel; for who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he
should defy the host of the living God ?" Ho added, " Je¬
hovah, who delivered me from the power of lions and bears,
will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine." Saul had
been too little accustomed to this mode of speaking and feel¬
ing not to be struck by it. Although he had himself not
been prone to exhibit military confidence in God, be perceived
that such a confidence now supplied the only prospect of suc¬
cess ; he therefore said, " Go; and may Jehovah be with thee !"
He would fain have arrayed him in his own complete armor ;
but David rejected this as an incumbrance, and stepped lightly
forward in his ordinary dress, and without sword, or shield, or
spear, having only in his right hand a sling—with the use of
which early pastoral habits had made him familiar—and in
his left a little bag, containing five smooth pebbles picked up
from the small brook that then meandered, and still mean¬
ders, through the valley of Elah. The giant was astonished,
and felt insulted that a mere youth should be sent forth to
contend with so redoubted a champion as himself; and avail¬
ing himself of the pause whicli the ancient champions were
wont to take to abuse, threaten, and provoke each other, he
cried, " Am I a dog, that thou comest to me with staves ?"
He then cursed him by his god, and, like the old Homeric
heroes, threatened to give his flesh to the fowls of the air
and to the beasts of the field. David's reply, conceived
in the finest and truest spirit of the theocracy, at once sat¬
isfies us that we behold in him the man fit to reign over the
peculiar people. 11 Thou comest to me with a sword, and
with a spear, and with a shield ; but I come to thee in the
154 DAVID.
name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel,
whom thou hast defied. This day will Jehovah deliver thee
into mine hand ; and I will smite thee, and take thine head
from thee; and I will give the carcase.s of the host of the
Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the wild
"beasts of the earth ; that all the earth may Tcnow that there is
a God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that Je¬
hovah savtth not with sword and spear; for the battle is Je-
hovah's, and he will give you into our hands." On this, the
enraged giant strode forward, and David hastened to fit a
stone to his sling ; and he flung it with so true an aim that
it smote the Philistine in the only -vulnerable part that was
not cased in armor, his forehead, and buried itself deep in his
brain. He then ran and cut off the monster's head with his
own sword, thus fulfilling the prediction he had just uttered.
A few minutes after he had gone forth, he returned and laid
the head and sword of the giant at the feet of Saul.
The overthrow of their champion struck a panic into the
Philistines. They fled, and were pursued with great slaugh¬
ter, even to their own country, by the Israelites, who then
returned and plundered their camp.
After the death of Saul, his crown and armlet were brought
and laid before David. Our limits will permit us to give only
a few pages on this celebrated king.
With the approbation of the Lord, whom he consulted,
David now removed, with his family and friends, to Hebron,
where the rulers of the tribe of Judah, with views altogether
theocratical, awarded the scepter to him, as one whom God
had already designated as king. David was at this time
thirty-three years of age.
The first act of David's reign was to undertake the reduc¬
tion of the fortress of Jebus, on Mount Zion, which had
remained in the hands of the natives ever since the days of
Joshua, and which, as Josephus reports, had been, from its
situation and its fortifications, hitherto deemed impregnable.
It is supposed that David first gave the name Jerusalem •
(the possession of peace) to the city, but this is not quite cer¬
tain. On Mount Zion he fixed his residence, and erected a
palace and other buildings \ and it was on this account called
— — — - A
DAVID. 155
" the city of David." This strong part of the whole metrop¬
olis ever after remained what may be called the royal quarter
of the town.
And now, when David had a respite from war, about the
tenth year of his reign, he thought of the ark of God, which
had so long remained in the house of Abinadab, at Kirjath-
jearim, and contemplated its removal to Jerusalem, that the
place which had now become the capital of the human king¬
dom, might also become the capital of the invisible King.
The design being received with approbation by the ciders and
chiefs of Israel whom he consulted, the king prepared for its
execution, by dispatching messengers throughout all Israel,
to summon all the priests and Levites, and to invite as many
of the people as were so disposed, to attend the solemnity.
He also prepared a tabernacle to receive the ark on its arrival.
Accordingly, at the appointed time, the ark was removed
from the house of Abinadab, upon a new cart, attended by
David and his court, by a large body of priests and Levites,
who sang and played on various instruments of music, and
by a numerous concourse of people from all parts of the king¬
dom. The irregularity of removing it on a cart gave occasion
to an accident, attended with such fatal consequences as threw
an effectual damp upon the joy of the solemnity : for the cart
being at one place much shaken by the oxen, the officious
Uzzah, the son or grandson of Abinadab, was struck dead
upon the spot for putting forth his hand to stay the ark,
none but the priests being warranted to touch it under pain
of death. This event struck David and the people with such
consternation, that the intention of taking the ark to Jeru-
salem was relinquished, and it was left in the house of a Le-
vite named Obed-edom, near which the circumstance occurred.
But about three months after, hearing that the blessing of
Jehovah had very evidently rested on the house in which the
ark lay, the king hastened to complete his design. He per¬
ceived the former improprieties, and directed that the priests
should now bear the ark upon their shoulders ; and the whole
solemnity was placed under the direction of Chenaniah, the
chief of the Levites, who was found to be best acquainted
i with the proper observances. This was a great day in Israel.
156 DAVID.
Nothing was omitted by which, the occasion could be honored.
In the presence of that sacred symbol of the divine King,
David laid aside his royal mantle, and appeared in snch a
garb as the Levites wore, with and before whom he went, as
one of them; and as they sang and played the triumphant
song, which he had composed for the occasion, he accompanied
them with his renowned harp, and danced to the joyful sounds
it gave forth.
About five years after this, and the fifteenth of David's
reign, when the king had finished and inhabited his palace of
cedar, " and G-od had given him rest round about from all his
enemies/' he meditated a design of building a temple to Je¬
hovah, in place of the temporary tabernacle which he had
provided. This design he mentioned to the prophet Nathan,
to whom it seemed so obviously proper that he gave it much
commendation and encouragement. But the night following,
a message from God to David was delivered to him. This
message declared it seemly that the temple of G-od should
be built by a man of peace ; but his life had been spent in
warfare, and he had shed much blood. He was therefore
directed to leave the accomplishment of his plan to his son
and successor, whose reign should be one of peace. Never¬
theless, it was well for David that this intention had been
formed ; for the Lord, to testify his approbation of this and
other evidences of his zeal, and of his attachment to the prin¬
ciples of the theocracy, promised to make his name as great
as the names of the great ones who are on the earth ; and,
far beyond this, the Lord promised to build him a house, by
establishing the succession in his house, and by granting to
his posterity an eternal kingdom. The gratitude with which
this promise was received by David seems to show he had
some conception of its extensive import. He went, and seat¬
ing himself most reverently on the ground, before the ark,
poured forth the strong expression of his gratitude. Now it
is evident that under an express promise of this nature, all
succeeding kings of the line of David were virtually chosen
and appointed by Jehovah, according to the essential law of
the government. David literally became a " king of kings,"
and his fame extended into far countries. Some states which *
'L -J
DAVID. 157
had been at hostilities with the states conquered by him sent
splendid embassies, with valuable gifts, to congratulate him
on his successes. Among these, Toi, the king of Hamah,
upon the Orontes, who had been at war with Hadadezer, is
particularly mentioned. He sent his own son Joram "to
salute" and " bless" king David, and to deliver costly gifts,
such as vessels and utensils of gold, silver and fine brass. All
the surplus wealth thus acquired from the states he conquered,,
or from those which sought his friendship and alliance, was
treasured up by him for the great work which he had so much
at heart, and which his son was destined to execute.
But of all David's foreign alliances, the earliest and most
O /
valuable was that of Hiram, king of Tyre. This had been
formed very soon after David had taken Jerusalem and de¬
feated the Philistines, and seems to have been sought by
Hiram ; for it will be remembered that David was famous in
the closely-neighboring states before he became king ; and no
doubt not only his eminent public qualities, but his remark¬
able personal history was familiar not less to the Phoenicians
than to the Philistines. And although an enterprising com¬
mercial and skillful manufacturing nation, like them, would
be disposed to look down upon a people so inferior to them¬
selves as the Hebrews in the finer and larger arts of social life
—military talents and success, and such heroic qualities as the
character of David offered, have never yet failed to be appre¬
ciated, wherever found. Hiram " was ever a lover of David,"
and the offered alliance must have been the more gratifying to
him as it came before " his fame went out into all lands, and
the Lord brought the fear of him upon all nations." This
alliance was one of mutual advantage. Tyre possessed but a
narrow strip of r^aritime territory, the produce of which, if
sedulously cultivated, would have been very inadequate to
the supply of its teeming population and numerous fleets.
But besides this, the absorbing devotion of the Phoenicians v
to commerce and the arts rendered them averse to the slow
pursuits of agriculture, the products of which they could so
much more easily obtain by exchange against the products
of#their foreign traffic and their skill. To them, therefore, it
was a most invaluable circumstance, that behind them lay a
158 DAVID.
country in the hands of a people who had none of the advan¬
tages which were so much prized by themselves, but who had
abundance of corn, wine, oil, and cattle to barter for them.
An alliance cemented by such reciprocal benefits, and undis¬
turbed by any territorial designs or jealousies, was likely to
be permanent, and we know that it tended much to advance
the Hebrews in the arts which belonged to civilized life, and
to promote the external splendor of this and the ensuing
reign. In the present instance Hiram supplied the arthitects
and mechanics, as well as the timber (hewn in Lebanon)
whereby David was enabled to build his palace of cedar, and
to undertake the other works which united the upper and
lower cities, and rendered Jerusalem a strong and comely me¬
tropolis.
One afternoon the king arose from his mid-day sleep, and
walked on the terraced roof of his palace, from the command¬
ing height of which he unhappily caught a view of a woman
bathing. This was the beautiful Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah
the Hittite, who was then serving under Joab at the siege of
Eabbah. The king sent for her, and she became with child
by him. Afflicted at this event, which was so calculated, by
betraying the adulterous connection, to bring upon the woman
the ignominious death which the law demanded, if the hus¬
band should think proper to demand her punishment, David '
sent to desire Joab to send him to Jerusalem, as if with news
of the war, hoping that his presence about this time would
screen, or at least render doubtful, the effects of his own crime.
But Uriah, either, as he professed, thinking the gratifications
of home inconsistent with the obligations of his military ser¬
vice, or suspecting the fidelity of his wife, avoided her during
his stay, and remained publicly among the Ring's attendants.
Disappointed in this device by the proud honor or caution of
Uriah, the king concluded that the life of Bathsheba and his
own character could be only secured by his death. This
therefore he contrived, in concert with the unprincipled Joab,
in such a manner as to make him perish by the sword of the Am¬
monites, although this could not be effected without involving
several other men in the slaughter. David concluded his coin-
plicated crime b^ sending back to Joab, through the messen-
DAVID.
159
gers who brought this intelligence, a hypocritical message of
condolence : " Let not this thing displease thee, for the sioord
devoureth one as well as another." And then, to fill up the*
measure of his successful guilt, he openly took Bathsheba to
wife after the days of her mourning were expired, and she
bore him a son.
But the deed which David had done with so much priv¬
acy, thinking to escape human detection, " displeased Jeho¬
vah ;" and he sent Nathan the Prophet to reprove him. This
he did with much tact, in a well-known and very beautiful
tale of oppression and distress, so framed that the king did
not at the first perceive its application to himself, and which
worked so powerfully upon his feelings that his anger was
kindled against the man, who " had no pity," and he declared
not only that he should, as the law required, make a fourfold
restitution ; but with a severity beyond the law of the case,
pronounced a sentence of death upon him. Instantly the
prophet retorted, " Thou art the man!" In the name of the
Lord, he authoritatively upbraided him with his ingratitude |
and transgression, and threatened him that the sword which
he had privily employed to cut off Uriah should never depart
from his own house, and that his own wives should be pub¬
licly dishonored by his neighbor.
• Convicted and confounded, David instantly confessed his
guilt—"I have sinned against Jehovah !"—and for this speedy
humiliation, without attempting to dissemble or cloak his
guilt, the Lord was pleased to remit the sentence of death
which he had pronounced on himself, and to transfer it to
the fruit of his crime. The child died ; and the Kabbins
remark that three more of David's sons were cut off by
violent deaths, thus completing as it were the fourfold re¬
taliation for the murder of Uriah which he had himself de¬
nounced.
" The fall of David is one of the most instructive and
alarming recorded in that most faithful and impartial of all
histories, the Holy Bible. The remainder of his days were
as disastrous as the beginning had been prosperous."
These things happened about the eighteenth year of
DaVid's reign, and the forty-eighth of his age.
160
DAVID.
Bathsheba bore him a second son. This was Solomon,
who, long before his birth, and long before his mother was
*known to David, had been pointed out, by name, as "the
man of peace," who was to succeed him in the throne, and
through whom his dynasty was to reign in Israel.
But the commencement of the evils threatened upon the
house of David was not long withheld. Amnon, the eldest
of his sons, conceived a violent passion for his Tialf-sister,
Tamar, the full sister of Absalom. By a feigned sickness he
procured her presence in his house, and delayed not to declare
to her his criminal desires; and finding that he could not
persuade her to compliance, he by force effected her dishonor.
Then passing suddenly from a criminal excess of love to an
equal excess of hate, he expelled her ignominiously from his
house. Tamar, in her grief, rent her virginal robe and threw
dust upon her head, and sought the asylum of her brother
Absalom's house ; for, according to the ideas of the East, the
son of the same mother is, more than even the father, the
proper person to protect a female and redress her wrongs.
No man could be more haughty and implacable than Absa-
1 >m ; but he was also deeply politic, and while he received
the unhappy Tamar with tenderness, he desired her to conceal
her grief, seeing that a brother was the cause of it, and to
spend her remaining days in retirement in his house. He*
made no complaint on the subject, and, young as he was, so
well concealed his deep resentment that even Amnon had not
the least suspicion of it. When the news of this villainous fact
came to the ears of David, it troubled him greatly; but being
greatly attached to Amnon, as being his eldest son and prob¬
able successor in the throne, he neglected to call him to ac-
cpunt or to punish him for his transgression. This, we may
be sure, increased the resentment of Absalom, and perhaps
laid the foundation of his subsequent dislike of his father.
Absalom waited full two years cherishing his purposes of
vengeance, and then had Amnon murdered. He then fled to
his grandfather Talmai, king of Geshur, and it was five years
before David received him again.
It would seem that during his retirement Absalom had
formed those designs, for the ultimate execution of which he
DAVID. 161
soon after began to prepare the way, this was no less than to
deprive his father of his crown.
We need not repeat the story of his subsequent rebellion
and death, after a sanguinary battle fought in the forest of
Ephraim, wherein the rebel army was defeated, with the loss
of 20,000 men slain in the battle-field, besides a great num¬
ber of others who perished in the wood and in their flight.
Absalom himself, mounted upon a mule, was obliged to flee
from a party of David's men towards the wood, where the
boughs of a thick oak having taken hold of his bushy hair,
in which he took so much pride, the mule continuing its
speed, left him suspended in the air. The pursuing soldiers,
seeing him in this state, respected the order of the king, and
forbore to smite him; but Joab, who happened to learn
what had occurred, ran and struck three darts through his
body.
On hearing this, " the king was much moved, and went
up to the chamber over the gate, and wept; and as he wept,
thus he said, 10 my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom !
Would Grod I had died for thee, 0 Absalom, my son, my son !' "
And thus he remained in the chamber over the gate, with his
head covered like a mourner, wailing for his son, and obliv¬
ious to all things else.
About the thirty-fourth year of David's reign commenced
a grievous famine, which continued for three successive years.
Now that the Israelites had been weakened by two rebel¬
lions and three years of famine, the Philistines deemed the op¬
portunity favorable for an attempt to shake off their yoke.
They therefore renewed the war about the thirty-seventh year
of David's reign, but were defeated in four engagements, and
finally subdued. In all these engagements the Philistines
exhibited their old passion for bringing gigantic champions
into the field. In the first of these engagements, David him¬
self, notwithstanding his years, shrunk not from the combat
with the giant Izbi-benob ; but he waxed faint, and was in
danger of being slain, had not the brave and trusty Abishai
hastened to his relief, and killed the gigantic Philistine. Af¬
ter this the people would no more allow David to go forth
in person to battle, " that thou quench not the light of Is-
11
162 DAVID.
rael." This war completely extinguished the gigantic race to
which Goliath had belonged.
The numbering of the people was one of the last and
most reprehensible acts of the reign of David. In itself, an
enumeration of the population might be not only innocent
but useful; it was the motive by which the deed was ren¬
dered evil. This motive, so offensive to God, was obviously
supplied by the design of forcing all the Israelites into mili¬
tary service, with a view to foreign conquests ; a design not
only pitiable in so old a man? but in every way repugnant to
both the internal and external polity of the theocratical gov¬
ernment. That the census was not, as in former times, taken
through the priests and magistrates, but by Joab, as com¬
mander-in-chief, assisted by the other military chiefs, suffi¬
ciently indicates the military object of the census ; and if
they were accompanied by the regular troops under their
command, as the mention of their "encamping" leads one to
suspect, it may be seen that the object was known to and
disliked by the people, and that the census could only be
taken in the presence of a military force. Indeed the measure
was repugnant to the wishes of the military commanders
themselves, and was in a peculiar degree abhorrent to Joab,
who saw the danger to the liberties of the people, and gave it
all the opposition in his power, and undertook it reluctantly,
when he found the king adhered to his purpose with all the
obstinacy of age.
David was now advancing towards seventy years of age,
and it appeared from the declining state of his health that
his latter end could not be far off. This made Adonijah, his
eldest surviving son, determine to take measures to secure the
throne, which, had it been hereditary, would naturally have
devolved to him. He doubtless knew that the crown had
been assigned to his younger brother Solomon, and he felt
that this was perhaps his only opportunity of asserting what
he conceived to be his natural rights. Adonijah was a very
handsome man, and he had not at any time been baulked or
contradicted by his father, many of whose sorrows arose from
his excessive indulgence of his children. He now, in appar¬
ent imitation of Absalom, set up a splendid retinue, and
DAVID. 163
>
courted popularity among the people ; and he succeeded in
drawing over to his party Joab, who now at last forsook his
old master, and Abiathar the high-priest, who had shared all
his fortunes. One day, when matters seemed ripe for the
further development of his designs, he made a grand enter¬
tainment at Ain Rogel, the fountain in the king's garden, to
which he invited all the king's sons, with the significant ex¬
ception of Solomon ; and the principal persons in the state,
with the exception of those who were known to be in Solo¬
mon's interest. There he was proclaimed king in tlio usual
form, " God save king Adonijah !" by the powerful party
assembled.
In this important emergency, Nathan the prophet sent
Bathsheba to inform the king of these proceedings, and after¬
wards came in himself and confirmed her account. By both
he was reminded of his previous declarations, that Solomon
was to be his successor in the throne. The old king was
roused to his wonted energy by this intelligence ; he instantly
appointed Nathan the prophet, Zadok the priest, Benaiah,
and his own guards the Cherethites and Pelethites who con¬
tinued faithful, to take Solomon, and conduct him, mounted
on the king's own mule, to the fountain of Gihon, and there
to anoint and proclaim him king. The ceremony was thus
attended with every circumstance which co\ild give it author¬
ity in the eyes of the people, as indicating the intention of
the king, which, it was now well known, was according to the
will of God. There was the mule, which none but David
had ever been seen to ride, and which, he having habitually
ridden, none but a king might ride ; there was the prophet
who could only sanction that which he knew to be the will of
God; there was Zadok, with the holy anointing oil from the
tabernacle ; and there were the guards, whom the people had
been accustomed to see in attendance only on the king. The
whole ceremony was also directed to take place on one of the
most public and frequented roads leading from Jerusalem.
The people were adequately impressed by all these considera¬
tions and circumstances ; they heartily shouted, " God save
king Solomon !" The earth was, as it were, rent with the
rejoicing clamor, mixed with the sounds of trumpets and of
164
DAVID.
pipes. The party of Adonijah heard the noise ; and when
informed of the cause, they were all so struck with consterna¬
tion at the promptitude and effect of this counter-move, that
they dispersed immediately, and slunk away every man to his
own house. Adonijah, seeing himself thus forsaken, and
dreading nothing less than immediate death, fled to the refuge
of the altar (erected on the threshing-floor of Araunah).
Solomon being informed of this, sent to tell him that if b}r
his future conduct he proved himself a worthy man, he would
not hurt a hair of his head; hut at the same time assured
him that any future instance of a disloyal intention would he
fatal to him. On leaving the altar Adonijah went and ren¬
dered his homage to the new king, after which he was ordered
to retire to his own houSq.
David appears to have survived the coronation of Solo¬
mon about six months ; for although he reigned seven years
and six months over Judah, and thirty-three years over all
Israel, yet the whole duration is reckoned only forty years in
2 Samuel, v. 4, 5 ; 1 Chronicles, xxix. 27. The interval he
seems to have employed in the development, for the benefit
of his son, of those plans and regulations which had long be¬
fore been formed and considered in his own mind, and to
which the due effect was afterwards given by his son. These
are fully stated in the first five chapters of the second book
of Chronicles.
David was seventy years of age when he "slept with his
fathers." At that time certainly the period of human life
was reduced to the present standard ; for, in recording his
death at this age, the historian says, " He died in a good old
age, full of days, riches, and honor." He was buried in a
stately tomb, which, according to a touching custom, still
prevalent in the East, he had 'prepared for himself, in that
part of the city (on Mount Zion) which he had covered with
buildings, and which was called after him, "the city of
David."
CHAPTER VIII.
SOLOMON.
King Solomon succeeded his father David in. the year
1030, b. c., when he was about twenty years of age. Never
monarch ascended the throne with greater advantages, or
o o /
knew better how to secure and improve them. Under David,
the kingdom had been much extended* and brought under
good regulations. The arms of the Hebrews had for so many
years been feared by all the neighboring nations, that the
habit of respect and obedience on their part, offered to the
new king the reasonable prospect, confirmed by a divine prom¬
ise, that his reign should be one of peace.
Although Solomon was not the first-born, nor even the
eldest living son of David, but succeeded to the throne through
the special appointment of the Supreme King, Jehovah—
there was one circumstance which, from the usual notions of
the orientals, could not but be highly favorably to him, even
had all his elder brothers been alive. Amnon had been born
before his father became king, and Absalom and Adonijah
while he was king of Judah only ; while Solomon was born
when his father was king over all Israel, and lord over many
neighboring states. And in the East there is a strong pre¬
judice in favor of him who is the son of the king and of the
kingdom, that is, who is born while his father actually reigns
over the states which he leaves at his death. Soon after Solo¬
mon's accession he discovered and crushed another conspiracy
of Adonijah's, aided by the king's own mother, Bathsheba.
By the removal of these dangerous persons, Solomon felt
his throne secured to him. He then sought an alliance worthy
of the rank to which his kingdom had attained. The nearest
power, from an alliance with which even he might derive
honor, was that of Egypt. He therefore demanded and re-
166 SOLOMON.
ceived the daughter of the reigning Pharaoh in marriage.
His new spouse was received by the king of Israel with great
magnificence, and was lodged in " the city of David," until
the new and splendid palace, which he had already com¬
menced, should he completed. That Solomon should thus
contract an alliance, on equal terms, with the reigning family
of that great nation which had formerly held the Israelites in
bondage, was, in the ordinary point of view, a great thing for
him, and shows the relative importance into which the He¬
brew kingdom had now risen. The king is in no part of Scrip¬
ture blamed for this alliance, even in places where it seems
unlikely that blame would have been spared had he been con¬
sidered blameworthy; and as we know that the Egyptians
were idolaters, this absence of blame may intimate that Solo¬
mon stipulated that the Egyptian princess should abandon
the worship of her own gods, and conform to the Jewish law.
This at least was what would be required by the law of
Moses, which the king was not likely (at least, at this time
of his life,) to neglect. Nor need we suppose that the royal
family of Egypt would make much difficulty in this; for,
except among the Israelites, the religion of a woman has
never in the East been considered of much consequence.
Soon after this, the discharge of those judicial duties
which engage so much of the attention of eastern kings, gave
him an opportunity of displaying so much discernment as
satisfied the people of his uncommon endowments, and his
eminent qualifications for his high place. This was his cele¬
brated judgment between the two harlots who both claimed
a living child, and both disclaimed one that had died; in
which he discovered the rightful owner of the living child by
calling forth that self-denying tenderness which always reigns
in a mother's heart. This produced the very best effect
among all the people ; for generally nothing is better under¬
stood and appreciated, popularly, than an acute and able
judicial decision of some difficult point in a case easily under¬
stood, and by which the sympathies are much engaged.
The preparations for the temple had from the first en¬
gaged the attention of Solomon. Among the first who sent
to congratulate him on his succession was Hiram, king of
SOLOMON.
=71
1G7
Tyre, who has already been named as an attached friend and
ally of David. The value of the friendship offered by this
monarch was fully appreciated by Solomon, who returned tho
embassy with a letter, in which he opened the noble design he
entertained, and solicited the same sort of assistance in the
furtherance of it, as the same king had rendered to his father
David, when building his palace. Hiram assented with great
willingness, and performed the required services with such
fidelity and zeal as laid the foundation of a lasting friendship
between the kings, and to the formation of other mutually
beneficial connections between them. The forests of the
Lebanon mountains only could supply the timber required
for this great work. Such of these forests as lay nearest the
sea were in the possession of the Phoenicians ; among whom
timber was in such constant demand, that they had acquired
great and acknowledged skill in the Mling and transportation
thereof, and hence it was of much importance that Hiram
consented to employ large bodies of men in Lebanon to hew
timber, as well as others to perform the service of bringing it
down to the sea-side, whence it was to be taken along the
coast in floats to the port of Joppa, from which place it could
be easily taken across the country to Jerusalem. This por¬
tion of the assistance rendered by Hiram was of the utmost
value and importance. If he had declined Solomon's pro¬
posals, all else 1hat he wanted might have been obtained from
Egypt. But that country was so far from being able to sup¬
ply timber, that it wanted it more than almost any nation.
Solomon also desired that Phoenician artificers of all de¬
scriptions should be sent to Jerusalem, particularly such as
excelled in the arts of design, and in the working of gold, sil¬
ver, and other metals, as well as precious stones ; nor was he
insensible of the value and beauty of those scarlet, purple, and
other fine dyes, in the preparation and application of which
the Tyrians excelled. Men skilled in all these branches of
art were largely supplied by Hiram. He sent also a person
of his own name, a Tyrian by birth, who seems to have been
a second Bezaleel; for his abilities were so great, and his at¬
tainments so extensive and various, that he was skilled not
only in the working of metals, but in all kinds of works in
168
SOLOMON.
wood and stone, and even in embroidery, in tapestry, in dyes,
and the manufacture of all sorts of fine cloth.. And not only
this, but his general attainments in art, and his inventive
powers, enabled him to devise the means of executing, and to
execute, whatever work in art might be proposed to him.
This man was a treasure to Solomon, who made him overseer
not only of the men whom the king of Tyre now sent, but of
his own workmen, and those whom David had formerly en¬
gaged and retained in his employment.
In return for all these advantages, Solomon engaged on
his part to furnish the king of Tyre yearly with 2500 quarters
of wheat, and 150,000 gallons of pure olive oil, for his own
use ; besides furnishing the men employed in Lebanon with
the same com quantities, respectively, of wheat and barley,
and the same liquid quantities of wine and of oil.
Josephus informs us %hat the correspondence on this sub¬
ject between Solomon and Hiram, copies of which are given
by him as well as in the books of Kings and Chronicles, were
in his time still preserved in the archives of Tyre.
Solomon, who certainly had a strong leaning toward arbi¬
trary power, being still in want of laborers, ventured to raise
a levy of 30,000 Israelites, whom he sent to assist the Phoe¬
nician timber-cutters in Lebanon—not all at once, but in al¬
ternate bands of 10,000 each, so that each band returned home
and rested two months out of three. This relief, and the sa¬
cred object of the service, probably prevented the opposition
which the king might otherwise have experienced. For the
more onerous labor in the quarries, Solomon called out the
remnant of the Canaanites, probably with those foreigners (or
their sons) who had been brought into the country as prison¬
ers or slaves during the wars of David, who had, indeed, left
an enumeration of all of them (adult males) for this very pur¬
pose. Their number was 153,600 ; according to the common
custom of the East in such cases, these no doubt labored in
alternate bands, an instance of which has just been given, and
as such service is usually required from persons in their con¬
dition, when any great public work is in progress, this mea¬
sure was doubtless considered less arbitrary, and gave occa¬
sion to less discontent, than we} with, our notions, might be
SOLOMON.
disposed to imagine. Of these strangers, 70,000 were ap¬
pointed to act as porters to the others, and to the Phoenician
artisans. They also probably had the heavy duty of trans¬
porting to Jerusalem the large stones, which 60,000 more of
them were employed in hewing and squaring in the quarries.
Of these the stones intended for the foundation were in im¬
mense blocks ; and, as well as the rest, were probably brought
from no great distance, as quarries of very suitable stones are
abundant in the neighborhood. The stones were squared in
the quarry, to facilitate their removal. It has been a ques¬
tion how such vast blocks of stone as we see in some ancient
buildings were brought to their destination. The remaining
3300 of these strangers were employed as overseers of the rest,
and were, in their turn, accountable to superior Israelite
officers.
Not only were the stones squared and fitted in the quarry,
but the timber was shaped for its use, and every other article
fitted and finished^before it was brought to Jerusalem ; so
that, at last, when the edifice began to be reared with the
materials thus carefully prepared,
" No workman's steel, no pond'rous axes rung;
Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung."
Three years were spent in these preparations ; but, at last,
all was ready, and the foundation of this famous temple was
laid in the fourth year of Solomon's reign (1027 B.C.), in the
second month, and finished in the eleventh year and eighth
month, being a space of seven years and six months.
" The cella of the temple of Solomon, as described in the
first book of Kings, was small, as all those of the Egyptian
temples were, of few parts, but those noble and harmonious.
It was about the same length, but not so wide, as St. Paul's,
Co vent Garden ; this church is a double square inside, the
temple was a treble square ; but one square was divided off
for the oracle, and geometrical proportions thus established.
It was one hundred and sixteen feet three inches long, to
which must be added the pronaos, in the same way as that
of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, nineteen feet four inches and a
half more ; giving a total length of one hundred and thirty-
170
SOLOMON.
five feet seven inches and a half long, by thirty-seven feet six
inches broad, and fifty-eight feet one inch and a half high.
It was surrounded on three sides by chambers in three stories,
each story wider than the one below it, as the walls were nar¬
rowed, or made thinner, as they ascended, by sets-off of eleven
inches on each side, which received the flooring-joists, c as no
cutting was on any account permitted/ Access to these
apartments was given from the right-hand side of the interior
of the temple, by a winding stair-case of stone, such as may be
seen in several of the ancient Nubian temples. A row of
loop-hole windows above the chambers gave light to the cella.
The oracle was an exact square, of thirty-seven feet six inches,
divided from the rest of the temple by a partition of cedar,
thirty-seven feet six inches high, in the center of which was a
pair of folding-doors of olive-wood, seven feet six inches wide,
very richly carved, with palm-trees and open flowers and
cherubim ; the floor of the temple was boarded with fir, the
roof was flat, covered with gold, upon thift: planks of cedar,
supported by large cedar beams. The inside walls and the
ceiling were lined with cedar, beautifully carved, representing
cherubim and palm-trees, clusters of foliage and open flowers,
among which the lotus was conspicuous ; and the whole in¬
terior was overlaid with gold, so that neither wood nor stone
was seen, and nothing met the eye but pure gold, either plain
as on the floor, or richly chased, and enriched with the gems
they had brought from Egypt at the exodus, upon the walls
and ceiling. At a little distance from £ the most holy place,'
like the railing of a communion table, were fixed five massive
gold candelabra, on each side the entrance, and between the
candelabra were chains or wreaths of flowers, wrought in pure
gold, separating even the entrance of the oracle from the body
of the temple. Within the oracle was set the ancient1 ark
of the covenant/ which had preceded them to the Promised
Land, beneath two colossal cherubim, each nineteen feet four
inches and a half high, with immense outspread wings, one
wing of each cherubim touching the other in the middle of
the temple, while the other wings touched the wall on each
side ; before them was the altar of incense, formed of cedar,
and entirely overlaid with refined gold ; and on the sides of
SOLOMON. 171
the temple were arranged ten golden tables, five on each side,
for the exhibition of the shew-bread, besides other tables of
silver, for the display of above one hundred gold vases of va¬
rious patterns, and the censers, spoons, snuffers, etc., used in
the service of the temple. It appears that the inside of the
pronaos was also covered with gold ; from it a grand pair of
folding-doors nine feet four inches and a half wide opened in¬
to the temple. These doors were also overlaid with gold, em¬
bossed in rich patterns of cherubim, and knops and open
flowers ; both pairs of doors had ornamented hinges of gold,
and before the doors of the oracle hung a vail, embroidered
with cherubim, in blue and purple and crimson.
" Hiram, the architect (who was also a king), had sent
over from Tyre his clerk of the works, who superintended
the building till it became necessary to set up the two great
columns of the pronaos ; these were of the usual proportions
of Egyptian columns, being five and a half diameters high, and
as these gave the great characteristic feature to the building,
Solomon sent an embassy to fetch the architect from Tyre to
superintend the moulding and casting of these columns, which
were intended to be of brass ; and observe how conspicuous
is the idea of the vase (the bowl of our translation) rising
from a cylinder ornamented with lotus flowers; the bottom
of the vase was partly hidden by the flowers, the belly of it
was overlaid with net-work, ornamented by seven wreaths,
the Hebrew number of happiness, and beneath the lip of the
vase were two rows of pomegranates, one hundred in each
row ; these superb pillars were eight feet diameter, and forty-
four feet high, supporting a noble entablature fourteen feet
high.
" The temple was surrounded on the north, south, and
east, by the inner or priest's court, which had a triple colon¬
nade around it, and before the western front was the great
court, square and very spacious, having in the midst the great
brazen altar, as wide as the front of the temple itself, viz.,
thirty-seven feet six inches square ; it contained also the
magnificent basin called the ' molten sea,' besides ten other
lavatories, all of splendid workmanship in brass, for our archi¬
tect appears to have a first-rate artist, both in designing and
172
•SOLOMON.
executing, and his materials and talents to have been inade¬
quately rewarded, even by the donation of twenty cities. The
great court had three propylea, with gates of brass, and was
surrounded also with a triple colonnade. Solomon placed his
palace, in imitation of the Egyptian kings, adjoining the
temple, and like them, also assumed the sacerdotal office, pre¬
siding at the consecration of the temple, preaching to the
people, and offering the dedicatory prayer. Magnificent must
have been the sight, to see the young king, clothed in royalty,
officiating as priest before the immense altar, while the thou¬
sands of Levites and priests, on the east side, habited in sur¬
plices, Vith harps, cymbals, and trumpets in their hands, led
the eye to the beautiful pillars flanking the doors of the tem¬
ple, now thrown open and displaying the interior brilliantly
lighted up, while the burnished gold of the floor, the ceiling,
and the walls, with the precious gems with which they were
enriched, reflecting the light on all sides, would completely
overwhelm the imagination, were it not excited by the view
' of the embroidered vail, to consider the yet more awful glories
of the most holy place ; and astounding must have been the
din of the instruments of the four thousand Levites, led on
by the priests with one hundred and twenty trumpets, direct¬
ing the choruses of the immense congregation, as they chanted
the sublime compositions of the royal Psalmist in the grand
intonations of the Hebrew language, like the c roaring of
many waters.'"
As the utensils for the sacred service were similar in de¬
sign and use to those in the tabernacle of Moses, which have
received due attention, it is not necessary to enter into details
respecting those which Solomon provided for his temple. It
may suffice to mention that, seeing it was designed that the
sacred services should be conducted on a larger and more
splendid scale than in former times, the instruments of ser¬
vice were proportionately larger, or more splendid, or more
numerous. The most remarkable of the new utensils was
" the molten sea/' which was destined to occupy the place of
" the brazen laver" of the old tabernacle. It was cast of fine,
brass, a hand's breadth thick, and its border was wrought
" like the brim of a cup, with flowers of lilies/' It was so
SOLOMON"*
173
large as to contain about 15,000 gallons of water. It was
mounted on twelve brazen oxen, which must have given it a
very imposing appearance. The instance proves, by the by,
as do the figures of cherubim so profusely displayed in all
parts of the temple, and the brazen serpent in the wilderness,
that the Hebrews were not forbidden to make images of liv¬
ing creatures, so that they were not designed for any idola¬
trous or superstitious object. Had it been otherwise, nothing
could well have been more suspicious and dangerous than the
figures of oxen, considering the addiction of the Israelites to
the worship of the ox Apis, as evinced by the golden figure
of him which they worshiped in the wilderness, and by those
which wrere ultimately set up in Dan and Bethel. Lions, as
well as oxen and cherubim, were figured on the base of the
smaller lavers which stood in the same (the inner) court of
the temple with the large one.
The temple, with all things destined for its service, and
every arrangement connected twith it, being completed in
seven years, its dedication was celebrated the year after, with
a magnificence worthy of the object and the occasion. All
the chief men in Israel were present—the heads of tribes,
and paternal chiefs, together with multitudes of people from
all parts of the land. The priests, if not the Levites, also
attended in full force, the succession of the courses being
afterwards to commence. G-od himself was pleased to mani¬
fest his presence and his complacency by two striking mira¬
cles :
At the moment when the ark of the covenant, having
been brought in high procession from its former place in " the
city of David," was deposited in the Holy of Holies, the nu¬
merous Levitical choirs thundered forth their well-known
song—sent to the heavens by their united voices, and by the
harmonious concord of a thousand instruments : " Praise Je¬
hovah ! for he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever \"
Suddenly, as at the consecration of the first tabernacle, the
house of God was covered with a thick cloud, which filled it,
and which enveloped all the assistants in such profound ob¬
scurity -that the priests were unable to continue their services.
This was a manifest symbol that God had accepted this
174 'SOLOMON.
as his house, his palace, and that his Presence had entered to
inhabit there. It was so understood by Solomon, whose voice
rose amidst the silence which ensued. " Jehovah said that he
would dwell in the thick darkness. I have surely built thee
an house to dwell in, a settled place for thee to abide in for
ever \" The king stood on a brazen platform which had been
erected in front of the altar ; and now, turning to the people,
he explained the origin and object of the building. After
which "he spread forth his hands" towards the heavens to
address himself to God. The prayer he offered on this occa¬
sion is one of the noblest and most sublime compositions in
the Bible. It exhibits the most exalted conceptions of the
omnipresence of God, and of his superintending providence;
and dwells more especially on his peculiar protection of the
Hebrew nation, from the time of its departure from Egypt,
and imploring pardon and forgiveness for all their sins and
transgressions in the land, and during those ensuing captiv¬
ities which, in the same prophetic spirit that animated the
last address of Moses, he appears to have foreseen. Nothing
can be finer than that part of his long and beautiful address,
in which, recurring to the idea of inhabitance, which had
been so forcibly brought before his mind, he cries, " But will
God indeed' dwell on the earth? Behold, the heaven, and
heaven of heavens can not contain thee ; how much less this
house that I have builded !"
The king had no sooner concluded his prayer than a fire
from the heavens descended upon the altar and consumed the
burnt offerings. All the Israelites beheld this prodigy, and
bent their faces towards the earth in adoration, and repeated
with one voice the praise which was the most acceptable to
him, " He is good ; his mercy endureth for ever !"
By these two signs the sanctuary and the altar, received
the same acceptance and consecration which had been granted
in the wilderness to the tabernacle and the altar there.
• The king's numerous palaces were perhaps even more .
magnificent than the temple. These structures were, for the
most part, built with immense blocks of squared stones ; and
the whole was fitted up with cedar, while the nobler rooms
and galleries were lined with slabs of costly polished marble
SOLOMON.
175
to the floor, and were above enriched with sculptures (on the
wall), and apparently with paintings (on the plaster), espe¬
cially towards the ceiling, all of which we may conclude to
have been very mucl^in the style of similar things among the
Egyptians, whose palaces were decorated after the same style.
And if we have rightly interpreted Josephus to intimate that
there were three ranges of ornaments in the principal rooms,
polished slabs at the bottom, sculpture above, and painting
towards the top, it would be very easy to show how the same
ideas and distributions are retained in the palaces of the mod¬
ern East, where, above basement slabs of loobing-glass, are
wrought recesses and carvings and arabesques and ornaments
of stucco (sculpture being interdicted), while towards the ceil¬
ing much highly-colored painting is displayed. If we may
credit Josephus, "barbaric pearl and gold" were not wanting
among the materials which contributed to the decoration of
the more splendid apartments. The historian is at a loss for
words to express the full conception, which the traditions of
his fathers had conveyed to his mind, of the splendors of Sol¬
omon's palatial buildings : " It would be an endless task (he
says) to give a particular survey of this mighty mass of build¬
ing ; so many courts and other contrivances ; such a variety
of chambers and offices, great and small; long and large gal¬
leries ; vast rooms of state, and others for feasting and enter¬
tainment, set out as richly as could be with costly furniture
and gildings ; besides, that all the services for the king's table
were of pure gold. In a word, the whole palace was, in a
manner, made up from the base to the coping, of white mar¬
ble, cedar, gold, and silver, with precious stones here and
there intermingled upon the walls and ceilings."
The judgment porch of Solomon's palace we take to have
been a l^rge covered apartment, supported by pillars, and en¬
tirely open in front. It was seventy-five feet long by forty-
five feet broad. Here, upon a raised platform, to which there
was an ascent by steps, was placed the throne of Solomon, of
which so much notice is taken in the scriptural description
and in that of Josephus ; from which, with the help of par¬
ticulars preserved by early traditions, we collect that to the
raised dais, or platform, on which the throne rested, there was
176
SOLOMON.
an ascent by six steps. The balustrade (so to speak) of these
steps was formed by the figures of couching lions of gold, twelve
in all, being two to each step. The throne itself was of ivory
(a material which appears to have beei^unknown in Palestine
until the time of Solomon), studded and enriched with gold,
and over it was a semi-spherical canopy. Besides the twelve
lions on the six steps of ascent, there were two as " stays" on
each side of the seat, the back of which appears to have been
concave.
On the walls of the hall in which the throne was placed
were probably hung the 300 shields of gold (or probably of
wood or hide, covered with gold) which the king caused to
be made, and which are mentioned among the proudest treas¬
ures of the kingdom. There were 200 other shields, of the
same costly material, and twice as large, which were for the
use of the royal guard; for, as we shall see presently, the
state of the king in his court and in his going forth, was
fully commensurate to the magnificence of his palaces.
It was doubtless from the considerations arising from his
connection with king Hiram, and from narrowly observing
the sources of the extraordinary prosperity enjoyed by the
Phoenician state, coupled with the want of adequate means
for the execution of the magnificent plans which his mind
had formed, that Solomon began to turn his own attention
to foreign commerce, as a source of wealth and aggrandize¬
ment. We are unacquainted with the particular inducements
which Solomon was able to offer to the Phoenicians, who were
in this matter proverbially a jealous people, to induce them
to offer the benefit of their experience in this enterprise. But
it is certain that they furnished the king with ships, such as
they employed in their distant voyages westward, and there-
fire called "ships of Tarshish," and that these ships were
manned by Phoenician mariners, and voyaged in company with
a fleet of ships belonging to the king of Tyre. That they
must have had very cogent reasons for this—for allowing t
themselves to be made the instruments of enriching the He¬
brew king by traffic with foreign parts—no one who is ac-
j quainted with the historical character of that people, or with
! the commercial character in general, will in the least degree
SOLOMON. 177
•
doubt. In seeking the motive by which their proceedings
were determined, we must consider the direction of the voy¬
age. In another work we have exhibited our reasons for con¬
cluding that the regions of Tarshish and Opliir lay not in dif¬
ferent directions, but were visited in the same voyage; and
further that this voyage embraced the southern shores of
Arabia, the eastern shores of Africa, and possibly the isle of
Ceylon, if not some points in the Indian peninsula. This be¬
ing the case, we shall perceive that although the Phoenicians
had the exclusive command of the westward traffic, on the
Mediterranean and Atlantic coasts, they could have had no
share in this eastern traffic but on such terms as Solomon
might think proper to impose. F 01* he was in possession of
the ports of the Elanitic Gulf, and of the intervening coun¬
try, whereby he held the key of the Red Sea, and could at his
pleasure exclude them from that door of access to the Indian
Ocean. It is true that there was another door, by the Gulf
of Suez ; but its ports were in the hands of the Egyptians,
who were by no means likely to allow unobstructed access to
it. And then, as to the other channel, across the desert to
the Euphrates and Persian Gulf, the key of this also was in
the hand of Solomon, by virtue of his military stations on
the Euphrates, and his complete command of the desert coun¬
try west of that river. It may thus appear that since the
Phoenicians could have no access to the Indian Ocean but
with the consent and by the assistance of the Hebrew king,
he was in a condition to stipulate for a profitable partnership
in the enterprise. Nor perhaps was he so entirely dependent
upon the Phoenicians for the execution of his plans as might
at first sight appear : for although the Israelites knew little
of maritime affairs, this was not the case with the Edomites,
who were now the subjects of Solomon. They had been
accustomed to navigate the Bed Sea, and probably to some
extent beyond; and although we know not that they reached
the shores to which, under the abler guidance of the Phoe¬
nicians, the fleets of Solomon penetrated, they probably
might have been made, with a little encouragement, the in¬
struments of his designs. In preferring the Phoenicians, Sol¬
omon was probably influenced, not only by the knowledge
12
178 SOLOMON.
#
of their greater experience in distant voyages, but by political
considerations, which might suggest that he could always
control this trade, as conducted by the Phoenicians, while to
the Edomites living on the borders of the Elanitic Gulf it
would give such advantages as might in time enable them to
engross the whole trade, and to shake off the yoke his father
had imposed upon them.
The interest which the king took in the matter may be
judged of from the fact that he went in person to the port of
Ezion-geber, at the head of the gulf, to superintend the prep¬
arations, and to witness the departure of the fleet.
A thirst for knowledge, which is one of the surest evi¬
dences of the " wisdom" with which this splendid monarch
was gifted, may have had some share in promoting this de¬
sign ; for his agents were instructed not only to seek wealth,
but to bring back specimens of whatever was curious or in¬
structive in the countries to which they came. We know they
brought various foreign animals"and birds; and since the
king took much interest in botany, it is more than likely that
they also brought the seeds of many plants which- had en¬
gaged their attention by their use or beauty; and that con¬
sequently we may refer to this reign the introduction into
Palestine of many plants which had not been known there in
former times.
The fleet returned in the third year, laden with the rich
and curious treasures of the South and the remote East. There
were vast quantities of gold and silver, while the bulk of the
Cargo was composed of elephants' teeth, and various sorts of
valuable woods and precious stones. Nor were the super¬
cargoes which the king sent in the ships unmindful of his
peculiar tastes, and probably his special orders, for they took
pains to collect examples of the more curious animals, and
doubtless other products of the countries to which they came.
Among these, monkeys and peacocks are particularly named
—probably from their more singular difference from the forms
of animal life with which the Hebrews were previously ac¬
quainted.
Without doubt, a large portion of the commodities thus
obtained were sold at a great profit. And this explains that
SOLOMON.
179
while in one place the yearljr weight of gold brought to the
king, by his ships, is stated at 480 talents, the yearly profit
in gold derived both directly and indirectly from these voy¬
ages, is counted at the weight of 666 talents, which according
to the lower computation would make not less than twenty
millions of dollars.
Of the precious woods, Solomon employed a considerable
portion in making balustrades for the temple, and in the fab¬
rication of instruments of music. And of the gold, a large
quantity was used in making various sorts of golden shields,
and the various vessels of the palace. In that palace all the
vessels were of gold ; silver was not seen there : for under the
influx of gold as well as of silver, from various sources, the
latter metal was much depreciated in value during this splen¬
did reign : "It was nothing accounted of in the days of Solo¬
mon ; he made silver to be in Jerusalem as stones."
And, in like manner, the rather poor wood of the cedar, which
had previously, in the want of large and good timber, acquired
a high value, sunk much in estimation, through the large im¬
portations of the compact ^nd beautiful eastern timbers, as
well as through the profuse supply of cedar-wood itself from
Lebanon.
Besides this marine traffic the caravan trade by land en¬
gaged a full share of Solomon's attention. By the possession
of a southern frontier stretching across from the Elanitic Gulf
to the Mediterranean, the land traffic between Egypt and
Syria lay completely at his mercy. He felt this, and through
some arrangement with his father-in-law the king of Egypt,
he contrived to monopolize it entirely in his own hands. It
appears that what Syria chiefly required from Egypt were
linen fabrics and yarn, for the manufacture of which that
country had long been celebrated ; also chariots, the exten¬
sive use ot which in Egypt has already been pointed out; and
horses, of which that country possessed a very excellent and
superior breed, if we may judge from the numerous fine ex¬
amples which the paintings and sculptures offer. All this
trade Solomon appears to have intercepted and monopolized.
He was supplied by contract, at a fixed price, with certain
quantities adequate to the supply of the Syrian market, which,
180
SOLOMON.
after retaining what lie required. for himself, his factors sold,
of course at a high profit, to the different kings of Syria. The
price was doubtless arbitrary, and dependent on times and
circumstances ; but the contract price at which the chariots
and horses were supplied by the Egyptians to the Hebrew
factors happens to be named—600 silver shekels for a chariot,
and one fourth of that sum, or 150 shekels, for a horse.
This was not the only land traffic which engaged the no¬
tice of Solomon. His attention was attracted to the exten¬
sive and valuable caravan trade which, from very remote ages,
coming from the further East, and the Persian Gulf, proceeded
to Egypt, Tyre, and other points on the Mediterranean, by
the Euphrates and across the great Syrian desert.
Besides these branches of commerce, " the traffic of the
spice merchants" is mentioned among the sources from which
wealth accrued to Solomon. In what form this profit was
derived is not distinctly intimated. From the analogy of his
other operations, we might conclude that he bought up the
costly spices and aromatics brought by the spice caravans of
southernmost Arabia, which must needs pass through his ter¬
ritories ; and that, after deducting what sufficed for the large
consumption of his own nation, he sold the residue at an en¬
hanced price to the neighboring nations.
Besides the commercial advantages, the country had nu¬
merous outlets for all its agricultural products ; and after¬
wards it enjoyed a good market for foreign products, the trans¬
port, which is in general most expensive, being effected almost
without real cost by the returning merchants. But instead
of confining himself to these obvio'us sources of profit, Solo¬
mon was incited by his vanity, and by the example of the
Tyrians, to send forth numerous fleets at a vast cost. The
success of these expeditions introduced a disproportionate
luxury into Jerusalem, replacing there the rich simplicity of
life which had previously characterized the Hebrew nation.
A court, organized on the most splendid oriental models—a
vast seraglio, a sumptuous table, officers without number, and
hosts of avidious concubines, afflicted a country in which the
balance of conditions and property, as established by Moses,
ought to have been maintained with the most jealous exactitude.
SOLOMON.
181
Yast numbers of persons, who acted in some capacity or
other as the servants of the numerous officers of the king;
the officers and servants of the great personages who were
constantly visiting the court of Solomon, and the numerous
servants of those officers and royal servants; the harem, which
alone contained a thousand women, with a great number of
servants and eunuchs ; and probably the rations of the royal
guards and of all dependent upon them—all were to be sup¬
plied from the court, being considered as members or guests
of the royal household. This explains the prodigious quan¬
tities of victuals which were da ihj required for the use of the
court, of which the account is—" Solomon's provision for one
day was thirty cores (750 bushels) of fine flour, and three¬
score cores (1,500 bushels) of meal; ten fat oxen, and twenty
oxen out of the pastures, and an hundred sheep, beside harts,
and roebucks, and fallow deer, and fatted fowl."
And besides this, it would seem that the people had the
charge of supporting the numerous horses kept by Solomon.
Unmindful of the law by which the kings were expressly for¬
bidden "to multiply horses unto themselves/' Solomon formed
a numerous body of cavalry. He had 1,400 chariots, which,
being Egyptian chariots, doubtless had two horses to each;
and not fewer than 12,000 horsemen. A portion of these he
kept in Jerusalem, and the rest were distributed through the
land in what were called from this circumstance, the " chariot-
cities." This distribution was doubtless made for the purpose
of equally distributing the charge of their subsistence.
Josephus reckons up the horses of Solomon as 20,000, and
says that they were the'most beautiful in their appearance
and the most remarkable for their swiftness that could any¬
where be seen; and that, to preserve these qualities, they
were kept in constant and careful exercise. The riders were
in their appearance quite worthy of their horses. They were
young men in the beauty and flower of their age, and the
tallest in stature that could be found in the country. Their
undress was of Tyrian purple ; and their long hair, which
hung in loose tresses, glittered with golden dust with which,
, every day, they sprinkled their heads. But when they at¬
tended the king they were in complete armor, and had their
182 SOLOMON.
•
bows ready strung. Often, in the fine season, the king rode
down to his beautiful gardens at Etham, six miles from Jeru¬
salem, attended by these young men. On such occasions he
rode loftily in his chariot, arrayed in white robes.
But we have a still better description of the manner of
the king's excursions, from the pen of Solomon himself, in
his renowned Song of Songs. His bride is represented sitting
in her kiosk, and looking towards the quarter in which the
royal gardens lay; and takes notice of an appearance con¬
cerning which she inquires of her virgins :—
" ' Bride.—"What is this that cometh from the wilderness,
Like clouds of smoke perfumed with myrrh,
With incense, and all the powders of the merchant?'
' Virgins.—Behold, this is the palanquin of Solomon.
Three-score valiant men are about it,
Of the valiant of Israel.
They all bear swords, being expert in war;
Each bears his sword on his thigh,
On account of the perils of the night.
King Solomon hath made for himself
This couch of the wood of Lebanon.
Its pillars hath he made of silver,
Its bases of gold, its cushions of purple.
The middle of it is spread with love
By the daughters of Jerusalem.' "
This is a very clear description of a splendid palanquin or
litter, and shows that this conveyance was then in use among
great people, as it was in Egypt, and is still, in one form or
another, throughout the East.
In this attempt to convey some notion of the royal estab¬
lishments, the wealth, the state, and the pomp of Solomon's
court, which, on an inferior scale, formed the model to subse¬
quent Hebrew kings, it is necessary that some notice of his
harem should be taken.
The women of the king's harem are to be considered as
making a part of his retinue or equipage, since, generally
speaking, they were merely designed to augment the pomp
which belonged to his character and his situation. The mul¬
tiplication of women in the character of wives and concubines
was, indeed, forbidden in the strongest manner by the law of
SOLOMON. 183
•
Moses * but Solomon, and, though, in a less extent, several
other Hebrew kings, paid little heed to this admonition, and
too readily and wickedly exposed themselves to the dangers
which Moses had anticipated as the result of pursuing the
course which he had interdicted.
The women in the harem of Solomon were not fewer than
one thousand, of whom the Scripture counts seven hundred
as wives and three hundred as concubines. This distinction
may be taken as illustrated by Solomon's own classification
at a time when he was younger, and his harem was less exten¬
sive, than in the later day to which the present statement
refers: " In my palace are threescore queens, and fourscore
concubines, and virgins without number." Here by queens
we are probably to understand those of noble parentage, who
at the celebration of their nuptials brought ample dowries
with them; by concubines those who were selected on account
of their personal charms, and were married without dowries ;
and by virgins those who were also procured (perhaps pur¬
chased) by the royal purveyors on account of their beauty,
and who were in waiting to be introduced to the royal notice.
With the number of these Solomon himself does not appear
to have been acquainted. The same distribution doubtless
applies to the larger number which now engages our notice.
That a large proportion of the whole were foreigners and
idolaters is certain.
King Solomon was unquestionably wise : but, from this
and other matters, we may suspect the practical character of
his wisdom—may doubt whether it were not rather " the
wisdom of words," or of ideas, or even of knowledge, than
that wisdom of conduct, or, more properly,, wisdom mani¬
fested in conduct, which is worth more than all.
The view which we take—that the proverbial wisdom of
Solomon had nothing to do with his moral character or per¬
ceptions ; and that, although he possessed the most wisdom,
he was not in his use of it the wisest of men, appears to be
precisely that which the scriptural narrative intended to con- ♦
vey. Nor is the world without other eminent instances in
which vast attainments, and a strength and grasp of intellect
before which the most hidden things of physical and moral
A
184
SOLOMON.
ft
nature lay open and bare, have been united "with. much, "weak¬
ness of heart and great deficiency in the moral sense. This
view does not therefore in the least degree interfere with the
conviction that "God gave Solomon wisdom and under¬
standing exceeding much, and largeness of heart, even as the
sand that is on the sea-shore For he was wiser than all
men ; than Ethan the Ezrahite, and Heman, and Chalcol,
and Darda, the sons of Mahol: and his fame was in all na¬
tions round about. And he spake three thousand proverbs :
and his songs were a thousand and five. And he spake of
trees, from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon even unto the
hyssop that springeth out of the wall: he spake also of
beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes.
And there came of all people to hear the wisdom of Solomon,
from all kings of the earth, which had heard of his wisdom."
Among these there is one whose visit is more particularly
mentioned than any other. This was the queen of Sheba.
And the distinguished notice which her visit has obtained is
probably on account of the greater distance from which she
came, and the greater glory which therefrom redounded to
Solomon, the fame of whose wisdom brought her, with royal
offerings, from her far distant land. That land is supposed
to have been Abyssinia ; and as the fleets of Solomon, which
passed through the Red Sea, may, with the greatest proba¬
bility, be presumed to have touched and traded at the eastern
ports of Africa, it is easy to see through what channels she
might have heard of the glory and wisdom of the Hebrew
king. She came with a very great and splendid retinue; and
in her train were camels laden with spices, gold, and precious
stones. In her* interviews with Solomon she "proved him
with hard questions," a mode of testing "wisdom" which
was common in that age, and which, indeed, every one wlio
made unusual pretensions to knowledge and sagacity was un¬
derstood to invite. Solomon was familiar with this exercise,
for doubtless other illustrious visitors had tried his wisdom in
the same manner ; and Josephus expressly says that before
this there had been much passing of " hard questions" to and
fro between him and Hiram king of Tyre. He readily solved
all the difficulties which the royal stranger proposed; and we
SOLOMON. 185
are told that, " when the queen of Sheba had seen all Solo¬
mon's wisdom, and the house that he had built, and the meat
of his table, and the sitting of his servants, and the attend¬
ance of his ministers, and their apparel, and his cup-bearers,
and his ascent by which he went up unto the house of Je¬
hovah, there was no more spirit in her, and she said to the
king, c It was a true report that I heard in mine own land of
thy acts and of thy wisdom. Howbeit I believed not the
words until I came, and mine own eyes had seen it ; and be¬
hold, the half was not told me : thy wisdom and prosperity
exceedeth the fame which I heard. Happy are thy men !
happy are these thy servants which stand continually before
thee, and that hear thy wisdom. Blessed be Jehovah thy
God, which delighted in thee, to set thee on the throne of
Israel.'"
Being now satisfied, the queen presented Solomon with
the precious things she had brought with her. The gold alone
was not less than one hundred and twenty talents, and with
respect to the spices, it is remarked that "there came no
more such abundance of spices as those which the queen of
Sheba gave to king Solomon." Suitable returns were made
by him ; and the queen returned to her own country.
The glory of Solomon's reign was grievously dimmed
towards its conclusion. It will be observed that he had not
only transgressed the law by "multiplying wives unto him¬
self," but had taken a considerable proportion of them from
the neighboring idolatrous and adverse nations, with whom
the Israelites generally had been interdicted from contracting
any alliance, on the ground that such connections might turn
their hearts to idols. The case of Solomon evinced in the
strongest manner the wisdom and foresight of this interdic¬
tion ; for even he, in the doating attachment of his latter
days to the " fair idolatresses" in his harem, not only tolerated
the public exercises of their idolatrous worship, but himself
erected high places for the worship of Ashtaroth, the goddess
of the Sidonians ; of Chemosh, the god of the Moabites ; and
of Molech, the abominable idol of the Ammonites, on the hills
opposite to and overlooking that splendid temple which he
had commenced his reign by building to Jehovah. The con-
186
solomon.
trast of these two acts, at the opposite extremities of his
reign, offers as striking a " vanity" as any of those on which
he expatiates in his hook. In the end, his fall was rendered
complete by his own participation, by the act of sacrifice, in
the worship of these idols. This great and astonishing offense
is, with sufficient probability, reckoned by Aiulfaragi to have
taken place about the thirty-fourth year of Solomon's reign,
and the fifty-fourth of his age. By this fall he forfeited the
benefits and privileges which had been promised on the con¬
dition of his obedience and rectitude. It was not long before
the doom which he had so weakly and willfully incurred was
made known to him. This was that the kingdom should be
rent from him and given to his servant. Nevertheless, in
judgment remembering mercy, the Lord said that this great
evil should not occur during his time, but under his son. This
was for David's sake ; and, for his sake also, who had derived
so much satisfaction from the promised perpetuity of his race
in the throne, his house should still reign over one tribe, that
of Judah, with which Benjamin had now coalesced. How this
intimation was received by Solomon, and what effect it pro¬
duced upon him, we a; e not told.
Whether Solomon ultimately repented of his offenses, and
was reconciled to God, is a question which is involved in some
doubt. If he did repent, it is a matter of surprise that there
is not the least intimation of so interesting and important a
circumstance, either in the books of Kings and Chronicles, or
in Josephus.
Solomon died in the year 990 b. c., after he had reigned
forty years, and lived about sixty. With all his glory he was
little lamented by his subjects, for reasons which will now be
obvious to the reader. Indeed, a great part of the nation may
appear to have regarded his death with a secret satisfaction,
on account of the prospect which it offered of a release from
the heavy imposts which the king had found it necessary to
inflict for the support of his costly establishments. The more
the splendor of Solomon's reign is considered, the more its illu¬
sive and insubstantial character will appear, whether we in¬
quire for its effect upon the real welfare of the nation or even
upon the permanent grandeur of the crown. Its utter dis-
187
proportion to the permanent means and resources of the state
is strikingly and sufficiently evinced by the fact that, so for
from any of his successors supporting or restoring the mag¬
nificence of his court, the quantities of gold which he had
lavished upon his various works and utensils gradually dis¬
appeared, to the last fragment, and served but as a treasure
on which succeeding kings drew until it was entirely ex¬
hausted.
Of the children of Solomon history has only preserved the
name of one son, Rehoboam, his destined successor, and one
daughter named Taphath. Rehoboam was the son of an
Ammonitish mother, and being born the year before his
father's accession to the throne, was of course upwards of
forty jears of age when that father died.
CHAPTER IX.
ISAIAH.
Isaiah was the first of the four great prophets, and is
represented to have entered on the prophetic office in the last
year of Uzziah's reign, about 758 years b. c. Some have
supposed that he did not live beyond the fifteenth or six¬
teenth year of Hezekiah's reign, in which case he prophesied
during the space of about fortyrfive years. Others suppose
that he survived Hezekiah and suffered martyrdom during a
succeeding reign, about 698 years b. c., being cruelly sawn
asunder with a wooden saw. Isaiah informs us himself that
he prophesied during the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz, and
Hezekiah, kings of Judah, who successively flourished be¬
tween a. m. 3194 and 3305. The name of Isaiah is in some
measure descriptive of his character, since it signifies " the
salvation of Jehovah." He has always been considered a
prophet of the highest eminence, and looked up to as the
highest luminary of the Jewish church. He speaks of him¬
self as enlightened by vision; and he has been emphatically
styled the evangelical prophet, so copiously and clearly does
he describe the Messiah, and characterize his kingdom, fav¬
ored, as it were, with an intimate view of the Gospel state,
from the very birth of our Saviour, " to be conceived of a
virgin," to that glorious and triumphant period when every
Gentile nation shall bring a clean offering to the Lord, and
" all flesh shall come to worship" before him. It is certain
that Isaiah, in addition to his other prophetic privileges, was
invested with the power of performing miracles. Besides
those that are ascribed to him in Scripture, tradition relates
that he supplied the people besieged under Hezekiah with
water from Siloam, while the enemy could not procure it.
It is remarkable that the wife of Isaiah is stylea a proph-
1 —
ISAIAH.
189
etess, and the Habbins maintain that she possessed the gift
of prophecy. He himself appears to have been raised up as
a striking object of veneration among the Jews, and to have
regulated his whole conduct in subserviency to his sacred ap¬
pointment. His sons, likewise, were for types and figurative
pledges of Grod's assurances, and their names and actions
were intended to awaken a religious attention in the persons
whom they were commissioned to address and to instruct.
Isaiah was animated with the most lively zeal for God's
honor and service. He was employed chiefly to preach re¬
pentance to Judah, though he occasionally uttered prophecies
against the ten tribes, which in his time constituted the sep¬
arate kingdom of Israel. In the prudent reigns of Uzziah and
Jotham, the kingdom of Judah flourished, but in the time of
Ahaz Isaiah had ample subject for reproach, as idolatry was
established, even in the temple, and the kingdom nearly ruined
by the impiety which the king had introduced and counte¬
nanced. In the reign of Hezekiah, his endeavors to reform
the people were more successful, and some piety prevailed, till
the seduction of Manasseh completed the triumph of idolatry
and sin. There are many historical relations scattered through
the book of Isaiah which illustrate the designs and occasions
of the propheeies. The prophetical parts are sometimes con¬
sidered under five divisions. The first part, which extends
from the beginning to the thirteenth chapter, contains five
discourses immediately addressed to the Jews and Ephraim-
ites, whom the prophet addressed on various subjects in vari¬
ous tones of exhortation and reproof. The second part, which
extends to the twenty-fifth chapter, contains eight discourses,
in which the fate of other nations, as of the Babylonians,
Philistines, Moabites, Syrians and Egyptians is described.
The third part, which terminates with the thirty-sixth chap¬
ter, contains Grod's threats denounced against the disobedient
Jews and enemies of the church, interspersed with consola¬
tory promises, which were intended to encourage those who
might have deserved Grod's favor. The fourth part, which
begins at the fortieth chapter, where the prophetic strain is
resumed, describes in four discourses the manifestation of the
M'essiah, with many introductory and attendant circumstances.
190
ISAIAH.
This division ends at the forty-ninth chapter. The fifth part,
which concludes the prophecies, describes more particularly the
appearance of our Saviour and the character of his kingdom.
The historical part, which begins with the thirty-sixth and
terminates with the thirty-ninth chapter, relates the remark¬
able events of those times in which God employed the minis¬
try of Isaiah.
"With respect to chronological arrangement, it must be
observed, that the first five chapters appear to relate to the
time of Uzziah. The vision described in the sixth chapter
must have happened early in the reign of Jotham. The next
fifteen chapters contain the prophecies delivered under Ahaz;
and the prophecies which follow to the end of the book, were
probably uttered under Hezekiah. Some writers, however,
have conceived that the chapters have been accidentally de¬
ranged ; and it is possible that the prophecies were not deliv¬
ered by the prophet exactly in the order in which they now
stand. Others have attributed the dislocations, if there be
any, to the men of Hezekiah, who are said to have collected
these prophecies.
When Isaiah entered on the prophetic office, a darker
scene of things began to arise. As idolatry predominated,
and the captivity drew near, plainer declarations of God's
future mercies were necessary to keep alive the expectations
and confidence of the people. In treating of the captivities
and deliverance of the Hebrew nation, the prophet is often
led to consider those more important captivities and deliver¬
ances which these temporal wants foreshowed. Hence with
promises of the first, he blends assurances of final restoration.
From the bondage of Israel, he likewise adverts to tTie bond¬
age under which the Gentile world was held by ignorance and
sin; and hence he exhibits in connected representation, deliv¬
erance from particular afflictions, and the general deliverance
from sin and death. The present concern is often forgotten
in the contemplation of the distant prospect. The prophet
passes with rapidity from the first to the second subject with¬
out intimation of the change, or accurate discrimination of
their respective circumstances; as for instance in the fifty-
second chapter, where the prophet, after speaking of the re-
ISAIAH.
191
covery from the Assyrian oppression, suddenly drops the idea
of the present redemption, and breaks out into a rapturous
description of the gospel salvation which it prefigured.
Among the prophecies of Isaiah which deserve to bo par¬
ticularly noted for their especial perspicuity and striking ac¬
complishment, are those in which he foretold the captivities
of Israel and Judah ; and described the ruin and desolation
of Babylon, Tyre, and other nations. He spoke of Cyrus by
name, and of his conquests, above 200 years before his birth,
in predictions which are supposed to have influenced that
monarch to release the Jews from captivity, being probably
shown to him by Daniel. But it must be repealed, that the
prophecies concerning the Messiah seem almost to anticipate
the gospel history, so clearly do they foreshow the divine
character of Christ; his miracles ; his peculiar qualities and
virtues ; his rejection, and sufferings for our sins ; his death,
burial, and victory over the grave; and lastly, his final glory,
and the establishment, increase, and perfection of his king¬
dom ; each specially pointed out and portrayed with the most
striking and discriminating characters. It is impossible, in¬
deed, to reflect on these and on the whole chain of his illus¬
trious prephecies, and not to be sensible that they present the
most incontestable evidence in support of Christianity.
The style of Isaiah has been universally admired as the
most perfect model of the sublime ; it is distinguished for all
the magnificence and for all the sweetness of the Hebrew lan¬
guage. The variety of his images and the animated warmth
of his expressions, characterize him as unequaled in point of
eloquence ; and if we were desirous of producing a specimen
of the dignity and beauties of the Scripture language, we
should immediately think of having recourse to Isaiah. St.
Jerome speaks of him as conversant with every part of science;
and indeed, the marks of a cultivated and improved mind are
stamped on every page of his book; but. these are almost
eclipsed by the splendor of his inspired knowledge. In the
delivery of his prophecies and instructions, he utters his en¬
raptured strains with an elevation and majesty which unhal¬
lowed lips would never have attained. From the grand exor¬
dium in the first chapter, to the concluding description of the
192
ISAIAH.
gospel, to " be brought forth." in wonders, and to terminate
in the dispensations of eternity ; from first to last, there is
one continued display of inspired wisdom, revealing its oracles
and precepts for the instruction of mankind. The prophecies
of Isaiah were modulated to a kind of rhythm, and they are
evidently divided into certain metrical stanzas or lines.
Isaiah, besides this book of prophecies, wrote an account
of the actions of Uzziah ; this has perished, with some other
writings of the prophets, which, as probably not written by
inspiration, were never admitted into the canon of Scripture.
Some apocryphal books have likewise been attributed to him;
among others, that so often cited by Origen and other fathers,
entitled " The Ascension of Isaiah ;" not to mention a later
book called " The Vision of Isaiah," which is only a compi¬
lation from his works. These are probably attributed to him
on as insufficient grounds as the books of Solomon and Job.
CHAPTER X.
jeremiah.
Jeremiah was the son of Hilkiah ; probably not of that
Hilkiah who was high priest in the reign of Josiah, but cer¬
tainly he was of sacerdotal extraction, and a native of Ana-
thoth, a village about three miles from Jerusalem, appointed
for the priests in that part of Judea which was allowed to
the tribe of Benjamin.
He was called* to the prophetic office nearly at the same
time with Zephaniah, in the thirteenth year of the reign of
Josiah, the son of. Amon, a. m. 3376. Like St. John the
Baptist and St. Paul, he was, even in his mother's womb,
ordained a prophet to the Jews and other nations. He was
not, however, expressly addressed by the word of God till
about the fourteenth year of his age, when he diffidently
sought to decline the appointment on account of his youth,
till, influenced by the divine encouragement, he obeyed, and
continued to prophesy upwards of forty years, during several
successive reigns of the degenerate descendants of Josiah, to
whom he fearlessly revealed those marks of the divine ven¬
geance which their fluctuating and rebellious conduct drew
on themselves and their country.
After the destruction of Jerusalem by the Chaldeans, he
was suffered by Nebuchadnezzar to remain and lament the
miseries and desolation of Judea, from whence he sent con¬
solatory assurances to his captive countrymen. He was after¬
ward, as we are by himself informed, carried with his disciple
Baruch into Egypt, by Johanan, the son of Kareah, who,
contrary to his advice and prophetic admonitions, returned
from Judea.
Many circumstances relative to Jeremiah are interspersed
in his writings, and many more which deserve but little cred-
13
194
JEBEMIAH.
it, have been recorded by the Rabbins ana otber writers. He
appears to have been exposed to cruel and unjust persecutions
from the Jews, and especially from those of his own village,
during his whole life, on account of the.zeal and fervor with
which he censured their incorrigible sins; and he is some¬
times provoked to break out into the most feeling and bitter
complaints of the treatment which he received. The author
of Ecclesiasticus, alluding to his sufferings, remarks that they
entreated him evil, who nevertheless was a prophet, sancti¬
fied from his mother's womb. According to the account of
St. Jerome, he was stoned to death at Tahpanhes, a royal city
of Egypt, about 586 years before the birth of Christ, either
by his own countrymen, as is generally maintained, or by the
Egyptians, to both of which people he had rendered himself
obnoxious by the terrifying prophecies which he had uttered.
The chronicle of Alexandria relates thai* the prophet had
incensed the Egyptians by predicting that their idols should
be overthrown by an earthquake when the Saviour of the
earth should be born and placed in a manger. His prophe¬
cies, however, that are still extant concerning the conquests
of Egypt by Nebuchadnezzar, the " servant of God," must
have been sufficient to excite the fears and hatred of those
against whom they were uttered. It was added to this ac¬
count which Ptolemy received,* that Alexander the Great,
visiting the tomb of Jeremiah, and hearing what he had pre¬
dicted concerning his person, ordered that the prophet's urn
should be removed to Alexandria, and built a magnificent
monument to his memory. This was soon rendered an object
of general attention; and as a reverence for the prophet's char¬
acter encircled it with imaginary influence, it became cele¬
brated as a place of miracles. Other accounts, however,
relate that the prophet returned unto his own country ; and
travelers are still shown a place in the neighborhood of Jeru¬
salem where, as they are told, J eremiah composed his proph¬
ecies, and where Constantine erected a tomb to his memory.
Jeremiah, who professes himself the author of these proph¬
ecies, employed Baruch as his amanuensis in committing
them to writing. He appears to have made, at different
times, collections of what he had delivered. The first seems
JEREMIAH.
195
to have been composed in the fourth year of Jehoiakim, when
the prophet was expressly commanded by God to write upon
a roll all the prophecies which he had uttered concerning
Israel, Judali, and other nations. This he did by means of
Baruch. But this roll being burnt by Jehoiakim, another
was written, under Jeremiah's directions, with many ad¬
ditional particulars. In the eleventh year of Zedekiah, the
prophet appears to have collected into one book all the
prophecies that he had delivered before the taking of Jeru-
salem. To this probably he afterward added such further
revelations as he had occasionally received during the govern¬
ment of G-edaliah, and during the residence in Egypt, the
account of which terminates with the fifty-first chapter. The
fifty-second chapter, which is compiled from the five last
chapters of the second book of Kings, was probably not writ¬
ten by Jeremiah, as it contains in part a repetition of what
the prophet had before related in the thirty-ninth and for¬
tieth chapters of his book, and some circumstances which, as
it has been supposed, did not happen till after the death of
Jeremiah. And it is evident, from the intimation conveyed
in the last verse, " thus far are the words of J eremiah," that
his book there terminates. The fifty-second chapter was
therefore probably added by Ezra as an exordium to the
Lamentations. It is, however, a very useful appendage, as
it illustrates the accomplishment of Jeremiah's prophecies rel¬
ative to the captivity and the fate of Zedekiah. The proph¬
ecies, as they are now placed, appear not to be arranged in the
chronological order in which they were delivered. Whether
they were so originally compiled by Jeremiah or Ezra, or
whether they have been accidentally transposed, can not now
be determined.
The prophecies of Jeremiah, of which the circumstantial
accomplishment is often specified in the Old and new Testa¬
ments, are of a very distinguished and illustrious character.
He foretold the fate of Shallum, Jehoiakim, Coniah, and
Zedekiah; the Babylonish captivity ; the precise time of its
duration ; and the return of the Jews. He described the
destruction of Babylon ; and the downfall of many nations j
in predictions, of which the gradual and progressive comple-
•
196
JEREMIAH.
tion kept up the confidence of the Jews for the accomplish¬
ment of those prophecies which he delivered relative to the
Messiah and his period. He foreshowed the miraculous con¬
ception of Christ; the virtue of his atonement; the spiritual
character of his covenant; and the inward efficacy of his
laws. Jeremiah, contemplating those calamities which im¬
pended over his country, represented in the most descriptive
terms, and under the most expressive images, the destruction
that the invading enemy should produce. He bewailed in
pathetic expostulation the shameless adulteries which had
provoked the Almighty, after long forbearance, to threaten
Judah with inevitable punishment at the time that false
prophets deluded the nation with the promises of " assured
peace," and when the people in impious contempt of the
Lord's word defied its accomplishment. Jeremiah intermin¬
gles with his prophecies some historical relations relative to
his own conduct, and to the completion of those predictions
which he had delivered. The reputation of Jeremiah had
spread among foreign nations, and his prophecies were de¬
servedly celebrated in other countries. Many heathen writers
have likewise undesignedly borne testimony to the truth and
accuracy of his prophetic and historical descriptions.
The style of Jeremiah, though not deficient either in
eloquence or sublimity, has been considered as inferior in both
respects to that of Isaiah. St. Jerome objects a certain kind
of rusticity to him ; but this would not be easy to point out.
His images are, perhaps, less lofty, and his expressions less
dignified than those of some others of the sacred writers ;
but the character of his works, which breathes a tenderness
of sorrow calculated to awaken and interest the milder affec¬
tions, led him to reject the majestic and declamatory tone in
which the prophetic censures were sometimes conveyed. The
holy zeal of the prophet is, however, often excited to a very
vigorous eloquence in inveighing against thefrontless audacity
with which men gloried in their abominations. The first part
of the book is chiefly poetical, and. indeed, nearly one half
of the work is composed in some kind of measure. The his¬
torical part, toward the middle of the work, is written with
much simplicity of style. The last six chapters, which are
JEREMIAH.
197
entirely in verse, contain several predictions delivered in a
high strain of sublimity. The descriptions of Jeremiah have
all the vivid colorings that might be expected from a painter
of contemporary scenes. The historical part has some char¬
acters of antiquity that ascertain the date of its composition.
The months are reckoned by numbers, a mode which did not
prevail after the captivity, when they were distinguished by
Chaldaic names. Beside the eleventh verse of the tenth
chapter, which is written in Chaldee, there are likewise a few
Chaldaic expressions, which about the time of Jeremiah must
have begun to vitiate the Hebrew language.
Jeremiah has been sometimes considered as an appointed
prophet of the Gentiles. He certainly delivered many proph¬
ecies relative to foreign nations. His name, translated, is,
" He shall exalt Jehovah," and his whole life was spent in
endeavoring to promote God's glory. His reputation was so
considerable, that some of the fathers fancifully supposed
that, as his death is nowhere mentioned in Scripture, he was
living in the time of Christ, whom, as the gospel informs us,
some supposed to have been this prophet. They likewise ap¬
plied to him and Elias what St. John mysteriously speaks of
—two witnesses that should prophesy 1260 days : which su¬
perstitious fictions serve, at least, to prove the traditional
reverence that was entertained for the memory of the prophet,
^rho long afterward continued to be venerated in the Romish
church as one of the greatest saints that had flourished under
the old covenant—as having lived not only with the general
strictness of a prophet, but, as was believed, in a state of
celibacy, and as having terminated his righteous ministry by
martyrdom.
Lamentations is another celebrated work of Jeremiah,
undoubtedly composed by Jeremiah and as the unvarying
tradition of the Church declares. The style, indeed, itself,
indicates the same hand which composed the preceding book.
Upon what occasion tliese Lamentations were produced can
not be possibly determined. In the second book of Chroni¬
cles it is said that Jeremiah lamented for Josiah; and Josephus,
and other writers, suppose that the work which we now pos¬
sess was written upon .the occasion of that monarch's death,
198
JEREMIAH.
maintaining tliat the calamities which only three months after
attended the deposition of Jehoahaz were so considerable as
to correspond with the description of the prophet, though
they are not minutely detailed in sacred history. The
generality of the commentators are, however, of a different
opinion ; and, indeed, Jeremiah here bewails the desolation
of Jerusalem, the captivity of Judah, the miseries of famine,
and the cessation of all religious worship, in terms so forcible
and pathetic that they appear rather applicable to some
period after the destruction of Jerusalem, when, agreeably to
his own predictions, every circumstance of complicated dis¬
tress overshadowed Judea. But upon whatever occasion these
Lamentations were composed, they are evidently descriptive
of past events, and can not be considered as prophetic ele¬
gies.
Some Jewish writers imagined that this was the book
which Jeremiah dictated to Baruch, and which was cut and
burnt by Jehoiakim. But there is no foundation for this
opinion, for the book dictated to Baruch contained many
prophetic threats against various nations of which there are
no traces in this book.
The Lamentations were certainly annexed originally to
the prophecies of Jeremiah, and were admitted with them
together into the Hebrew canon as one book. The modern
C>
Jews, however, place this work, in their copies, among other!
smaller tracts, such as Ruth, and the Canticles, etc., at the
end of the Pentateuch, having altered the arrangement of the
books of Scripture from the order which they held in Ezra's
collection.
With respect to the plan of this work, it is composed after
the manner of funeral odes, though without any very arti¬
ficial disposition of its subject. It appears to contain the
genuine effusions of real grief, in which the author, occupied
by his sorrow, attends not to exact connection between the
different rhapsodies, but pours out whatever presents itself.
He dwells upon the same ideas, and amplifies the same
thoughts by new expressions and figures, as is natural to a mind
intent on subjects of affliction. There is, however, no wild
incoherency in the contexture of the work, but the transitions
JEREMIAH.
199
are easy and elegant. It is, in fact, a collection of distinct
sentences, probably uttered at different times, upon the same
subject, which are properly entitled lamentations. The work
is divided into five parts. In the first, second, and fourth
chapters, the prophet speaks in his own person, or, by a very
elegant and interesting personification, introduces Jerusa¬
lem as speaking. In the third chapter, a chorus of the Jews
speaks as one person. In the fifth, which forms a sort of epi¬
logue to the work, the whole nation of the captive Jews is
introduced in one body, as pouring out complaints and sup¬
plications to God. Each of these five parts is distributed
into twenty-two periods or stanzas, in correspondence with the
number of the Hebrew letters. In the first three chapters
these periods are triplets, or consist of three lines.
It is remarkable, also, that though the verses of the fifth
chapter are short, yet those of the other chapters seem to be
nearly half as long again as those which usually occur in He¬
brew poetry, and the prophet appears to have chosen this
measure as more flowing and accommodated to the effusions
of sorrow, and therefore more agreeable to the nature of fu¬
nereal dirges.
This poem affords the most elegant variety of striking
images that ever probably was displayed in so small a com¬
pass. The scenes of affliction, the circumstances of distress,
are painted with such beautiful combination, that we con¬
template everywhere the most affecting picture of desolation
and misery. The prophet reiterates his complaints in the
most pathetic style, and aggravates his sorrow with a boldness
and force of description that correspond with the magnitude
and religious importance of the calamities exposed to view.
In the instructive strain of an inspired writer, he reminds his
countrymen of the grievous rebellions that had provoked the
Lord to "abhor his sanctuary;" confesses that it was of
God's mercies that they were not utterly consumed, and
points out the sources of evil in the iniquities of their false
prophets and priests. He then with indignant irony threatens
Edom with destruction for rejoicing over the miseries of Ju-
dea, opens a consolatory prospect of deliverance and future
protection to Zion, and concludes with a most interesting ad-
200
JEREMIAH*
dress to God, to " consider the reproach" of his people, and
to renew their prosperity.
It is worthy to be observed that Jeremiah, in endeavoring
to promote resignation in his countrymen, represents his own
deportment under difficulties, in terms which have a pro¬
phetic cast, so strikingly are they descriptive of the patience
and conduct of our Saviour under his sufferings. The
prophet, indeed, in the meek endurance of unmerited per¬
secution, was an illustrious type of Christ.
CHAPTER XI.
EZEKIEL.
Ezekiel, who was the third of the great propliets, was
the son of Buzi, a descendant of Aaron, of the tribe of Levi,
that is, of the sacerdotal race. He is said to have been a na¬
tive of Sarera, and to have been carried away captive to
Babylon with Jehoiachim, king of Judah, a.m. 340G.
He settled, or was placed, with many others of his cap¬
tive countrymen, on the banks of the Chebar, ^ river of Mes¬
opotamia ; where he was favored with the divine revelations
which are described in this book. He is supposed to have
prophesied during a period of twenty-one years. He appears
to have been mercifully raised up to animate the despondence
of his contemporaries in their sufferings and afflictions ; and
to assure them that they were deceived in supposing, accord¬
ing to the representations of false prophets, that their coun¬
trymen who remained in Judea were in happier circumstances
than themselves ; and with this view he describes that melan¬
choly scene of calamities which was about to arise in Judea ;
and thence he proceeds to predict the universal apostacy of
the Jews, and the total destruction of their city and temple ;
I adverting also, occasionally, to those punishments which
awaited their enemies ; and interspersing assurances of the
I final accomplishment of God's purpose, with prophetic decla¬
rations of the advent of the Messiah, and with promises of
the final restoration of the Jews.
The name of Ezekiel was happily expressive of that in¬
spired confidence and fortitude which he displayed, as well in
supporting the adverse circumstances of the captivity, as in
censuring the sins and idolatrous propensities of his country¬
men. He began to deliver his prophecies about eight or ten
years after Daniel, in the fifth year of Jehoiachim's captivity,
202
EZEKIEL.
and, as some have supposed, in the thirteenth, year of his
The divine instructions were first revealed to him m a
glorious vision, in which he beheld a representation, or, as lie
himself reverently expresses it, " the appearance of the like¬
ness of the glory of the Lord/' attended by his cherubims
symbolically portrayed. " The word of the Lord came ex¬
pressly unto him, and he received his commission by a voice,
which was followed by a forcible influence of the Spirit, and
by awful directions for his conduct. He appears to have ex¬
ecuted his high trust with great fidelity. The author of Ec-
clesiasticus says of him that he directed them who went right;
which may be considered as a merited encomium on the in¬
dustry with which he endeavored to instruct and guide his
countrymen to righteousness. He is reported "by some writers
to have presided in the government of the tribes of Gad and
Dan in Assyria ; and among other fabulous miracles, to have
punished them for idolatry by a fearful destruction produced
by serpents. In addition to these popular traditions, it is re¬
ported that his countrymen were so incensed by his reproaches
as to put him to a cruel death. In the time of Epiphanius
it was superstitiously believed that his remains were deposited
in the same sepulchre with those of Shem and Arphaxad,
which was supposed to be situated between the river Eu¬
phrates and that of Chaboras ; and it was much resorted to,
not only by the Jews, but also by the Medes and Persians,
who reverenced the tomb of the prophet with extravagant
devotion.
The authenticity of Ezekiel's book will admit of no ques¬
tion. He represents himself as the author in the beginning
and other parts of it, and justly assumes the character and
pretensions of a prophet; as such he has been universally
regarded. A few writers, indeed, of very inconsiderable au¬
thority, have fancied from the first word of the Hebrew text,
in which they suppose the initial letter Yau to be a connec¬
tive particle, that what we possess of Ezekiel is but the frag¬
ment of a larger work. But there is no shadow of foundation
for this conjecture, since it was very customary to begin a dis¬
course in that language with the particle Yau, which we prop-
EZEKIEL.
203
erly translate, "Now it came to pass." It has been asserted,
j likewise, on Talmudical authority, that certain Rabbins de-
I liberated concerning the rejection of the book from the canon,
on account of some passages in it which they conceived to be
contradictory to the principles of the Mosaic law. If they
had any such intention, they were soon convinced of their
mistake, and gave up the design. But the Jews, indeed, did
not suffer the book, or at least the beginning of it, to be read
by any who had not attained their thirtieth year ; and re-
f strictions were imposed upon commentators who might be
disposed to write upon it.
St. Jerome has remarked certainly with great truth that
the visions of Ezekiel are sometimes very mysterious and of
difficult interpretation, and that they may be reckoned among
the things in Scripture which are hard to be understood.
( Ezekiel himself, well aware of the mysterious character of
those representations which he beheld in vision, and of the
necessary obscurity which must attend the description of them
to others, humbly represented to God that the people accused
him of speaking darkly " in parables." It appears to have
been Grod's design to cheer the drooping spirits of his people,
but only by communicating such encouragement as was con¬
sistent with a state of punishment, and calculated, by indis-
l tinct intimations, to keep alive a watchful and submissive
| confidence. For this reason, perhaps, were Ezekiel's proph¬
ecies, which were revealed amidst the gloom of captivity,
designedly obscure in their nature, but though mysterious
in themselves, they are related by the prophet in a plain
and historical manner. He seems to have been desirous
of conveying to others the strong impressions which he
received, as accurately as they were capable of being de¬
scribed.
The representations which Ezekiel beheld in vision are
capable of very interesting and instructive illustration from
other parts of Scripture, as may be seen in the commentaries
of various writers who have undertaken to explain their allu¬
sive character; and the figurative directions which the prophet
received in them with relation to his own conduct, were very
consistent with the dignity of his character and the de-
204
EZEKIEL.
sign of Ms mission. Some of these directions were given,
indeed, only by way of metaphorical instruction ; for when
Ezekiel is commanded to "eat the roll of prophecy/' we
readily understand that he is enjoined only to receive and
thoroughly to digest its contents ; and when he professes to
have complied with the command, we perceive that he speaks
only of a transaction in vision. With respect to some other
relations of this nature contained in Ezekiel's book, whether
we suppose them to be descriptive of real or imaginary events,
they are very reconcilable with divine intention in the employ¬
ment of the prophet. On a supposition that they were real,
we may reasonably suppose a miraculous assistance to have
been afforded when necessary; and if we consider them as
imaginary, they might be represented equally as emblematical
fore warnings revealed to the prophets. The book of Ezekiel
is sometimes distributed by the following analysis, under dif¬
ferent heads. After the first three chapters, in which the
appointment of the prophet is described, the wickedness and
impending punishment of the Jews, especially of those re¬
maining in Judea, are represented under different parables
and visions, to the twenty-fourth chapter, inclusive. From
thence to the thirty-second chapter, the prophet turns his at¬
tention to those nations who had unfeelingly triumphed over
the Jews in their affliction, predicting that destruction of the
Ammonites, Moabites and Philistines, which Nebuchadnezzar
effected; and particularly he foretells the ruin and desolation
of Tyre and of Sidon, the fall of Egypt and the base degen¬
eracy of its future people, in a manner so forcible, in terms so
accurately and minutely descriptive of their several states and
present condition, that it is highly interesting to trace the ac¬
complishment of these prophecies in the accounts which are
furnished by historians and travelers.
From the thirty-second to the fortieth chapter, Ezekiel
inveighs against the hypocrisy and murmuring spirit of his
captive countrymen, encouraging them to resignation by
promises of deliverance and by intimations of spiritual re¬
demption. In the last two chapters of this division, under
the promised victories to be obtained over Gog and Magog,
he undoubtedly predicts the final return of the Jews from
E Z E K I E L . 205
their dispersion, in the latter days, with an obscurity, how¬
ever, that can he dispersed only by the event.
The last nine chapters of this book detail the description
of a very remarkable vision of a new temple and city, of a
new religion and polity, under the particulars of which is
shadowed out the establisliment cff a future universal church.
Josephus says that Ezekiel left two books concerning the cap-
I tivity ; and the author of the synopsis, attributed to Atlia-
nasius, supposes that one book has .been lost; but as the last
nine chapters of Ezekiel constitute in some measure a distinct
work, probably Josephus might consider them as forming a
second book.
It deserves to be remarked that we are informed by Josephus
that the prophecy in which Ezekiel foretold that " Zedekiah
should not see Babylon, though he should die there," was
judged by that monarch to be inconsistent with that of Jer¬
emiah, who predicted that " Zedekiah should behold the king
of Babylon, and go to Babylon." But both were exactly ful¬
filled ; for Zedekiah did see the king of Babylon at Riblah,
and then being deprived of Irs eyes, he was carried to Baby- )
Ion, and died there. From this account, it appears that Eze-
kiel's prophecies were transmitted to Jerusalem, as we know
that Jeremiah's were sent to his countrymen in captivity, an
( intercourse being kept up, especially for the conveyance of
prophetic instruction, for imparting what might console mis-
I ery, or awaken repentaixie; and it was probably on the ground
of this communication that the Talmudists supposed that the
| prophecies of Ezekiel were arranged into their present form,
and placed in the canon by the elders of the great syna¬
gogue.
The style of the prophet is characterized by Bishop Lowth
as bold, vehement and tragical, as often worked up to a kind
of tremendous dignity. His book is highly parabolical, and
abounds with figures and metaphorical expressions. Ezekiel
displays a rough but majestic dignity, an unpolished though
noble simplicity; inferior, perhaps, in originality and elegance
to others of the prophets, but unequaled in that force and
grandeur for which he is particularly celebrated. He some¬
times emphatically and indignantly repeats his sentiments,
L
206
EZEKIEL.
fully dilates his pictures, and describes the adulterous man¬
ners of his countrymen under the strongest and most exag¬
gerated representations that the license of the eastern style
would admit. The middle part of the book is in some meas¬
ure poetical, and contains even some perfect elegies, though
his thoughts are in generaf too irregular and "uncontrolled to
be chained down to rule or fettered by language.
CHAPTER XII.
daniel.
Daniel was a descendant of the kings of Judah. He is
related to have been born at upper Bethoron, which was in
the territory of Ephraim. He was carried away captive to
Babylon in the fourth year of Jehoiakim, a. m. 3898 ; prob¬
ably in the eighteenth or twentieth year of his age ; and on
account of his birth, wisdom and accomplishments, was se-
lecte'd to stand in the presence of Nebuchadnezzar ; so that
in him and his companions was fulfilled that prophecy in
which Isaiah declared to Hezekiah that " his issue should be
eunuchs in the palace of the king of Babylon."
By the signal proofs which he gave of an excellent spirit,
and by the many extraordinary qualities which he possessed,
Daniel conciliated the favor of the Persian monarchs; he was
elevated to high rank and entrusted with great power. In
the vicissitudes of his life, as in the virtues which he dis¬
played, he has been thought to have resembled Joseph. Like
him he lived amidst the corruption of a great court, and pre¬
served an unshaken attachment to his religion, in a situation
embarrassed with difficulties and surrounded by temptations.
He publicly professed God's service, in defiance of every
danger ; and predicted his fearful judgments to the very face
of intemperate and powerful tyrants. It may be collected
from the pensive cast of his writings that he was of that mel¬
ancholy disposition which might be expected to characterize
the servants of the true God amidst scenes of idolatry. He
experienced through his whole life very signal and miraculous
proofs of divine favor, and was looked upon by the Persians
as well as by his his own countrymen as an oraclo of inspired
wisdom; he contributed much to spread a knowledge of God
among the Gentile nations. Many writers have supposed
208
DANIEL.
that Zoroaster, the celebrated founder or reformer of the
Magian religion, was a disciple of Daniel, since Zoroaster was
evidently well acquainted with many revealed truths, and
borrowed from the sacred writings many particulars for the
improvement of his religious institutes.
The most celebrated passage in the life of this prophet is
his interpretation of the handwriting on the wall which so
awed and terrified King Belshazzar and his guilty court.
The king was utterly given up to idolatry and licentiousness,
and his very last and most heinous offense was the profana¬
tion of the sacred vessels belonging to the Jerusalem temple,
which his illustrious grandfather, and even his incapable
father, had respected. Having made a great feast " to a thou¬
sand of his lords," he ordered the sacred vessels to be brought,
that he and his wassailers might drink wine from them.
That there was an intentional insult to the Most High m this
act, transpires in the narrative :—" They praised the gods of
gold, and of silver, of brass, of iron, of wood, and of stone
but The God in whose hand was their breath, and whose
| were all their ways, they praised or glorified not. Indeed, to
I appreciate fully this act and its consequences, it is indispen¬
sably necessary that the mind should revert to the operations
by which the supremacy of Jehovah was impressed upon Neb¬
uchadnezzar—operations not hid in a corner ; and which, to-
j gether with the public confessions and declarations of this con¬
viction which were extorted from that magnanimous king, must
, have diffused much formal acquaintance with the name and
claims of Jehovah among the Babylonians, with which also
the royal family must have been in a peculiar degree familiar,
i not only through these circumstances, but through Daniel,
I who had occupied high rank at court in the still recent reign
J of Nebuchadnezzar, and whose mere presence must constantly
I have suggested the means to which his advancement was
1 owing. From this it will be seen that, on the principle of
1 operation which we have indicated in the early part of this
chapter, the time was now come for another act whereby Je¬
hovah might vindicate the honor of his own great Name, and
i enforce his peculiar and exclusive claims to the homage of
! mankind.
daniel.
209
Suddenly a mysterious hand appeared, writing conspicu¬
ously upon the wall words of ominous import, but wliioli no
one could unde stand; for, although they were in the ver¬
nacular Chaldean language, the character in which they were
written was the primitive old Hebrew, which differed totally
from the Chaldee, and was the original from which that which
is called the Samaritan character was formed. The king him¬
self was greatly agitated, and commanded the instant attend¬
ance of the magi and astrologers. They came, hut were
utterly unable to divine the meaning of the portentous words
upon the wall. This increased the terror of the impious king,
which was at its height when the queen-mother, or*rather
grandmother, made her appearance. She soothed the troubled
monarch, and reminded him of the services and character of
Daniel; indicating him as one " in whom is the spirit of The
Holy God ; and in the days of thy grandfather light and un¬
derstanding and wisdom, like the wisdom of the gods, was
found in him and therefore one who was likely to afford
Belshazzar the satisfaction which he sought. It was probably
the custom at Babylon (as with respect to the corresponding
officer in other oriental courts) for the archimagus to lose his
office on the death of the king to whose court he was attached;
and that, consequently, Daniel had withdrawn into private
life on the death of ^Nebuchadnezzar. This will explain how
the king needed to be reminded of him, and how the prophet
was in the first instance absent from among those who were
called to interpret the writing on the wall.
Daniel was sent for: and when he appeared, the king
repeated what he had heard of him ; stated the inability of
the magicians to interpret the portentous words, and promised
him, as the reward of interpretation, that he should be clad
in scarlet, with a chain of gold about his neck, and that he
should rank as the third person in the kingdom. The vener¬
able prophet modestly waived the proffered honors and rewards,
as having no weight to induce his compliance :—" Thy gifts
be to thyself, and give thy rewards to another; yet I will
read the writing unto the king." But, first, he undauntedly
reminded the king of the experience, and resulting convictions
of his renowned grandfather, adding, with emphasis, " And
U
210
DANIEL.
thou, his grandson, 0 Belshazzar, hast not humbled thine
heart, though thou knowest all this." He then read the in¬
scription :—
"MENE, MENE, TEKEL, [PERES], UPHARSIN."
Number, Number, Weight, [Division], and Divisions,
and proceeded to give the interpretation :
" Mene, God hath numbered thy kingdom, and
" [Mene], finished it.
" Tekel, Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found
wanting.
"^eres, Thy kingdom is divided.
" "Upharsin, And given to the Medes and Persians" [Da¬
rius and Cyrus].
The king heard this terrible sentence : but made no re¬
mark further than to command that Daniel should be invested
■with the promised scarlet robe and golden chain, and that the
third rank in the kingdom should be assigned to him.
The sacred historian adds, with great conciseness, "In
that night was Belshazzar, the king of the Chaldeans, slain."
How, we are not told: but we may collect from Xenophon
that he was slain through the conspiracy of two nobles, on
whom he had inflicted the greatest indignities which men
could receive. This was in 553 b.c., in the fifth year of his
reign.
Daniel appears to have attained the fullest confidence of
11 Darius the Mede," who " took the kingdom." When this
monarch was making new appointments of the governors of
provinces, the prophet was set over them all: and the king
contemplated a still further elevation for him. This excited
the dislike and jealousy of the native princes and presidents,
who determined to work his ruin. In his administration, his
hands were so pure, that no ground of accusation could be
found against him. They therefore devised a plan by which
Daniel's known and tried fidelity to his religion should work
his destruction. They procured from the careless and vain
king a decree, that no one should for thirty days offer any
prayer or petition to any god or man save the king himself,
under pain of being cast into the lion's den. The king at
DANIEL. 211
once became painfully conscious of his weak and criminal
conduct, when his most trusted servant, Daniel, was accused
before him as an open transgressor of this decree, and his
punishment demanded. Among the Medes and Persians there
was a singular restraint upon despotism—which, while at the
first view it seemed to give intensity to the exercise of despotic
power, really tended to deter the kings from hasty and ill-
considered decisions, "by compelling them to feel the evil con¬
sequences with which they were attended. The king's word
was irrevocable law. He could not himself dispense with the
consequences of his own acts. Of this Darius was reminded ;
and he saw at once that he was precluded from interfering in
behalf of his friend. It is a beautiful illustration of the great
truth, which appears as the main argument of this chapter,
namely, that the glory of God was promoted among the hea¬
then by the captivity of his people—that the king himself was
already so well acquainted with the character and power of
Jehovah, that he spontaneously rested himself upon the hope,
that, although unable himself to deliver him from this well-
laid snare, the God whom Daniel served would certainly not
suffer him to perish. The prophet was cast ^nto the lion's
den, and the mouth thereof was closed with a sealed stone.
The king spent the night sleepless and in sorrow. Impelled
by his vague hopes, he hastened early in the morning to the
cavern, and cried in a doleful voice, " 0 Daniel, servant of
The Living God, is thy God, whom thofc. servest continually,
able to deliver thee from the lions ?" To the unutterable
joy and astonishment of the king, the quiet voice of Daniel
returned an affirmative answer, assuring the king of his per¬
fect safety. Instantly the cavern was opened, the servant of
God drawn forth, and his accusers were cast in, and imme¬
diately destroyed by the savage inmates of the den. This
striking interposition induced the king to issue a proclama¬
tion, to the same ultimate effect as that which Nebuchadnez¬
zar had issued in a former time. He wrote unto " all peo¬
ples, nations, and languages, that dwelt in all the earth,"
charging them to " tremble and fear before the God of Daniel;
for he is The Living God, and steadfast for ever, and his
kingdom that which shall not be destroyed, and his dominion
212
DANIEL.
shall be, even unto the end." It would not be easy to over¬
rate the importance of the diffusion of such truths as these
through the length and breadth of the Median empire.
Daniel prophesied during the whole period of the captiv¬
ity, but he probably did not long survive his last vision con¬
cerning the succession of the kings of Persia, which he beheld
in the third year of Cyrus, a. m. 3470, when the prophet
must have reached his ninetieth year. As Daniel dates this
vision by a Persian era, it was apparently revealed to him in
Persia; and though some have asserted that he returned
from the captivity with Ezra, and took upon him the govern¬
ment of Syria, it is probable that he was too old to avail him¬
self of the decree of Cyrus, however he might have been
accessory in obtaining it \ and that, agreeably to the received
opinion, he died in Persia. Some affirm that he died in Baby¬
lon ; and they say that his sepulchre was there to be seen
many years after in the royal cave. But it is more probable,
according to the common tradition, that he was buried at Susa |
or Sushan, where certainly he sometimes resided, and perhaps |
as governor of Persia, and where he was favored with some
of his last visjons. Benjamin Tudela, indeed, informs us that I
he was shown the reputed tomb of Daniel on the Tigris, ,
where likewise, as we are assured by Josephus, was a mag- I
nificent edifice, in the form of a tower, which is said to have
been built by Daniel, and which served as a sepulchre for the
Persian and Parthian kings. This, in the time of the histo¬
rian, retained its perfect beauty, and presented a fine speci¬
men of the prophet's skill in architecture. The book of
Daniel contains a very interesting mixture of history and
prophecies ; the former being introduced, as far as was neces¬
sary, to describe the conduct of the prophet, and to show the.
design and occasion of his predictions. The first six chapters
are chiefly historical, though, indeed, the second chapter con¬
tains the prophetic interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar's dream
concerning the kingdoms which were successively to illustrate
the power of that God who removeth and setteth up kings,
as seemeth good to him.
The four historical chapters which succeed relate the
miraculous deliverance of Daniel's companions from the fur-
DANIEL.
213
nace, the remarkable punisliment*of Nebuchadnezzar's arro¬
gance, the impiety and portended fate of Belsliazzar, and the
divine interposition for the pr< ttection of Daniel in the lion's
den. All these accounts are written "with a spirit and ani¬
mation highly interesting, and even -with dramatic effect;
we seem to he present at the scenes described. The whole
work is enriched 'with the most exalted sentiments of piety,
and with the finest attestations to the praise and glory of
God.
Daniel flourished during the successive reigns of several
Babylonish and Median kings, to the conquest of Babylon by
Cyrus, in the beginning of whose reign he probably died.
The events recorded in the sixth chapter were coeval with
Darius, the Mede ; but in the seventh and eighth chapters
Daniel returns to an earlier period, to relate the visions which
he beheld in the first three years of Belshazzar's reign ; and
those which follow in the last four chapters were revealed to
him in the reign of Darius.
The prophecies of Daniel were in many instances so ex¬
actly accomplished that those persons who would have other¬
wise been unable to resist the evidence which they disclosed
in support of our religion, have not scrupled to affirm that
they must have been written subsequently to those occur¬
rences which they so faithfully describe. But this groundless
and unsupported assertion serves but to establish the charac¬
ter of Daniel as a great and enlightened prophet; for it is
contrary to all historical testimony, and contrary to all prob¬
ability, to suppose that the Jews would have admitted into
the canon of their sacred writ a book which contained pre¬
tended prophecies of what had already happened. Indeed it
is impossible that these prophecies should have been writtt n
after the reign of Antiochus Epiphanes, since they were prob¬
ably translated into Greek near a hundred years before the
period in which he lived ; and that translation was in the
possession of the Egyptians, who entertained no kindness for
the Jews or their religion. Those prophecies also which
foretold the victories and dominion of Alexander were shown
to that conqueror himself by Jaddua, the high-priest, as we
learn from Josephus, and the Jews thereupon obtained an
214
t> AKX
exemption from tribute every Sabbatical year, and the free
exercise of their laws.
Daniel not only predicted future events with singular pre¬
cision, but likewise accurately defined the time in which they
should be fulfilled, as was remarkably exemplified in that
illustrious prophecy of the seventy weeks, in which he pre¬
fixed the period for " bringing in everlasting righteousness by
the Messiah," as well as in some other mysterious predictions,
which probably mark out the time or duration of the power
of Antichrist, and, as some suppose, for the commencement
of the millennium, or universal reign of saints, which they
conceive to be foretold; for the explanation of which we must
wait the event.
PART II.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST,
CHAPTER I.
Before entering upon the history of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ, we may remark that the religion pro¬
mulgated by him differs from those of all other founders of
systems, inasmuch as it is the distinguishing glory of Chris¬
tianity, not to rest satisfied with superficial appearances, but
to rectify the motives and purify the heart. The true Chris¬
tian, in obedience to the lessons of Scripture, nowhere keeps
over himself a more resolute and jealous guard than where
the desire of human estimation and distinction is in question.
Nowhere does he more deeply feel the insufficiency of his
unassisted strength, or more diligently and earnestly pray
for divine assistance. He may well indeed watch and pray
against the encroachments of a passion, which, when suffered
to transgress its just limits, discovers a peculiar hostility to
the distinguishing graces of the Christian temper ; a passion
which must insensibly acquire force, because it is in continual
exercise ; to which almost every thing without administers
nutriment, and the growth of which within is favored and
cherished by such powerful auxiliaries as pride and selfishness,
the natural and perhaps inexterminable inhabitants of the
human heart.
Strongly impressed, therefore, with a sense of the indis¬
pensable necessity of guarding against the progress of this
encroaching principle, in humble reliance of superior aid, the
true Christian thankfully uses the means, and habitually ex¬
ercises himself in the considerations and motives suggested
to him for that purpose by the word of God. He is much
216 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
occupied in searching out and contemplating his own infirmi¬
ties. He endeavors to acquire and maintain a just conviction
of his great unworthiness ; and to keep in continual remem¬
brance, that "whatever distinguishes himself from others, is
not properly his own, but that he is altogether indebted for
it to the undeserved bounty of Heaven. He diligently en¬
deavors also, habitually to preserve a just sense of the real
worth of human distinction and applause, knowing that he
shall covet them less when he has learned not to overrate
their value. He labors to bear in mind how undeservedly
they are often bestowed, how precariously they are always
possessed. The censures of good men justly render him sts-
picious of himself, and prompt him carefully and impartially
to examine into those parts of his character, or those par¬
ticulars of his conduct, which have drawn on him their ani¬
madversions. The favorable opinion and the praises of good
men are justly acceptable to him, where they accord with the
testimony of his own heart; that testimony being thereby
confirmed and warranted.
Those praises favor also and strengthen the growth of
mutual confidence and affection, where it is his delight to
form friendships, rich not less in use than comfort, and to
establish connections which may last for ever. But even in
the case of the commendations of good men, he suffers not
himself to be beguiled into an overvaluation of them lest he
should be led to substitute them in the place of conscience.
He guards against this by reflecting how indistinctly we can
discern each other's motives, how little enter into each other's
circumstances, how mistaken therefore may be the judgments
formed of us, or of our actions, even by good men, and that
it is far from improbable, that a time may come, in which we
may be compelled to forfeit their esteem, by adhering to the
dictates of our own consciences.
But if he endeavors thus to sit loose in the favor and ap¬
plause even of good men, much more to those of the world
at large ; not but that he is sensible of their worth as means
and instruments of usefulness and influence ; and, under the
limitations and for the ends allowed in Scripture, he is glad
to possess, observant to acquire, and careful to retain them.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 217
He considers tliem, however, like the precious metals, as hav¬
ing rather an exchangeable than an intrinsic value, as desira¬
ble, not simply in their possession, but in their use. In this
view he holds himself to be responsible for that share of them
which he enjoys, and as bound not to let them lie by him
unemployed, this were hoarding ; not to lavish them prodi¬
gally, this would be to waste ; not imprudently to misapply
them, this were folly and caprice ; but as under an obliga¬
tion to regard them as conferred on him, that they might be
brought into action ; and consequently he may by no means
throw away, though he is ready, if it be required, to give
them up with cheerfulness ; and never feeling himself at lib¬
erty, in consideration of the use he intends to make of them,
to acquire or retain them unlawfully. He holds it to be his
bounden duty to seek diligently for occasions of rendering
them subservient to their true purposes ; and when any such
occasion is found, to expend them cheerfully and liberally,
but with discretion and frugality ; being no less prudent in
determining the measure, than in selecting the objects, of
their application, that they may go the further by being thus
managed with economy.
Acting therefore on these principles, he will studiously
and diligently use any degree of worldly credit he may enjoy
in removing or lessening prejudices ; in conciliating good
will, and thereby making way for the less obstructed progress
of truth ; and in providing for its being entertained with
candor, even with favor, by those who would bar all access
against it in any rougher or more homely form. He will
make it his business to set on foot and forward benevolent and
useful schemes ; and where they require united efforts, to
obtain and preserve for them this cooperation. He will en¬
deavor to discountenance vice, to bring modest merit into
notice ; to lend as it were his light to men of real worth, but
of less creditable name, and perhaps of less conciliating qual¬
ities and manners ; that they may thus shine with a reflected
luster, and be useful in their turn, when invested with their
just estimation. He can not discover a surer model for such a
line of conduct than in Christ himself, whose history we now
accordingly proceed to relate.
218 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
Some time before the incarnation of the blessed Jesus, an
opinion prevailed among the pious part of the Jews that the
great Jehovah would condescend to favor them with a clear
revelation of his divine will by the mission of some eminent
person qualified from above to instruct them in the same.
This opinion was founded on the predictions of the ancient
prophets, who had described, with the utmost beauty and
clearness, the person, character, and glory of the Messiah,
appointed by God, in his own time, to declare his -eternal
counsels to mankind.
Eelying on the fulfillment of these prophecies, the devout
persons among the Jews imagined the time appointed by God
was near at hand, and that the appointed Messiah would
shortly make his appearance, and therefore are said to " have
awaited night and day for the consolation of Israel." The
people, at that time grievously oppressed by the Eoman
power, and consequently anxious of regaining their liberty,
as well as revenging themselves on their tyrannical oppressors,
waited the accomplishment of the prophecies with the most
solicitous desire. But this opinion of the approach of a gene¬
ral deliverer extended much further than the country of the
Jews; for, through their connections with so many countries,
their disputes with the learned men among the heathen, and
the translation of the Old Testament into a language new
o a
almost general, their religion greatly prevailed in the East,
and consequently their opinion, that a prince would appear
in the kingdom of Judea, who would dispel the mists of igno¬
rance, deliver the J ews from the Eoman yoke, and spread his
dominion from one end of the world to the other.
While the eastern world was fraught with these sanguine
hopes, the' angel Gabriel, who had appeared to Daniel the'
prophet, with a certain information as to the period of the
Messiah's coming, as well as his transactions in this lower
world, was sent to Zacharias, a pious priest, while he was
executing his office before God, in the order of his course
(which was to burn incense when he went into the temple of
the Lord), to foretell that a child would spring from him and
his wife Elizabeth (though they were stricken in years), who
should be endowed with extraordinary gifts from heaven, and
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 219
honored with, being the forerunner of the Saviour of the
world. ,
Zacharias, when he saw the angel, though he probably
knew him to be of heavenly extraction, could not judge the
subject of his mission, and therefore discovered a mixture of
fear and surprise, but the heavenly ambassador cheered his
desponding soul with this kind address : " Fear not, Zacha¬
rias, for thy prayer is neard, and thy wife Elizabeth shall
bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John." That
he waited, day and night, for the consolation of Israel, he
well knew ; which is all we can understand by his prayer
being heard ; for it was unnatural in him to think, that he
and his wife Elizabeth, who were advanced in years, should
have a son; nay, he intimates his doubts concerning it in
these words : " Whereby shall I know this ? for I am an old
man, and my wife well stricken in years." Besides, he was a
priest of the course of Abia, whose particular office was to
pray on behalf of the people, for public and national bless¬
ings ; so that it is very reasonable to think that on all occa¬
sions of public worship he prayed most earnestly for the
accomplishment of the prophecies relative to the appearance
of the long-expected Messiah, who was promised as a general
blessing to all the nations of the earth.
That this was the great subject of his prayer, appears from
the declaration of Gabriel: the prayer thou hast directed
with sincerity to an Almighty ear, concerning the coming of
the Messiah, " is heard ; and, behold, thy wife Elizabeth shall
bear thee a son," who shall prepare the way for the mighty
Redeemer of Israel. The good old priest was as much aston¬
ished at the subject of his mission as he was at the appear¬
ance of the messenger ; and esteeming it impossible that his
wife, thus advanced in years, should conceive a son, weakly
demanded a sign, to confirm his belief in the fulfillment of
the promise, though he knew the authority of the angel was
derived from the God of truth. But as it is the lot of human¬
ity to err, Zacharias had, for that time, forgot that nothing
was impossible to Omnipotence, as well as that it was not
the first time the aged were caused to conceive, and bear chil¬
dren. The least reflection would have reminded him, that
220 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
Sarah had conceived and bore Isaac, when she was far ad¬
vanced in years, and that Samuel was born of a woman, who
was reputed, and even called, barren.
His curiosity was, indeed, gratified, but in a manner that
carried with it, at once, a confirmation of the promises, and
a punishment of his unbelief. As he had verbally testified
his doubt of the fulfillment of the pr^iction of the angel, he
was punished with the loss of his speech, which was to con¬
tinue to the very day in which the prediction should be ac¬
complished : " Behold, thou shalt be dumb, and not able to
speak, until the day that these things shall be performed, be¬
cause thou believest not my words, which shall be fulfilled in
their season."
Zacharias soon received an awful testimony of the divinity
of the mission of Gabriel, who was no sooner departed than
he was struck dumb ; for when he came to pray in the course
of his office during the oblation of his incense, he could not
utter a word ; and was under a necessity of making signs to
the people that an angel had appeared to him in the temple,
and that he was deprived of the faculty of speech, as a pun¬
ishment for his doubting the fulfillment of an event which he
had been foretold concerning him.
Soon after Zacharias departed to his own house (the days
of his ministration being accomplished), his wife Elizabeth,
according to the prediction of the angel, conceived, and retired
into a private place, where she lived five months in the unin¬
terrupted exercise of piety, devotion, and contemplation on
the mysterious providence of the Almighty, and his amazing
goodness to the sinful children of men.
When Elizabeth was advanced six months in her preg¬
nancy, the same heavenly embassador was sent to a poor vir¬
gin, called Mary, who lived in obscurity in Nazareth, under
the care of Joseph, to whom she was espoused. This man
and woman were both lineally descended from the house of
David, from whose loins it was foretold the great Messiah
should spring.
This virgin being ordained by the Most High to be the
mother of the great Saviour of the world, was saluted by the
angel in the most respectful terms: " Hail, thou that art highly
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 221
favored ; the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among
women !" Such an address, from so exalted a being, greatly-
alarmed the meek and humble virgin ; to allay whoso fear,
and encourage whose heart, the angel related, in the most
sublime terms, tlie subject of his embassy, which was to as¬
sure her that she was the chosen of God to the greatest honor
which could be conferred on a mortal, and which would per¬
petuate her memory ; an honor no less than that of being
mother of the promised and long-expected Messiah, who upon
earth shall be called Jesus, because he should save his people
from their sins, be the restorer of human nature, and the pro¬
curing cause of eternal bliss to sinners, who had forfeited the
favor, and incurred the resentment of an offended God ; that
this divine person was the Son of the Most High God ; to
whom should be given, by his Almighty Father, a throne in
the heavenly kingdom, on which he should preside, and which,
being the whole church of Christ, the house of Jacob, the
spiritual Israel, or the kingdom of the Messiah, should con¬
tinue for ever and ever.
The astonished virgin, unmindful that Isaiah had long
since prophesied, " that a vigin should conceive and bear a
son," thought her virginity an insurmountable barrier to the
fulfillment of the prophecy, especially as such an event had
never occurred since the creation of the world, and therefore
required of the angel an explanation of the manner in which
such a circumstance could be effected.
This desire by no means implies her not remembering
that with God all things were possible, but only serves to
* prove the weakness of her apprehensions on the one hand, or
her diffidence and sense of her own unworthiness on the
other.
The angel, therefore, perceiving the uprightness of her
disposition, notwithstanding some little proof of human weak¬
ness and shortness of sight, vouchsafed an immediate answer
to her inquiry : " The Holy Ghost shall come upon you, and
the power of the Highest shall overshadow theeor, in other
words, This miraculous event shall be -brought about by the
aid of the Holy Spirit, and wonderful exertion of the power
i of the Most High. As thy conception shall be effected by the
|r =
222 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
immediate influence of the Holy Ghost, "therefore also that
holy thing which shall he born of thee shall he called the Son
of God." To confirm her faith in the glorious message, the
heavenly messenger observed to her that her cousin Elizabeth,
notwithstanding her advanced years, and reputed barrenness,
was above six months pregnant, assigning this incontestable
argument for the miraculous incident: "For with God noth¬
ing shall be impossible."
This reply not only removed all her doubts and fears, but
filled her with inexpressible joy, so that she even anticipated
the promised felicity ; for she, with the rest of the daughters
of Jacob, had long indulged the hope of being selected by God
to be the honored mother of the Saviour of Israel; and, there¬
fore, on her being assured that such happiness was destined
her by the great Disposer of all events, she thus expressed her
reliance on the fulfillment of the divine promise, and per¬
fect acquiescence in the will of the Almighty: " Behold
the handmaid of the Lord ! be it unto me according to thy
word."
The angel had no sooner departed than Mary set out for
the mountainous country of Judea, though at a very remote
distance from Nazareth, in order to rejoice with her cousin
Elizabeth in the joyful news that she had received from the
angel concerning her. The rapture and delight which filled
the minds of Mary and Elizabeth on the occasion of this sal¬
utation can alone be conceived from the affecting description
recorded by the evangelist Luke, who is peculiar for the beauty
of his style and elegance of his expressions.
That evangelist writes that the salutation of Mary had
such an effect upon Elizabeth that, on hearing of the miracu¬
lous event that had befallen the virgin, the babe leaped within
her, and that she, being inspired with a holy delight, on the
approaching prospect of the nativity of her Saviour, exclaimed
with rapture, " And whence is this to me, that the mother of
my Lord should come to me ?" Luke, i. 43. Nor did her ec-
stacy cease with the token of humility and joy on the important
event, in the ardor of which she evinced that prophetic influ¬
ence which, while it amazed the blessed virgin, could not fail
of establishing her belief in what the angel had foretold ; for
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 223
she repeated the very words expressed by the angel in his sal¬
utation of the holy virgin, " Blessed art thou among women
together with a quotation from the Psalms, " and blessed is
the fruit of thy womb."
Mary conceived the Seed long promised and earnestly de¬
sired, the Seed in whom all the nations of the eartli were to
be blessed, according to the words of the Psalmist, " His name
shall continue as long as the sun; and men shall be blessed in
him : all nations shall call him blessed." The happy virgin,
catching the holy flame from the aged Elizabeth, broke out
into an humble acknowledgment of her unworthiness, and the
wonderful grace of the Almighty, in appointing her to the
exalted honor of bearing the Redeemer of Israel, as ex¬
pressed in these known words, " My soul doth magnify the
Lord," etc.
Thus having, by his visit, confirmed herself in the belief
of the prediction of the angel Gabriel, when the period of
Elizbeth's pregnancy approached, she returned to Nazareth,
having resided in Judea about three months.
Soon after the departure of Mary, Elizabeth brought forth
a son, the appointed harbinger of the King of Glory ; and on
the eighth day after his birth, according to the Judaical cus¬
tom, he was circumcised, and called, agreeably to the appoint¬
ment of the angel, John, alluding, in the Hebrew tongue, to
the gracious display of the wisdom and goodness of God, who
was about to manifest himself to the world by the spreading
of the gospel of his Son, of whom this John was the ap¬
pointed forerunner.
The promise being thus fulfilled, the aged priest was re¬
stored to his speech, and immediately broke out into praise
and rapture at the marvelous works of God, in strains which
astonished all around him.*
This surprising event greatly alarmed the people of the
adjacent country, who were divided in their opinions concern¬
ing a child whose birth was attended with so many extraordi¬
nary circumstances. Indeed, these incidents were worthy of
general admiration ; that he who was to be the forerunner of
the mighty Saviour of Israel should not make his entrance on
life in an obscure and uncommon manner, but with particular
224 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
tokens of the favor of Heaven, in order to attract the observa¬
tion of his countrymen, and excite their attention to that min¬
istry which he is called to by the blessed God, even the prep¬
aration of the people for the reception of the Messiah, who
was shortly to appear in the flesh. %
It is observable, that the Baptist from his infancy dis¬
played great qualities, both of mind and body ; for such was
his strength of constitution, through the blessing of the God
of nature, that he lived till near the thirtieth year of his
age, when his public ministry began, in the mountainous and
desert country of Judea, bereft of almost all the comforts of
life. But at length the prophecy of the good old Zacharias,
relating to his future elevation, was literally fulfilled : " Thou,
0 child, shalt be called the Prophet of the Highest; for thou
shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways ; to
give knowledge of salvation to his people, by the remission of
their sins through the tender mercies of our God, whereby
the dayspring from on High hath visited us, to give light to
them that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death, to
guide our feet in the way of peace."
As Joseph had betrothed Mary, according to the method
of the Jewish espousals, before they came to cohabit together
as man and wife, she was found to be with child ; at which
he was so much confounded that he resolved to put her away.
Yet he purposed doing it privately, probably to prevent that
exemplary punishment which the law inflicted on those who
had violated the faith of their esjiousals before the marriage
was completed, Deuteronomy, xii. 23, 24, or endure the in¬
famy of a public divorce.
While he was ruminating on this interesting event, he was
overtaken with a pleasing slumber, and received a communi¬
cation from above, which fully revealed the cause and man¬
ner of Mary's pregnancy, dispelled his doubts, and encouraged
him to take home his falsely suspected spouse: "Joseph,
thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife;
for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost."
The pious Joseph complied with the voice of Heaven most
cheerfully ; for no sooner did the morning dawn appea;, than
he rose from his couch, and obeyed the commands of the Most
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
225
High, by relating to his espoused wife his being assured of
her innocence, and immediately restored her to her former
favor.
While he related to her the manner of this extraordinary
revelation, by a messenger from heaven, ho discovered in her
a remarkable chastity of heart, entirely conformable to so
mysterious an operation, and knew her not, till she had
brought forth the great Redeemer of Israel.
Thus was fulfilled that which was foretold by the prophets,
and particularly the prediction of Isaiah, which imported, that
a virgin should bring forth a son—" Behold, a virgin shall
conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel,
which being interpreted, is, Grod with us." Isaiah, vii. 14.
Matthew, i. 23.
CHAPTER II.
Augustus Cjesar, the Roman epaperor, having at this
time issued an edict for a general taxation on all the nations,
cities, and towns, subject to the empire, King Herod, in con¬
sequence of that decree, commanded all under his government
to muster in the city of his people, or place of his descent,
that an estimate may be taken of their persons and effects.
Pursuant'to this order, Joseph and Mary, as descendants from
the line of David, departed from Nazareth, where they then
resided, and came to Bethlehem, a city of Judea, the place
of the nativity of David and his ancestors.
The manner and place of our Lord's birth certainly de¬
manded our highest admiration and wonder, as a striking dis¬
play of wisdom, both in the direction and accomplishment of
the will of his heavenly Father. Considered in his divine-
nature, heaven is the habitation of his seat, and the earth is
his footstool: considered in his human nature, he is humble
beneath all, being confined within the narrow limits of a
manger ! Though as the Son of God, he is the brightness of
his Father's glory, the express image of his person, and his
throne is for ever and ever !—as the Son of man, 0 wondrous
226 THE LIFE OF JESTJS CHRIST.
condescension! he is wrapped in the meanest swaddling
clothes ; and, as man, he takes up his habitation w-ith the
beasts of the field. In fine, let us adore his grace and love in
vailing those glories, for a time, which he enjoyed at the right
hand of his Father, assuming our nature, and that in its
humblest state, in order to raise us to that degree of glory
and happiness, which, by our apostacy from God, we had
justly forfeited ; exulting with the prophet, " Sing, 0 heav¬
ens, and be joyful, 0 earth, and break forth into singing, 0
mountains, for the Lord hath comforted his people/'
But the humble manner in which the blessed Jesus made
his appearance in the world, did not long eclipse the glory of
his descent; a heavenly messenger being dispatched from
above to apprise mankind of their Saviour's incarnation. It
pleased the wise Disposer of all things, by his holy angel, first
to make known to some honest shepherds, who were watch¬
ing their flocks by night, in the neighboring fields, the birth
of the long-promised, long-expected Messiah. The radiance
which shone around them terrified the astonished peasants ;
but, to dissipate their fears, and confirm their joys, the divine
messenger interposed, and thus addressed them : " Fear not;
for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall
be unto all people. For unto you is born this day, in the
city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And
this shall be a sign unto you : ye shall find the babe wrapped
in swaddling-clothes, lying in a manger." Luke, ii. 10, etc.
The glorious news was no sooner proclaimed, than a num¬
ber of the celestial choir were heard to resound the praises of
the Almighty for this transcendent display of his goodness to
sinful men : " And suddenly there was with the angel a mul¬
titude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, Glory
to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good-will toward
men." Transported with the happy tidings of the birth of
the Redeemer of Israel, the angel no sooner departed than the
shepherds hastened to Bethlehem, in quest of the Babe, whom,
according to the information of the sacred missionary, they
found wrapped in swaddling-clothes, and lying in a manger.
This event, so exactly conformable to the angel's prediction,
equally delighted and amazed them ; nor could they conceal
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 227
the purport of his mission, but published abroad all they had
seen and heard.
Having viewed, with praise and wonder, their long-
expected Saviour, and offered their grateful praises to God for
the manifestation of his goodness to mankind, they departed
with hearts filled with love and gratitude, still glorifying the
Almighty Parent of universal nature.
After the expiration of eight days from the birth of the
holy infant, he was circumcised, according to the Mosaic in¬
stitution ; and thus, by a few drops, gave earnest of the
abundance of blood which he was to shed for the purification
of mankind. The blessed Redeemer passed through this
ceremony, not that he stood in any necessity of conforming
to the laws of any kind, being the supreme Lawgiver, with
respect to his exalted nature ; but, as considered in his hum¬
ble state, he was born of a woman, made under the law, and
came, according to his own declaration, to fulfill all righteous¬
ness, it was requisite he should conform to that custom, which
characterized the Jewish nation, and was one of the principal
injunctions of the Mosaic law under which he was born ; in
order to fulfill all that is spoken of him in the Scriptures.
Besid^, as all the promises made to Abraham were to be
fulfilled in the Messiah, it was necessary he should receive the
seal of circumcision, in order to prove his descent from the
patriarch, concerning whom it was foretold, " In thy seed
shall all the families of the earth be blessed." As a further
reason for our Lord's compliance with this Jewish institution,
we may urge the propriety of his finishing the former dispen¬
sation, by an exact adherence to its rules, as he was about to
establish another, and much better, which could not be ef¬
fected more fully, than by conforming to that sacrament,
which was of divine injunction, and indispensably requisite
to admission into the former.
As the same institution also required that every first-born
son, without any regard to circumstances of family, should
be presented to the Lord, in the temple, by delivering him
into the hands of the priest, and paying five shekels, together
with an offering, which, from the poorer sort, consisted of a
pair of turtle doves, or two young pigeons ; a ceremony in
228 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
commemoration of the divine mercy in sparing the first-born
of Israel, when those of Egypt, "both man and beast, were
destroyed ; his parents having tarried at Bethlehem till the
days of Mary's purification were accomplished, brought the
child Jesus to Jerusalem, and there presented him in the
temple to the Lord, in the manner thus described, with the
offering allowed to the poorer sort of people ; a repeated in¬
stance of the exact obedience of the immaculate Jesus to the
ceremonial law, as well as the poverty of his parents, though
descended from a royal house.
During the presentation of the holy infant, there entered
the temple a pious and venerable old man, named Simeon,
who, with all the devout, had "waited day and night for the
consolation of Israel," and to whom it had been revealed by
the Spirit of Truth, that he should not depart this mortal
life till he had seen the Lord of life and salvation.
Accordingly, it was signified to him by the Holy Ghost,
at whose instance he came at the precise time into the temple,
that the child there presented was the long-expected Messiah,
even the Redeemer of Israel. In an ecstacy of joy he em¬
braced the heavenly infant in his arms, and exclaimed, " Lord,
now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy
word : for mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast
prepared before the face of all people ; a light to lighten the
Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel." Luke, ii. 29-32.
A certain good prophetess, called Anna, who had a long
time waited for the redemption of Israel, entering the temple,
at the instant in which Simeon exulted in the birth of the
heavenly infant, and finding that he was the promised Mes¬
siah, likewise joined with him in praising God, and went forth
and declared the glad tidings of salvation to all the faithful
in these parts.
Having, in every respect, complied with the ceremonies
and rites contained in the law of Moses, Joseph and Mary,
with the child Jesus, " entered in Galilee, to their city Naze-,
reth." They did not, however, long abide there, for having
adjusted their affairs, they returned again to Bethlehem, the
place of our Lord's nativity.
This step appears to have been pursued in consequence of
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 220
their opinion, tliat it was necessary, in order to his being ac¬
knowledged the Messiah, sent hy (rod, that he (should reside
some time in the place of his birth. Whatever was their
motive for remo\al, it is evident, from Scripture, that "while
they were in Bethlehem, with their sun, certain eastern phi¬
losophers, called Magi, or A\iso men, on account of the appear¬
ance they had seen, went to Jerusalem, and inquired f >r Iho
King of the Jews, declaring they had Men his star in their
own quarter : and were come to pay him the adoration due
to his dignity.
Various conjectures have heen formed hy tin1 learned con¬
cerning this star, which is said to have appeared in the east;
some think it was the Spirit of God, others an angel, some a
comet, others a luminous appearance, etc. A modern writer
thinks it was the glory that surrounded the angels, who had
appeared to the shepherds of Bethlehem, on the night of the
blessed Lord's nativity.
But to leave this subject, as not immediately appertain¬
ing to our purpose. The whole city of Jerusalem was alarmed
at the unexpected appearance of the eastern Magi; an event
which much perplexed the tyrant Herod, whose ambitious
mind maintained the utmost aversion to the very thought of
a rival or competitor, and consequently could not brook a
report that favored the news of the birth of the King of the
Jews.
Disguising, however, his sentiments, he received the Magi
with seeming respect, attended to the design of their errand
with affected complacency, and, to gratify their curiosity,
summoned a general council, and demanded of them where
Christ should be born ? The council kept him not long in
suspense; for, well remembering the prophets had j>articu-
larly foretold the place of his birth, they replied to the demand
of the monarch, " In Bethlehem of Judea and to confirm
their answer, cited prophetic authority: " And thou Bethle¬
hem, in the land of Judea, art not the least among the prin¬
ces of Judea; for out of thee shall come a Governor, that
shall rule my people Israel." Matthew, ii. 6. The tyrant
king, in consequence of the reply from the supreme council
of the nation, directed the Magi to Bethlehem, as the place,
230 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
according to ancient prophecy, designed for the honor of
Christ's nativity, earnestly entreating them at the same time,
1 immediately on their finding out the child, to send him word,
that he might repair thither, and pay his adoration to him
also.
But this was mere pretense, and vile hypocrisy; for so
far was Herod from entertaining any religious regard for the
infant Jesus, that he vowed in his heart to destroy him as
soon as he should "be found ; looking on him as designed for
a temporal prince, who should expel him or his descendants
from the throne of Judea, instead of a prince whose kingdom
was wholly spiritual, and whose throne was not to he estab¬
lished upon earth, but in the heavenly Jerusalem.
Although we may have many stronger proofs of the divin¬
ity of our Saviour's mission than his miraculous preservation
from the designs of the ambitious Herod, yet this was very
remarkable. The tyrant, in this case, acted with the utmost
subtlety; he declined accompanying the wise men in person;
nor did he even send attendants with them, who, under the
guise of honoring them, might have secretly informed him of
the abode of the Messiah. In short, he acted with such ap¬
parent indifference, as if he had no peculiar reason for dis¬
patching them on the occasion.
However, the Magi, having obtained the intelligence they
sought in Jerusalem, got forward, under the guidance of the
same star that conducted them from their own country, but
had left them on their arrival in Judea, which was the cause
of their directing their course to the capital, in order to seek
that information which, by the desertion of the star, became
requisite. Thus it appears that the designs of the Almighty,
in directing the eastern Magi to the capital of Judea, was,
that the whole nation might be made acquainted with the
cause of their journey.
It is natural and reasonable to suppose that the end of the
divine wisdom, in directing these Magi to the kingdom of
Judea to worship the child Jesus, was not merely to gratify
the curiosity of the wise men, because the event promoted
many other very important designs.
It contributed to a valuable purpose, in that the offerings
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 231
of the wise men procured a subsistence for tlie lioly family in
Egypt whither they were soon afterward to fly, in order to
escape the vengeance of the enraged king ; for no sooner had
the wise men departed from Bethlehem than Joseph was
warned, hy a heavenly messenger, of the barbarous purposo
of Herod, and commanded to flee into Egypt with the young
child and his mother.
Joseph, in obedience to the Almighty's command, rose
that very night, and prepared to go into Egypt, " and was
there until the death of Herod; that it might be fulfilled
which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, Out of Egypt
have I called my Son." This prophecy, which is quoted from
Hosea, seems originally to refer to the Israelites ; though the
evangelist's reference will be amply justified, by considering
that the Egyptian captivity alludes to the subjugation of the
Israelites to great hardships, and their deliverance from the
same by an Almighty hand.
Now, as the departure of the holy family into Egypt was
in obedience to the divine command, in order to protect the
holy Jesus from the incensed Herod, the application of the
prophet, " Out of Egypt have I called my Son," appears very
just, as well as elegant. The king of Judea long waited with
the most earnest expectation the return of the wise men, anx¬
ious to glut his resentment on the innocent Jesus ; till, from
their long delay, he began to suspect a delusion, and that his
designs were frustrated by some extraordinary interposition
of Providence.
At length, irritated by disappointment, he resolved to ac¬
complish by cruelty a resolution he could not effect by art;
and acordingly issued orders to a large party of soldiers to go
throughout Bethlehem, and the neighboring villages, and
massacre all the children whom they could find therein, from
two years old and under ! thinking that the infant Jesus
whom, as a prince, he both envied and dreaded, would fall in
the general slaughter.
But the heavenly missionary was sheltered from above ;
nor was the relentless king permitted to impede the design of
an Almighty Creator.
However, the cities through which the soldiers carried the
232 the life of jesus christ.
destructive sword exhibited such scenes of horror and distress
as could not fail to pierce every soul not entirely lost to hu¬
manity. No sound was heard but the affecting cries of par¬
ents, the groans of expiring babes, and a general imprecation
of vengeance on the merciless tyrant. But he did not long
survive his cruel decree, being swept from his throne by a
nauseous disease, to answer for his conduct at the bar of a
tremendous Judge.
The tyrant Herod being cut off from the face of the earth,
Joseph was warned by a heavenly messenger to return to the
land of Israel. The good old man obeyed the Almighty's
command, and appears to have had a great desire of residing
in Judea, and very probably in Bethlehem ; but hearing that
Herod was succeeded in his throne by his son Archelaus, and
fearing that he might pursue the barbarous design of his
father, he directed his course another away; but being warned
again by a heavenly mission, he retired into Galilee, then un¬
der the government of a mild and benevolent prince, called
Antipas, and took up his habitation at Nazareth, where the
particular circumstances which, attended the birth of the
blessed Jesus were not generally known. The evangelist af¬
firms that J oseph, with the infant and his mother, resided in
Nazareth, where the holy Jesus spent his youth; " that it
might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, He shall
be called a Nazarene."
CHAPTER III.
The precise circumstances of our Lord's childhood and
life, previous to his public ministry, can* not be ascertained
from the writings of any of the evangelists, which can be re¬
lied on as authentic. All we can gather from those men is,
that the faculties of his mind were enlarged in proportion to
the growth of his body, insomuch that he arrived at the very
perfection of heavenly wisdom.
As his parents were mean and poor, he had not the ad-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
233
vantage of a finished education ; and lie seems to liave re¬
ceived no other instruction than what his parents gave him in
conformity to Jewisli laws. But supernatural ubiliti< 'S amply
compensated for the deficiency of natural acquirements, and
he gave instances, in his earliest years, of amazing penei ra¬
tion and consummate wisdom.
According to the Mosaic institution, his parents annually
went up to Jerusalem ; and, when he arrived at the age of
twelve years, carried him with them to that city, in order that
he might early imbibe the precepts of religion and virtue. In
this place the holy Jesus tamed, without the knowledge, and,
consequently, the consent of his parents, who departed with
the rest that were going towards Galilee ; and thinking that
he was gone forward with some of their relations or acquaint¬
ance, they continued their journey, not doubting but they
should overtake him on the road, or meet with him at the
place where they had appointed to lodge. But on their ar¬
rival, not finding the child in the village, nor amongst their
relations, they returned to Jerusalem, much troubled, and,
after a most anxious search of three days, found him in the
temple, sitting among the learned doctors, who were amazed
at the wisdom of his questions, and the pertinence of his re¬
plies ; which were greatly superior to what they could expect
from one of his tender years and mean education.
These doctors, or expounders of the law among the Jews,
always taught the people publicly on the three great festivals;
and it was on one of these public occasions that the blessed
Jesus gave such manifest proofs of his wisdom and penetra¬
tion as astonished all the beholders, many of whom thought
he must be something more than human.
During the obscure state of our blessed Redeemer at Naz¬
areth, the Emperor Augustus died at Campania, after a long
reign of above forty years, to the general regret of the whole
Roman empire. He was succeeded by Tiberius, his son, a
prince of very different temper of mind from his predecessor.
The emperor, in the second year of his reign, recalled Rufus
from the government of Judea, and sent Valerius Gracchus
to succeed him. After reigning eleven years, Gracchus was
recalled, and succeeded by Pontius Pilate, a person resem-
234 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
tiling, in disposition, his master Tiberius, who was malicious,
cruel, and covetous.
Soon after Pontius Pilate was appointed to the govern¬
ment of Judea, John the Baptist began to open his commis¬
sion for preparing our Saviour's way before him, according as
was appointed, by preaching " the baptism of repentance- for
the remission of sins." Sacred history has not informed us
of the manner in which the Baptist spent the former part of
his life ; but, according to ancient tradition, Elizabeth, hear¬
ing of Herod's barbarous massacre of the infants of Bethle¬
hem, fled into the wilderness, to secure the infant J ohn from
the relentless cruelty of that inhuman monster, and there
nurtured him with all the tenderness of an affectionate
mother. John the Baptist was about eighteen months old
when his mother fled with him into the wilderness, within
forty days after which she died.
He proved very successful in his ministry, as he enforced
the doctrine of repentance, because the kingdom of heaven
was at hand ; persons of all degrees and professions flocked
to him, confessed their sins, were baptized in Jordan, and
submitted to whatever the prophet prescribed as necessary to
obtain an inheritance in that kingdom, the approach of which
he came to declare. Amongst the converts were many of the
Pharisaical tribe, some of whom confessed their sins, and were
likewise baptized in Jordan.
The conversation of the Pharisees surprised the Baptist,
knowing that they maintained a high opinion of their own
sanctity, for which reason it was very astonishing that they
should express any desire of obtaining a remission of their
sin. In short he was much surprised to find the whole na¬
tion so affected by his threatenings, especially as he knew
they expected salvation on account of their being of the seed
of Abraham, a conceit which they cherished, and which they
seem to have derived from a misrepresentation of the follow¬
ing passage : " Thus saith the Lord, who giveth the sun for
a light by day, and the ordinance of the moon, and the stars,
for a light by night; who divideth the sea, when the waves
thereof roar ; the Lord of Hosts is his name ; if these ordi¬
nances depart from before me, saith the Lord, then the seed
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 235
of Israel also shall cease from being a nation In'fore nie, for
ever. Thus saith the Lord. If the heaven ahovo can he
measured, and the foundation of the earth searched beneath,
I will also cast off the seed of Israel, for all that they have
done."
But the Baptist, to curb their arrogance, called them the
u offspring of vipers," instead of the children of Abraham ;
perhaps the Pharisees and Sadducees applied to John for
baptism, thinking by that means to avoid the danger they
might incur, from being the avowed enemies of the Messiah,
whom they expected to come in all the pomp of royalty, and
to maintain his superiority by force of arms.
Throughout the whole of the Baptist's ministration, he
happily adapted his discourses to the circumstances and ca¬
pacities of the various people he addressed ; and took every
pious means to prepare them for the reception of the prom¬
ised Messiah, who was shortly to appear amongst them in the
glorious character of Saviour and Redeemer of Israel.
Thus, by a life of inflexible virtue, discourses nervous and
pathetic, exhortations sincere and fervent, and rebukes honest
and courageous, the Baptist became renowned throughout
the region of Judea. Such was the admiration of the people
at his life and doctrine, that, from the vision of his father
Zacharias in the temple, the arrival of the Magi at Jerusalem,
the prophecies of Simeon (circumstances recent in their mem¬
ories), they began to conjecture that John might be the prom¬
ised Messiah, and were even ready to pronounce him the Re¬
deemer of Israel; so that had he aspired to worldly dignity,
he might, for a time, have shone in all the grandeur of hu¬
man pomp, and claimed a regard superior to the sons of men.
But, pious in principle, and humble in heart, he could not
arrogate honors of which he was conscious of his unworthi-
ness ; and therefore honestly undeceived his numerous fol¬
lowers, by assuring them that, so far from being the glorious
person promised, he was only his forerunner ; and that, such
was his own inferiority, that he was unworthy of doing his
most menial offices. " I indeed baptize you with water ; but
one mightier than I cometh, the latchet of whose shoes I am
unworthy to loose." Luke, iii. 16.
236
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
During the time of the Baptist's continuance at Betha-
bara, the blessed Jesus left his retirement at Nazareth, and
previous to his public ministry repaired to the banks of the
river Jordan, where John was executing his commission for
him, in order to be thus baptized by him. We can not im¬
pute this conduct of our Lord to any necessity there was of
his conforming to the institution of baptism ; for purity needs
not cleansing; it is therefore evident that his motive was to
add a sanction to that ordinance, for ever after appointed to
be the initiating rite of Christianity, " Go, baptize all na¬
tions," etc. •
It appears that John immediately, as it were by a pro¬
phetic revelation, knew the Saviour of the world ; for we find
from the evangelist, that he acknowledged his superiority, and
declined the office : " I have need to be baptized of thee ; and
comest thou to me ?" Our Lord's answer, though short, is
very full and expressive : " Suffer it to be so now ; for thus
it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness." As if he had
said, regard not the precedence at this time, but perform thy
office ; for it is necessary that we should, in the minutest
point, conform to the divine will, by which this institution is
enjoined.
This remonstrance removed the objections of J ohn, and he
baptized the immaculate Jesus in the river Jordan, in the
presence of numerous spectators.
When the ceremony was performed, as he needed not the
instructions usually given on the occasion, he went up straight¬
way out of the water, and, kneeling on the bank of the river,
fervently addressed his Almighty Father for an abundant
effusion of his Holy Spirit, as *he was now entering on his
public ministry, the prelude of his important mission, the end
of which was the salvation of mankind.
the life of jestjs christ. 237
CHAPTER IV.
The great Kedeemer having tlius complied with the insti¬
tution of Baptism, and received a most convincing testimony
of his heavenly Father's approbation, hy the miraculous de¬
scent and effusion of the Holy Ghost upon him, while praying
on the banks of Jordan, in the presence of a multitude of
spectators, entered upon his public ministry at the ago of
thirty years, according to the custom of the priests among
the Jews.
It was apprehended by the people, that as he had just
begun his public office, he would repair to Jerusalem, the seat
of power and grandeur, in order to display to the mighty and
the learned his miraculous abilities and effulgent glories.
O O
But, averse to human praise, the heavenly-minded Jesus
preferred solitude to the noise and hurry of mortal life ; he
therefore retired into the wilderness, in order to prepare him¬
self by fasting, meditation, and prayer, and sustaining temp¬
tation, f< >r the important work on which he was entering—the
salvation of mankind.
To promote this grand design, the evangelists write that
this retirement into the wilderness was in consequence of the
immediate direction of the divine Spirit. Though solitude
itself is melancholy, the blessed Jesus added to the dismal
scene by retiring on a barren spot, surrounded by high and
craggy mountains, and forming a dark and gloomy chaos.
The Saviour of the world had not only been exposed to
poverty and ridicule, but also to the most trying temptation
of Satan ; that as the captain of our salvation has undergone
the same, we ought not to faint when we are tempted, but,
like him, be able to withstand the fiery darts of the devil.
It doubtless appears highly proper, in order that our
blessed Lord and Master might both enter upon and prose¬
cute his ministry with more glory to himself and advantage to
mankind, that he should previously overcome the most subtle
arts of that deceiver, who, under the mask of a serpent, se¬
duced our first parents, and involved them and their posterity
in one common ruin.
jr
238 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
The peculiar devices by the old serpent to tempt the Son
of God, during the time of his fasting, are not recorded in
holy writ, and consequently they can not be ascertained.
But at the expiration of the forty days, when the blessed
Jesus had endured the keenest hunger, the tempter, to make
proof of the divinity of his mission, insolently demanded why
he bore the sensations of hunger ? since, if he was the Son
of God, he must have power to change the stones of that
dreary wildernes sinto bread ; and by so marvelous a trans¬
mutation, he might have the satisfaction of knowing the truth
of what was said concerning him at his baptism.
But our blessed Saviour repelled his device, by citing the
words of Moses, which implied that God, whenever it seemed
good in his sight, could, by extraordinary means, provide for
the support of the human race. " Man shall not live by
bread alone, but by every word of God." Luke, iv. 4.
Satan, being defeated in his effort, took him to the top
of a very high mountain, and thinking to work upon him by
another artifice, showed him a bright view of all the king¬
doms of the world, with all their alluring glories, promising
him universal empire over the whole, if he would bow down
and yield him the honor of the benefaction.
But observe his accursed pride and arrogance, in promis¬
ing that which is the gift of God alone—universal empire
over the earth ; and requiring what was due to none but the
Supreme—religious homage. This blasphemy, as well as in¬
solence, incited the blessed Jesus to exert his divine author¬
ity, and command him, in a peremptory maimer, to desist,
citing this special injunction from sacred writ, " Thou shalt
worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve."
Thus repelled, he repeated the attempt, and, having taken
our Lord to Jerusalem, placed him on the pinnacle of the
temple, and, by a taunt of insolence, urged him to prove the
truth of his mission by casting himself down from thence,
citing, as an encouragement for him to comply with his de¬
sire, a text from the Psalms : " If thou be the Son of God,
cast thyself down ; for it is written, he shall give his angels
charge concerning thee, and in their hands shall they bear
thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone."
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
239
Matthew iv. 6. But our Saviour soon baffled this attempt,
by another apt quotation from Scripture : " Thou sliult not
tempt the Lord thy God." Matthew iv. 7. Thou shalt not
provoke the Lord, either by disobeying his command, or by an
impertinent curiosity to know more concerning his mind and
will than he is pleased to reveal.
Thus baffled in all his arts and devices by the wisdom and
power of the Son of God, he departed from him, and an host
of celestial spirits, dispatched from the regions of bliss, came
and ministered refreshment to our Saviour, after his victory
over the great enemy and father of mankind.
Hence, notwithstanding the ridicule of the infidel, Chris¬
tians may derive great encouragement to fight manfully
against the flesh, the world, and the devil, under the banner
of the great captain of their salvation, who is ever ready to
supply them with spiritual armor to sustain the combat with
that inveterate and subtle foe, whose devices he has exper¬
ienced, being in every respect tempted like them.
During the time of our Saviour's retirement in the wilder¬
ness, his faithful harbinger, the Baptist, being assured, from
the miraculous descent of the Holy Spirit, and other concur-
ing testimonies, that Jesus was the promised and long-
expected Messiah, continued publishing his mission to the
multitude ; so that the rulers in Jerusalem received informa¬
tion of the surprising events that had happened in Bethabara,
beyond Jordan, before they saw the blessed Jesus, in confir¬
mation of whose mission and doctrine they were effected.
Prompted by curiosity, they dispatched a deputation of
priests and Levites to the Baptist, to demand of him who he
was ; whether he was the Messiah, or Elias; or a prophet
risen from the dead to precede the Messiah, the powerful
Prince, so earnestly expected by the whole nation of Israel.
The Baptist frankly replied, that he was not the Messiah
whom they expected, nor Elias, who, as they had vainly
thought, would personally appear amongst them, nor any
other prophet risen from the dead: but, at the same time,
hinted to them, that though he was not Elias himself, yet he
was that person spoken of by the prophet Isaiah, and him of
whom he thus prophesied, " The voice of him that crieth in
240 THE LIFE OF JESIJS CHRIST.
the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of tlie Lord ; make straight
in the desert a highway for onr God." Isaiah xl. 3.
The priests and Levites, not sufficiently gratified with this
reply of the Baptist, demanded of him why he assumed the
power of baptizing the people, if he was neither the Messiah,
nor Elias, nor any of the ancient prophets risen from the
dead ? To this demand John answered, I indeed baptize, to
show the necessity of repentance : but my baptism is only
that of water, and wholly ineffectual of itself to the remission
of sins; but that washing foretold by Zacharias, is of sovereign
effect; it is not my province, but solely that of the Messiah,
who is actually upon earth and among you, though ye know him
not, because he hath not yet manifested himself to the world.
The Messiah is so far exalted beyond me, in power and dig¬
nity, that I am not worthy to do him the meanest offices;
The day after the departure of the priests and Levites from
Bethabara, our blessed Lord left the wilderness, and repaired
thither himself, while John was yet baptizing and preaching
the doctrine of repentance.
The Baptist, as his grand business was to direct all per¬
sons to the Messiah, for life and salvation in and through him,
embraced this seasonable opportunity of pointing him out to
the multitude : " Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh
away the sins of the world Lest the attending crowd
should surmise that it had been previously concerted between
Jesus and John, that the former should assume, and the latter
give him, the appellation of Messiah, he publicly and solemnly
declared that he was, equally with them, ignorant of the pre¬
tensions of Jesus to that high character, till he saw the de¬
scent of the Holy Ghost, and heard him pronounced, in the
most awful manner, the Son of God. "And John bare rec¬
ord, saying, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a
dove, and it abode upon him. And I knew him not; but he
that sent me to baptize with water, the same said unto me,
Upon whom thou shalt see the Spirit descending, and re¬
maining, the same is he which baptizeth with the Holy
Ghost. And I saw, and bare record that this is the Son of
God." John, i. 32, 33, 34.
The Baptist having made this declaration, the Messiah
J
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
241
left Bethabara, but returned the day following ; and John
happening to stand with two of hid followers on tho bank of
the river Jordan, pointed to him as he passed, and in a pious
rapture repeated what he had addressed to tho multitude tho
preceding day: u Behold the Lamb of God!" It is hence
imagined that these two disciples, or followers of the Baptist,
were absent at the time of the descent of the Holy Ghost, and
for that reason this method was taken of pointing out to them
the venerable person of the promised Redeemer of the world.
Animated with an ardent desire of hearing, as well as
seeing, this extraordinary person, they left John, and followed
Jesus, who, conscious of their design, turned about, and, with
the utmost affability, gave them an invitation to the place of
his residence. The evangelist John informs us that one of
these disciples was Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter ; and
it is conjectured, from his silence, that himself was the other ;
for it is remarkable, that in his writings, he studiously con¬
cealed his own name. Be that as it will, it is abundantly
evident that the testimony of the Baptist, added to the to¬
kens he had from the blessed Jesus, in the course of his con¬
verse with him, amply satisfied Andrew that he was indeed
the promised Messiah, tho Saviour and Redeemer of lost and
perishing sinners. #
Andrew soon after found his brother Peter, and brought
him to our blessed Lord, telling him that he should after¬
wards be called Cephas (which signifies a rock), from his firm
resolution of mind, and also because he should contribute to¬
wards the foundation of the Christian church.
Some time after, Jesus met with Philip, an inhabitant of
the town of Bethsaida, and said unto him, "Follow me."
Philip immediately obeyed the divine command, having heard
of the character and mission of our blessed Saviour. It is
supposed that this disciple was present at the miraculous
descent of the Holy Spirit on our Lord at his baptism, which,
being admitted, his compliance with his call is no matter of
admiration.
Philip meeting with Nathanael, an inhabitant of Cana, a
town in Galilee, informed him of the actual coming of the
long-expected Messiah, that great Deliverer of Israel, spoken
16
242 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
of by Moses and the ancient prophets ; "Jesus of Nazareth,
son of Joseph." Nathaniel was assured, from the predictions
concerning the Messiah, that he was to be descended from the
line of David, and born in the city of Bethlehem, and there¬
fore discovered an amazement at his being called Jesus of
Nazareth: " Can any good thing come out of Nazareth ?"
Can that most contemptible of places, Nazareth, be supposed
to have given birth to the mighty Saviour, the Prince of
peace, especially as it was expressly foretold by the prophet,
that he was born in Bethlehem, the city of David ?
Notwithstanding the improbability of such an event, Na¬
thaniel listened to Philip, and determined on an examination
of the person whom he said was the promised Messiah. Ac¬
cordingly, under his direction, he repaired to the blessed Jesus,
who, knowing his character, saluted him on his approach with
this honorable appellation, " Behold an Israelite indeed, in
whom is n# guile !"
Nathaniel, amazed at our Lord's pertinent address, as he
had never before seen him, asked "by what means he obtained
such precise knowledge of him ? Our Lord replied, he had
seen him under the fig-tree. Probably Nathaniel had been
praying under the fig-tree, and been overheard by our Lord,
who, from the substance of his .prayer, thus concluded his
character ; for when the blessed Jesus informed him that he
gave him that character on account of what had passed under
the fig-tree, Nathaniel perceived that he knew not only what
had passed at a distance, but had access to the inmost
thoughts of the heart—a property not allotted to mortals—
and therefore exclaimed with rapture, " Rabbi, thou art the
Son of God, thou art the King of Israel!"
Our Saviour then told him, he should hereafter have much
stronger testimonials of the divinity of his mission, when he
should be eye-witness to what the old patriarch Jacob had
before seen in a vision—the angels of heaven descending and
ascending, to attend the person, and execute the commands
of the Son of Man: an appellation our blessed Lord assumed,
jiot only as considering his humanity, but in order to fulfill
most peremptorily that remarkable prediction of the prophet
Daniel concerning him: " I saw in the night visions, and,
the life of jesus christ.
243
behold, one like the Son. of Man came with, the clouds of
heaven, and came to the Ancient of Days, and they brought
him near before him. And there was given him dominion,
and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, languages
should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion,
which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall
*iot be destroyed." Daniel, vii. 13, 14.
The great Redeemer, having attested the divinity of his
mission by many incontestable evidences, and made five dis¬
ciples, departed for Galilee, where, soon after his arrival, he
was invited, with his mother and disciples, to a marriage feast
at Cana, a place near Nazareth.
At these nuptials there happened to be a scarcity of wine,
and his mother, who interested herself in the conduct of the
feast, and was therefore desirous that every thing should be
done with decorum, applied to her Son, hoping he would be
able to remedy the defect.
She had, doubtless, conceived he had the power of work¬
ing miracles, and was therefore desirous that he would give
proof of his ability in the presence of her friends, who were
assembled at the marriage.
Addressing herself, therefore, to her Son, she told him,
"They have no wine." Our Lord gently reproved her, in
these words, " Woman, what have I to do with thee P mine
hour is not yet come that is, the time or period of my pub¬
lic ministry is not yet arrived; nor is it time for me to dis¬
play my natural powers. •
Notwithstanding this mild reproof, his mother still enter¬
tained an opinion that he would interest himself in behalf of
her and the company, and therefore ordered the servants punc¬
tually to obey his commands.
Our blessed Lord, being assured that working a miracle
would greatly tend to confirm the faith of his young disciples,
exerted his divine power, by ordering the servants to fill six
water pots, containing each about twenty gallons, with water;
which was no sooner done, than the whole was converted into
excellent wine.
He then ordered them to draw, and bear to the governor
of the feast; who, being ignorant of the miracle that had been
244 the life of jesus christ.
wrought, and astonished at the preference of this wine, to
that which had been served up at the beginning of the feast,
addressed himself to the bridegroom, in the hearing of the
whole company, telling him that, contrary to the usual cus¬
tom, he had reserved the best wine to the last, at the same
time commending so judicious a practice, as a plain proof of
his approbation of his friends present at the entertainment.
The bridegroom was equally surprised at the address of the
governor of the feast, and the occasion of it, which was
effected by the supernatural power of our blessed Lord.
This miracle, which was the first wrought by Jesus, con¬
firmed the faith of his followers, and spread his renown
throughout the adjacent country.
CHAPTER V.
Our blessed Lord, immediately on his arrival at Jerusa¬
lem, repaired to the temple, where he was not a little shocked
at beholding a place dedicated to the solemn service of Al¬
mighty God, so prostituted to purposes of fraud and avarice,
and become the resort of traders of every kind. It is evident
there must have been a grand market for oxen, sheep and
doves at such times, for Josephus tells us no less than two
hundred and fifty-six thousand victims were offered at one
Passover.
Such abuse could not long escape his notice or correction,
having an absolute right to chastise so flagrant a perversion
of a place that, strictly speaking, was his own. " The Lord,
whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple ; even the
Messenger of the Covenant, whom ye delight in : behold, he
shall come, saith the Lord of Hosts."
Accordingly, the blessed Jesus, whose pious soul was
vexed at their profanation of the sacred place, drove out the
traders, and overset the tables of the money-changers, saying
unto them that sold doves, " Take these things hence ; make
not my father's house a house of merchandise."
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
245
These mercenary wretches appear to liave Leon struck at
once with, a consciousness of their guilt, and the severity of
our Lord's reproof; as they immediately departed, without
making the least resistance. But our Lord's conduct in this
affair, carrying with it every token of zeal, for which the
ancient prophets were so remarkable, the council assembled,
and determined to inquire by what authority he attempted
such a reformation, requiring, at the same time, a demon¬
strative proof of the divinity of his commission.
To gratify their curiosity, our Lord referred them only to
the miracle of his own resurrection: u Destroy," says he,
probably laying his hand on his breast, " this temple, and I
will raise it up in three days." The rulers, mistaking his
meaning, imagined that he had referred to the superb and
lofty temple finished by Herod, and therefore told him such
a relation was highly improbable, nor had they the least
reason to think he could possibly rebuild, in three days, that
magnificent structure which had been finished at immense
expense, and was the labor of so many years.
Though the blessed Jesus declined compliance with the
request of the mighty and noble among the inhabitants of
Jerusalem, he wrought several miracles in the presence of the
common people, in order to confirm the doctrines he delivered,
and prove the divinity of his mission.
The time of the Passover at Jerusalem being expired,
Jesus, together with his disciples, withdrew into the remote
parts of Judea, where he continued a considerable time,
preaching the kingdom of God, and baptizing the new con¬
verts. John the Baptist being also, at the same time, baptiz¬
ing in the river Enon, a dispute arose between his disciples and
certain Jews concerning the preference of the baptism of Jesus.
Being unable to decide the point, they referred it to the
opinion of John; on which the pious Baptist immediately
declared, that he was only the harbinger of the great Messiah,
who baptized not only with water but with the Holy Spirit;
adding, that his own ministry was on the decline, as the
beauty of the morning star, the harbinger of the sun, de¬
creases, when that fountain of life but dawns in the chambers
of the east.
246 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
The Baptist likewise mentioned to his disciples and hear¬
ers many circumstances tending to prove the divinity of the
mission of the holy Jesus, and the important design of liis
incarnation.—"He that believeth on the Son hath eternal
life, hut he that believeth not on the Son shall not see life ;
hut the wrath of God abideth on him/'
The Baptist, having publicly preached the great doctrines
of salvation, through faith in Jesus, departed from the wilder¬
ness of Judea, where he had continued a considerable time,
and went into Galilee, often repairing to the court of Herod,
who esteemed, or affected to esteem, both his preaching and
person. But John, being faithful in his ministry, could not
fail to remonstrate on the injustice and impiety of a known
practice of Herod, which was, his cohabiting with Herodias,
his brother Philip's wife, and thereby incurring the displeas¬
ure of that ambitious woman, he was, at her instance, cast
into prison, and there reserved for future destruction.
While these things happened in Galilee, our blessed Lord
continued preaching in the wilderness, wThither great numbers
resorted, Attracted by curiosity to see the miracles which
fame reported he daily wrought. The success of his ministry
exciting the envy of the hypocritical tribe of Pharisees, our
blessed Lord thought proper.to retire into Galilee, in order to
promote the design of his mission in those parts.
In the course of his journey, being weary of traveling in
so warm a country, and excessively thirsty, he sat down in
Samaria by a celebrated well, given by the old patriarch Jacob
to his son Joseph, while the disciples were gone to the city to
procure provisions.
While the humble Jesus was sitting by the well-side, a
woman, a native of the country, came with her pitcher to
fetch water; and our Lord requested of her to give him to
drink. The appearance of Jesus astonished the woman, be¬
cause she believed him to be a Jew, and the Samaritans were
held in the utmost contempt by those people, who, indeed,
arrogated a preference to all nations upon earth. But though
she knew him to be a Jew, she knew not that he was the Son
of God, full of grace and truth, divested of human prejudices,
and the very essence of humility and heavenly virtue. As the
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 247
design of his mission and incarnation was to promote the real
happiness of mankind, he embraced every opportunity of en¬
forcing his salutary doctrines; and therefore, though his thirst
was extreme, he delayed its gratification, in order to inform
this woman, though of an infamous character, of the means
by which she might obtain living water, or, in other words,
eternal life. As the best method to effect this purpose, he
gave her to understand, that had she known the character of
the supplicant, she would have eagerly satisfied his desire,
and been rewarded by a gift the most invaluable—even living
water, issuing from the well of eternal salvation.
The woman, taking his words in the common acceptation,
imagining that he suggested his power of supplying her with
water flowing from a perpetual spring, which, in that parched
climate appeared impossible, demanded of him if he was vested
with a power superior to their father Jacob, who dug this
well, drank out of it with his family, and left it for the bene¬
fit of posterity.
The Saviour and friend of mankind, still benign in his
purpose towards the poor sinner, replied, "Th^ all who
drank of the water of Jacob's well would thirst again, because
but a temporary allay of a desire incident to human nature ;
whereas those who drank of the water which he was ready to
dispense, should never thirst; because that water flowed from
the inexhaustible fountain of divine grace, and could not be
drained but with immensity itself."
Though this great Preacher of Israel, by a simple and
natural allegory, djpplayed the power of divine grace, the
woman, ignorant of the allusion and meaning of the blessed
Jesus, desired of him that water, that she might not thirst in
future, nor have occasion to come to Jacob's well daily for
water.
To show her the nature of sin, and thereby create in her
soul desires after the water of life, the blessed Jesus, by some
pertinent questions and replies, evinced his knowledge of her
infamous course of life, and by that means convinced her that
he had acted under an influence more than human. To evade,
however, the present subject of discourse, which filled her
with a degree of awe and fear, she proposed for discussion a
248 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
case long warmly contested between the Jews and Samari¬
tans : Whether Mount Gerizim, or the city of Jerusalem,
was destined by G-od as the place peculiarly set apart for re¬
ligious worship ? Our blessed Lord replied to this insignifi¬
cant question, that it was not the place but the manner in
which adoration was offered to the Father of Spirits, that
rendered such homage acceptable, observing that " God is a
spirit, and they that worship him must worship him in spirit
and in truth." John, iv. 24.
In consequence of this reply to her, which apparently re¬
ferred to things spiritual and eternal, she informed the blessed
Jesus of her expectation of the arrival of the promised Mes¬
siah, who should punctually inform them concerning those
points, so long and undecisively contested.
Our Lord, embracing the opportunity of preaching him¬
self to this poor woman, as the Saviour of sinners, replied,
without hesitation, " I that speak unto thee am he."
While Jesus continued talking with the woman, his dis¬
ciples returned, and approached him at the very time when
he told tjj§ woman he was the Messiah. Though they were
astonished at his condescension in conversing with an inhabi¬
tant of Samaria, and even of instructing her in the doctrines
of religion, none presumed to ask him why he conversed with
one who was an enemy to the Jews, and the worship in the
temple of Jerusalem. But the woman, hearing Jesus call
himself the Messiah, left her pitcher and ran into the city to
publish the glad tidings, that the great Deliverer of mankind
was then sitting by the well of Jacob, *nd told her all the
secret transactions of her life. The report astonished the
Samaritans, and, at the same time, roused their curiosity to
see a person foretold by Moses and the prophets, and of whose
appearance there was then so universal an expectation.
The disciples, on their return, set before their Master the
provision they had purchased, but he, wholly absorbed in med¬
itation, refused the refreshment so highly requisite, telling
them that he had " meat to eat that they knew not of/' This
unexpected answer surprised his disciples, who, understanding
his words in their natural sense, asked one another whether any
person had, during their absence, supplied him with provisions.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 249
But Jesus soon explained this mystery, by telling them that
he did not mean natural, but spiritual, food; that to ex¬
ecute the commission he had received from his Father, was
far better to him than meat or drink, and the satisfaction
he was going to receive from the conversion of the Samari¬
tans much greater than any sensual enjoyments.
Many of the Samaritans were now near Jesus, who, lift¬
ing up his eyes, and seeing the ways crowded with people
coming to him from the city, stretched out his benevolent
hand toward them, and addressed his disciples in the follow¬
ing manner: " Say not ye there are yet four months, and
then cometh harvest ? Behold, I say unto you, lift up your
eyes, and look on the fields, for they are already white unto
harvest." John, iv. 35. Behold yonder multitudes, how they
are thronging to hear the word, which has only a few minutes
been sown in their hearts ! It is not, therefore, always neces¬
sary to wait with patience for the effect, which sometimes im¬
mediately follows the cause. To gather this spiritual harvest,
and finish the work of him that sent me, is my proper food ;
adding, for the encouragement of his disciples, as ^ou have
labored with me in this harvestj^o shall you participate in
the great recompense of eternal rewards : " He that reapeth
receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life eternal; that
both he that soweth, and he that reapeth, may rejoice to¬
gether." John, iv. 36. §
Many of the people had been so a'ffected at the words of
the woman, that they were fully persuaded that Jesus could
be no other than th^great Messiah ; accordingly, their first
request was that he would deign to take up his residence in
their city. The compassionate Redeemer of the human race
so far complied, as to stay with them two days, an interval
which he spent in preaching to them the kingdom of God, so
that the greatest part of the city embraced the doctrine of
the gospel, and at his departure, said unto the woman, "Now
we believe, not because of thy saying; for we have heard him
ourselves, and know that this is indeed the Christ, the Sav¬
iour of the world." John, iv. 42.
Having accomplished his gracious design in Samaria, J esus
continued his journey to Galilee, to exercise his ministry, and
250 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
preach there the kingdom of God ; telling his disciples that
the time was now accomplished which had been pre-deter-
mined by Omnipotence for creating the happy kingdom of the
Prince of peace.
Our Lord had performed several miracles at Jerusalem
during the passover, at which the inhabitants of Galilee were
present. His preaching was, therefore, at first attended with
great success, for they listened attentively to his doctrine, and
received it with particular kindness and courtesy, especially
the people of Cana, where he had turned the water into
wine.
During his residence in that city, a nobleman of Caper¬
naum came to him, requesting, with great humility and rev¬
erence, that he would come down and heal his son, who was
at the point of death. Our blessed Lord readily consented
with the latter part of his request; but to remove a prejudice
they had conceived, that it was necessary to be personally
present in order to restore the sick person to health, he re¬
fused to go down to Capernaum, dismissing the father with
this assu*0ince, that his son was restored to health, " Go thy
way ; thy son liveth." Joh£, iv. 50. The nobleman obeyed
the word of Jesus, and immediately departed for his own
house ; but before his arrival, he was met by his servants,
with the joyful news that his son was recovered. On this the
father inquired at whaf, time they perceived an alteration for
the better; and from tlieir answer was satisfied, that imme-
dietely after the words were spoken by the blessed Jesus, the
fever left him, and he was recovered in a|miraculous manner.
The amazing instance of his power and goodness abundantly
convinced the nobleman and his family, that Jesus was the
true Messiah, the great prophet so long promised to the
world.
After some stay in the city and neighborhood of Cana,
Jesus went to Nazareth, where he had spent the greater part
of his youth, and, as his constant custom was, went to the
synagogue on the Sabbath day, and read that celebrated pre¬
diction of the Messiah in the prophet Isaiah : " The spirit
of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach
the gospel to the poor ; he hath sent me to heal the broken-
THE LIFE OP JESUS OHBIST.
251
hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering
of sight to the "blind, to Bet at liberty them that are bruised,
to preach the acceptable year of the Lord." Luke, iv. 18,19.
It should be remembered that our blessed Saviour read
the passage in the original Hebrew, which was then a dead
language ; and, as he had never been taught letters, could do
it only by inspiration from above. But he did more ; he ex¬
plained the passage with such strength of reason, and beauty
of expression, that the inhabitants of Nazareth, who well
knew he had never been initiated into the rudiments of learn¬
ing, heard him with astonishment. But as he performed no
miracle in their city, they were offended at him. Perhaps
they thought the place of his residence should have been his
peculiar care ; and, as he could, with a single word, heal the
sick at a distance, not a single person in Nazareth should have
been afflicted with any kind of disease. That they really en¬
tertained sentiments of this kind, seems plain from our Sav¬
iour's own words : " Ye will surely say to me, Physician, heal
thyself: whatever we have heard done in Capernaum, do also
here in thy country evidently alluding to the great and be¬
nevolent miracle he had wrought the nobleman's son.
But the holy Jesus, enumerating the miracles Elijah had
done in behalf of the widow of Sarepta, who was an heathen,
and the inhabitant of an idolatrous city in the time of famine,
when many widows in Israel perished with hunger, and of
Naaman the Syrian, who was cured of his leprosy by the pro¬
phet Elisha, when numbers of Jews, afflicted with the same
loathsome disease, wore suffered to continue in their unclean-
liness, sufficiently proved that the prophets had, on some
extraordinary occasions, wrought miracles in favor of those
whom the Israelites, from a fond conceit of their being the
peculiar favorites of Heaven, judged unworthy of such marks
of particular favor. The council was so incensed at this re¬
ply, that, forgetting the sanctity of the Sabbath, they hurried
him through the streets, " to the brow of the hill whereon
their city was built," intending to cast him headlong down
the precipice ; but the Son of God defeated their cruel inten¬
tions, by miraculously confounding their sight, and withdraw¬
ing from the fury of those wretched people.
252 the life of jesus christ.
CHAPTER VI.
The holy Jesus, aggrieved by the cruel Nazarenes, de¬
parted from them, and visited Capernaum, the capital of Gal¬
ilee (being built on the borders of the Lake of Gennessaret),
which was a place highly convenient for his design ; for, be¬
sides the numerous inhabitants of that city, the trading towns
on the lake were crowded with strangers, who, after hearing
the doctrine of the gospel preached by the great Redeemer of
mankind, would not fail to spread, in their respective coun¬
tries, the happy tidings of salvation.
While Jesus tarried at Capernaum, he usually taught in
the synagogues on the Sabbath day, preaching with such
energy of power as greatly astonished the whole congregation.
He did not, however, constantly confine himself to that city ;
the adjacent country was often blessed with his presence,
and cheered with the heavenly words of his mouth.
In one of the neighboring villages, he called Simon and
Andrew, who were following their occupation of fishing on
the lake, to accompany him* These disciples, who had before
been acquainted with him, readily obeyed the heavenly man¬
date, and followed the Saviour of the world Soon after, be
saw James and John, who were also fishing on the lake, and
called them also. Nor did they hesitate to follow the great
Redeemer of mankind ; and, from their ready compliance,
there is reason to believe that they, as well as Simon and An¬
drew, were acquainted with Jesus at J<3rdan, unless we sup¬
pose, which is far from being improbable, that their readiness
proceeded from the secret energy of his power upon their
minds. But, however this be, the four disciples accompanied
our blessed Saviour to Capernaum, and soon after to different
parts of Galilee.
How long our Lord was on this journey can not be deter¬
mined ; all the evangelists have mentioned is, that he wrought
a great number of miracles on diseased persons ; and that the
fame of these, wonderful works drew people from Galilee, Je¬
rusalem, Judea, and beyond Jordan. Nor was the knowledge
of these miracles concealed from the heathen, particularly the
1— —
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 253
inhabitants of Syria ; for they also brought their sL-k to Gal¬
ilee to be healed by him. Consequently, the time our blessed
Saviour spent in these tours must have "been considerable,
though the evangelists have said very little concerning it.
But whatever time was spent in these benevolent actions,
the prodigious multitudes which flocked to him from every
quarter, moved his compassion toward those who were bewil¬
dered in the darkness of ignorance, and determined him to
preach to them " the words of eternal life."
For this blessed purpose, he ascended a mountain in that
neighborhood ; and placing himself on an eminence, from
whence he could be heard by throngs of people attending him,
he inculcated, in an amazingly pathetic manner, the most im¬
portant points of religion. But, alas ! they were coldly re¬
ceived, because many of them were directly opposite to the
standing precepts delivered by the scribes and Pharisees.
Surely, these people, who had seen the blessed Jesus perform
so many bevevolent actions to the poor, the diseased, and the
maimed, might have entertained a more favorable opinion of
his doctrine, and known that so compassionate and powerful
a person must have been actuated by the Gpirit of God, and,
consequently, the doctrine he taught was really divine.
He opened his excellent sermon with the doctrine of hap¬
piness, a subject which the teachers of wisdom have always
considered as the principal object in morals, and employed
their utmost abilities to convey a clear idea of it to their dis¬
ciples, but differed very remarkably with regard to the par¬
ticulars in which it consisted. The Jews were, in general,
I persuaded that the enjoyments of sense were the sovereign
good. Riches, conquest, liberty, mirth, fame, revenge, and
other things of the same kind, afforded them such pleasures,
that they wished for no better in the Messiah's kingdom,
which they all considered as a secular one ; and that a " gold¬
en/' instead of a "scepter of righteousness," would have been
the " scepter of his kingdom." Nay, some of the disciples
themselves retained, for a time, the like kind of notion, till
they were convinced of their mistake, by the spirit, word, and
conduct of their divine Master.
Having shown in what true happiness consisted, our
254 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
Saviour addressed himself to his disciples, and explained their
duty, as the teachers appointed to conduct others in the paths
that lead to eternal felicity; and excited them to diligence in
dispensing the salutary influences of their doctrine and ex¬
ample, that their hearers might honor and praise the great
Creator of heaven and earth, who had been so kind to the
children of men.
As his definition of happiness was very different from
what the Jews were accustomed to hear from the scribes and
Pharisees, he thought proper to declare, that he was not come
to destroy the moral precepts contained in the law or the
prophets, but to fulfill and confirm them.
Nothing is so steadfast as the eternal truths of morality:
the heavens may pass away, and the whole frame of nature
be dissolved, but the rule of righteousness shall remain im¬
mutable and immortal. And, therefore, he ordered his dis¬
ciples, on the severest penalties, to enforce, both by preaching
and example, the strict observation of all the moral precepts
contained in the sacred writings, and that in a much greater
latitude than they were taken by the teachers of Israel; and,
in consideration of the frailties of human nature, taught
them that excellent form of prayer, which has been used by
Christians of most denominations to this very day: " Our
Father," etc.
If earthly parents are called fathers, the Almighty has the
best title from every creature, and particularly from men,
being the father of their spirits, the former of their bodies,
and the continual preserver of both. Nor is this all: he is
" our Father" in a still higher sense, as he regenerates us, and
etamps his image upon our minds, so that, partaking of his
nature, we become his children, and therefore we can, with a
holy boldness, call him by the title of that relation. In the
former sense, G-od is the father of all his creatures, whether
good or bad ; but in the latter, he is the father only of the
righteous. Father is the most magnificent title invented by
poets and philosophers, in honor of their gods; it conveys the
most lovely idea possible to the human breast. As it is used
by mankind in general, it marks the essential character of the
true God; namely, that he is the first cause of all things, or
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
255
the author of our being, and, at tlie same time, conveys a
strong idea of tlie tender love lie bears to his creatures, whom
he nourishes "with an affection, and protects with a watchful¬
ness, infinitely superior to that of an earthly parent. The
name of father also teaches us, that we owe our being to (rod,
points out his goodness and mercy in upholding us, and ex¬
presses his power in giving us the things wTe ask. Nor is this
all: we are likewise taught to give our Maker the title of
father, that our sense of the tender relation in which ho
stands to us may be confirmed ; our faith in his power and
goodness strengthened ; our hopes of obtaining what we ask
in prayer cherished ; and our desire of obeying and imitating
him quickened ; for reason aided by grace teaches us that it
is disgraceful in children to degenerate from their parents, and
that they can not commit a greater crime than to disobey the
commands of an indulgent father.
Lastly, we are commanded to call him father in the plural
number (and that in our secret addresses to the throne of
grace), to put us in mind that we are all brethren, the chil¬
dren of one common parent; and that we ought to love one
another with sincerity, as we pray not for ourselves only, but
for all the human race.
" Which art in heaven." The words do not suppose the
presence of God to be confined; he is present everywhere; is
about our paths, and about our bed, and narrowly inspecteth
every action of the sons of men. But they express his majesty
and power, and distinguish him from those we call fathers
upon earth, and from false gods, which are not in heaven, the
happy mansion of bliss and felicity ; where the Almighty,
who is essentially present in every part of the universe, gives
more especial manifestation of his presence to such of his
creatures as he hath exalted to share with him in the eternal
felicities of the heavenly Jerusalem.
" Hallowed be thy name." By the name of God, the He¬
brews understood God himself, his attributes, and his works;
and, therefore, the meaning of the petition is, May thy exist¬
ence be universally believed, thy presence loved and imitated,
thy works admired, thy supremacy over all things acknowl¬
edged, thy providence reverenced and confided in ! May all
256 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
the sons of men think so highly of his divine majesty, of his
attributes, of his works ! and may we so express our venera¬
tion for God, that his glory may be manifested in every cor¬
ner of the world !
" Thy kingdom come." Let the kingdom of the Messiah
be extended to the utmost parts of the earth, that all the
children of men " may know his salvation, and become one
fold, under one shepherd—Jesus Christ the righteous."
" Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." May thy
will, 0 thou great Father of the universe, be done in us, that
by the light of thy glorious gospel, and the aid of thy Holy
Spirit, we may be enabled to imitate the angels of light, by
giving as sincere, universal and constant obedience to thy
divine commands, as those blest beings do in glory.
" Give us this day our daily bread." Give us, from time
to time, wholesome and proper food, that we may be enabled
to worship thee with cheerfulness and vigor.
" And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors."
The Almighty, as supreme governor of the universe, has a
right to support his government, by punishing those who
transgress his laws. The suffering of punishment, therefore,
is a debt which sinners owe to the divine justice; so that
when we ask God, in prayer, to forgive our debts, we beg
that he would be mercifully pleased to remit the punishment
of all our sins, particularly the pains of hell; and that, lay¬
ing aside his displeasure, he would receive us into favor, and
bless us with life eternal. In this petition, therefore, we con¬
fess our sins, and express the sense we have of their power;
namely, that they deserve death ; and sure nothing can he
more proper than such a confession in our addresses to God;
because humility and a sense of our unworthiness, when we
ask favors of the Almighty, whether spiritual or temporal,
have a tendency to give us a proper sense of the goodness of
God in bestowing them upon us.
The terms of this petition are worthy of notice : " For¬
give us only as we forgive." We must forgive others if we
hope ourselves to be forgiven ; and we are permitted to crave
from God such forgiveness only as we grant to others; so
that if we do not forgive even our enemies, we seriously and
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 257
•
solemnly implore the Almighty to condemn us to the punish¬
ment of eternal death. How remarkably careful, therefore,
should men he to have their hearts purged from all rancor
and malice, before they enter into the temple of the Almighty
to offer up their prayers to the throne of grace!
u And lead us not into temptation, hut deliver us from
evil." Whenever we are tempted, 0 thou that lielpest our
infirmities, sufft r us not to enter into temptation, to he over¬
come, or suffer loss thereby ; but make a way for us to escape,
so that we may be more than conquerors, through thy love,
over sin, and all the consequences of it. u But deliver us," by
some means, from the evil, either by removing the tempta¬
tion or increasing our strength to resist it. This petition
teaches us to preserve a sense < >f our own inability to repel
and overcome the solicitations of the world, and of the necessity
there is of our receiving assistance from above, both to regu¬
late our passions and enable us to prosecute a religious life.
"For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the
glory, for ever and ever." Because the government of the
universe is thine fi >r ever, and thou alone possessest the power
of creating and upholding all things ; and because the glory
of thine infinite perfections remains eternally with thee,
therefore all men ought to hallow thy name, submit them¬
selves to thy government, and perform thy will; and, in an
humble sensr of their dependence, seek from thee the supply
of their wants, the pardon of their sins, and the kind protec¬
tion of thy providence.
This is emphatically called the Lord's Prayer, because
delivered by the Son of God himself; and therefore we should
do 'well to understand it thoroughly, that when we enter the
temple of the Lord and address him in solemn prayer, we
may have hopes he will grant our petitions. And, above, all,
not to harbor in our breasts the least envy or malice against
any one who may have offended us ; for it is only on a sup¬
position that we have forgiven others that we may have; the
least reason to hope for obtaining forgiveness from the great
Creator.
The divine Preacher proceeded to discover the great duty
of fasting, in which he directed th^m not to follow the hypo-
17
M
258 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
«
crites, in disfiguring their faces, and clothing themselves in
the melancholy weeds of sorrow, but to be chiefly solicitous
to appear before God as one that truly fasteth. Then will
the Almighty, who constantly surrounds us, and is acquainted
even with the most secret thoughts of our hearts, openly be¬
stow upon us the blessings which he hath promised to a .true
penitent, whose mortification, contrition, and humility he can
discern without the external appearance of sorrow and repent¬
ance. It must, however, be remembered that our blessed
Saviour is here speaking of private fasting, and to this alone
his directions are to be applied ; for when we are called upon
to mourn over public sins or calamities, it ought to be per¬
formed in the most public manner.
Heavenly-mindedness was the next thing inculcated by
the blessed Jesus ; and this he recommended with a pecu¬
liar earnestness, because the Jewish doctors were in general
strangers to his grace, in which he was desirous his followers
should be clothed, as being the most excellent ornament for a
teacher of righteousness. This is strenuously recommended
by our blessed Saviour, by showing the deformity of its op¬
posite, covetousness, and which has only perishable things for
its object. " Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth,
where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break
through and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in
heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where
thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your
treasure is, there will your heart be also." Matthew, vi. 19,
20, 21.
More solid happiness will accrue from depositing your
treasures in heaven than in laying them up on earth, where
they are subject to a thousand disasters, and even, at best,
can remain only for a short series of years; whereas, those
laid up in heaven are permanent, and will lead to a " crown
of glory that fadeth not away, eternal in the heavens." Nor
let any man be so foolish as to think he can place his heart <
on the happiness of a future life when his treasures are depos¬
ited in this vale of misery ; for wherever are laid the goods
which his soul desireth, there his heart and affections will
also remain. If, therefore, ye are desirous of sharing in the
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 259
joys of eternity, you must lay up your treasures in the "man¬
sions of my Father's kingdom."
Lest they should imagine it was possible to he both heav¬
enly-minded and covetous at the same time, he assured them
that it was full as absurd as to imagine that a person could,
at the same time, serve two masters ; u for either he will hate
the one and love the other, or else he will hold to the one and
despise the other. Ye can not serve God and Mammon."
Matthew, vi. 24.
To strengthen this doctrine, he added a few plain, evident
instances of the power, perfection, and extent of God's provi¬
dence, in which his tender care for the least and weakest
creatures shines with a remarkable luster, demonstrating the
wise and paternal attention of the Deity to all the creatures
of his hand. He desired them to observe the birds of the air,
the lilies, and even the grass of the field ; leading his most
illiterate hearers to form a more elevated and extensive idea
of the divine government than the philosophers had attained,
who, though they allowed in general that the world was
governed by God, had very confused notions of his provi¬
dence with regard to every individual creature and action.
He taught them that the Almighty Father of the whole was
the guardian and protector of the universe; that every action
is subject to his will, and nothing left to the blind determi¬
nation of chance.
Having enforced these heavenly precepts, he exhorted them
to place an humble dependence on the assistance of the Holy
Spirit, to strive to practice the precepts of religion, however
difficult the task might appear. " Enter ye in at the straight
gate ; for wide is the gate, and broad is the way that leadeth
to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat. Be¬
cause straight is the gate, and narrow is the way which lead¬
eth unto life, and few there be that find it." Matthew, vii.
13, 14. Straight indeed is the gate, and narrow is the way
that leadeth to life. In the way nothing is to be found that
suits the flesh, but many things that have a tendency to mor¬
tify it—poverty, fasting, watching, injuries, chastity, sobriety.
And, with regard to the gate, it receives none that are puffed
up with the glory of this life, none that are indulging in lux-
260
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHEIST.
ury ; it does not admit those that love riches, or are encum¬
bered with the goods of this world. None can pass through
it hut those who renounce all worldly lust, and are resolved
to forsake all sin. There is, however, no reason for us to de¬
spair of entering through this heavenly portal; if we sincerely
endeavor, the assistance of the Holy Spirit will be freely given
us, and we shall safely pass through the " straight gate," and
pursue our journey with ease along the "narrow path/' til]
we arrive at the blissful mansion of the heavenly Canaan.
But lest evil-minded men, under the mask of piety and
religion, should endeavor to draw them from the paths of J
righteousness, our blessed Saviour cautioned his disciples to '
beware of such persons, and carefully make the strictest scru¬
tiny into their lives and doctrines.
Our Lord closed his sermon with the parable of the house
built on different foundations; intimating, that the bare I
knowledge, or the simple hearing, of the divinest lessons of
the truth ever delivered; nay, even the belief of these in¬
structions, without the practice of them, is of no manner of I
importance.
When will the happy time come, in which professing
Christians shall form themselves on these important maxims
of their great Master ! When shall they be known to be his
desciples, by the candor of their sentiments, the equity of
their conduct, and the beneficence of their actions, as well as
by the articles of their faith, and the forms of their worship !
The way of life, which our blessed Redeemer has marked |
out for us in such precepts as the above, may, indeed, to cor- I
rupt nature, appear "rugged and narrow/' and the "gate
straight/' through which we are to pass ; but let us encour¬
age ourselves against all the difficulties, by considering that
immortal life and glory to which they infallibly lead. Then
shall we, doubtless, prefer the most painful way of piety and
virtue, though with yet fewer companions than we might
reasonably expect, to all those "flowery," and frequented
paths of vice which go down to the chamber of death.
the life of jesus christ.
2G1
CHAPTER VII.
The great Preacher of Israel, having finished his excellent
discourse, came down from the mountain, surrounded by a
multitude of people, who had listened with astonishment to
the doctrines he delivered, and were soon confirmed by divers
miracles. A leper met him in his way to Capernaum, and
heing doubtless acquainted with the wondrous works he had
already performed, threw himself, with great humility, before
the Son of God, using this remarkable expression, "Lord, if
thou wilt, thou canst make me clean."
The species of leprosy common among the Jews, and the
other eastern nations, was equally nauseous and infectious;
but this was so far from preventing the blessed Jesus from
approaching so loathsome an object, that it increased his pity
—he even touched him ; but instead of being polluted him¬
self, the leper was instantly cleansed, and he departed glorify¬
ing God.
The evangelist adds, that Jesus forbade him to tell any
person what had been done, but repair immediately to the
priest, and offer the gift commanded by Moses.
Having performed the cure on the leper, our blessed Lord
proceeded to Capernaum ; but as he entered the city, he was
met by a Ptoman centurion, who represented to him, in the
most pat^ptic manner, the deplorable condition of his servant,
who was grievously afflicted with the palsy. The compas¬
sionate Redeemer of the world listened attentively to his com¬
plaint, and immediately assured him he would come and heal
him. The centurion thought this too great a condescension
to one who was not of the seed of Jacob, and therefore told
him that he did not mean he should give himself the trouble
of going to his house, as his presence was an honor he had
not the least reason to expect, he being confident that his
word alone would be sufficient, diseases and devils being as
much subject to his commands, as his soldiers were to him.
Our Lord was amazed at these words; not that he was
ignorant of the centurion's faith, or the basis on which it was
built: he well knew the thought of his heart long before he
262 THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
uttered his request, but he was filled with admiration at the
exalted idea the Roman officer had conceived of his power ;
and to make his faith the more conspicuous, he gave it the
praise it so justly deserved : " Verily I say unto you, I have
not found so great faith, no, not in Israel." Matthew, viii. 10.
This centurion, doubtless, relied upon the miracle Jesus
had before wrought upon the nobleman's son ; but the excel¬
lency and peculiarity of it consisted in applying the most
grand ideas of the divine power to Jesus, who, according to
outward appearance, was only one of the sons of men.
This exalted faith induced the blessed Jesus to declare the
gracious intentions of his Almighty Father with regard to
the Gentiles ; namely, that he would as readily accept their
faith as that of the Jews, and place them with Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven; while those who
boasted of being the offspring of these great patriarchs, but
fell short of the heathen in faith, should be excluded from the
blissful seats of Paradise. " And I say unto you, that many
shall come from the east and the west, and shall sit down
with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of
heaven. But the children of the kingdom shall be cast out
into outer darkness ; there shall be weeping and gnashing of
teeth." Matthew, viii. 11, 12.
Having thus addressed the multitude, the blessed Jesus
turned himself to the centurion, and said, " Go thy way, and
as thou hast believed, so be it done unto thee." Though the
idea thou conceived of my power is just, though remarkably
great, as a reward for thy faith I grant the petition thou hast
asked of me. " And," the evangelist adds, " his servant was
healed in the self-same hour." Matthew, viii. 13.
On the succeeding Sabbath, our Saviour went into the
Jewish synagogue at Capernaum and taught the-people, de¬
livering his instructions in so graceful and elegant a manner
that they were all astonished ; and, to increase their admira¬
tion, one of the congregation, possessed of an unclean spirit,
cried out in a terrible manner, " Let us alone ; what have we
to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth ! Art thou come to
destroy us ? I know thee who thou art, the Holy One of
God." Mark, i. 24.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 2G3
But the blessed Jesus, who wanted the testimony of no
such confessors, commanded him to keep silence, and imme¬
diately come out of the man, which command the evil spirit
instantly obeyed, to the great surprise and astonishment of
all the spectators.
The enemies of the gospel have always endeavored to de¬
preciate our Saviour's miracles, pretending that no more is
meant by a person possessed of the devil than that he was
afflicted with some loathsome disease, and that because sepul¬
chres were considered as polluted places, and, therefore, when¬
ever any melancholy person frequented them, they were said
to be possessed with unclean spirits.
To this objection, namely, that the demoniacs were in re¬
ality nothing more than persons afflicted with some loath¬
some disease, we reply, it is evidently false, the evangelist
having taken care to be very particular on this head. " They
brought unto him all sick people that were taken with divers
diseases and torments, and those which were possessed with
devils, and those which were lunatic, and those that had the
* palsy, and he healed them." Matthew, iv. 24. " He gave to
the apostles power over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and
to heal all manner of sickness and all manner of disease."
Matthew, x. 1. And, accordingly, "he healed many that
were sick of divers diseases, and cast out many devils." Mark,
i. 34.
But the vast concourse of people that now gathered round
him in Capernaum began to be troublesome, and he retired
into a desert, whither the multitude soon followed him, and
entreated him never to depart from them. But as this re¬
quest was inconsistent with the design of his mission, he, f >r
the first time, refused their request, and "preached in the
synagogues of Galilee." Luke, iv. 44.
264
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
CHAPTER VIII.
Our blessed Lord, having spread his doctrine throughout
Galilee, returned to Capernaum, followed by such numbers
of people that he found it necessary to step into Peter's ship,
from whence he taught the multitude, who stood on the shore
listening with great attention to his doctrine.
Having concluded his discourse, he turned himself to Si¬
mon Peter, desiring him to launch out further from the shore
and let down his net. On which the disciple told him of the
unsuccessful pains they had taken during the whole night,
but added, that he would, in obedience to his command, make
one trial more. Nor had he any cause to repent; for the net
was no sooner in the lake, than they found it so full of large
fishes that it was in danger of breaking.
This success, after such fruitless toil, astonished Peter,
who, falling down at the feet of Jesus, cried out, " Depart
from me, for I am a sinful man, 0 Lord." He was conscious
of the many sins he had been guilty of, and therefore afraid *
of being in the company of so divine a person, lest some of¬
fense might have exposed him to more than ordinary chastise¬
ment.
But the benevolent Redeemer of mankind removed his
fears, by telling him that from thenceforth the employment
of him and his companions should be far more noble ; they
should catch men, that is, they should turn them from the
crooked paths of iniquity to the straight road leading to the
heavenly mansions.
In one of the cities through which he passed, he found
" a man full of leprosy," who, seeing Jesus, fell on his face,
and besought him, saying, " Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst
make me clean."
It was the custom in Judea for the priest to banish from
society those who were afflicted with a contagious leprosy.
The disease of this person, therefore, was of a less pestilen¬
tial kind, as he was suffered to enjoy the conversation of men.
His case, however, excited the pity of the compassionate
Jesus, who immediately cleansed him, ordered him to repair
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 265
to Jerusalem, and, after showing himself to the priest, offer
the gifts commanded by Moses, giving him the same admo¬
nition he had done to others, namely, not to tell any man
what lie had done to him. But the blessing he had received
was so great and unexpected, that instead of concealing he
published everywhere the great things Jesus had done for
him, which brought such crowds to the Son of God, that he
was obliged to return from Capernaum into the wilderness,
to refresh his body with rest, and his spirit with prayer and
meditation.
The generality of commentators suppose that this leper,
and the other mentioned in the foregoing chapter, are one and
the same person ; but this is a mistake. The former was
cured in the fields, the latter in the city. After cleansing the
first, Jesus went to Capernaum, and healed the centurion's
servant; but after curing the latter, he retired into the wil¬
derness, to shun the prodigious crowds which soon gathered
round him, from the leper's publishing everywhere the mira¬
cle Jesus had wrought for him.
Our blessed Lord, finding all hJS endeavors to conceal
| himself in the desert would be in vain, ordered his disciples
to accompany him to the other side of the lake, upon which
a certain scribe, who happened to be present, declared he
would follow him ; but Jesus, who well knew that his desire
was only to gain the profits and advantages of an earthly
kingdom, which he supposed the Messiah would establish,
told him, if he intended nothing more by following him than
to improve his worldly wealth, he would find himself wretch-
( edly mistaken. "The foxes have holes," saith the blessed
Jesus to this teacher of Israel, " and the birds of the air have
I nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head."
! Matthew, viii. 20.
I *
j The disciples having prepared the ship, took on board
their Master, and departed for the other side of the lake, at¬
tended by many boats full of people, who were desirous of
hearing his heavenly discourses, and of being spectators of
his astonishing works. But Jesus, being fatigued with the
labors of the day, sat himself down at the stern of the ship,
and fell asleep.
266 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
The weather, which had till now been calm and serene,
suddenly changed. A terrible storm came on, and the rising
waves dashed impetuously against the ship, threatening every
moment to bury them all in the bowels of the deep. The
darkness of the night increased the horrors of the tempest.
Now they were carried on the tops of the mountainous waves,
and seemed to touch the skies ; then plunged to the bottom
of the deep, while the foaming billows roared horribly above
them. In vain the disciples exerted their utmost strength,
the storm continued to increase, and baffled all the efforts of
human strength. The waves broke over the ship, the waters
rushed in, and she began to sink. All hopes of escaping were
vanished, despair seized every individual, and they were on
the brink of perishing, when they ran to Jesus crying out,
"Master, Master, we perish !" Their vehement cries roused
him from his sleep. He raised his hand, so often employed
in acts of mercy and benevolence, and, with a stern and awful
voice, rebuked the boisterous elements. The raging sea in¬
stantly obeyed his command. The aerial torrent stopped
short in its impetuous dburse, and became silent as the grave,
while the mountainous waves sunk at once into their beds,
and the surface of the deep became as smooth' as polished
marble.
Soon after the storm was allayed, they arrived in the
country of Gadara, and, on their landing, two men, possessed
with devils, came from the tombs to meet Jesus. One of
them, who was more furious than the other, had been often
bound with chains and fetters, but to no purpose, being
always broken with great fury, so that no man attempted
further to restrain him. Being therefore at liberty, he
shunned the society of men, wandering day and night in
desert places among the sepulchres or caverns where the dead
were deposited, crying and making the most dismal com¬
plaints, and cutting himself with stones.
The disciples were terrified at the approach of these fu¬
rious mortals ; but Jesus soon dissipated their fears, com¬
manding, while the men were at a distance, the devils to
come out of them. The heavenly mandate was no sooner
given, than they fell on their faces, crying out, "What have
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 2G7
we to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the Most High God?"
Mark, v. 7. " Art thou come hither to torment us "before the
time ?" Matthew, viii. 29. 44 1 adjure thee, by God, that thou
torment me not!" Mark, v. 7. The apostate spirits well
knew the power of the Son of God, and trembled lest he
should immediately cast them into the torments prepared for
them, and not suffer them to continue roving through the
earth till the day of judgment, when they should be condemned
to eternal punishment in the sight of the whole creation.
Jesus, being willing that the torments suffered by these
miserable men should be known before he healed them, asked
one of the devils his name, who answered, <k Legion, for we
are many," (Mark, v. 9,) begging, at the same time, that he
would not command them to repair into the deep or bottom¬
less pit, but suffer them to enter a herd of swine feeding at
a distance.
How subtle are the wiles of the devil! The power of the
Son of God he knew was not to be resisted but he could not
help envying the benevolent miracles he had wrought for the
sons of men, and was therefore willing to prevent, as much as
possible, their good effects on the miserable people of this
country. This was the true reason why he begged leave to
enter the herd of swine—he knew he could destroy them—
and this he hoped would render our blessed Saviour odious to
the wicked inhabitants of Gadara.
| Though Jesus well knew his crafty design, yet he per-
I mitted the devils to enter the swine, that his disciples, and
others who were with him, might be fully convinced these
unhappy persons were really possessed by apostate spirits,
and, at the same time, give them a terrible instance of their
power, when free from all restraint.
The divine permission was no sooner granted, than the
spectators beheld, at a distance, the torments of these poor
creatures, with what amazing rapidity they ran to the confines
of the lake, leaped from the precipices into the sea, and per¬
ished in the waters ; while the persons who, a moment before,
were raving and cutting themselves in<the most shocking man¬
ner, became at once meek and composed, having recovered en¬
tirely the exercise of their reason.
268 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
The keepers of the herd, terrified at this astonishing mira¬
cle, ran into the city, publishing, in every part, the cure of
the men possessed with the devils, and the destruction of the
swine.
This surprising report threw the inhabitants into the
greatest consternation : they left the city to be spectators of
so wonderful an event; but when they saw the men who had
been possessed sitting at the feet of Jesus, decently clothed,
and in their right mind, their fear was increased. For know¬
ing they had trespassed in keeping the swine, which was con¬
trary to the law of Moses, they dreaded a more severe punish¬
ment ; and, being ignorant of the goodness of Jesus, though
he had given them so remarkable a proof of it in the cure of
these wretched mortals, they besought him that he would
leave their country.
There prevailed a custom among the heathen, when any
illustrious hero had delivered his country from its enemies,
or from any otheOgreat evil, to erect lofty columns to his
memory ; his statue was seen in every place ; altars blazed
to his glory ; they honored him with the high appellation of
saviour ; and thought nothing, not even divine honors, too
great to confer upon him. But when Christ had removed a
monster from the Gadarenes, more formidable and fearful
than any in heathen history, even a legion of devils, and ren¬
dered the way, by which no man could pass before, secure
from danger, instead of being received by them as a Saviour
and as a God, with the acclamations and hosannas of the
people, he was besought to depart out of their coasts. Stupid
people ! they had, indeed, lost their herd of swine, but surely
the valuable gift they had received, in two of their country¬
men and fellow-creatures being delivered from the tyranny of
Satan, was better than the cattle on a thousand hills, and
merited, at least, their thanks and acknowledgments.
The stupid request of the Gadarenes was, however, com¬
plied with by the blessed Jesus, who, entering the ship, re¬
turned to the country from whence he came, leaving them a
valuable pledge of his bve, and us a noble pattern of perse¬
verance in well-doing, even when our kindnesses are con¬
demned or requited with injuries.
the life of jesus christ.
2G9
CHAPTER IX.
The arrival of our Saviour and his disciples at Capernaum,
a city of Galilee, was no sooner published, than such throngs
of people were gathered together that the house could not
contain them, nor even the court before it. He, however,
preached the words of eternal life to the listening audience,
among whom were many Pharisees and doctors of the law,
who, from the fame of his miracles, were come from all quar¬
ters to hear him.
He not only addressed them in the most nervous and pa¬
thetic manner, in order to inculcate the doctrines he delivered,
but also performed such astonishing miracles as ought to have
removed all their scruples with regard to the truth of his mis¬
sion.
Among other instances he gave of his divine power, was
that of restoring a man to perfect health, who had long been
afflicted with the palsy, and was reduced by that terrible dis¬
ease to the most melancholy condition, being unable to move
any member of his b >dy, but seemed rather an emaciated car¬
case than a man. This miserable object was brought on his
bed by four persons, wh< >, being unable to enter by the door,
on account of the multitude, cajried him to the top of the
house, which, like the other roofs in that country, was flat,
and had a battlement round, according to the directions given
by Moses, Deuteronomy, xxii. 8.
On these roofs there was a kind of trap-door, by which
they came out of the houses upon the roofs, where they spent
a considerable part of the day. It was also common to have
a flight of stairs from the garden to the roof; and by these
the persons seemed to have carried the sick of the palsy, but
finding the door fastened, forced it open, and uncovered the
roof, and through the opening let down, by ropes, the sick of
the palsy, lying on his bed, into the midst of the company
before Jesus, who, seeing the faith of the friends of this af¬
flicted person, had compassion upon him, and spoke aloud,
" Son, be of good cheer ; thy sins are forgiven thee."
The scribes, taking offense at this saying, cried out, This
270 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
man speaketh "blasphemy; for lie appropriates that to himself
which is solely the province of Omnipotence. " Who can
forgive sins but God only ?" They were ignorant that the
person who uttered such gracious words was the Son of G-od,
and consequently had the power of forgiving the sins of the
human race.
But our Lord, who had recourse to the most secret recesses
of the heart, and was willing to show them that he was really
endued with the Spirit of God, said to them: " Wherefore
think ye evil in your hearts ? For whether is it easier to
say to the sick of the palsy, Thy sins be forgiven thee, or to
say, Arise, and take up thy bed, and walk ?" These were
questions beyond the ability of the haughty scribes to answer,
and therefore they held their peace. The blessed Jesus then
added, that the miracle he was going to perform would suf¬
ficiently demonstrate that he had not usurped what did not,
in the strictest manner, belong to him. And, turning him¬
self from those bigoted teachers of Israel toward the sick of
the palsy, he said unto him, " Arise, take up thy bed, and
go unto thine house." ifrfatthew, ix. 6.
Nor was this divine mandate any sooner given than the man
was restored to his former health and strength, and, to the as¬
tonishment of all present, rose, took up his bed, and departed
to his own house glorifyingjGod. And all the people, when
they saw this great work, expressed the highest degree of
surprise, mixed with admiration, for the great honor the Al¬
mighty had conferred on human nature. "They glorified
God, who had given such power unto men." But with re¬
gard to the scribes and Pharisees, though they must have
been confounded at this miracle, yet they still continued in
their unbelief; an instance which should awake in us the
most serious thoughts, as it abundantly demonstrates that
the malady of the soul is a much more deplorable disease
than the palsy of the body.
The blessed Jesus having wrought this miracle repaired
to the sea-side and taught a multitude of people. What the
subject of his sermon was the evangelists have not told us ;
but it was, doubtless, like the rest, calculated to promote the
eternal welfare of mankind.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 271
His discourse "being ended, he returned to tlie city, and in
his way saw Matthew, or Levi, the son of Alpheus, a rich pub¬
lican, sitting in his office, where the customs were levied at
the port of Capernaum, whom he ordered to follow him.
Matthew immediately obeyed the summons, and followed the
Saviour of the world, to pursue a far more honorable and
important employment, being afterwards both an apostle and
evangelist.
Some little time after his call he made a splendid enter¬
tainment for his Master, inviting all the publicans he knew,
hoping, by hearing the heavenly conversation of Christ, they
might also repent, and embrace the doctrines of the gospel.
The self-righteous scribes and Pharisees, who considered
all men as sinners, except themselves, especially the pub¬
licans, were highly offended that one who called himself a
prophet should so far demean himself as to be seen in the
company of such men ; and asked his disciples, with an air
of insolence, in the hearing of all the guests, how their Mas¬
ter could sit down at the same table with publicans and sin¬
ners ?
Our Lord replied to this artful question, that the sick only
had need of a physician; and desired them to reflect seriously
on the prophet Hosea's declaration: " I will have mercy, and
not sacrifice." The turning of sinners into the path of right¬
eousness, which is the highest act of benevolence, is far more
acceptable to the Almighty than all the ceremonies of the
law of Moses, so highly magnified by your fraternity, who,
on many occasions, observe them at the expense of charity ;
adding, I am not come to call the righteous, as you ignor-
antly imagine yourselves to be, but sinners to repentance.
The chief object of my attention is the conversion of sinners.
This answer, however satisfactory to an unprejudiced per¬
son, was far from being so to the scribes and Pharisees, who,
joining with some of John's disciples then present, returned
to Matthew's house, and demanded of Jesus why his disciples
wholly neglected to fast, a duty often performed both by the
rulers of Israel and the disciples of John? To this the
blessed Jesus replied, It is not a proper season for the friends
of the bridegroom to fast and afflict themselves while they
272
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
enjoy his company; " but the days will come when the bride¬
groom shall be taken away from them, and then shall they
fast/' The various calamities and afflictions that shall attend
them after the departure of their Master shall cause them to
fast, which they shall repeat as often as the circumstances of
distress and danger, with which they will be surrounded, shall
require; and added, that to have obliged his disciples to ob¬
serve the precepts of frequent abstinence at a time when he
was employing them to preach the gospel, by which all the
legal ceremonies of the law were to be abolished, would have
been as absurd as to sew a new piece of cloth upon a rotten
garment, which would only make the rent worse ; or to put
new wine into old leathern bottles, which, on the first fer¬
mentation of the liquor, would burst—indicating that infant
virtue must not immediately be put to the greatest trials,
lest it be destroyed by the severity of the exercise.
During this controversy between our Lord and the haughty
scribes and Pharisees in Matthew's house, Jairus, a ruler of
the synagogue, came running to him in all the agonies of
grief, and, in the presence of the whole company, fell on the
ground before him, beseeching that he would come and heal
his daughter, who lay at the point of death.
When did the beneficent Jesus deny his gracious assistance
to those who implored it of him ? He immediately arose,
and followed the ruler towards his house, surrounded by a
great multitude of people, who were desirous of seeing so
great a miracle.
But, as he passed through the street, a woman, who had,
for twelve years, been afflicted with an issue or* flux of blood,
and had spent her whole substance on physicians to no pur¬
pose, " came behind him, and touched the hem of his garment;
for she said within herself, If I may but touch his clothes, I
shall be well." Nor was she deceived, for no sooner had she
touched the border of the garment of the Son of God, than
her issue of blood dried up, and she felt, by the return of her
health and strength, and other agreeable sensations that ac¬
company such sudden changes from painful diseases to perfect
health, that the cure was absolutely complete. f
But this transaction could not be concealed ; the blessed
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 273
Jesus knew the whole, and her secret thoughts, before she put
them into practice j and, pleased with the opinion this wo¬
man had entertained both of his power and goodness, would
not, by any means, suffer it to pass unapplaudod. Accord¬
ingly, he turned himself about, and asked, " Who touched
me ?" He well knew the person ; but asked this question for
the fuller manifestation of the woman's faith, and that ho
might have an opportunity of instructing and comforting her.
His disciples, being ignorant of what had passed, were
surprised at the question : u Thou seest," said they to their
Master, "the multitude thronging and pressing thee, and
sayest thou, "Who touched me ?" They could not distinguish
I between the spiritual and corporeal touch, nor knew that such
efficacious virtue had gone out of their Master. J esus, how¬
ever, persisted in knowing who it was that had done this
thing, and the woman, finding it in vain to conceal her action
, any longer, came to him trembling, and told him all. Per¬
haps the uncleanness of her distemper was the reason of her
I fear, thinking he would be offended, even at her touching the
hem of his garment. But the divine Physician, far from be¬
ing angry, spoke to her in the kindest manner, and com¬
mended her faith, on which account he had consented to heal
her plague : " Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath
made thee whole." Matthew, ix. 22.
Such a miraculous incident must, doubtless, have greatly
strengthened the ruler's faith ; for, behold, a virtue, little in¬
ferior to that of raising the dead, issues from the borders of
Christ's garment, and heals a disease which, for the space of
twelve years, hcfd baffled all the skill of the healing art, and
defied the power of medicine. Indeed, the faith of this ruler
had great need of the strongest confirmation ; for news was
brought him that his daughter was even now dead, and there¬
fore it was needless for him to give any further trouble to
J esus—not in the least suspecting he had power to recall the
departed spirit, and to reanimate the breathless carcase.
This message was a terrible blow to the affectionate par¬
ent. His only daughter, who, but a few days before, was in
the bloom of youth, was now a pale and lifeless corpse ; and
with her all his joys and comforts had fled. But J esus, com-
18
274 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
miserating his grief, desired him to be comforted, promising
that his daughter should he restored.
On his coming to the ruler's house, lie found it full of
mourners, who made terrible lamentations—a sufficient dem¬
onstration that the damsel was really dead; and, accord¬
ingly, when our blessed Saviour desired the mourners to cease
their funeral ceremonies, as the maid was not dead, but sleep¬
ing, they laughed him to scorn.
It is necessary to remark, in this place, that the Jews,
when they spoke of a pious person's death, styled it sleep, to
intimate their belief that his spirit existed in the happy scenes
of paradise, and their hopes of a future resurrection to life
eternal. But the blessed Jesus used the word with remarka¬
ble propriety, to signify that though, she was now locked in
the cold embrace of death, yet he was going to release her
from, the king of terrors with, the same ease as a person is
awaked from sleep. Thus our blessed Saviour, in the very
manner of performing a miracle, modestly declined the honor
that would undoubtedly result from a work so greatly supe¬
rior to all the powers of men.
Having thus briefly addressed the mourners, he entered
the chamber where the damsel was lying, but suffered none to
follow him except Peter, James and John, together with the
father and mother of the damsel. Probably his reason for
suffering these only to be spectators of so stupendous a work
was, that they might have an opportunity of examining the
whole transaction in the most careful manner, and be thence
enabled, afterwards, to report it upon the fullest conviction,
and with every circumstance of credibility. *
The blessed Jesus now approached the body, took her by
the hand, and, with a gentle voice, said,11 Maid, arise." The
heavenly command was instantly obeyed; the damsel arose as
from a sleep, and with all the appearance of health and vigor,
for J esus commanded to give her something to eat—a plain
proof that she did not appear in the weak and languishing con¬
dition of a person worn out with disease, or even like one
who had fainted away—a circumstance that abundantly proves
the greatness and perfection of the miracle. It is, therefore,
no wonder, that her parents should be astonished at so stu-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 275
pendous a work, the fame of which, was soon spread through
all the neighboring country, though Jesus, who was, in every
scene, above praise, and therefore never courted it, had strictly
charged them, that they should tell no man what was done.
These instances of power did the blessed Jesus display, to
convince the world, that those who die in him are not dead ;
for that he hath the keys of life and death. Those also of the
present age, who believe that the soul sleeps with the body
till the resurrection, will do well to consider the expression
of the evangelist, u Her spirit came again," (Luke, viii. 55,)
which sufficiently shows that the soul exists separately, when
the body is laid in the chambers of the silent grave.
Having performed this benevolent miracle, our blessed
Saviour left the ruler's house, and was followed through the
streets by two blind men, imploring assistance : nor did they
implore in vain ; the Redeemer of mankind was, and still is,
always ready to grant the petition of those who apply to him
for relief. Accordingly, he was no sooner entered into a house,
to avoid the thronging multitude, than he touched their eyes,
and said, " According to your faith, be it unto you/' (Mat¬
thew, ix. 29,) and immediately the invaluable gift of sight was
bestowed upon them.
The blind men were so oveijoyed at beholding the light,
that though our Saviour charged them to keep the miracle a
secret, they published his fame in every part of the country,
being unwilling to conceal what, in gratitude for so great a
mercy, they thought themselves obliged to divulge.
The men, ^ho had thus miraculously received their sight,
being departed, the multitude brought to him a dumb man
possessed with a devil. So moving a sight could not fail of
attracting a compassionate regard from the Saviour of the
world, who, being never weary of well-doing, immediately
cast out the apostate spirit; on which the dumb man recov¬
ered the use of his speech, and spoke in a very rational man¬
ner to the multitude, who, with one voice, declared, that such
wondrous works were never wrought by any of the old proph¬
ets : " It was never so seen in Israel." (Matthew, ix. 33.)
This reflection was perfectly just; for no one of the prophets
that we read of in the Old Testament appears to have wrought
276
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST,
so many beneficial miracles in his whole life as our Ijord did
in this one afternoon. These works did not remove the pre¬
judices of the Pharisees, who, "being unable to deny the mira¬
cles, insinuated that he did it by a power received from Beel¬
zebub, the prince of the devils. A poor pretense indeed! and
did not escape the animadversion it deserved from the Saviour
of the world, as we shall see in a succeeding chapter. Well
might the prophet cry out in a prophetic ecstacy, " Who hath
believed our report ? and to whom is the arm of the Lord
revealed ?"
But all their calumnies could not provoke the meek and
merciful Jesus to cease from performing these compassionate
offices for the children of men. On the contrary, he exerted
himself still more and more to promote the prosperity of the
whole of the human race. Accordingly, he left Capernaum,
and traveled through the country in search of miserable ob¬
jects, on which he might confer happiness and peace, visiting
" all the cities and villages, teaching in their synagogues, and I
preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing every sick- I
ness, and every disease, among the people/' (Matthew, ix.
35.)
On his return from this town to Capernaum, he was
attended by a great number of people, who expressed a more
than common desire to hear the doctrine of the gospel—an
incident abundantly sufficient to engage the attention of this
divine teacher, who was ever careful to cultivate the smallest
seeds of virtue, and cherish the least appearance of piety and
religion.
It was not this desire of the people alone that excited his
compassion towards them; he well knew that they were
wholly destitute of spiritual teachers; for the scribes and
Pharisees, who ought to have instructed them, were blind,
perverse and lazy guides, who, instead of seeking the glory of
the Almighty, made it their whole business to support and
augment their own. They magnified the ritual ceremonies and
traditions, but took no care to inspire the people with a love
of truth and holiness. " To do justice, love mercy, and walk
humbly with their God/' were no parts of their doctrine.
The small appearance of religion they entertained was wholly
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
277
hypocritical; and the disputes carried oil with so much, bit¬
terness "between the factions of the Pharisees and Sadducees,
distracted the minds of the people.
The inhabitants of Judea were truly in a deplorable state,
which called loudly for the compassion of the Son of God,
who always regarded the descendants of Jacob with the most
tender affection. He saw the sheep of Israel scattered on the
barren wastes of error and superstition, without a shepherd
to lead them to the heavenly pastures of the law and the
prophets. He saw, he commiserated their distress, and
resolved to provide some remedy for it. Accordingly, he
directed his apostles to intercede with the Almighty, who,
1 by his servants and prophets, had sown the seeds of piety and
virtue in the minds of the Jews, that he would not suffer the
rich harvest t > be lost for want of laborers. li The harvest,"
said the blessed Jtsus to his disciples, "truly is plenteous,
but the laborers are few. Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the
harvest, that he will send forth laborers into his harvest."
(Matthew, ix. 37, 38.)
To these gracious acts he added the most powerful of all
intercessions to the throne of grace—his own prevailing prayer
—and, accordingly, ascended the top of a mountain, and
there spent the night in making the most powerful petitions
in behalf of the 1» >st sheep of Israel to his heavenly Father.
Having spent the night in this pious exercise, he lost no
time in putting his beneficent intentions in execution; for
no sooner had darkness withdrawn her sable vail, and the
blushing rays of the morning adorned the chambers of the
east, than the benevolent Redeemer of mankind called his
disciples to him, and chose twelve, whom hq named apostles,
to be with him, and that he might send them forth to preach.
He ordered them to be with him, that they might learn from
his own mouth the doctrines they were to preach to the whole
world ; that they might see his glory, the transcendant glory
of the virtues which adorned his human life; that they might
be witnesses of all the wondrous works that he should per¬
form, during his residence in this vale of misery, and by
which his mission from the court of heaven was to be fully
demonstrated.
278 THE LITE OF JESUS CHRIST.
These twelve persons, thus qualified, were to supply the
people with that spiritual food they so greatly wanted,-both
while their Master continued here below, and after his ascen¬
sion to the right hand of power.
Having ordained them to their respective offices, he sent
them out by two and two, into the most distant parts of
Judea, to preach the glad tidings of the gospel, and prepare
the way for their Master, the great Shepherd of Israel. And,
that nothing might be wanting to render their preaching
acceptable to the people, and confirm the important doctrines
they delivered, he invested them with full power to cure all
diseases, cast out devils, and even to raise the dead.
After appointing the twelve apostles, he came down from
the mountain, and was joyfully received by the multitude of
people who were awaiting for him in the plain, and pressed to
touch him—well knowing that if they could only touch the
border of his garment, they should be healed of whatever dis¬
temper they were afflicted with—a sufficient reason why they
were continually waiting for him, and were willing to accom¬
pany him, even to the remotest corners of the wilderness.
The preaching and miracles of our Lord were attended to,
not by the low and vulgar only, but persons of the first rank
and character came from distant parts of the country to con¬
verse with him, hear his doctrine, and be spectators of his
wonderful works. It, therefore, evidently appears, that per¬
sons of all ranks were desirous of following him • and their
desire could be founded upon nothing but the truth of his
doctrines and miracles.
After healing all the sick among the multitude, he turned
towards his disciples, and delivered a divine discourse, some¬
thing like that her had before preached to them on the moun¬
tain : but in the former he only pronounced blessings, whereas,
in the latter, he added curses also ; and in this principally it
differs from that recorded by St. Matthew. I shall, therefore,
only select a few passages from the sermon now delivered, as
I have given a larger paraphrase on the other.
"Woe unto you that are rich ! for ye have received your
consolation." Luke, vi. 24. Riches, considered in themselves,
by no means render us the objects of the Almighty's hatred,
THE LIFE OF JESUS OHBIST.
279
unless accompanied by those vices which too often flow from
an opulent fortune, as luxury, covetousness, and the like.
The woe, therefore, is here denounced against those only who
are contaminated with these vices; for those who make a
proper use of their wealth, and possess the virtues which
should accompany affluence, have no share in the malediction.
u Woe unto you that are full! for ye shall hunger." The
pain ye shall suffer in a future life shall be sharp and excru¬
ciating. The opportunities you have neglected of doing good
to your afflicted brethren in this life, shall then be remem¬
bered with the most poignant grief, and bewailed with the
most bitter lamentations.
""Woe unto you that laugh now! for ye shall mourn and
weep/' This malediction of our blessed Saviour is not incon¬
sistent with the apostle's precept, which commands Christians
always to rejoice. Neither is the mirth, against which the
woe is here denounced, to be understood of that constant
cheerfulness of temper which arises in the breasts of true
Christians, from the comfortable and cheerful doctrine with
which they are enlightened by the gospel, the assurance they
have of reconciliation with God, and the hope they will have
of everlasting life, and the pleasures they will enjoy in the
practice of the duties of religion ; but it relates to that tur¬
bulent carnal mirth, that excessive levity and vanity of spirit)
which arises not from any solid foundation, but from sensual
pleasures, or those vain amusements of life, in which the giddy
and gay contrive to spend their time—that sort of mirth
which dissipates thought, leaves no time for consideration,
and gives them an utter aversion to all serious reflections.
Persons who constantly indulge themselves in this kind of
mirth, shall weep and mourn eternally, when they are ex¬
cluded from the joys of heaven, and banished for ever from
the presence of God, by the light of whose countenance all the
righteous are enlivened, and made transcendently happy.
"Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you !
for so did their fathers to the false prophets." Woe unto you,
if by propagating such doctrines as encourage men in sin, you
shall gain to yourselves the applause and flattery of the gen¬
erality of men ; for thus, in old times, did the false prophets
280 the life of jesus christ.
•
and deceivers, who, accommodating their doctrines to the
lusts and passions of men, gained their applause, hut incurred
the wrath and displeasure of a just and all-seeing Grod.
Our Lord here represents those as miserable, who are rich
and full, joyous and applauded ; not that this is universally
the case, hut because prosperous circumstances are so fre¬
quently a sweet poison, and affliction a healing though hitter
medicine. Let the thought reconcile us to adversity, and
awaken our caution when the world smiles upon us ; when a
plentiful table is spread before us, and our cup runneth over;
when our spirits are gay and sprightly; or when we hear,
what to corrupt nature is too harmonious music, that of our
own praise from men. Oh, that we may secure, what is of
infinitely greater importance, the praise of a heavenly Master,
by a constant regard to these his precepts!
CHAPTER X.
The divine Preacher having closed this excellent sermon,
he repaired to Capernaum, and was met by certain messen¬
gers from a centurion, desiring him to come and heal a ser¬
vant who was dear to him, and ready to die.
The centurion, from the account given him by the evange¬
list, seems to have been a proselyte to the Jewish religion, as
he was a lover of the sons of Jaccb, and had erected for them
a place of worship, and accordingly the inhabitants of Caper¬
naum strongly espoused his cause on this occasion, saying,
" that he was worthy for whom he should do this. For he
loveth our nation, and he hath built us a synagogue." Luke,
vii. 4, 5.
There was not the least danger that this petition would
be rejected by the blessed Jesus, who sought all occasions of
doing good to the children of men. Accordingly, he very
readily accompanied the messengers; but, before he came to
the house, he was met by some of the centurion's friends, who
expressed the high idea that officer entertained of his power,
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 281
and desired that he would not take the trouble of coming to
his house, as a word was abundantly sufficient to perform
the cure. At this message, Jesus turned himself about, and
said to the multitude, u I say unto you, I have not found so
great faith, no, not in Israel" Luke, vii. 9.
The persons having delivered their message, returned to
the house, and found the servant, who had been sick, perfectly
recovered.
Behold an instance of faith in a stranger to the common¬
wealth of Israel, by which their unbelief was condemned !
Oh, that the virtues of heathen may not another day rise up
to our condemnation, notwithstanding a higher profession and
much nobler advantages! We can n<>t but rej< >ice t< > hear that
" many shall come from the east and from the west, to sit
down with, the pious patriarchs in the kingdom of heaven
but how deplorable is the case of those children of the king¬
dom, who, with all their towering expectations, " shall be cast
out," and doomed to hopeless sorrow and everlasting dark¬
ness !
Having thus miraculously healed the centurion's servant,
he repaired to Peter's house to eat bread ; but the multitude
came again together, and surrounded the house in a tumultu¬
ous manner, demanding, in all probability, that he would heal
their sick ; and it was not without difficulty they were dis¬
persed by his friends.
The multitude being dispersed, Jesus called unto him the
twelve apostles he had before chosen, and conferred on them
the power of working miracles, in confirmation of the doc¬
trines they were appointed to preach) and delivered them such
instructions as he thought necessary to enable them to dis¬
charge the duties of this important commission.
" Go," said their heavenly Master, " and preach, saying,
the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Publish in every corner
of Judea, the glad tidings of the gospel, and the near approach
of the Messiah's kingdom—not a temporal, but a spiritual
empire—consisting of righteousness and peace.
To inure them to those hardships and dangers which were
to attend them in their preaching, after the death of their
Master, our Lord forbade them to provide any thing for their
282 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
journey—teaching them to rely wholly on tlie providence of
God for support in every distress, and to have recourse to his
protection in every danger.
Our Lord's disciples had, perhaps, flattered themselves with
the pleasing expectation that the glad tidings they were go*
ing to publish, and the miraculous cures they were enabled
to perform, would procure them an honorable reception where-
ever they came. Their Master, however, told them the event
would not, in any manner, answer their expectations ; but
that they were everywhere to be despised, persecuted, deliv¬
ered into the hands of the rulers, and punished as wicked
men. But, at the same time, he promised them the aid of
the Almighty, and gave them instructions how to behave in
every particular. He added, that those who rejected their
message should be treated with severity by the great Judge of
all the earth ; but those who received them kindly, and gflve
even a cup of cold water to the least of his disciples, for their
Master's sake, should not fail of receiving a large reward.
Having received this commission, the apostles visited al2
parts of Palestine, where the Jews inhabited, preaching the
doctrine of repentance, working miracles for its confirmation,
and particularly healing the sick, while our blessed Lord con¬
tinued the course of his ministry in Galilee.
The apostles being returned from their, tour, Jesus went
to Nain, a town situated near Endor, about two miles soutb
of Mount Tabor, attended by many of his disciples, and a
great multitude of people.
On their coming to the entrance of the city, a melancholy
scene presented itself to the eyes of Jesus and his followers.
" Behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only son of
his mother, and she was a widow." Luke, vii. 12. "Who would
not have imagined that God had indeed " forgotten to be gra¬
cious, and, in his anger, shut up his tender mercies" for this
poor widow, suffering under the heaviest load, and laboring
under the most oppressive burden of distress ? Deprived of
her son, her only son, in the flower of his youth, when he
might have repaid his mother's toils, and been to her in the
place of a husband—of that husband she had long since lost,
and whose loss was supportable only through the comfort of
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
283
this child, the surviving image of his departed father, the
balm of all her grief, the hope of her afflicted soul—who now
shall administer consolation to this solitary widow, to this
lonely parent, bereaved of her husband, deprived of her child ?
"What misery can be more complicated ? What can be more
natural than that she should u refuse to be comforted," that
she should u go down to the grave mourning," and visit the
chambers of death, the residence of the beloved remains of her
husband and her son, with sorrow ?
Toward the receptacle of mortality, that dreary waste of
forgetfulness, the mournful funeral was now, with slow and
solemn pomp, advancing, when the compassionate Redeemer
of mankind met the melancholy procession, composed of a
long train of her weeping neighbors and relations, who pit¬
ied her distress, sympathized with her in this great affliction,
and "were melted with compassion at her deplorable circum¬
stances : but sighs and tears were all they had to offer ; relief
could not be expected from a human being ; their commiser¬
ation, though grateful to her oppressed soul, could neither
restore the husband nor the son; submission and patience
were the only lessons they could preach, or this afflicted
daughter of Israel learn.
But though man was unable to relieve the distresses of
this disconsolate widow, the Saviour of the world, who beheld
the melancholy procession, was both able and willing to do it.
There was no need of a powerful solicitor to implore assist¬
ance from the Son of God ; his own compassion was abun¬
dantly sufficient. When the Lord saw her, he had compas¬
sion on her : he both sought the patient, and offered the cure
expected. " Weep not/' said the blessed Jesus to this afflicted
woman. Alas ! it had been wholly in vain to bid her refrain
from tears, who had lost her only child, the sole comfort of
her age, without administering the balm of comfort to heal
her broken spirit. This our compassionate Redeemer well
knew; and, therefore, immediately advancing towards the
corpse, " he touched the bier." The pomp of the funeral was
instantly stopped, silence closed every mouth, and expectation
filled the breast of every spectator. But this suspense did
not long continue ; that glorious voice, which shall one day
284 the life of jesus christ.
call our dead bodies from the grave, filled their ears with the
remarkable words, "Young man, I say unto thee, arise." Nor
was this powerful command uttered without its effect. " He
spake, and it was donehe called with authority, and im¬
mediately "he that was dead, sat up, and began to. speak.
And he delivered him to his mother." He did not show him
around to the multitude, but, by a singular act of modesty
and humanity, delivered him to his late afflicted, now aston¬
ished and rejoicing mother, to intimate, that in compassion
to her great distress, he had.wrought this stupendous miracle.
A holy and awful fear fell on all who heard and saw this
astonishing event; and they glorified God, saying, that a
great prophet is risen up amongst us, and that God hath vis¬
ited his people.
Here it must be observed, that as this miracles is liable to
no objection, it therefore abundantly proves, that the power
of the blessed Jesus was truly and absolutely divine. He
met this funeral procession apparently by accident. It was
composed of the greatest part of the inhabitants of the city,
who bewailed the disconsolate state of the widow, and there¬
fore well knew that the youth was really dead. The power¬
ful word, which called the breathless body to life, was deliv¬
ered in an audible voice, before all the company, and even at
the very gate of the city, the place of public resort.
This miracle, with others amply attested, abundantly
evinces the truth of our Saviour's mission, and that he was
indeed the Son of God, the Redeemer of mankind.
CHAPTER XI.
We have taken notice, in a foregoing chapter, that Herod,
incensed at the honest freedom of the Baptist, reproving his
adulterous commerce with Herodias, his brother Philip's wife,
had cast him into prison j and in this he still continued,
though his disciples were suffered to visit and converse with
him. In one of these visits, they had given him an account
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
285
of our Saviour's haying elected twelve apostles to preach the
gospel, and of his miracles, particularly of his raising to life
the daughter of Jairus, and the son of the widow of Nam.
On hearing of these wonderful relations, the Bapjjist im¬
mediately dispatched two of his disciples to Jesus to ask him
this important question, 44 Art thou he that should come, or
look we for another ?"
Accordingly, the disciples of John came to Jesus, and
proposed the question of their master, at the very time when
he 44 cured many of their infirmities and plagues, and of evil
spirits ; and to many that were blind he gave sight." Jesus,
therefore, instead of directly answering their question, bade
them return, and inform their master what they had seen.
44 Go," said he, 44 and show John again those things which ye
do hear and see : the blind receive their sight, and the lame
walk ; the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear ; the dead
are raised up, and the poor have the gospel preached to them."
Matthew, xi. 4, 5. Go, tell your master, that the very mir¬
acles the prophet Isaiah so long since foretold should be
wrought by the Messiah, you have yourselves seen per¬
formed.
It appears from the Scriptures, that the Baptist, through
the whole course of his ministry, had borne constant and
ample testimony to our Saviour's divine mission, that he ex¬
horted those who came to him to rest their faith not on him¬
self, but on "liim that should come after him," and that, as
soon as he was acquainted who Jesus was, by a visible descent
of the Hily Ghost, and a voice from heaven, he made it his
business to dispose the Jews in general, and his own disci¬
ples in particular, to receive and reverence him, by testifying
everywhere that he was the " Son of God, the Lamb of God,
who came down from heaven, and spake the words of God,
and to whom God had given the Spirit not by measure."
It seems that the scribes and Pharisees, seeing their pre¬
tended mortifications eclipsed by the real austerity of the
Baptist, impudently affirmed, that his living in the deserts,
his shunning the company of men, the coarseness of his
clothing, the abstemiousness of his diet, and the other severi¬
ties he practiced, were the effects of his being possessed by an
286 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
apostate spirit, or of a religious melancholy. "For John
came neither eating nor drinking, and they say he hath a
devil." Matthew, xi. 18.
On*the other hand, they would not listen to the heavenly
doctrines preached "by Christ, because he did not separate
himself from society—attributing his free manner of living
to a certain looseness of disposition, though they well knew
that he observed the strictest temperance himself, and never
encouraged the vices of others, either by dissimulation or ex¬
ample. " The Son of Man came eating and drinking; and
they say, Behold a man gluttonous, and a wine-bibber, a
friend of publicans and sinners ; but Wisdom is justified of
her children." Matthew, xi. 19.
He next proceeded to upbraid the several cities where his
most wonderful works had been performed. For though they
had heard him preach many awakening sermons, and seen
him perform such astonishing miracles, as would have con¬
verted, Tyre, Sidon, and Sodom, cities infamous for their im¬
piety, contempt of religion, pride, luxury, and debauchery,
yet, so great was their obstinacy, that they persisted in their
wickedness, notwithstanding all he had done to convert them
from the evils of their ways. "Woe unto thee, Chorazin !
woe unto thee, Bethsaida ! for if the mighty works which
were done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they
would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But I
say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon,
at the day of judgment, than for you. And thou, Caper¬
naum, which art exalted unto heaven, shall be brought down
to hell; for if the mighty works which have been done in
thee had been d< ye in Sodom, it would have remained unto
this day. But I t\y unto you, that it shall be more tolerable
for the land of £. Hdom, in the day of judgment, than for
thee." Matthew, li. 21, etc.
Having denounced these judgments on the cities which
had neglected to profit by his mighty works, he concluded
his discourse with these heavenly words: " Come unto me,
all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am
meek and lowly at heart: and ye shall find rest unto your
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
287
souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Mat¬
thew, xi. 28, etc.
Having concluded this public address, one of the Phari¬
sees (named Simon) desired he would 44eat with him:" the
blessed Jesus accepted the invitation, accompanied him to
his house, and sat down to meat.
He had not continued long at the table oefore a woman,
who had lately left the paths of vice for those of virtue,
placed herself behind him, and, from a deep conviction of her
former crimes, and the obligations she owed to the Saviour
of mankind for bringing her to a sense of them, shed such
quantities of tears, that they trickled down on his feet, which,
according to the custom of the country, were then bare. But
observing that her tears had wet the feet of her beloved In¬
structor, she immediately wiped them with the hairs of her
head, kissed them with the most ardent affection, and anoint¬
ed them with precious ointment she had brought with her for
that purpose.
It was a custom, among the inhabitants of the East, to
pour fragrant oils on the heads of such guests as they in¬
tended particularly to honor, while they sat at meat; and
probably the woman's original intention was to anoint Jesus
in the usual manner. But being exceedingly humbled on ac¬
count of her former crimes, she could not presume to take
that freedom with him, and therefore poured it on his feet,
to express at once the greatness of her love, and the .pro¬
foundness of her humility.
The Pharisee, who had attentively observed the woman,
concluded from thence that our Saviour could not be a
prophet. " This man," said the Pharisee to himself, "if he
were a prophet, would have known who and what manner
of woman this is that toucheth him; for she is a sinner."
•Luke, vii. 39.
* But though Simon spoke this only in his heart, his
thoughts were not concealed fi^m the great Redeemer of
mankind, who, to convince them that he was a prophet, and
that he knew not only the character of men, but even the
secret thoughts of their hearts, immediately conversed with
him on the very subject he had been revolving in his mind.
288 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
He did not, indeed, expose him "before the company, by re¬
lating what he had said in secret; hut, with remarkable deli¬
cacy, pointed out to Simon alone the -unreasonableness of his
thoughts. " Simon," said the blessed Jesus, " I have some¬
what to say unto thee. There was a certain creditor which
had two debtors : the one owed five hundred pence, and the
other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly
forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, which of them will
love him most ? Simon answered and said, I suppose that
he to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, Thou
hast rightly judged/' And then immediately he applied this
short parable to the subject of the woman, on which the
Pharisee had so unjustly reasoned with himself. " Simon,"
continued our Saviour, " seest thou this woman P I entered
into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet; but
she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with
the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss: but this
woman since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss my
feet. My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this
woman hath anointed my feet with ointment." Luke, vii.
40, etc.
This woman's kind services were in no danger of losing
their reward from the blessed Jesus, who possessed the softer
and finer feelings of human nature in their utmost perfection.
Accordingly, he added, in pursuance to so kind an invita¬
tion he had before made to weary and heavy-laden sinners,
" Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are
forgiven: for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven,
the same loveth little." Luke, vii. 47.
The blessed Jesus having thus commended the conduct
of the woman to the company, and rebuked, with great deli¬
cacy, the unjust suspicions of Simon, turned himself to the
woman, and, in the kindest manner, assured her that " her
sins were forgiven." But the power he assumed in forgiving
sins greatly offended the Jews, who, not being acquainted
with his divinity, considered his speech as derogatory to the
honor of the Almighty. J esus, however, contemned their mali¬
cious murmurs, and repeated his assurance, telling the woman
that her faith had saved her, and bade her depart in peace.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
289
The next day Jesus traveled from Capernaum to different
parts of Galilee, going "throughout every city und village,
preaching and showing the glad tidings of the kingdom of
God." Luke, viii. 1. That is, he declared to the people the
welcome tidings of the Almighty 'h 1 icing willing to he reuon
cilcd to the children of men, on condition of their repentance
and emltracing the gospi 1 of the grace of God.
Leaving Galile», h»repaired t > Jerusalem to keep the pass-
over, heing the sec >ndf ust of that kind wince his pul die min¬
istry. In this j >urn< y he was accompanied b} certain pious
women, u whj ministered t > him of tht ir nul ►stance,"
CHAPTER XII.
Our Lord had n > sn >ner entered the aneient city of Jeru¬
salem, so long fam >ua for Wing the dwelling-place of the
Most High, tli« n he repaired t > the public hath or pool,
call 2d in thj H 'brew t ngue Betliesda, that in, the house of
mercy, on account of mil at li h wrought there, by the salutary
effects tf the water, at certain b .osona. This bath was sur¬
rounded by five p >rch s, ^ r cloisters, in which those who fre¬
quent the place were bli 'ltered b >th fr< >m the heat and < old ;
and were particularly serviceabl1 t > the diseased and infirm,
who crowded hither to find relief in their afflictions.
These porches were now filled with a u great multitude
of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the
moving of the water. For an an«nel went down at a certain
season into the p >ol and troubled the water; whosoever th* n
first after the troubling of the water stepped in, was made
whole of whatsoever disease he had." John, v. 3, 4.
Among these objects of pity was one who had labored
under his infirmity no less than thirty and eight years. The
length and greatness of this man's afflictions, wThich were
well known to the Son of God, were sufficient to excite his
tender compassion, and make him the happy object to dem¬
onstrate that his power of healing was infinitely superior
19
290 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
to the sanative virtues of the waters ; while the rest were
suffered to remain in their affliction.
Had not our Lord at this time restored any of them to
health, he would not have acted contrary to the general ac¬
counts which the evangelists give of his goodness on other
occasions; namely, that he healed all who came to him. For
such diseased persons who left their habitations through a
persuasion of his power and kindness were proper objects of
mercy ; whereas the sick in the cloisters of Bethesda were no
more so than the other sick throughout the whole country,
whom he could have cured with a single word of his mouth,
had he been pleased to utter it.
Our compassionate Lord now approached the man whom
he had singled out as the person on whom to manifest his
power. He asked him whether he was desirous of being made
whole ?—a question which must induce the man to declare
publicly his melancholy case in the hearing of the multitude,
and consequently render the miracle more conspicuous. And
as this was done on the Sabbath day, our blessed Saviour
seems to have wrought it to rouse the sons of Jacob from
their lethargy, and convince the inhabitants of Jerusalem
that the long-expected Messiah was now come, and had ac¬
tually visited his people.
This distressed mortal, beholding Jesus with a sorrowful
countenance, and understanding that he meant his being
healed by the sanative virtue of the waters, answered, " Sir,
I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into
the pool: but while I am coining, another steppeth down
before me." John, v. 7. But the compassionate Redeemer
of mankind soon convinced him that he was not to owe his
cure to the salutary nature of the waters, but to the un¬
bounded power of the Son of G-od ; and accordingly said to
him, " Rise, take up thy bed, and walk." Nor was the heav¬
enly mandate any sooner uttered, than the impotent man, to
the astonishment of the multitude, " was made whole, and
took up his bed and walked." John, v. 9.
This great and miraculous cure could not fail of having a
great effect on the spectators; and his carrying his bed on
the Sabbath day, which the Jews considered as a profanation
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
291
of that day of rest, tended greatly to spread tlie fame of the
miracle over the whole city. Nor did the man scruple to obey
the commands of his kind physician ; he well knew that the
person who had the power of working such miracles must he
a great prophet, and, consequently, that his injunction could
not he sinful. He, therefore, thought that he gave a suffi¬
cient answer to those Jews, who told him it was not lawful
to carry his bed on the Sabbath day, to say, " He that made
me whole, the same said unto me, Take up thy bed and
walk." John, v. 11. He that restored my strength in an
instant, and removed, with a single word, a disease that had
many years afflicted me, commanded me, at the same time,
to take up my bed and walk; and surely a person endued
with such power from on high, would not have ordered me to
do any thing but what is truly right.
The votaries of infidelity should remember that this sig¬
nal miracle was performed in an instant, and even when the
patient did not expect any such favor, nor even know the
person to whom he owed it. No one, therefore, can pretend
that imagination had any share in performing it. In short,
the narrative of this miracle of mercy sufficiently proves that
the person who did it was really divine.
The Jews had long expected the Messiah; but they had
expected him to appear as a temporal prince, who would not
only restore the former luster of the throne of David, but
infinitely augment it, and even place it over all the kingdoms
of the earth. And hence they were unwilling to acknowledge
Jesus for their Messiah, notwithstanding the proofs of his
mission were so undeniable, because they must, in so doing,
have abandoned all their grand ideas of a temporal kingdom.
Our blessed Saviour, therefore, desired them to consult then-
own Scriptures, particularly the writings of the prophets,
where they would find the character of the Messiah displayed,
and be fully convinced they were all fulfilled in his person.
He also gave them to understand that the proofs of his
mission were as full and clear as possible, being supported bj»
the actions of his life, which, in all things, agreed with his
doctrine; for he never sought the applause of men, or assumed
secular power, but was always innocent and humble, though
292 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
he well knew that these virtues made him appear little in the
eyes of those who had no idea of a spiritual kingdom, but
expected that the Messiah would appear in all the pomp of
secular authority.
In short, the fatal infidelity of the Jews was principally
owing to their pride. They had long filled the minds of the
people with grand ideas of the glory and power of the Mes¬
siah's kingdom ; they had represented him as a potent prince,
who was to appear at once adorned with all the ensigns of
power ; and therefore to have ascribed that august character
to a mere teacher of righteousness, destitute even of the ordi¬
nary advantages of birth, fortune and Erudition, would have
been so plain a confession of their ignorance of the Scriptures,
as must have exposed them to the ridicule and contempt of
the whole people.
Our blessed Saviour added that he himself should not only
be their own accuser to the God of Jacob for their infidelity,
but Moses, their great legislator, in whom they trusted, would
join in that unwelcome office ; for, by denying him to be the I
Messiah, they denied the writings of that prophet. "For
had ye," added he, " believed Moses, ye would have believed
me ; for he wrote of me. But if ye believe not his writings,
how shall ye believe my words ?" John, v. 46, 47.
Thus did the blessed Jesus assert himself to be the Son of
God, to be the great Judge of the whole earth, and the Mes¬
siah promised by the prophets ; and, at the same time, gave
them such convincing proofs of his being sent from God, that
nothing could be said against them.
Convincing as these proofs were, yet they did not in the
least abate the malice of the scribes and Pharisees ; for the
very next Sabbath, upon his disciples plucking a few ears as
they passed through the fields, and eating the grain after
rubbing it out in their hands, they again exclaimed against
this violation of the Sabbath. But our blessed Saviour soon
convinced them of their error, by showing, both from the ex¬
ample of David and the constant practice of their own priests,
who never omitted the necessary works o£ the temple on the
Sabbath day, that works of necessity were often permitted,
even though they broke a ritual command; that acts of mercy
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 293
were the most acceptable services to God of any whatever ;
that it was inverting the order of things to suppose that man
was made for the Sabbath, and not the Sabbath for the bene¬
fit of man : adding, that if the service of the temple should
be said to claim a particular dispensation from the law of the
Sabbath, he and his disciples, whose business of promoting
the salvation of mankind was of equal importance, might
justly claim the same exemption ; as they were carrying on
a much nobler work than they who attended on the service of
the temple. Thus did our blessed Saviour prove, that works
of mercy should not be left undone, though attended with the
violation of some of .the most sacred institutions of the cere¬
monial law.
Soon after this dispute with the scribes and Pharisees, our
blessed Saviour entered one of the synagogues of Jerusalem
on the Sabbath day, and found there a man whose right hand
was withered.
The Pharisees, who observed the compassionate Jesus ad¬
vance toward the man, did not doubt but he would heal him,
and therefore watched him attentively, that they might have
something to accuse him with to the people. Their hypocrisy
had arrived to that enormous pitch, that they determined to
injure his reputation, by representing him as a Sabbath-
breaker, if he dared to heal the man, while they themselves
were profaning it by an action which would have polluted any
day ; namely, of seeking an opportunity of destroying a per¬
son who had never injured them, but drtne many good actions
for the sons of Jacob, and was continually laboring for their
eternal welfare.
The Saviour of the world was not unapprised of these
malicious intentions. He knew their designs, and defied their
impotent power, by informing them of the benevolent action
he designed, though he well knew they would exert every art
they were masters of in order to put him to death.
Therefore, when our Saviour ordered the man to show
himself to the whole congregation, in order to excite their
pity, these hypocritical teachers declared, in the strongest
terms, the unlawfulness of his performing such beneficent ac¬
tions on the Sabbath : " Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath
294 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHEIST.
day ?" They did not, however, ask this question with an
intention to hinder him from performing the miracle. No,
they had a very different intention than that of accusing him,
for they hoped he would have declared openly that such ac¬
tions were lawful; or, at least, make no reply to their com¬
mands, which they would have construed into an acknowl¬
edgment of what they asserted.
Nor did our Lord fail to expose their malice and supersti¬
tion, and accordingly asked them, " Is it lawful on the Sab¬
bath days to do good, or to do evil ? to save life, or to destroy
it ?" Luke, vi. 9. Is it not more lawful for me, on the
Sabbath day, to save men's lives, than for you to seek my
death without the least provocation P This severe rebuke
would admit of no answer, and therefore they held their
peace, pretending not to understand his meaning. He there¬
fore made use of an argument which stupidity itself could
not fail understanding, and which all the arts of these hypo¬
critical sophists were unable to answer. " What man," said
the blessed Jesus, "shall there be among you that shall have
one sheep, and if it fall into a pit on the Sabbath day, will he
not lay hold on it, and lift it out ? How much then is a man
better than a sheep. Wherefore it is lawful to do well on the
Sabbath day." Matthew, xii. 11, 12.
The former question they pretended not to understand,
and therefore held their peace ; but this argument effectually
silenced them, though they were determined not to be con¬
vinced. This unconquerable obstinacy grieved the spirit of
the meek, the benevolent Jesus, who beheld them with an^er,
' ' O /
that, if possible, an impression might be made, either on
them or the spectators.
But at the same time that he testified his displeasure
towards the Pharisees, he uttered words of comfort to the
lame man, bidding him to stretch his hand ; and he no sooner
obeyed the divine command than it was restored whole as the
other.
This astonishing work, performed in the midst of a con¬
gregation, many of whom, doubtless, knew the man while he
labored under this infirmity, and in the presence of his most
inveterate enemies, must certainly have had a great effect on
• THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 295
the minds of the people, especially as they saw it had effec¬
tually silenced the Pharisees, who had nothing to offer, either
against the miracle itself, or the reasoning and power* of him
who had performed it.
But though these whited sepulchres, aa our blessed Sav¬
iour justly termed them, were silenced by hia arguments, and
astonished at his miracles, yet they were so far from abandon¬
ing their malicious intentions, that they joined their inveterate
enemies, the Herodians, or Sadducees, in order to consult how
they might destroy him, well knowing that if he continued his
preaching, and working of miracles, the people would wholly
fullow him, and their power soon become contemptible. Jesus,
however, thought proper to prevent their malicious designs,
by retiring into Galilee, and there pursuing his benevolent
purposes.
This retreat could not, however, conceal him from the
multitude, who flocked to him from all quarters, bringing
with them the sick and maimed, who were healed, and sent
away in peace-
Soon after this, as Jesus was disputing with the Pharisees,
he was informed that his mother and brethren, or kinsmen,
were without, desiring to speak to him: upon which the
blessed Jesus stretched out his hand towards his disciples, and
said, " Behold my mother and my brethren ! For whosoever
shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same
is my brother, and sister, and mother." Matthew, xii. 49, 50.
This glorious truth should be stamped on the minds of all
believers, as it shows that every one, of what nation or kin¬
dred soever, who is brought into subjection to the will of God,
is allied to the blessed Jesus, and entitled to the salvation of
God.
296
the life of j e s tj s christ.
CHAPTER XIII.
The miraculous power of our blessed Lord, both in per¬
forming this most astonishing act, and confuting the most
learned of the Pharisaical tribe, who endeavored to oppose his
mission and doctrine, brought together so great a multitude,
that he repaired to the sea-side ; and, for the better instructing
the people, entered into a ship, and the whole multitude stood
on shore. Being thus conveniently seated, he delivered many
doctrines of the utmost importance, beginning with the para¬
ble of the sower, who cast his seed on different kinds of soil,
the products of which were answerable to the nature of the
ground—some yielding a large increase, others nothing at all.
By this striking similitude, the blessed Jesus represented the
different kinds of hearers, and the different maimer in which
they were affected by the truth of religion. Some wholly
suppressed the doctrines delivered; in others they produce
the fruits of righteousness in a different proportion. And
susely a more proper parable could not have been delivered,
when such multitudes came to hear his discourses, and so few
practiced the precepts, or profited by the heavenly doctrines
they contained.
The parable being finished, his disciples asked, why he
taught the people in parables ? to which he answered, £l Be¬
cause it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the king¬
dom of heaven, but to them it is not given. For whosoever
hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abun¬
dance ; but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken
away, even that he hath. Therefore speak I to them in par¬
ables : because they seeing, see not; and hearing, they hear
not, neither do they understand." Matthew, xiii. 11, etc. As
if he had said, You, my beloved disciples, who are of a hum¬
ble, docile temper, and are willing to use means, and resort to
me for instruction and the explanation of the truths I deliver,
to you it shall be no disadvantage, that they are delivered in
parables Besides, my discourses are plain and intelligible to
all unprejudiced minds : truth will shine through the vail in
which it is arrayed, and the shadow will guide you to the sub-
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 297
stance. But these proud, these self-conceited Pharisees, who
are so blinded by their own prejudices that they will neither
hear nor understand a thing plainly delivered, to them I
preach in parables, and hide the great truths of the gospel
under such metaphorical robes as will ever conceal them from
persons of their temper. They have, therefore, brought upon
themselves this blindness, that in seeing they see not, and
this willful deafness, that in hearing they hear not, neither do
they understand.
The blessed Jesus added, that there was no reason for
their being surprised at what he had told them, as it had long
before been predicted by the prophet Isaiah. u By hearing
ye shall hear, and shall not understand ; and seeing ye shall
see, and shall not perceive. For this people's heart is Waxed
gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they
have closed ; lest at any time they should see with their eyes,
and hear with their ears, and should understand with their
heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them."
Matthew, xiii. 14, 15. There is some variation in the words,
as quoted by the evangelist and those found in Isaiah ; but
the import of both is the same, and may be paraphrased in
the following manner: The sons of Jacob shall, indeed, hear
the doctrines of the gospel, but not understand them ; and
see the miracles by which these d< >ctrines are c< >nfirmed, with¬
out perceiving them to be wrought by the finger of God : not
because the corruption of their hearts will not suffer them to
examine and weigh these evidences ; for the sins of this peo¬
ple have hardened their hearts ; their pride and vanity have
shut their ears ; and their hypocrisy and bigoted adherence to
tradition and forced interpretations of the law and the proph¬
ets, have closed their eyes, lest the brilliant rays of truth
should strike their sight with irresistible force, and the pow¬
erful voice of divine Wisdom force their attention, and com¬
mand their assent—being unwilling to be directed to the paths
of righteousness which lead to the heavenly Canaan.
Such are the reasons given by our blessed Saviour for his
teaching the people by parables ; and to enhance the great
privilege his disciples enjoyed, he added, that many patriarchs
and prophets of old had earnestly desired to see and hear those
298 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHE I ST.
tilings which, the people now saw and heard, but were denied
that favor—Grod having, till then, showed them to his most
eminent saints in shadows only, and as they lay brooding in
the womb of futurity.
Our Lord having, by these means, excited the desire of his
disciples, proceeded to explain to them the parable of the
sower. Having ended the interpretation of the sower, he con¬
tinued his discourse to his 'disciples, explaining to them, by
the similitude of a lighted lamp, the use they were expected
to make of all the excellent instructions they had and should
receive from him.
Having explained these parables to his disciples, he turned
himself to the multitude on shore, and, in his usual endear¬
ing- accents, delivered the parable of the enemy sowing tares
among the wheat.
The next parable he spake to the multitude was that of
the mustard seed, which, though very small when sown, be¬
comes, in Palestine and other parts of the East, a full spread¬
ing tree—intimating to his audience, under this similitude,
that notwithstanding the gospel would at first appear con¬
temptible, from the ignominy flowing from the crucifixion of
its Author, the strictness of its precepts, the weakness of the
persons by whom it was preached, and the small number and
mean condition of those who received it, yet, being founded
on truth itself, it would increase to an astonishing magnitude,
filling the whole earth, and affording a spiritual nourishment
to all persons of all nations, who should enjoy all the privi¬
leges of the Messiah's kingdom equally with the Jews.
Our blessed Saviour concluded his discourse to the multi¬
tude with the parable of the leaven, to intimate the influence
of the doctrine of the gospel on the minds of particular per¬
sons. " The kingdom of heaven is like unto leaven, which a
woman took and hid in three measures of meal, till the whole
was leavened." Matthew, xiii. 33.
While Jesus was thus employed in his heavenly Father's
business, his mother and brethren came a second time, desir¬
ing to see him. In all probability, they feared that the con¬
tinued fatigue of preaching would injure his health ; and
were therefore desirous of taking him with them, that he
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 299
might refresh himself. But the "blessed Jesus, who was never
weary of doing good, answered his indulgent parent, as "before:
u My mother and my brethren are these which hear the word
of God, ^nd do it." Luke, viii. 21.
Night approaching, Jesus dismissed the multitude, and
returned to the house in Capernaum, where he abode, and
there explained to his disciples the parable of the tares in the
field. The husbandman, said the blessed Saviour, is the Son
of Man ; the field, the Christian church, planted in different
parts of the world; the wheat, are those that believe in
Christ, who obey the precepts of the gospel, and are supported
by the influences of the Holy Spirit; and the tares, the bad
professors, seduced into the paths of vice, by the temptations
of the devil Our blessed Lord, therefore, by tjiis parable,
represented the mixed nature of the church on earth, the dis¬
mal end of the hypocrites, and those who forget God; for
these may deceive, for a time, by assuming the robes of vir¬
tue and religion, yet they will not fail sooner or later to be¬
tray themselves, and show that they are only wolves in sheep's
clothing. At the same time, however sincerely we may wish
to see the church freed from her corrupted members, we must
not extirpate them by force, lest, being deceived by outward
appearances, we also destroy the wheat, or sound members.
AVe must leave this distinction to that awful day, when the
great Messiah will descend to judgment; and then a final
separation will be made : the wicked cast into torments, that
will never have an end ; but the righteous received into life
eternal, where they "shall shine forth as the sun, in the king¬
dom of their father/' Matthew, xiii. 43.
Our Lord, on this occasion, delivered the parable of the
treasure hid in the field, and of the pearl of great price, both
designed for the same purpose—to promote the diligence, zeal,
and resolution of his disciples, in searching into and in teach¬
ing these great and important truths in which the glory of
God, and the salvation of souls were so much concerned. And
surely the similitudes, both of the treasure and pearl, are very
naturally used to signify the gospel; the former, as it en¬
riches all who possess it; and the latter, because it is more
precious than rubies.
300 THE LIFE OF JESTJS CHRIST.
But that the disciples must expect that the Christian
church would consist of a mixed multitude of people, the
good blended with the had, in such a manner that it would
be difficult to separate them, he compared it to a net cast into
the sea, which gathered fish of every kind, good and bad,
which were separated when the net was drawn to land : that
is, at the last great day of accounts, when the righteous will
be conveyed to life eternal, and the wicked cast into everlast¬
ing misery.
Our blessed Saviour, having finished these parables, asked
his disciples if they understood them P and upon their an¬
swering in the affirmative, he added, that every teacher of
the gospel ought to resemble a person whose house was com¬
pletely furnished, and brought "forth out of his treasures
things new and old."
Soon after, Jesus left Capernaum, and repaired to Naza¬
reth, where he had been brought up, and preached in the
synagogue the glad tidings of the kingdom of God ; but his
townsmen, though astonished at his doctrine, could not over¬
come the prejudices they had conceived against him, on ac¬
count of the meanness of his family, and thence refused to
own him for the Messiah. Our Saviour, finding them the
same incorrigible persons as when he visited them before, de¬
parted from them, and taught in the neighboring villages.
They, in common with all the Jews, were strangers to the
true character of the Messiah, whom they considered as a tem¬
poral prince ; and therefore could not bear that a person, so
mean as Jesus appeared to be, should perform works peculiar
to that idol of their vanity, a glorious triumphant, secular
Messiah.
While our Lord resided in the neighborhood of Nazareth,
he sent his disciples to preach in different parts of Galilee,
and to proclaim the glad tidings, that God wTas then going to
establish the kingdom of the Messiah, wherein he would be
worshiped in spirit and in truth. And, in order that they
might confirm the doctrines they delivered, and prove that
they had received their commission from the Son of God, they
were endowed with the power of working miracles. How long
they continued their preaching can not be known, but it is
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 301
reasonable to tliink they spent a considerable time in it,
preaching in several parts of Judea.
The miracles which the apostles taught, raised the expec¬
tations of men higher than ever : the people were astonished
to see the disciples Jesus perform so many miracles ; and
thence concluded, that our Saviour must be greater than any
of the old prophets, who could not transmit the power tliey
enjoyed to any other. This extraordinary circumstance could
not fail of spreading his fame through the whole country; it
even reached the ears of Herod the Tetrarch, who fearing a
person of such extraordinary abilities, was very uneasy, which
some of his courtiers observing, endeavored to remove, telling
him that one of the old prophets was risen from the dead ;
but this did not satisfy him, and he declared that he believed
it was John the Baptist risen from the dead. "And he said
unto his servants, this is John the Baptist; he is risen from
the dead, and therefore mighty works do show forth them¬
selves in him." Matthew, xiv. 2.
The evangelists having, on this account, mentioned John
the Baptist, inf irm us that Herod had put him to death;
but when this happened is uncertain.
It has already been observed, that Herod cast John into
prison fir his boldness in reproving him for the adulterous
commerce in which he lived with his brother's wife. The
sacred writers have not told us how long he continued in
prison ; but it is plain, from his two disciples, who came
from him to our Saviour, that his followers did not forsake
Tiim in his melancholy condition. Nay, Herod himself both
respected and feared him, knowing that he was highly and
deservedly beloved by the people ; he consulted hirn often,
and in many things followed his advice. But Herodias, his
brother's wife, with whom he lived in s< > shameful a manner,
being continually uneasy, lest Herod should be prevailed upon
to set him at liberty, sought all opportunities to destroy him;
and, at last, an incident happened which enabled her to ac¬
complish her intention.
The king having, on his birth-day, made a great feast for
his friends, she sent her daughter Balome, whom she had by
Philip, her lawful husband, into the saloon, to dance before
302 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
the king and Ms guests. Her performance was remarkably
elegant, and so charmed Herod, that he promised, with an
oath, to give her whatever she asked.
Having obtained so remarkable a premise, she ran to her
mother, desiring to know what she should ask ? and was in¬
structed by that wicked woman to require the head of John
the Baptist. Her mother's desire, doubtless, surprised Salome,
as she could not possibly see the use of asking what could be
of no use to her. But Herodias would take no denial, per¬
emptorily insisting on her demanding the head of J ohn the
Baptist. Accordingly, she returned to Herod, saying, "I
will that thou give me, by and by, in a charger, the head of
John the Baptist."
So cruel a request thrilled every breast; the gayety of the
king was vanished; he was vexed and confounded. But being
unwilling to appear either rash, fickle, or false, before a com¬
pany of the first persons of his kingdom for rank and char¬
acter, he commanded the head to be given her—not one of
the guests having the courage to speak a single word in be¬
half of an innocent man, or attempt to divert Herod from
his mad purpose, though he gave them an opportunity of
doing it, by signifying to them that he performed his oath
merely out of regard to the company. Thus Herod, through
a misplaced regard to his oath and his guests, committed a
most unjust and cruel action; an action that will for ever
brand his memory with dishonor, and render his very name
detestable to the latest posterity.
Soon after the command we° given, the head of that
venerable prophet, whose rebukes had struck Herod with awe
in his loosest moments, and whose exhortations had often
alarmed his guilty conscience, was brought, pale and bloody,
in a charger, and given to the daughter of Herodias, in the
presence of all the guests.
The young lady eagerly received the bloody present, and
carried it to her mother, who enjoyed the whole pleasure of
revenge, and feasted her eyes with the sight of her enemy's
head, now silent and harmless. But she could not silence
the name of the Baptist; it became louder, filling the earth
the life of jesus christ.
303
and heavens, and publishing to every people and nation this
woman's "baseness and adultery.
Thus fell that great and good man, John the Baptist,
who was proclaimed by our blessed Saviour himself to bo
"more than, a prophet." Josephus tells us, that his whole
crime consisted in exhorting the Jews to the love and prac¬
tice of virtue; and in the first place to piety, justice, and
regeneration, or newness of life ; and not by the abstinence
from this or that particular sin, but by an habitual purity of
mind and body.
It may not be improper, on this occasion, to hint that the
history of this birth-day, transmitted to posterity in the
Scriptures, stands a perpetual beacon, to warn the great, the
gay, and the young, to beware of dissolute mirth. Admon¬
ished by so fatal an example, they should be careful to main¬
tain, in the midst of their cheerfulness, an habitual recollec¬
tion of spirit, lest reason, at any time, enervated by the
pleasures of sense, should slacken the rein of wisdom, or let
it drop, though only for a moment; because their headstrong
passions, ever impatient of control, may catch the oppor¬
tunity, and rush with them into follies, whose consequences
will be unspeakably, perhaps eternally bitter.
CHAPTER XIV.
The disciples were so alarmed at the cruel fate of the
Baptist, whose memory they highly revered, that they re¬
turned from their mission, and assisted in performing the last
offices to the body of their old master, many of the apostles
having been originally the disciples of John. As soon as the
pious rites were over, they repaired to Jesus, and told him
all that had happened.
Their compassionate Master, on hearing this melancholy
news, retired with them by sea into a desert place, belonging
to Bethsaida, that by retirement, meditation, and prayer,
they might be refreshed and recruited for their spiritual
304 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
labors, and, at tlie same time, leave ail example to us, that
we should retire from the noise and hurry of the world, and
offer up the most fervent' prayers to our heavenly Father.
But the multitude attended so closely that their depart¬
ure was not long concealed, and great numbers of people
repaired to the place where they supposed Jesus and his dis¬
ciples had excluded themselves. Struck with the greatness
of his miracles on those that were sick, and anxious to hear
more instructions from the mouth of so divine a teacher, no
difficulties were too great for them to surmount, nor any
place too retired for them to penetrate, in search of their
admired preacher.
Nor was the beneficent Saviour of the world regardless of
their pious esteem. He saw them, and was moved with com¬
passion toward them, because they were as sheep not having
a shepherd ; multitudes of people without a pastor ; a large
harvest without laborers—motives abundantly sufficient to
excite compassion in the Son of God.
The situation of these numerous throngs of people, scat¬
tered abroad, without a guide, without a guardian ; a flock
of defenseless sheep, without a single shepherd to defend them
from the jaws of the infernal wolf, was truly deplorable : the
blessed Jesus, therefore, that "good Shepherd, who came to
lay down his life for the sheep," was moved with compassion
toward them. The same pity which brought him from the
courts of heaven, for the sake of his lost and wandering sheep
in the desert, now brought him to this multitude of people,
whom he instructed in the doctrines of eternal life, and, with
his usual goodness, healed all the sick among them.
Intently devoted to teaching and healing the people, our
blessed Saviour did not seem to notice the day wear away,
and that the greatest part of it was already spent; but his
disciples, too anxious about the things of this world, thought
proper to advise him of it, as if the Son of Grod wanted any
directions from man. The day, said his disciples, is now far
advanced, and the place a solitary desert, where neither food
nor lodging can be procured ; it would, therefore, be conve¬
nient to dismiss the people, that they may repair to the
towns and villages on the borders of the wilderness and pro-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 305
vide themselves with, food and lodging, for they have nothing
to eat.
But our Lord prevented that trouble by telling them
there was no necessity for sending the people away to pro¬
cure victuals for themselves, as they might satisfy the hunger
of the multitude by giving them to eat; and, at the same
time, to prove what opinion his disciples entertained of his
power, addressed himself to Philip, who was well acquainted
with the country, and said, " "Whence bhall we buy bread,
that these may eat ?"
Philip, astonished at the seeming impossibility of procur¬
ing a supply for so great a multitude with the small sum of
money which he knew was their all, and forgetting the extent
of his Master's power, answered. u Two hundred pennyworth
of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them
may take a little." John, vi. 7.
Our blessed Saviour might now put the same question to
Philip that he did on another occasion : " Have I been so
long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me,
Philip ?" John, xiv. 9. Hast thou beheld so many mira¬
cles, and art still ignorant that I can supply food, not only
for this people, but for all the sons of men, and for the cattle
upon a thousand hills ?
But he contented himself with answering, " Give ye them
to eat." The twelve, not yet comprehending the design of
their Master, repeated the objection of Philip; but added,
that they were willing to expend their whole stock in order
to procure as large a supply as possible. " Shall we go,"
said they, " and buy two hundred pennyworth of bread, that
they- may eat ?"
But this was by no muans the design of their great Mas¬
ter, who, instead of making a direct answer to their question,
asked them, " How many loaves have ye ?" How much pro¬
vision can be found among this multitude P Go and see.
The disciples obeyed the command of their Master ; and
Andrew soon returned, to inform him that the whole stock
amounted to no more than five barley loaves and two small
fishes—a quantity so inconsiderable that it scarcely deserved
notice. "What are they/' said his disciples, "among so
306 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
many ?" What, indeed, would they have been among such
a multitude of people, if they had not been distributed by
the creating hand of the Son of God ?
Jesus, notwithstanding the smallness of the number, or¬
dered them to be brought to him; and immediately com¬
manded the multitude to sit down on the grass, with which
the place abounded, directing his disciples, at the same time,
to range them in a regular order, by hundreds and fifties in a
company, each company forming a square, containing a hun¬
dred in rank and fifty in file, that the number might be more
easily ascertained, and the people more regularly served.
In obedience to his command, the people sat down in the
manner they were ordered, big with the expectation of what
this uncommon preparation portended ; while the great Mas¬
ter of the banquet stood ready to supply the necessities of the
guests—a banquet where, though they had no canopy but the
azure sky, no table but the verdant turf, where their food was
only coarse barley bread and dried fishes, and their drink only
water from a bubbling fountain, yet displayed more real
grandeur, by the presence of the divine Master of it, than the
royal feast of gorgeous Ahasuerus, or the splendid entertain¬
ment of the imperious Nebuchadnezzar.
The multitude being seated, Jesus took the loaves and
fishes into his hands, in the sight of all the people, that they
might be convinced of the small quantity of provisions that
were then before them, and that they could only expect to be
fed by his supernatural power. But that hand, which had
constantly sustained nature, could now easily multiply these
five loaves and two fishes ; for, as the Psalmist elegantly ob¬
serves, "He openeth his hand, and filleth all things with
righteousness." Accordingly, he looked up to heaven, re¬
turned thanks to God, the liberal giver of all good things, for
his infinite beneficence in furnishing food for all flesh, and the
power he had conferred on him of relieving mankind by his
miracles, particularly for that he was about to work. This
done, he blessed them '} and so peculiarly efficacious was his
blessing, that these five barley loaves and two fishes were
multiplied into a quantity sufficient to supply the wants of
five thousand men, besides women and children, who., on the
J
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 307
most favorable supposition, must amount to an equal num¬
ber. a And Jesus took the loaves ; and "when lie had given
thanks, he distributed to the disciples, and the disciples to
them that were set down ; and likewise of the fishes, as much
as they would.'" John, vi. 11.
Thus did the compassionate and powerful Redeemer feed
at least ten thousand people with five barley loaves and two
small fishes, giving a magnificent proof both of his power and
goodness. For, after all had eaten to satiety, they took up
twelve baskets full of the broken pieces, a much larger quan¬
tity than was at first set before our Lord to divide.
The people, when they had seen the Saviour of the world
perform so stupendous a miracle, were astonished above mea¬
sure, and, in the height of their transport, purposed to take
Jesus by force and make him a king, concluding that he must
then assume the title of the Messiah, whose coming they had
so long earnestly expected, and under whose reign they ex¬
pected all kinds of temporal felicities.
But our Lord, well knowing the intentions of the multi¬
tude, and the inclinations of his disciples to second them,
ordered the latter to repair immediately to their boat and sail
to Bethsaida, while he sent away the multitude. They would,
it seems, gladly have detained the people, with whom they
fully agreed in sentiments; and even lingered till he con¬
strained them to get into the boat, so fully were they still
possessed, that their Master was to take the reins of govern¬
ment, and become a powerful prince over the house of Jacob.
The people suffered the disciples to depart without the
least remorse, as they saw that Jesus did not go with them.
Perhaps they imagined he was sending them away, to
provide such things as they had need of. Nor did they refuse
to disperse when he commanded them, purposing to return in
the morning, as we find they actually did.
Having thus sent the disciples and the multitude away,
Jesus repaired himself to the summit of a mountain, spending
the evening in heavenly contemplations and ardent prayers to
his Almighty Father.
But the disciples, meeting with a contrary wind, could
not continue their course to Bethsaida, which lay about two
308 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
leagues to the northward of the desert mountain where the
multitude were miraculously fed. They, however, did all in
their power to land as near the city as possible, "but were
tossed up and down all the night by the tempest; so that in
the fourth watch, or between three and six o'clock in the
morning, they were not above a league from the shore.
Their divine Master beheld, from the mountain, their dis¬
tressed situation; but they were ignorant of his presence,
though he was coming to their relief.
Such was the state of the disciples ; they were tossed by
boisterous waves, and opposed in their course by the rapid
current of the wind, so that all hopes of reaching the place
intended were vanished ; when, behold, their heavenly Mas¬
ter, to assist them in this distressing situation, comes to them,
walking on the foaming surface of the sea. Their Lord's ap¬
proach filled them with astonishment; they took him for an
apparition and shrieked for fear. Their terrors were, how¬
ever, soon removed : their great and affectionate Master talked
to them, with the sound of whose voice they were perfectly
acquainted. " Be of good cheer/7 said the blessed Jesus, "it
is I, be not afraid/'
Peter, a man of warm and forward temper, beholding
Jesus walking on the sea, was exceedingly amazed, and con¬
ceived the strongest desire of being enabled to perform so
wonderful an action.
Accordingly, without the least reflection, he immediately
begged that his Master would bid him come to him on the
water. He did not doubt that Jesus would gratify his re¬
quest, as it sufficiently intimated that he would readily un¬
dertake any thing, however difficult, at the command of his
Saviour. But it appeared that his faith was too weak to
support him to that height of obedience to which he would
willingly have soared. To convince this forward disciple of
the weakness of his faith, and render him more diffident of
his own strength, our blessed Saviour granted his request.
He ordered him to come to him upon the water.
Peter joyfully obeyed his divine Master; he left the boat,
and walked on the surface of the sea. But the wind increas¬
ing, made a dreadful noise, and the boisterous waves sit the
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 309
same time threatened to overwhelm him. His faith now stag¬
gered ; his presence of mind forsook him ; he forgot that his
Saviour was at hand; and, in proportion as his faith de¬
creased, the waters yielded, and he sunk. In this extremity-
he looked around for his Master, and, on the very brink of
being swallowed up, cried, u Lord, save me !" His cry was
not disregarded by his compassionate Saviour; " he stretched
forth his hand and caught him, and said unto him, 0 thou of
little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt ?"
Peter was convinced, befi ire he left the ship, that it was
Jesus who was coming to them on the water: nor did he even
doubt it when he was sinking, because he then implored his
assistance. But when he found the storm increase, and the
billows rage more horribly than before, his fears suggested
that either his Master would be unable or unwilling to sup¬
port ln'm amidst the frightful blasts of the tempest.
This miracle alarmed the disciples, for though they had so
lately seen the miracle of the five loaves, they did not seem to
have before formed a proper idea of his power; but being now
persuaded that he could be no other than the expected Mes¬
siah, they " came and worshiped him, saying, Of a truth thou
art the Son of God." Matthew, xiv. 33.
Our Saviour seems to have confirmed this miracle by
working another ; f» >r the evangelists tell us that he had no
sooner entered the ship, and hushed the violence of the storm,
than they arrived at the place whither they were going.
" Then they willingly received him into the ship, and imme¬
diately the ship was at the land, whither they went." John,
vl 21.
When our Lord disembarked, the inhabitants of the
neighboring country ran to him, bringing with them all those
that were sick, and they were all healed. It must be remem¬
bered, that though Jesus ordinarily resided in the neighbor¬
hood of Capernaum, yet he had been absent ever since his
visiting Nazareth, and therefore it is natural to think that
o '
the inhabitants, on his return, would not omit the opportu¬
nity of bringing their sick in such prodigious crowds, that it
seems our Saviour did not pay particular attention to each of
them, and this was the reason of their beseeching him " that
310 the life of jesus cheist.
they might only touch, the hem of his garment: and as many
as touched were made perfectly whole." Matthew, xiv. 36.
The virtue of that power by which he wrought these
things lay not in his garments, for then the soldiers who
seized them at his crucifixion might have wrought the same
miracles; hut it was because Jesus willed it to be so. It was
now the. acceptable time, the day of salvation foretold by
Isaiah, and Christ's power was sufficient to remove any dis¬
temper whatsoever.
CHAPTER XV.
The season of the grand passover approaching, Jesus went
up to Jerusalem to attend that solemnity. But the Jews
being offended at his discourse in the synagogue of Caper¬
naum, made an attempt upon his life. Our Lorc|, therefore,
finding it impossible to remain at Jerusalem in safety, de¬
parted from that city, and retired into Galilee.
The Pharisees were sensible they could not perpetrate
their malicious design upon that occasion; they therefore
followed him, hoping to find something by which they might
accuse him, and at length ventured to attack him for permit¬
ting his disciples to eat with unwashed hands, because, in so
doing, they transgressed the tradition of the elders.
Moses had, indeed, required external cleanness as a part
of their religion, but it was only to signify how careful the
servants of the Almighty should be to purify themselves from
all uncleanness, both of flesh and spirit. These ceremonial
institutions were, in process of time, prodigiously multiplied,
and the Pharisees, who pretended to observe every tittle of
the law, considered it as a notorious offense to eat bread with
unwashed hands, though, at the same time, they suffered the
more weighty precepts of the law to be neglected and for¬
gotten.
To expose the absurdity of such superstitious customs,
our Saviour applied to them the words of the prophet Isaiah:
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 311
" This people honoreth me with their lips, but their heart is
far from me adding, that all their worship was vain, and
displeasing to the Almighty, while they praised themselves
and imposed upon others the frivolous precepts of man's in¬
vention, and at the same time neglected the external rules of
righteousness ; and to remove all objections that could be
brought against this imputation of gross profaneness in the
Pharisees, he supported it by a very remarkable instance.
God, saith the Saviour of the world, hath commanded
children to honor their parents, and to maintain them when
reduced to poverty by sickness, age, or misfortunes ; promis¬
ing life to such as obey this precept, and threatening death to
those who disregard it. But, notwithstanding the peremp¬
tory commandment of Omnipotence, you teach that it is more
sacred to enrich the temple than to nourish their parents, re¬
duced to the utmost necessity, pretending that what is offered
to the great Parent of the universe, is much better bestowed
than what is given to the support of our earthly parents;
making the honor of God absolutely different from the hap¬
piness of his creatures- Nay, ye teach that it is no breach of
the commandment for a man to suffer his parents to perish,
provided he has given what ought to nourish them to the
temple at Jerusalem. Thus have ye concealed, under the
cloak of piety, the most horrid, the most unnatural crime
any person can commit.
Having thus reproved the Pharisees, he called the multi¬
tude to him, and desired them to reflect on the absurdity of
the precepts inculcated by the scribes. These hypocrites,
said he, solicitous about trifles, neglect the great duties of
morality, which are of eternal obligation. They shudder with
horror at unwashed hands, but are perfectly easy under the
guilt of a polluted conscience, though they must be sensible
that " not that which goeth into the mouth, defileth a man ;
but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a
man." Matthew, xv. 11.
The haughty Pharisees were highly offended at his speak-
in^ in a degrading manner of their traditions. And the apos-
© O O *
ties, who would gladly have reconciled their Master and the
Pharisees, insinuated to Jesus that he ought to have acted in
312 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
another manner. To which, the Saviour answered, " Every
plant, which my heavenly Father hath not planted, shall be
rooted up." Matthew, xv. 13. As if he had said, You have
no cause to fear their anger, as both they and their doctrine
shall perish together, for neither of them come from God :
adding, " Let them alone : they be blind leaders of the blind.
And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch."
Matthew,, xv. 14.
His disciples, not fully comprehending this doctrine, de¬
sired their Master to explain it. This our Saviour complied
with, and showed them that meats being of a corporeal na¬
ture, could not defile the mind of man, or render him polluted
in the sight of the Almighty, unless they were used to excess,
or in opposition to the commandment of God; and even then
the pollution arose from the man, and not from the meat.
But, on the contrary, that which proceedeth out of the mouth
of a man comes from his heart, and really polluteth his mind.
These doctrines of truth could not fail of irritating the
Pharisees, as they tended to strip them of the mask with
which they concealed their deformity, and rendered them¬
selves so venerable in the eyes of the vulgar; and therefore
their plots were leveled against his reputation and life.
Jesus, to avoid their malice, retired to the very borders of
Palestine, to the coast of those two Gentile cities, Tyre and
Sidon, proposing there to conceal himself for a time ; but he
could not be hid. It was as impossible for the Sun of righte¬
ousness to be concealed where he came with his healing winsrs
O O
and messages of peace, as it is for the sun in the firmament,
when he riseth in his glory, "as a bridegroom cometh out
of his chamber, and as a giant rejoiceth to run his course."
For a certain woman of Canaan, having heard of him, deter¬
mined to implore his assistance. She was, indeed, one of the
most abject sort of the Gentiles, a Canaanite, one of that de¬
tested race with which the Jews would have no dealings, nor
even conversation ; but notwithstanding all these discourag¬
ing circumstances, she threw herself, as an humble petitioner,
on the never-failing mercies of the Son of God. Strong ne¬
cessity urged her on ; and insuperable distress caused her to
be importunate. Alas ! unhappy parent", her only daughter,
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 313
her beloved child, had an. unclean spirit, and was grievously
vexed with a devil.
When her case was so urgent, and her woes so poignant,
who can wonder that she was so importunate, and would take
no refusal from this divine Person, who, she knew, was able
to deliver her ? Accordingly, she came ; she fell at his feet;
she besought him ; she cried, saying u Have mercy upon me,
0 Lord, thou Son of David, have mercy." I plead no merits;
as a worthless, suffering wretuh, I entreat only the bowels of
thy mercy ; I entreat it, for I believe thee to be the Son of
David, the promised Messiah, the ir^ich desired Saviour of
the world; have mercy on me, for the case of my child and
her distresses are my own : u My daughter is grievously vexed
with a devil." Matthew, xv. 22.
Is it not, at the first view, astonishing that such a peti¬
tioner should be apparently rejected, and that by a bountiful
Eedeemer, who kindly invited all that were heavy laden to
come to him ? who promised never to cast out any that would
come, and whose business it was " to go about doing good ?"
We, however, find that he answered this woman not a
word ; he did not, in appearance, take the least notice, either
of her or her distress. But this silence did not intimidate
her; she still cried, she still besought, she still importunately
pressed her petition, so that the very disciples were moved
with her cries, and became her advocates. They themselves,
though Jews, besought their Master to dismiss this petitioner,
to grant her requests, and to send her away.
But Jesus soon silenced them by an answer agreeabla to
their own prejudices : "I am not sent," said he, " but ui to
the lost sheep of the house of Israel/' To this the disciples
readily assented ; and as they had a high opinion of the Jews'
prerogative, were so well satisfied with the answer, that we
hear them plead no more for this lost, this miserable Gentile.
But this soothed not her griefs ; it was her own cause ;
and what is immediately our own concern, animates us to the
most zealous application. Somewhat encouraged that she
was the subject of discourse, she ventured to approach the
Saviour of the world, though she well knew that custom ac¬
tually forbade such an intercourse; yet she came, she wor-
314 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBlST.
shiped ce this Son of David," she confessed again liis divinity,
and prayed, saying, " Lord, lielp me !"
The oompassionate Saviour now condescended to speak to
her, but with words seemingly sufficient to have discouraged
every further attempt; nay, to have filled her with "bitter dis¬
like to his person, though she had conceived such high and
noble notions of his mercy and favor: " It is not meet," said
he, " to take the children's bread, and to cast it to the dogs."
Matthew, xv. 26. It is not justice to deprive the Jews, who
are the children of the covenant, the descendants of Abraham,
of any part of those blessings which I came into the world to
bestow, especially to you, who are aliens and strangers from
the commonwealth of Israel.
This answer, though seemingly severe, did not shake her
humility, nor overcome her patience ; she meekly answered,
" Truth, Lord; yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall
from their master's table." Matthew, xv. 27. Let me enjoy
that kindness which the dogs of my family are not denied;
from the plenty of miraculous cures which thou bestowed on
the Jews, drop this one to me, who am a poor distressed
heathen ; for they will suffer no greater loss by it than the
children of a family do by the crumbs which are cast to the
dogs.
Our Lord having put the woman's faith to very severe
trial, and well knowing that she possessed a just notion of his
power and goodness, as well as of her own unworthiness,
wrought with pleasure the cure she solicited in behalf of her
daughter, and, at the same time, gave her faith the praise it
so richly deserved. " 0 woman, great is thy faith! be it un¬
to thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was made whole
even from that very hour." Matthew, xv. 28.
After performing this miracle, Jesus returned to the sea
of Galilee, through the region of Decapolis. In this country a
man was brought to him who was deaf, and had an impedi¬
ment in his speech. Objects in distress were always treated
with benevolence by the holy Jesus j but as the people now
thronged about him, in expectation that he would soon es¬
tablish his kingdom, he thought proper to take the man, with
his relations, aside from the multitude ; after which he put
THE LIFE OF J E S TJ 3 CHRIST.
315
his fingers in his ears, and touched his tongue, that the deaf
man, who could not be instructed by language, might know
from whence all his benefits flowed. He then " looked up to
heaven, he sighed, and said unto him Ephphatha, that is, Bo
opened. And straightway his ears were opened, and the
string of his tongue was loosed, and he spake plain. And he
charged them that they should tell no man." Mark, viii. 34,
35, 36.
But notwithstanding they were enjoined to secrecy, the
man, or his relations, published it in every part of the coun¬
try, doubtless thinking they could not be too lavish in the
praise of such a benefactor, especially as the modesty with
which he had performed the cure abundantly demonstrated
that his sole view was the benefit of the human race.
CHAPTER XY.
Jesus having displayed his power and goodness in restor¬
ing the blind man to his sight, departed from Bethsaida, and
retired into the territory of Csesarea Philippi, where, being
desirous of proving in some measure the faith of the apos¬
tles, he asked them, saying, " Whom do men say that I, the
Son of Man, am ? And they said, Some say thou art John
the Baptist, some Elias, and others Jeremias, or one of the
prophets." Matthew, xvi. 13, 14.
The people in general mistook the character of our Sav¬
iour, because he did not assume that outward pomp and
grandeur with which they supposed the Messiah would be
adorned. Jesus was therefore desirous of hearing what idea
his disciples formed of his character, as they had long enjoyed
the benefit of his doctrine and miracles ; and accordingly
asked them what they themselves understood him to be ?
To this question Simon Peter replied, " Thou art the Christ,
Son of the living God."
Our Saviour acknowledged the title ; telling Peter that
God alone had revealed the secret to him. And in allusion
T~~
316 * THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
to his surname, Peter, which signifies a rock, our Saviour
promised, that upon himself as the foundation, or upon the
confession which Peter had just made of his being " the
Christ, Son of the living God" he would build his church,
and that he should have a principal hand in establishing the
Messiah's kingdom, never to be destroyed. " Other founda¬
tion can no man lay." 1 Corinthians, iii. 11. On him may
our souls rest, and the fiercest tempest shall rage in vain!
" And I say unto thee, That thou art Peter ; and upon this
rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not
prevail against it. And I will give unto tliee the keys of the
kingdom of heaven ; and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth
shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt loose on
earth shall be loosed in heaven." Matthew, xvi. 18, 19.
Having delegated this power to Peter, our Saviour strictly
forbade his disciples to tell any man that he was the Messiah,
because it had been foretold by the prophets that he should
be rejected by the rulers of Israel as a false Christ, and suffer
the pangs of death. " Then charged he his disciples that
they should tell no man that he was Jesus the Christ."
Matthew, xvi. 20. Circumstances which could not fail of
giving his followers great offense, as they did not yet un¬
derstand the true nature of his kingdom; and therefore he
thought proper to let every man form a judgment of his mis¬
sion from his doctrine and miracles.
The foregoing discourse had doubtless filled the apostles
with lofty imaginations, and therefore our Saviour thought
proper to acquaint them with his sufferings, in order to check
any fond expectation of temporal power. Peter, however, was
greatly displeased to hear his Master talk of dying at Jerusa¬
lem, when he had just before acknowledged the title of Mes¬
siah. Accordingly he rebuked him for the expression, which
he was so bold as to think unguarded. But Jesus, turning
himself about, said to Peter : " Get thee behind me, Satan :
thou art an offense unto me ; for thou savorest not the
things that be of God, but those that be of men." Matthew,
xvi. 23.
Peter's conduct, in this respect, arising from an immoder¬
ate attachment to sensual objects, our Saviour thought proper
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. * 317
to declare publicly, that all who intended to share with liim
in the glory of the heavenly Canaan, must deny themselves ;
that is, they must he always ready to renounee every worldly
pleasure, and even life itself, when the cause of religion re¬
quired it: he also told them, that in this world they must
expect to meet with troubles and disappointments, and that
whoever intended to be his disciple, must41 take up his cross,
and follow him."
Thus did the blessed Jesua explain to his disciples the
true nature of his kingdom; and, at the same time, inti¬
mated, that although they had already undergone many
afflictions, yet they must expect still more and greater, which
they must sustain with equal fortitude, following their Mas¬
ter in the footsteps of his afflictions. This duty, however
hard, was absolutely necessary ; because, by losing their tem¬
poral life, they would gain that which was eternal. "For
whosoever shall save his life, shall lose it; but whosoever will
lose his life for my sake, the same shall save it." Luke, ix.
24. " For what is a man profited if he should gain the whole
world, and lose his own soul ? Or what shall a man give in
exchange for his soul ?" Matthew, xvi. 26.
To add to the weight of this argument, and to enforce
the necessity of self-denial, our Saviour particularly declared,
that a day was fixed for distributing rewards and punish¬
ments to all the human race ; and that he himsdf was
appointed by the Father as universal Judge ; so that his en¬
emies could not flattter themselves with the hope of escaping
the punishments they deserved, nor his friends be afraid of
losing their eternal reward. "Whosoever therefore shall be
ashamed of me, and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful
generation, of him also shall the Son of Man be ashamed,
when he cometh in the glory of his Father, with the holy
angels." Mark, viii. 38.
About eight days after this discourse, our blessed Saviour
being with the multitude in the country of Caesarea Philippi,
left them in the plain, and accompanied with Peter, James,
and John, ascended an exceedingly high mountain.
In this solitude, while Jesus was praying with these three
disciples, he was transfigured; his face became radiant and
318 * THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
dazzling, for it shone like the sun in Ms meridian clearness.
At the same time, his garment acquired a snowy whiteness,
far "beyond any human art could produce; a whiteness bright
as the light, and sweetly refulgent, "but in a degree inferior to
the radiance of his countenance.
Thus, as it were, in an instant, the Son of God, during
his state of humiliation, suffered the glory of his divinity to
shine through the vail of human nature with which it was
covered ; and to heighten the grandeur and solemnity of the
scene, Moses, the great lawgiver of Israel, and Elijah, a zeal¬
ous defender of the law, appeared in the "beauties of immor¬
tality, the robes, in which the inhabitants of the heavenly
Canaan are adorned. The disciples, it seems, did not see the
beginning of this transfiguration ; happening to fall asleep at
the time of prayer, they lost that pleasure, together with a
great part of the conversation which these two prophets held
with the only-begotten Son of God.
They, however, understood that the subject was his meri¬
torious sufferings and death, by which he was to redeem the
world; a subject that had, a few days before, given great
offense to his disciples, particularly to Peter. At beholding
the illustrious sight, the disciples were greatly amazed; but
the forwardness of Peter's disposition prompting him to say
something, he uttered he knew not what: " Master," said he,
" it is good for us to be here : and let us make three taber¬
nacles ; one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias."
Mark, ix. 5.
This disciple imagined that Jesus had now assumed his
proper dignity, that Elias was now come according to Mal-
achi's prediction, and the Messiah's kingdom was at length
begun.
Accordingly, he thought it was necessary to provide some
accommodation for his Master and his assistants, intending,
perhaps, to bring the rest of the disciples, with the multitude,
from the plain below, to behold his matchless glory. This,
he thought, was much better for his Master, than to be put
to death at Jerusalem, concerning which, Jesus had been talk¬
ing with the messengers from heaven, and the design of which
Peter could not comprehend.
the life of jesus christ.
319
But "while lie yet spake, "behold a bright cloud over¬
shadowed them: and, behold, a voice out of the cloud, which
said, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased;
hear ye him/' Matthew, xvii. 5.
When the three disciples heard the voice, which, like the
roaring thunder, burst from the cloud, and was such as mor¬
tals were unaccustomed to hear, they fell on their faces, and
continued in that posture till Jesus approached, raised them
up, and dispelled their fears, saying unto them, " Arise, and
be not afraid. And when they had lifted up their eyes, they
saw no man save Jesus only." Matthew, xvii. 7, 8.
Jesus, having continued all night with his three disciples,
on the mountain, returned to the plain early in the morning,
charging them to conceal what they had seen, till after he was
risen from the dead. He well knew that the world, and even
his own disciples, were not yet able to comprehend the de¬
sign of his transfiguration, and that if it had been published
before his resurrection, it might have appeared incredible;
because nothing but afflictions and persecutions had hitherto
attended him. "He was truly a man of sorrows, and ac¬
quainted with grief."
CHAPTER XVII.
"When our Lord approached the descent of the mountain,
accompanied by his three disciples, he saw a great multitude
surrounding the nine who continued in the plain, and the
scribes disputing with them. The people, seeing Jesus com¬
ing down from the mountain, ran to him, and saluted him
with particular reverence ; after which Jesus asked the scribes
what was the subject of their debate with his disciples ? to
which one of the multitude answered, " Master, I liavc brought
unto thee my son, which hath a dumb spirit: and whereso¬
ever he taketh him, he teareth him; and he foameth and
gnasheth with his teeth, and pineth away: and I spake to
320 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST,
thy disciples that they should cast him out ] and they could
not." Mark, ix. 17, 18.
This answer being made by one of the multitude, and not
by the scribes, to whom the question was directed, indicates
that they had been disputing with the disciples on their not
being able to cure this afflicted youth: perhaps their making
this unsuccessful attempt had given the scribes occasion to
boast that a devil was at length found, which neither they
nor their Master were able to conquer. This seems to be in¬
dicated by the manner in which our Saviour addressed him¬
self to these arrogant rulers. " 0 faithless generation !" says
he, " how long shall I be with you ? how long shall I suffer
you ?" Must I always bear with your infidelity ? After
speaking in this manner to the scribes, he turned himself to
the father of the young man, and said, "Bring thy son
hither." But no sooner was he brought in sight of his deliv¬
erer, than the evil spirit attacked him, as it were, with double
fury; " The spirit tare him ; and he fell on the ground, and
wallowed foaming." Mark, ix. 20.
Jesus could easily have prevented this attack; but he
permitted it, that the minds of the spectators might be im¬
pressed with a more lively idea of this youth's distress. And,
for the same reason, probably, it was, that he asked the father
how long he had been in that deplorable condition ? To
which the afflicted parent answered, " Of a child : and oft-
times it hath cast him into the fire, and into the waters, to
destroy him ; but if thou canst do any thing, have compassion
on us, and help us." Mark, ix. 21, 22.
The inability of our Lord's disciples to cast out this spirit,
had greatly discouraged the afflicted father ; and the exqui¬
site torture of his son, and the remembrance of its long con¬
tinuance, so dispirited him, that he began to fear this pos¬
session was even too great for the power of Jesus himself,
as the scribes had probably before affirmed ; and therefore
could not help expressing his doubts and fears. But Jesus,
to make him sensible of his mistake, said to him, " If thou
canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth."
On which the father cried out, with tears, " Lord, I believe ;
help thou mine unbelief." The vehement manner in which
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 321
he spake causing the crowd to gather from every quarter, Je¬
sus rebuked the foul spirit, saying unto him, u Thou dumb
and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no
more into him." Mark, ix. 25.
No sooner was the powerful edict pronounced, than the
spirit, with a hideous howling, and convulsing the suffering
patient in the most deplorable manner, came out, leaving the
youth senseless and without motion, till Jesus, taking him by
the hand, restored him to life, and delivered him perfectly re¬
covered to his father.
The nine disciples, during the whole transaction, remained
silent. They were, doubtless, mortified to think that they
had lost, by some fault of their own, the power of working
miracles, lately conferred upon them by their Master; and for
this reason were afraid to speak to him in the presence of the
multitude. But when they came into the house, they de¬
sired Jesus to inform them why they had failed in their at¬
tempt to heal that remarkable youth ? To which Jesus
answered, "Because of your unbelief." But to encourage
them, he described the efficacy of the faith of miracles. " If
ye have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall say unto
this mountain, Kemove hence to yonder place, and it shall re¬
move ; and nothing shall be impossible unto you." Matthew,
xvii. 20. Nothing shall be too great for you to accomplish,
when the glory of God and the good of the church are con¬
cerned, provided you have a proper degree of faith; even
yonder mountain, which bids defiance to the storm, and
smiles at the attacks of its mingled horrors, shall, at your
command, leave its firm basis, and remove to another place.
The expulsion of the dumb spirit seems to have astonished
the disciples more than any other miracle they had seen their
Master perform ; so that our Saviour found it necessary to
moderate the high admiration of his works, by again predict¬
ing his own death, and retiring, for a time, into the unfre¬
quented parts of Galilee.
After a short tour through the desert part of Galilee,
Jesus returned into Capernaum, the place of his general resi¬
dence. Soon after his arrival, the tax-gatherers came to
Peter, and asked him whether his Master would pay the
21
322 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
tribute P That disciple, it seems, had promised that Jesus
would satisfy their demand ; but, on a more mature consider¬
ation, feared to ask him concerning his paying taxes, on any
pretense whatever.
Jesus was, however, no stranger to what had happened,
and the fear of Peter to ask him, and therefore turned his
discourse to this subject by saying unto him, " What thinkest
thou, Simon ? of whom do the kings of the earth take custom
or tribute ? of their own children, or of strangers P Peter saith
unto him, Of strangers. Jesus saith unto him, Then are the
children free insinuating, that, as he was himself the Son
of the great King, to whom heaven, earth, and the sea belong,
he had no right to pay tribute to any monarchy whatever,
because he held nothing by a derived right.
Or, if we suppose this contribution was made for the ser¬
vice and reparation of the temple, he meant that as he was
Son of that omnipotent Being to whom the tribute was paid,
he could have justly excused himself. But the blessed Jesus
was always careful not to give offense; and therefore sent
Peter to the lake, with a line and hook, telling him that in
the mouth of the first fish that came up, he should find a
piece of money equal to the sum demanded of them both.
" Notwithstanding, lest we should offend them, go thou to the
sea, and cast a hook, and take up the fish that first cometh
up ; and when thou hast opened his mouth, thou shalt find a
piece of money ; that take, and give unto them, for me and
thee." Matthew, xvii. 27.
Our Lord took this extraordinary method of paying the
tribute-money in this manner, because the miracle was of
such a kind as could not fail to demonstrate that he was
the Son of the great Monarch worshiped in the temple, and
who rules the universe. In the very manner, therefore, of
paying this tribute, he showed Peter that he was free from
all taxes ; and, at the same time, gave this useful lesson to his
followers, that when their property is affected only in a small
degree, it is better to recede a little from their just right, than
to offend their brethren, or disturb the state, by obstinately
insisting on it.
the life of jesus christ. 323
CHAPTER XVIII.
•
The great Redeemer, having promoted his Father's work
in Galilee, departed into Judea, passing through the country
beyond Jordan, that the Jews who inhabited those distant
parts might enjoy the unspeakable benefits of his discourses
and miracles. After sowing the seeds of eternal life, and
publishing the glad tidings of salvation in those remote coun¬
tries, he repaired to Jerusalem to celebrate the fourth pass-
over ; but the malignity of the scribes and Pharisees was so
great, that he -staid but a short time in the capital; and then
returned into Galilee, where the multitude again resorted to
him, and he again instructed them in the paths that lead to
everlasting life.
The feast of the tabernacles now drew on, at which all
the males of the Jewish nation, capable of traveling, repaired
to Jerusalem, and dwelt in the tabernacles, or booths made
of the boughs of trees, in commemoration of their fathers
having had no other habitation, during their forty years' so¬
journing in the wilderness. To this feast some of the kins¬
men of the blessed Jesus desired he would accompany them,
and there show himbelf openly to the whole nation of the
Jews. They did not themselves believe that he was the
great Prophet so long expected, and therefore condemned the
method he pursued in his public ministry as altogether absurd.
They could not conceive what reason he had for spending
so much of his time in the deserts and remote corners of the
kingdom, while he professed so public a character as that of
the Kedeemer of Israel. Jerusalem, the seat of power, was
to them much the most proper place for him to deliver his
doctrines, and work his miracles in the most public manner
possible, before the great and learned men of the nation,
whose decision in his favor would have great weight in in¬
creasing tlie number of his disciples, and inducing the whole
nation to own him for the Messiah. " Depart hence, and go
into Judea, that thy disciples also may see the work that
thou doest. For there is no man that doeth any thing in
secret, and he himself seeketh to be known openly. If thou
324 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
do these things, show thyself to the world. For neither did
his brethren believe in him." John, vii. 3, 4, 5.
Our Lord well knew the rancorous prejudice of the inhab¬
itants of Jerusalem, and therefore did not think proper to re¬
side among them any longer than was absolutely necessary.
They had more than once attempted his life, and therefore
little hopes remained that they would believe his doctrine;
but, on the contrary, there was great reason to think they
would destroy him, if possible, before he had finished the
work for which he assumed the vail of human nature, and re¬
sided among the sons of men. " My time," said the blessed
Jesus to these unbelieving relations, "is not yet come : but
your time is always ready. The world can not hate you: but
me it hateth, because I testify of it, that the works thereof
are evil. Go ye up unto this feast: I go not up yet unto this
feast; for my time is not yet fully come." John, vii. 6, 7,8.
As if he had said, It is not proper for me to go before the
feast begins; but you may repair to the capital whenever
you please ; the Jews are your friends, you have done
nothing to displease them; but the purity of the doctrine I
have preached to them, and the freedom with which I have
reproved their hypocrisy and other enormous crimes, have
provoked their malice to the utmost height, and therefore, as
the time of my sufferings is not yet come, it is not prudent
for me to go so soon to Jerusalem.
There was also another reason why our blessed Saviour
refused to accompany these relations to the feast of taberna¬
cles : the roads were crowded with people, and these gather¬
ing around him, and accompanying him to Jerusalem, would,
doubtless, have given fresh offense to his enemies, and have,
in a great measure, prevented his miracles and doctrines from
having the desired effect. He therefore chose to continue in
Galilee, till the crowd were all gone up to Jerusalem, when he
followed, as it were in secret, neither preaching nor working
miracles by the way, so that no crowd attended* him to the
feast.
As Jesus did not go up openly to Jerusalem, so neither
did he, on his arrival, repair to the temple, and there preach
openly to the people. This gave occasion to several disputes
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 325
7
I
among the Jews with regard to his character. Some affirmed
that he was a true prophet; and that his absenting himself
from the feast could be only owing to accident; while others
as confidently asserted that he only deceived the people, and
paid no regard to the institutions they had received from
heaven.
But about the middle of the feast, Jesus appeared openly
in the temple, and taught the people, delivering his doc¬
trines with such strength of reasoning and elegance of ex¬
pression, that his very enemies were astonished, knowing that
he had never enjoyed the advantage of a learned education.
"Now about the midst of the feast, Jesus went up into the
temple and taught. And the Jews marveled, saying, ' How
knoweth this man letters, having never learned ?"' John,
viL 14, 15.
To which the Redeemer of mankind replied, My doctrine
was not produced by human wisdom; the sages of the world
were not my instructors; I received it from heaven ; it is the
doctrine of the Almighty, whose messenger I am: " My doc¬
trine is not mine, but his that sent me." John, vii. 16.
Nor can he who is desirous of practicing the doctrines I
deliver, if he will lay aside his prejudices, and sincerely de¬
sire to be taught of God, be at a loss to know ffom whom
my doctrines are derived because he will easily discern whether
they are conformable to the will of man or of God. It is no
difficulty to discover an impostor, because all his precepts
tend to advance his own interest, and gratify his pride.
Whereas all the doctrines delivered by a true prophet have
no other end than the glory of God, however contrary they
may prove to himself. " He that speaketh of Himself seek-
eth his own glory: but he that seeketh his glory that sent
the same is true, and no unrighteousness is in him."
John, vi. 18.
The scribes and Pharisees were highly provoked at this
attachment of the common people to Jesus : and accordingly,
on the last and great day of the feast, they met in council,
and sent several officers to apprehend him, and bring him be¬
fore them. Jesus, during these transactions in the council,
continued in the temple teaching the people. My ministry,
J
326 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
said he to the people, is drawing near its period , and there¬
fore you should, during the short time it has to last, he very
careful to improve every opportunity of hearing the word;
you should listen with the greatest attention to every dis¬
course, that your minds may he stored with the tnlths of the
Almighty, before I return to my Father ; for, after my de¬
parture, you shall earnestly wish for the same opportunities
of seeing me, and hearing my instructions, hut shall never ob¬
tain them. " Yet a little while am I with you, and then I
go unto him that sent me. Ye shall seek me, and shall not
find me: and where I am thither ye can not come." John,
vii. 33, 34.
The Jews, who did not understand that our blessed Sav¬
iour alluded to his own death, resurrection, and ascension to
the right hand of the Majesty on high, whither their sins
would not permit them tg follow him, wondered at this doc¬
trine, and imagined that he intended to leave Judea, and
preach to their brethren dispersed among the Gentiles. But
this supposition was not sufficient; because if he did go. and
preach among the Gentiles, they thought it was not impos¬
sible for them to follow him thither. " Then said the Jews
among themselves, Whither will he go, that we shall not find
him ? will he go unto the dispersed among the Gentiles, and
teach the Gentiles ! What manner of saying is this that he
said, Ye shall seek me, and shall not find me : and where I
am, thither ye can not come ?" John, vii. 35, 36.
While the divine Teacher was thus instructing the people
in the temple, the water from Siloam was brought in, accord¬
ing to the prophets Haggai and Zechariah, part of which they
drank with loud acclamations, in commemoration of the mercy
showed to their fathers, who were relieved by a stream which
miraculously flowed from a rock, and refreshed a whole nation,
then ready to perish with thirst in a dreary and sandy waste;
and the other part they poured out as a drink-offering to the
Almighty, accompanying it with their prayers, for the former
or latter rain to fall in its season; the whole congregation
singing the following passage : " With joy shall ye draw
water out of the wells of salvation." Isaiah, xii. 3.
It was the custom of the blessed Jesus to deliver moral
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 327
instructions, in allusion to any occurrences that happened;
and accordingly, he took this opportunity of inviting, in the
most affectionate manner, all who were desirous of knowledge
or happiness, to come to him and drink, alluding to the cere¬
mony they were then performing. And, to encourage all such
as were desirous of believing in him, he promised them the
gifts of the Holy Spirit, which he represented under the si¬
militude of a river flowing out of their belly. u In the last day,
that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, saying, if
any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink. He that
believeth on me, as the Scripture hath said, out of his belly
shall flow rivers of living water/' John, vii. 37, 38.
During this discourse to the people, the officers from the
council came to apprehend him; but hearing that the topic
he was discussing was a very singular one, and he seemed to
deliver his discourse with remarkable fervor, their curiosity
induced them to listen some time to his discourse before they
laid hands on him. But the eloquent manner in which he
delivered his subject appeased their rage; the sweetness of
pronunciation, and the plainness and perspicuity of his dis¬
course, elucidated the beauties of truth, and caused them to
shine before the understanding with their native luster. Ac¬
cordingly, his very enemies, who were come from the council
on purpose to apprehend him, were astonished ; the greatness
of the subject, made, as it were, visible by the divine speaker,
filled their understanding; the warmth and tenderness with
which he delivered himself, penetrated their hearts ; they felt
new and uncommon emotions, and, being overwhelmed with
the greatness of their admiration, were fixed in silence and
astonishment; they condemned themselves for having under¬
taken the office, and soon returned to the rulers of Israel with¬
out performing it
If our Lord had pleaded for life before the officers of the
council who were sent to apprehend him, the success of his
eloquence, even in that case, had been truly wonderful; but,
in the case before us, it surely was superior to all praise, for,
in a discourse addressed to others, and even on a spiritual
subject, it disarmed a band of inveterate enemies, and made
them his friends.
328
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
Nor were the officers the only persons affected by this dis¬
course ; for many of them declared he must "be one of the old
prophets, and others, that he was none other than the Mes¬
siah himself. Some, however, led away with the common
mistake that he was born at Nazareth, asked, with disdain,
if the Messiah was to come out of Galilee ? and whether they
would acknowledge a Galilean for the Messiah, when the
Scriptures absolutely declared that he was to be born in Beth¬
lehem,, the native town of his father David ; " Many of the
people, therefore, when they heard this saying, said, Of a
truth, this is the Prophet. Others said, This is the Christ.
But some said, Shall Christ come out of Galilee ? Hath not
t}ie Scriptures said, that Christ cometh of the seed of David,
and out of the town of Bethlehem, where David was ?"
John, vii. 40, 41, 42.
Such were the dissensions on this subject, that some of his
enemies, knowing that the officers were sent to apprehend him,
threatened to lay hands on him; but the Almighty would
not suffer them to execute their wicked design. " And some
of them would have taken him ; but no man laid hands on
him." John, vii. 44.
The officers now returned to the council, and were asked
why they had not brought Jesus of Nazareth P To whom
the officers answered, "Never man spake like this man."
This reply enraged the ccfancil, who revile# them for presum¬
ing to entertain a favorable opinion of one whom they had
pronounced an imposter. It is strange, said they, that you,
who are not ignorant of our sentiments concerning this per¬
son, should entertain a favorable idea of him. Have any per¬
sons of rank, or any celebrated for their knowledge of the
laws, believed on him ? Are not his followers the lower
orders of the people, who are totally ignorant of all the proph¬
ecies concerning the Messiah ?
These officers made no answer to the railing accusations
of their master j but Nicodemus, a member of the council,
arraigned their conduct in a very poignant manner : " Does
our law/' says he, " condemn any man before he has been
heard ?" They had before condemned their officers for being
ignorant of the law, when it appeared they were themselves
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
329
' far more ignorant, in pretending to condemn a person "before
they had found him guilty. They were acting directly con¬
trary to the fundamental principles of the law of equity, at
the time they boasted of their profound knowledge of its pre¬
cepts.
Incensed at this reprimand of Nicodemus, they risked him,
with an air of disdain and surprise, if he was also one of those
mean persons who had joined together to support the pre¬
tenses of a Galilean, though the Scriptures had plainly said,
that Bethlehem was the place of the Messiah's nativity : add¬
ing, that if "he refused to listen to them, he should soon be
convinced that the great prophet mentioned by Moses was not
to be born in Galilee. u Art thou also of Galilee ? Search
and look ; for out of Galilee ariseth no prophet." John, vii.
52.
Having made this reply to Nicodemus, the council broke
up, and Jesus, who knew their malicious intentions, retired
to the Mount of Olives, where he spent the night with his
| disciples.
Our blessed Lord, early the following morning, returned
to the temple, and again taught the people. The scribes and
Pharisees now determined to render him odious to the mul¬
titude, or obnoxious to the Roman governor; and therefore
placed before him a woman who had been taken in the act
of adultery, desii%g his opinion as to what punishment she
ought to suffer. " This woman," said they to Jesus, "was
taken in adultery, in the very act. Now Moses in the law
commanded us, that such, should be stoned; but what sayest
thou ?" John, viii. 4, 5.
Had our Lord disapproved this custom of the law, they
would, doubtless, have represented him to the multitude as a
person who contradicted Moses, and favored adultery : which
could not have failed of rendering him odious to the people.
On the other hand, had he ordered her to be stoned, it would
have afforded a plausible pretense for accusing him to the
Roman governor, as a person who stirred up the people to
rebellion, the Eomans having now taken the power of life and
death into their own hands.
But Jesus, who well knew their malicious intentions,
330
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
made them 110 answer, but u stooped down, and with, his
finger wrote on the ground, as though he heard them not.
John, viii. 6.
They, however, still continued pressing him to give an
answer; and, at last, Jesus, in allusion to the law, which
ordered that the hands of the witnesses, by whose testimony
an adulterer was convicted, should be first upon him, said,
" He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone
at her." Let those who are remarkably zealous for having
justice executed upon others, at least take care to purify
themselves from all heinous crimes.
This reply had its desired effect. The hypocritical scribes
aijd Pharisees were convicted of sin by their own consciences,
so that they immediately retired, fearing Jesus would have
made their particular sins public. " And they which heard
it, being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by
one, beginning at the eldest, even unto the last." John,
viii. 9.
The woman's accusers being all retired, Jesus told her,
that as no man had passed sentence of death upon her, to be
very careful, for the future, to avoid the temptations which
had induced her to commit so black a crime.
The wisdom, knowledge and power of our blessed Saviour
were eminently displayed on this occasion; his wisdom, in
defending himself against the malicious a^empts of his ene¬
mies ; his knowledge, in discovering the secrets of their hearts;
and his power, in making use of their own consciences to ren¬
der their artful intentions abortive. It was, therefore, with
remarkable propriety that the great Redeemer of the world now
called himself the " light of the world as if he had said, I
am the spiritual sun, that dispels the darkness of ignorance and
superstition, in which the minds of men are immersed, and
discovers the path that leads to eternal life ; nor shall any who
follow me ever be involved in darkness. " I am the light of
the world : he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness,
but shall have the light of life." John, viii. 12.
This assertion of our Lord highly provoked the Pharisees,
who told him he must be a deceiver, because he boasted of
himself. To which the great Eedeemer of mankind replied,
J
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 331
You are not to imagine that I called myself the light of the
world from a principle of pride and falsehood: that title justly
belongs to me; nor would you yourselves refuse to acknowl¬
edge it, did you know from what authority I received my
commission, and to whom, when I have executed it, I must
return. But of these things ye are totally ignorant, and
therefore judge according to outward appearance, and con¬
demn me because I do not destroy those who oppose me, as
you vainly think the Messiah will do those who refuse to sub¬
mit to his authority. But the design of the Messiah's coming
is very different from your mistaken notions; he is not to
destroy, but to save, the children of men. " Though I bear
record of myself, yet my record is true : for I know whence
I came, and whither I go; but ye can not tell whence I come,
and whither I go. Ye judge after the flesh, I judge no man."
John, viii. 14, 15. He added, that if he should condemn any
person for unbelief, the condemnation would be just, because
his mission was confirmed by his own testimony and that of
his Almighty Father, the God of Jacob, by whose authority,
and agreeable to whose will, all his sentences would be passed.
"And yet if I judge, my judgment is true: for I am not
alone, but I and the Father that sent me." John, viii. 16.
Having thus asserted the divinity of his mission, and
shown that his judgment was just, he proceeded to inform
them that his Father himself bore witness to the truth of his
mission. You can not, said he, justly complain, even if I
should punish you for your unbelief, because you are by your
own laws, commanded to believe the testimony of two wit¬
nesses, that my mission evidently is true. For the actions
of my life, which are perfectly agreeable to the character of a
messenger from heaven, bear sufficient witness of me; and
the Father, by the miracles he has enabled me to perform,
beareth witness of me ; ye are, therefore, altogether culpable
in objecting to my mission. " It is also written in your law
that the testimony of two men is true. I am one that bear
witness of myself, and the Father that sent me beareth wit¬
ness of me." John, viii. 17, 18.
The Jews then asked him, Where is thy Father the other
witness to whom thou appealest ? Jesus replied, your conduct
332 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST.
sufficiently demonstrates that ye are strangers both, to me and
my Father; for had ye known who I am, ye must have also
known who it is I call my Father. Had ye "been convinced
that I am the Messiah, ye must also have been convinced that
the Father is no other than the omnipotent Being, who cre¬
ated and upholds all things by the word of his power. " Then
said they unto him, Where is thy Father ? Jesus answered,
Ye neither know me nor my Father: if ye had known me,
ye should have known my Father also/' John, viii. 19.
This discourse, the evangelist tells us, was held in the
treasury, a court of the temple, where the chests were placed
for receiving the offerings of all those who came tp worship in
the temple, and therefore must have been a place of great
resort, being frequented by all, even the princes and rulers.
But notwithstanding the public manner in which our blessed
Saviour now asserted his claim to the character of the Mes¬
siah, no man attempted to seize him ; Providence not suffer¬
ing them to put their malicious designs in execution, because
his hour, or the time of his suffering, was not yet come.
The debate being ended, Jesus again repeated what he
had before told them; namely, that he should shortly depart
from them ; and that they should then seek him, but not be
able to find him. " I go away; and ye shall seek me, and
shall die in your sins. Whither I go ye can not come." John,
viii. 21. As if he had said, After my ascension into heaven,
when the Roman armies shall spread horror and desolation in
every corner of the land, ye shall then earnestly wish for the
coming of the Messiah, in expectation of being delivered by
his powerful arm from your cruel enemy; but ye shall then
find your mistake. Ye shall die in your sins, and be for ever
excluded from the mansions of happiness.
The Jews by no means comprehended the departure of
which our Lord told them. They even fancied he would de¬
stroy himself; because they thought the only retreat where
they could not find him was the gloomy habitation of the
grave. To which the blessed Jesus replied, Your vile insinu¬
ation discovers at once the wickedness of your hearts, and the
baseness of your original. Ye are from the earth, and there¬
fore subject to all the evil passions that infect human nature,
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
333
the source of temptation to every sin. Ye therefore must "be¬
lieve that I am the bread of life, the heavenly manna, the
light of the world, the true Messiah, if ye are desirous of
"being cleansed from those pollutions which flow from your
earthly origin ; but if ye still continue in your unbelief, you
shall die in your sins.
The Jews now, in order to vindicate themselves, demanded
what sort of a person he pretended to be ? To which Jesus
answered, u Even the same that I said unto you from the be¬
ginning," that is, at the beginning of this discourse, 44 the
light of the worldadding, 441 have many things to say,
and to judge of you; but he that sent me is true, and I speak
to the world those things which I have heard of him." John,
viii. 26.
Ihis discourse, however plain it may appear, was not un¬
derstood by the perverse Jews; they did not perceive that he
spoke to them of the Father. But Jesus told them that
when they crucified him they would be convinced, by the
miracles accompanying that awful hour—the resurrection
from the dead, the effusion of the Holy Spirit on the disci¬
ples, and the destruction of the Jewish nation—who he was,
and the Father that sent him. " When ye have lifted up the
' Son of Man, then shall ye know that I am he; and that I do
nothing of myself, but as my Father hath taught me I speak
these things." John, viii. 28.
He added, that though he should be crucified as a male¬
factor, that punishment would not be inflicted on him as a
consequence of being deserted by his Father; because he
would never leave him in any period of his sufferings, or even
at the hour of his death; as he always acted agreeably to
his will.
These words induced many of the people to believe him
to be the Messiah. Perhaps by lifting him up they did not
understand his crucifixion, but his ascension to the throne of
David; and hence supposed that he now entertained senti¬
ments worthy of the Messiah, and were therefore very ready
to acknowledge him as such, and believe the doctrine he had
delivered concerning his mission. But Jesus told them that
if they persevered in the belief and practice of his word that
r
334 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
they should in reality become his disciples, have a title to
that honorable appellation, be fully instructed in every doc¬
trine of the gospel, and not only freed from the slavery of
sin and its consequences, but also from the ceremonial laws
delivered by Moses. " If ye continue in my word, then are
ye my disciples indeed; and ye shall know the truth, and the
truth shall make you free." John, viii. 31, 32.
The Jews, on hearing him mention that they should be
made free, answered, "We be Abraham's seed, and were
never in bondage to any man." This assertion, if taken lit¬
erally, was absolutely false, the whole nation, at that time,
being in bondage to the Romans; nor were their ancestors
any strangers to slavery, having severely felt the hand of
tyranny both in Egypt, Assyria, and Babylon. The expres¬
sion, therefore, according to some writers, must be takeil in a
metaphorical sense, to signify spiritual bondage: it was a
freedom of truth, a freedom in respect of religion, which
they now asserted. They meant that they were the descend¬
ants of illustrious ancestors, and, during the worst of times,
had preserved sentiments in religion and government worthy
the posterity of Abraham ; nor had the hottest persecution
of the Assyrian kings been able to compel them to embrace
the religion of the heathen. In respect of truth, " We were
never in bondage tc any man: how sayest thou, Ye shall be
made free ?"
In answer to thil question, Jesus told them that those
who gave themselves up to the practice of sin, and the grati¬
fication of their sinful appetites, were absolute slaves; and
how far they might deserve that appellation, it was incum¬
bent on them to consider. " Verily, verily, I say unto you,
whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin." And as a
slave can not ensure the continuance of his master's favor, or
be certain of abiding continually in the family, so my Father
can, when he pleases, discard such habitual sinners, and de¬
prive you of the external economy of religion, of which you so
highly boast, as you have, through sin, rendered yourselves
bondmen to his justice. If ye are desirous of becoming the
children of God, and of remaining for ever in his family, you
must submit to the authority of his Son, and embrace his
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
335
doctrine, which will induce him to adopt jou as co-heirs with
himself. It is he only that can make you free indeed, and
place you in the city of the heavenly Jerusalem, without the
least danger of being removed. I know well that you are, in
a natural sense, the seed of Abraham, but, in a moral one, the
offspring of Satan ; for many of1 you are desirous of destroy¬
ing me, because I enjoy a greater degree of sanctity than you
are willing to acquire. " I know that ye are Abraham's seed:
but ye seek to kill me, because my word hath no place in you.
I speak that which I have seen with my Father ; and ye do
that which ye have seen with your father. They answered
and said unto him, Abraham is our Father." John, viii. 37,
38, 39.
Notwithstanding their claim to immediate descent from
that father of the faithful, Jesus told them, that if they were
the spiritual progeny of Abraham, they would resemble that
great and good man in his righteousness ; and therefore, in¬
stead of endeavoring to take away the life of a person who
came with a revelation from God, they would believe on him,
I in imitation of Abraham, who was justly styled the father of
the faithful, and the friend of God. " If ye were Abraham's
children, ye would do the works o£ Abraham. But now ye
seek to kill me, a man that hath told you the truth, which I
have heard of God; this did not Abraham." John, viii. 39, 40.
The Jews, incensed at our Lord, rushed on him, and at-
I tempted to stone him ; but Jesus, by miraculously concealing
himself, had passed unhurt through the crowd, and retired
out of the temple. With what patience did our blessed Re¬
deemer bear, and with what " meekness of wisdom" did he
answer the most virulent and opprobrious language. And
shall we too keenly resent the reflections which are thrown
upon us ? May but our conscience witness for us and we
need not fear all that are against us I
336
the life of jesus christ.
CHAPTER XIX.
The great Preacher of Israel, having defeated the cruel
designs of the obstinate Jews, in passing on his way, saw a
man who had been blind from his birth. The sight of so af¬
fecting an object could not fail to excite the compassion of
the benevolent Saviour of mankind. Nor could the affronts
and indignities he had just received from the Jews hinder him
from " working the works of him that sent him," and dispens¬
ing blessings on that rebellious and ungrateful nation. Ac¬
cordingly, he beheld this poor blind man, not with a transient
view, but fixed on him the eyes of pity, and presented him
with the riches of his adorable love.
The disciples, observing the affectionate regard of then-
Master to this object of compassion, and probably imagining
that he was going to extend his usual mercy to this unfortu¬
nate object, asked their Master whether his blindness was oc¬
casioned by his own sin, or the sin of his parents ? They had
often heard their Master say, that afflictions were commonly
the punishment of particular sins, and had learned, from the
law of Moses, that sin was the fruitful source of evil; and
that the Lord punished the iniquities of the fathers upon the
children. Their Master kindly answered, that neither his own
nor the sins of the parents were the immediate cause of this
peculiar affliction ; but that he was born blind, " that the
works of God should be made manifest in him particularly
his sovereignty in bringing him blind into the world, his power
in conferring the faculty of sight upon him, and his goodness
in bearing witness to the doctrine by which men are to be
saved.
We may learn, by this pertinent reply of the Saviour of the
world, that a curious inquiry into the cause of afflictions in
other men may be safely avoided ; and that we ought to sup¬
pose very calamity subservient to the glory of Omnipotence;
never imputing to their personal sins whatever miseries we
behold in others, lest, like the disciples in the present case,
we assign to sin what owes its origin to the glory of our
Maker.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 337
Having assigned the cause of this person's blindness,
namely, "that the works of God should be made manifest
in him," Jesus added, " I must work the works of him that
sent me while it is day ; the night eometh when no man can
work(John, ix. 4 ;) intimating to his disciples, and all the
sons of men, his unwearied labor in the work of his Almighty
Father. In this he was employed day and night, during the
time of his sojourning in the flesh. To this alone he directed
all his thoughts and all his intentions. This he esteemed even
as his meat and drink; and for this he suffered the neglect of
his ordinary food, that he might finish the blessed, the benefi¬
cent work of human salvation. A work to accomplish which
he left the courts of heaven, and, during the execution of it,
went about doing good.
It was now the Sabbath day, and the blessed Jesus was
going to perform a miracle, in which there was to be a small
degree of servile work; and therefore he told his disciples,
that they need not be surprised to see him work miracles of
that kind on the Sabbath day. For though they should im¬
agine that he might defer them till the day of rest was over,
his time on earth was so short, that it was necessary for him
to embrace every opportunity that offered of working miraeles.
Perhaps he chose to perform this work on the Sabbath, be¬
cause he knew that the Pharisees would, for that reason,
inquire into it with the utmost attention, and consequently
render it more generally known.
But, however this might be, our blessed Saviour, who was
now going to confer sight on one that was born blind, took
occasion from thence to speak of himself as one appointed to
give light also to the minds of men involved in darkness.
O o
" As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world."
John, ix. 5.
Having declared the salutary design of his coming into
the world, " he spat on the ground, and made clay of the
spittle, and he anointed the eyes of the blind man with the
clay, and said unto him, Go, wash in the pool of Siloam
(which is, by interpretation, Sent). He went his way, there¬
fore, and washed, and came seeing." John, ix. 6, 7.
This miraculous operation could not fail of producing a
22
338 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
general curiosity and surprise; it induced those wlio had seen
this blind man in his dark and deplorable condition, to be
very particular in their inquiries into the means of so singular
a miracle. It was, doubtless, the subject of general conversa¬
tion, and, it is natural to think, should also have proved the
means of a general conversion; but, as it too frequently hap¬
pens, a perverse curiosity prevented its salutary effects upon
their souls. Unbelief, and hardness of heart, led some of
tbfyn even to doubt of the plainest fact—a fact the most evi¬
dent and indisputable, and plainly the work of the Divinity
—and others, to persecute at once both the object and the
author of it! " The neighbors, therefore, and they which
had before seen him that he was blind, said, Is not this he
that sat and begged P Some said, This is he : others said,
He is like him : but he said, I am he/' John, ix. 8, 9.
The man, transported with gratitude and joy, and per¬
ceiving his neighbors to doubt of the identity of his person,
proclaimed himself to be the very same whom they lately saw
begging in total darkness. I am he thus wonderfully blest
with sight, by the peculiar mercy of the Almighty ! I am he,
who was blind from my birth, whom ye have all seen, and
many relieved from my miserable distress ! I am he who was,
even from my mother's womb, involved in total darkness, but
now enjoy the enlivening light of day !
So genuine an acknowledgment of the fact excited their
curiosity to know how this admirable effect was produced.
" How were thine eyes opened ?" To this question he readily
replied, " A man that is called Jesus made clay, and anointed
mine eyes, and said unto me, Go to the pool of Siloam, and
wash k. and I went and washed, and I received sight." John,
. ix. 11. They then asked him where the person was who had
performed so stupendous a work ? To which the man an¬
swered, " I know notfor Jesus had retired while the man
went to wash his eyes in the pool of Siloam, probably to avoid
the applauses which would naturally have been given him,
and which we see, through the whole gospel, he generally
studied to avoid.
The neighbors, either stimulated by envy, or excited by
a desire of having the truth of this extraordinary event
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 339
searched to the bottom, brought the man before the council,
as the proper judges of this affair. Accordingly, he was no
sooner placed before the assembly, than the Pharisees began
to question him, "how long he had recovered his sight 1"
Not daunted by this awful assembly, though terrible to a
man of his mean circumstances, he boldly answered, " He put
clay on my eyes, and I washed, and do see." John, ix. 15.
On hearing this account of the miracle, the Pharisees de¬
clared, that the author of it must have been an imposter, be¬
cause he had, by the performing of it, violated the Sabbath
day. But others, more candid in their way of thinking, gave
it as their opinion, that no deceiver could possibly work a
miracle of that kind, because it was too great and beneficial
for an evil being to have either the inclination or power to
perform.
The court being thus divided in their opinions with regard
to the character of Jesus, they asked the man himself what he
thought of the person who had conferred on him the blessing
of sight ? To which he boldly and plainly answered, " He is
a prophet/' But the Jews, wanting to prove the whole a
cheat, started another objection, namely, that this person was
not born blind, though all his neighbors had really testified to
the truth of it. Accordingly, they called his parents, and asked
them whether he was their son ? if he had been born blind ?
and by what means he had obtained his sight ? To which
they answered that he was truly their son, and had been born
blind; but, with regard to the manner in which he received
his sight, and the person who had conferred it on him, they
could give no information: their son was of age, and he
should answer for himself. " These words spake his parents,
because they feared the Jews; for the Jews had agreed
already, that if any man did confess that he was Christ, he
should be put out of the synagogue." John, ix. 22.
The road from Galilee to Jerusalem lay through Samaria,
and the inhabitants were those which entertained the most
inveterate hatred against all who worshiped in Jerusalem.
Jesus, being no stranger to this disposition of the Samaritans,
thought proper to send messengers before him, that they
might, against his arrival, find reception for him in one of the
340 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
villages. The prejudiced Samaritans, finding the intention
of his journey was to preach in the temple at Jerusalem, re¬
fused to receive either him or his disciples into their houses.
The messengers, being thus disappointed, returned to Je¬
sus, and gave him an account of all that had passed, at which
James and John were so exceedingly incensed, that they pro¬
posed to their Master to call down fire from heaven, in order
to destroy such inhospitable wretches, alleging, in excuse for
such violent proceedings, the example of the prophet Elijah :
" Lord, wilt thou that we command fire to come down from
heaven, and consume them, even as Elias did ?" Luke,
ix. 54.
Our Lord, desirous of displaying an example of humility
on every occasion, sharply rebuked them for entertaining so
unbecoming a resentment for this offense. "Ye know not,"
said he, "what manner of spirit ye are of." Ye are ignorant
of the sinfulness of the disposition ye have now expressed; J
nor do ye consider the difference of times, persons, and dis¬
pensations. The severity exercised by Elijah on the men who
came from Ahab to apprehend him, was a just reproof to an ,
idolatrous king and people, very proper for the times, and
very agreeable to the characters, both of the prophet who '
gave it, and of the offenders to whom it was given, and, at '
the same time, not unsuitable to the Mosaic dispensation.
But the gospel breathes a very different spirit; and the in¬
tention of the Messiah's coming into the world, was not to
destroy, but to save the lives of the children of men.
Ye wise of this world, who reject saving knowledge, be¬
hold here an instance of patience, under a real and provoked I
injury, which you can not parallel among all your boast'" d
heroes of antiquity ! An instance of patience which ex¬
pressed infinite sweetness of disposition, and should be imi¬
tated by all the human race, especially by those who call
themselves the disciples of Christ.
As our blessed Saviour's ministry was, from this time till
its final period, to be confined to Judea and the countries be¬
yond Jordan, it was necessary that some harbingers should be
sent into every town and village he was to visit, to prepare
his way. Accordingly, he called his seventy disciples unto
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 341
him, and, after instructing them in the duties of their mis¬
sion, and the particulars they were to observe on their journey,
he sent them into different parts of the country, to those par¬
ticular places whither he himself intended to follow them,
and preach the doctrines of the gospel to the inhabitants.
Our Lord, according to his own declaration, dispatched
these disciples on the same important mission as he had done
the twelve before.
The harvest was plentiful in Judea and Perea, as well as
in Galilee, and the laborers also few ; and being never more
to preach in Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum, the cities
wherein he had usually resided, he reflected on the reception
he himself had met with from the inhabitants of those cities.
He foresaw the terrible consequences that would flow from
their rejecting his doctrine, and the many kind offers he had
made them. He was grieved at their obstinacy, and, in the
overflowing tenderness of his soul, he lamented the hardness
of their hearts. " Woe," said he, u unto thee, Chorazin !
woe unto thee, Bethsaida ! for if the mighty works had been
done in Tyre and Sidon, which have been done in you, they
had a great while ago repented, sitting in sackcloth and ashes.
But it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the
judgment than for you. And thou, Capernaum, which art
exalted to heaven, shalt be thrust down to hell." Luke, x.
13,14,15. To which our Saviour added, as some consolation
to his disciples, " He that heareth you, heareth me, and he
that despiseth you, despiseth me ; and he that despiseth me,
despiseth him that sent me." Luke, x. 16.
Such a token <?f heavenly regard could not fail of com¬
forting the seventy, and alleviating their minds, when think¬
ing of the ill usages they expected to meet with during the
course of their mission. They well knew that the preaching
of Christ himself had been often despised, and often unsuc¬
cessful, with respect to many of his hearers, and, therefore,
they had not very great reason to expect that they should
find a more welcome reception than their Master.
The seventy disciples, having received their instructions,
and the power of working miracles, from the Messiah, de¬
parted to execute their important commission in the cities of
342
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHEIST.
Judea and Perea. And, after visiting tlie several places, pub¬
lishing the glad tidings of salvation, and working many mir¬
acles in confirmation of their mission, they returned to then-
Master with great joy, saying, "Lord, even the devils are
subject unto us through thy name !"
From this appeal, it seems that they knew not the extent
of their delegated power, and were pleasingly surprised to find
the apostate spirits trembling at their command. To which
their great Master replied, " I beheld Satan as lightning fall
from heaven." You will be no longer astonished that the
devils are subject to the power I have given you, when I tell
you that their prince is not able to stand before me ; and, ac¬
cordingly, when I first put on the vail of human nature, to
destroy him and his works, I saw him, with the swiftness of
the lightning's flash, fall from heaven: adding, in order to
enlarge their joy, and prove that he had really cast Satan
down from the seat of heaven, that he would increase their
power. " Behold," says he, " I give unto you power to tread
on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the
enemy : and nothing shall by any means hurt you." Luke,
x. 19.
Lest they should exult beyond measure in the honor thus
conferred on them, which was merely temporary, our Lord
adds, " Notwithstanding, in this rejoice not, that the spirits
are subject unto you ; but rather rejoice, because your names
are written in heaven." Luke, x. 20.
Nor could the blessed Jesus reflect on the unsearchable
wisdom and goodness of the divine dispensations to mankind,
without feelings of extraordinary joy ; so that his beneficent
heart overflowed with strains of gratitude : " I thank thee, 0
Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast hid these
things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them
unto babes : even so, Father ; for so it seemed good in thy
sight." Luke, x. 21.
When the disciples had executed their commissions, Jesus
left Samaria and retired into J udea, and in the way was met
by a certain lawyer, or scribe, who, being desirous of knowing
whether the doctrines preached by Jesus were the same with
those before delivered by Moses, asked him, What he should
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 343
do to inherit eternal life? It is really amazing that any
mortal should ask a question like this with a view to tempt,
not to be instructed. This was, however, the case; "but the
"blessed Jesus, though no stranger to the most secret thoughts
of the heart, did not reply, as he had before done to the Phari¬
see, " "Why temptest thou me, thou hypocrite ?" He turned
the scribe's weapons against himself; what, says he, is writ¬
ten in the law, of which thou professest thyself a teacher ?
" How readest thou ?" That law will teach thee what thou
must do to be saved ; and happy will it be for thee, if thou
compliest with its precepts. The scribe answered, it is there
written, u Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength, and
with all thy mind; and thy neighbor as thyself." Luke, x.
27.
Our Lord then shows the strength and spirituality of the
law: " Thou hast answered right: this do, and thou shalt
live." Perform these commands, and thou hast fulfilled the
duties of an Israelite; for on these two commandments hang
all the law and the prophets.
"Where is the man that can fulfill the law ? The lawyer,
who, in all probability, expected no such answer, being con¬
scious of his defects, and consequently, of the impossibility
of obtaining eternal life on these conditions, was willing, as
the sacred historian informs us, " to justify himselfwas
willing to stifle the rising suggestions of his own conscience,
and, at the same time, to make a show of his devotion ; and,
in order to do this, he said to Jesus, " And who is my neigh¬
bor ?" a question very likely to be asked by a bigoted Jew,
whose narrow notions led him to despise all who were not of
his own fold—all who were not the natural descendants of
his father Abraham.
To remove their obstinate attachment to their own prin¬
ciples, open their hearts to a more generous and noble way of
thinking, and show them the only foundation of true love,
and the extensive relation they and all mankind stand in to
each other, our Saviour delivered the following most beautiful
and instructive parable:
A certain person, in his journey from Jerusalem to Jericho,
344 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
had the misfortune to fall into tlie hands of robbers, who, not
content with taking his money, stripped him of his raiment,
beat him in a deplorable manner, and left him for dead.
While he continued in this miserable condition, utterly inca¬
pable of assisting himself, a certain priest happened to travel
the same road, " and when he saw him, he passed by on the
other side. And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place,
came and looked on him, and passed by on the other side."
So little compassion had these ministers of religion fpr a
brother in the most deplorable circumstances of distress, that
they continued their journey, without offering to assist so
miserable an object, notwithstanding their sacred characters
obliged them to perform, on every occasion, the tender offices
of charity and compassion. It was a brother, a descendant
of Abraham, in distress, and therefore these hypocrites could
offer no reasons to palliate their inhumanity. Their stony
hearts could behold the affecting object of an unfortunate
Israelite, lying in the road naked and cruelly wounded, with¬
out being the least affected with his distress.
Though these teachers of religion were hypocrites, and
wholly destitute of grace and charity, compassion glowed in
the heart of a Samaritan, who, coming to the spot where this
helpless object lay, ran to him ; and though he found him to
be a person of a different nation, and one who professed a
religion opposite to his own, yet the hatred which had been
instilled into his mind from his earliest years, and every ob¬
jection arising from the animosity subsisting between the
Jews and Samaritans, were immediately silenced by the ten¬
der sensation of pity, awakened by the sight of such compli¬
cated distress ; his bowels yearned towards the miserable
object; though a Jew, he flew to him, and assisted him in
the most tender manner.
It was the custom in these eastern countries for travelers
to carry their provision with them ; so that this compassion¬
ate Samaritan was enabled, though in the desert, to give the
wounded man a little wine to recruit his spirits. He also
bound up his wounds, pouring into them wine and oil, placed
him on his own beast, and walked himself on foot to support
him. In this manner he conducted him to an inn, took care
the life op jesus christ. 345
of him. during the night, and, in the morning, when busines
called him to pursue his journey, recommended him to the
care of the host, left what money he could spare, and desired
that nothing might be denied him; for whatever was expended
he would repay at his return.
Having finished the parable, Jesus turned himself to the
lawyer, and asked him, 44 Which now of these three, thinkesfc
thou, was neighbor unto him that fell among thieves ?" The
lawyer, struck with the truth and evidence of the case, re¬
plied, without the least hesitation, 44 He that showed mercy
unto him." Upon which Jesus replied, 44 Go and do thou
likewise." Perform all the good offices in thy power; extend
thy kindness to every one who stands in need of thy assist¬
ance, whether he be an Israelite, an heathen, or a Samaritan.
Consider every man as thy neighbor in respect to works of
charity, and make no inquiry with regard to his country or
religion, but with regard to his circumstances.
CHAPTER XX.
The feast of the dedication approaching, Jesus turned his
course towards Jerusalem, and in the evening came to the
house of Martha and Mary, the sisters of Lazarus, at Beth¬
any. Martha was desirous of expressing her regard for the
divine guest, by providing for him and his disciples the best
entertainment in her power. But her sister, who was of a
more contemplative disposition, sat quietly at the feet of Je¬
sus listening with the utmost attention to his doctrine ; for
the great Redeemer of mankind never omitted any opportu¬
nity of declaring the gracious offers of the Almighty, and his
unspeakable love for the children of men. Martha, being
greatly fatigued with the burden of the service, complained
to Jesus of the little care Mary took to assist her. " Lord,
dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to serve alone?
Bid her therefore that she help me." Luke, x. 40.
But Martha's officiousness incurred our Lord's reproof,
346 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
who commended Mary for lier attentive application to his
doctrine. " Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled
about many things : and one thing is needful: and Mary
hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away
from her/' Luke, x. 41, 42.
When Jesus repaired to Jerusalem to celebrate the feast
of dedication, he was informed that the beggar he had re¬
stored to sight, had been, by the council, cast out of the syn¬
agogue. This information excited the pity of the Son of
God ; and he resolved to make him full amends for the injury
he had suffered. It was not long before he met the suffering
person, and said to him, " Dost thou believe on the Son of
God ? He answered, and said, Who is he, Lord, that I
might believe on him ? And Jesus said unto him, Thou hast
both seen him, and it is he that talketh with thee. And he
said, Lord, I believe. And he .worshiped him." John, ix.
35, etc.
We have hinted that the beggar was thoroughly convinced
that the person who opened his eyes was a messenger from
heaven. It is, therefore, no wonder, that as soon as he knew
Jesus was the person who had performed so great a work, he
readily believed him to be the Son of God.
Our Saviour having thus given the poor man proof of his
Messiahship, directed his discourse to the people, and said
unto them, " For judgment I am come into this world ; that
they which see not may see, and that they which see might
be made blind." John, ix. 39. The meaning of our Saviour,
though he alluded to the blind man, was spiritual. He did
not intend to represent the design of his coming, but the effect
it would have on the minds of men, as it would demonstrate
what character and disposition every person possessed. The
humble, the docile, and the honest, though they were im¬
mersed in the night of darkness, with regard to religion and
the knowledge of Scripture, should be enlightened by his
coming, as the blind man had enjoyed the invaluable gift of
sight from his hands ; but those who were wise, learned and
enlightened, in their own opinion, should appear in their true
character, absolutely ignorant, foolish, and blind.
The Pharisees, who happened to be present when he spake
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 347
these words to the people, imagined that he intended to throw
a reflection on their sect, which the common people, from
their skill in the law, held in great veneration. Accordingly,
they asked him, with disdain, u Are we blind also ?" Dost
thon place us, who are teachers, and have taken such pains to
acquire the knowledge of the Scriptures, on a level with the
vulgar P To which Jesus answered, "If ye were "blind, ye
would have no sin: but now ye say, We see ; therefore your
sin remaineth." If ye had not enjoyed the faculties and op¬
portunities of discerning the proofs of my mission, you might
have been considered as blind ; but as ye are superior to the
vulgar in point of learning, and, at the same time, your heart
averse from acknowledging the truth, your enlightened under¬
standing will only aggravate your guilt.
Having condemned the obstinacy and prejudices of the
sect, in rejecting the most evident tokens of the divinity of
his mission, he continued the reproof, by describing the char¬
acter of a true and false teacher. It was our Lord's custom,
always to allude to objects before him; and being now in the
outer court of the temple, near the sheep, which were there ex¬
posed to sale for sacrifice, he compared the teachers among the
Jews to shepherds, and the people to sheep—a metaphor often
used by the old prophets. He considered two kinds of bad shep¬
herds, or teachers : the one, who instead of entering in by the
door to lead the flocks to the richest pastures, entered some?
other way, with an intention only to kill, to steal, and to de¬
stroy ; the other, who, though they entered by the door to
feed their flocks, with the dispositions of hirelings, yet when
the wolf appeared, they deserted the sheep, having no love for
any but themselves. By the former he plainly alluded to the
Pharisees, who had cast the man born blind out of the syna¬
gogue, for no other reason than because he would not act con¬
trary to the dictates of his conscience, and agree with them
in declaring Jesus to be an imposter. But though they had
cast him out of their church, Jesus received him into his,
which is the true church, the spiritual inclosure, where the
sheep go in and out, and find pasture.
To illustrate the allusion, it should be observed, that the
sheep which were brought to be sold, were inclosed in little
348 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
folds, within the outer court of the temple, so that the shep¬
herd himself could not enter, till the porter had opened the
door. And, from this circumstance, the following parabolical
discourse may be easily understood. " Verily, verily, I say
unto you, He that entereth not by the door into the sheepfold,
but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a
robber." John, x. 1. Believe me, that whosoever, in any
age of the church, assumed the office of teacher, without a
commission from me, was a thief and a robber ; and, in the
present age, he is no better who assumes that office w thout
my commission, and particularly without believing on me.
" But he that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the
sheep. To him the porter openeth ; and the sheep hear his
voice : and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth
them out. And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he
goeth before them, and the sheep follow him ; for they know
his voice." John, x. 2, 3, 4.
The doctrine here inculcated is, that good men are obedient
to the instructions of true and faithful teachers, who, in every
case, show them their duty with the greatest plainness, not
concealing it because it may be disagreeable with their incli¬
nations.
The feast of the dedication being now over, Jesus departed
from Jerusalem, and retired into the parts of Perea beyond
Jordan. Here his ministry was attended with great success ;
for the inhabitants of the country, remembering what had
been told them by John the Baptist concerning Jesus, and
being sensible that the doctrine and miracles of our blessed
Saviour were fully equal to what the Baptist had foretold,
firmly believed him to be the Messiah.
According to this supposition, which seems the most agree¬
able to reason, the inhabitants of these countries enjoyed the
doctrines and miracles of the Son of Grod for a considerable
time. But, however this may be, the evangelist tells us, that
while he was executing his ministry beyond Jordan, he hap¬
pened to pray publicly, with such fervency, that one of his
disciples, who was exceedingly affected both with the matter
and manner of his address, begged he would teach them to
pray. " And it came to pass, that as he was praying in a
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 349
certain place, when he ceased, one of his disciples said unto
him, Lord, teach us to pray, as John also taught his disciples.
And he said unto them, "When ye pray, say, Our Father
which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name : Thy kingdom
come : Thy will be done, as in heaven, so in earth. Give us
I this day our daily bread: and forgive us our sins; for we also
forgive every one that is indebted to us: And lead us not into
temptation ; but deliver us from evil." Luke, xi. 1, 2, 3, 4.
Soon after, our blessed Saviour cast out a devil, -when
some who were present ascribed the miracle to Beelzebub.
u And he was casting out a devil, and it was dumb. And it
came to pass when the devil was gone out, the dumb spake ;
and the people wondered. But some of them said, He casteth
out devils through Beelzebub the prince of the devils." Luke,
xi. 14, 15. However strange this argument may seem, and
however weak and absurd it must appear to impartial judges,
yet it had a considerable effect on illiterate persons, especially
on those whose prejudices and interest it favored. The Phar¬
isees pretended that as Jesus had all along been at great pains
to oppose the traditions which most of the teachers of that
age considered as the essentials of religion, and the principal
branches of piety, they concluded that he must be a very
wicked person.
They also supposed that a false prophet had the power of
working signs and wonders ; and thence concluded that our
Saviour performed all his miracles by the assistance of evil
spirits, with an intention to turn the people from the worship ,
of the true God.
Another pretended reason for ascribing his miracles to evil
spirits was, that the demons themselves, when they departed
out of the persons possessed, honored him with the title of
Messiah. Their arguments, though evidently founded on
falsehood, contributed largely to the infidelity of the Jews ;
and, however we may be surprised that such weak reasons
should have any effect, considering what multitudes were wit¬
nesses of the many miracles the blessed Jesus performed on
the sick of all sorts, on the blind, the deaf, the dumb, the
maimed, the lame, on paralytics, lunatics, demoniacs, and
other miserable objects; nay, on the dead, whom he raised
350 the life of jesus christ.
again to life; on the winds and the seas; in a word, on every
part of nature ; yet experience hath abundantly convinced us,
that notwithstanding all these evidences, their own supersti¬
tious opinions fixed that headstrong people in their infidel¬
ity.
CHAPTER XXI.
Having undertaken to write the history of the life of our
blessed Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, we can not omit a
distinct account of the different sects of the Jews, a people
with whom he was intimately concerned, both as an elucida¬
tion of many circumstances, as well as a verification of many
things .foretold concerning the Messiah.
Josephus reckons four principal sects among the Jews ;
namely, the Pharisees, the Sadducees (called also Herodians),
the Essenes, and the Galileans. The evangelists mention
only two, the Pharisees and Sadducees.
The rise of the Pharisees is unknown. They claim, in¬
deed, the celebrated Hillel for their founder, as he is, by some,
supposed to have lived during the pontificate of Jonathan,
about a hundred and fifty years before the birth of Christ;
but others, with more reason, suppose that he was cotem-
porary with the famous Someas, who lived about the time of
Herod, long before whom the sect of the Pharisees was in high
repute. It is, therefore, probable that they claim Hillel rather
as an ornament than as the author of their sect.
One of the most famous tenets of the Pharisees, was that of
an oral tradition handed down from Moses, and to which they
attributed the same divine authority as to the sacred books.
This being strenuously opposed by the Sadducees and Samari¬
tans, rendered these equally detested by them. But none
more incurred their hatred than the blessed Jesus, who em¬
braced every occasion for reproving them for the unjustifiable
preference they gave this pretended tradition to the written
word of God, and for condemning those as apostates^ worthy
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 351
of death, who did not pay the same, or even a greater regard,
to the former than to the latter.
Another tenet they embraced, in-opposition to the Saddu-
cees, was that of the existence of angels, the immortality of
the soul, and the resurrection of the dead, and future rewards.
But, with regard to the latter, they excluded all who were
notoriously wicked from having any share in the happiness of
eternity : supposing, that as soon as death had put a period
to their lives, their souls were conveyed into everlasting pun¬
ishment.
A third tenet was, that all things were subject to fate;
or, as some expressed it, to the heavens. It is not easy to
conceive what they meant by this: Josephus, indeed, will
have it, that they designed to reconcile the fatality or predes¬
tination of the Essenes with the free-will of the Sadducees.
If so, this is not the only absurdity, or even contradiction,
which they held ; but a certain learned prelate seems to have
proved that they attribute all to fate, or to that chain of
causes to which the Creator had subjected all things from the
beginning; among which the influence of the heavenly bodies
were considered the principal. This seems to be hinted at by
St. James, in the beginning of the epistle to the new converts,
where he explodes that Pharisaical leaven by the most beau¬
tiful exposition of the immutability of God, the giver of all
good, to the mutability of the planets, which, according to
that notion, must necessarily vary their aspects from a malign
to a benevolent one, and the contrary, even by their natural
motions and change of position. This tenet of the Pharisees
was, therefore, a source of dislike to the doctrines delivered by
the blessed Jesus, as these affirm that men are the authors of
their own unbelief, disobedience, and obstinacy; and, con¬
sequently answerable for that, and all the train of evils these
vices draw after them.
But the most distinguished character of the Pharisees, and
that which rendered them more obnoxious to the just cen¬
sures of our blessed Saviour was, their supererogatory attach¬
ment to the ceremonial law, their frequent washings, fastings,
and prayings, their giving alms publicly, seeking proselytes,
scrupulous tithings, affected gravity of dress, gesture, and
352 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
mortified looks: their building the tombs of the prophets,
to tell the world that they were more righteous than their
ancestors, who murdered* them, though they were themselves
plotting the death of one greater than all the prophets ; their
over-scrupulous observance of the Sabbath, to the exclusion
of the works of the greatest charity, and many others of the
like nature ; while they were wholly negligent of the moral
and eternal law of mercy and justice, of charity and humility,
and the like indispensable virtues. The very best of them
contented themselves with abstaining from the actual com¬
mitting any enormous act, while they indulged themselves in
the most wicked thoughts and desires. Nay, some, more
hardened in their vices, made no scruple, not only of coveting,
but destroying, poor widows' houses, of committing the vilest
oppressions, injustice, and cruelties, and of encouraging these
enormities in their followers, under the specious cloak of
religion and sanctity. Well, therefore, might the great
Redeemer of mankind compare them to whited sepulchres,
beautiful indeed without, but within full of rottenness and
corruption.
The last erroneous opinion we shall mention of the Phari¬
sees, common, indeed, to all the other sects, but more ex¬
actly conformable to their haughty, rapacious, and cruel
temper, was, their expectation of a powerful, a conquering
Messiah, who was to bring the whole world under the Jewish
yoke ; so that there was scarce an inhabitant of Jerusalem,
however mean, that did not expect to be made a governor of
some opulent province under that wonderful prince. How
unlikely was it, then, that the preaching of the meek, the
humble Jesus, whose doctrine breathed nothing but humility,
peace, sincerity, and contempt of the world, and universal
love and beneficence, should ever be relished by that proud,
that covetous, that hypocritical sect, or even by the rest of the
people, while these, their teachers, so strenuously opposed it.
The sect of the Sadducees is said to have been founded by
one Saddoc, a disciple of Antigonus, of Socho. Their chief
tenet was, that our serving God ought to be free either from
slavish fear of punishment, or from selfish hope of reward ;
that it should be disinterested, and flow only from the pure
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
353
/ove and fear of the Supreme Being. They added, that God
was the only immaterial "being; in consequence of which they
denied the existence of angels, or ahy spiritual substances,
except the Almighty himself. It is, therefore, no wonder that
the Sadducees should take every opportunity of opposing and
ridiculing the doctrine of the resurrection.
Another of their tenets, equally opposite to the doctrine
of the Pharisees and to the doctrine of Christ was, that man
was constituted absolute master of all his actions, and stood
in no need of any assistance to choose or act; for this reason,
they were always very severe in their sentences, when they
sat as judges. They rejected all the pretended oral traditions
of the Pharisees, admitting only the texts of the sacred books,
and preferring those of Moses to all the rest of the inspired
writings.
They are charged with some other erroneous tenets, by
Josephus and the Talmudists ; but those already mentioned
are abundantly sufficient for the purpose. The notions of a
future life, universal judgment, eternal rewards and punish¬
ments, to men whom a contrary doctrine had long soothed into
luxury, and an overgrown fondness for temporal happiness,
which they considered as the only reward for their obedience,
must of necessity appear strange and frightful; and, as such,
could not fail to meet with the strongest opposition from
them; especially, if we add, what J osephus observes, that
they were, in general, men of the greatest quality and opu¬
lence, and, consequently, too apt to prefer the pleasures and
grandeur of this life to those of another.
The sect of the Galilean (or Gaulonites), so called from
Judas, the Galilean or Gaulonite, appeared soon after the
banishment of Archelaus, when his territories were made a
Roman province, and the government given to Coponius.
For the Jews, considering this as an open attempt to reduce
them to slavery, Judas took advantage of their discontent;
and, to ripen them for an insurrection, Augustus furnished
them with a plausible pretense, by issuing, about this time,
an edict for surveying the whole province of Syria, and laying
on it a proportional tax. Judas, therefore, who was a man
of uncommon ambition, took occasion from this incident to
23
354 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
display all his eloquence, in order to convince the Jews that
such a submission was nothing less than base idolatry, and
placing men on a level with the God of Jacob, who was the
only Lord and Sovereign that could challenge their obedience
and subjection. The party which he drew after him became
in a short "time so considerable that they threw every thing
into confusion, laid the foundation for those frightful conse¬
quences that ensued, and which did not end but with the de¬
struction of Jerusalem.
The Essenes, though not mentioned by the evangelists,
made a very considerable sect among the J ews, and are highly
celebrated by Josephus, Philo, Pliny and several Christian
writers, both ancient and modern. It is impossible to trace
their origin, or even the etymology of their name. This,
however, is certain, that they were settled in Judea in the
time of Jonathan, the brother and successor of Judas Mac¬
cabeus, about a hundred and fifty years before Christ.
The Essenes distinguished themselves, by their rules and
manner of life, into laborious and contemplative. The former
divided their time between prayer and labor; such as the
exercise of some handicraft, or the cultivation of some partio-
ular spot of ground, where they planted and sowed such roots,
corn, etc., as served for their food; and the latter, between
prayer, contemplation and study. In this last they confined
themselves to the sacred books and morality, without troub¬
ling themselves with any branch of philosophy.
But the contemplative and laborious had their synagogues,
for reading and expounding the sacred books. The latter was
always performed by the elders, who were seated at the upper
end of the synagogue, according to their seniority ; while the
younger, who were permitted to read the lessons, were placed
at the lower. Their expositions were generally of the alle¬
gorical kind, in which they seem to have excelled all their
Jewish brethren. But they paid the greatest regard to the
five books of Moses, and considered that lawgiver as the head
of all the inspired penmen ; they even condemned to imme¬
diate death whoever spoke disrespectfully either of him or his
writings. Upon this account they studied, read and ex¬
pounded him more than all the rest, and seem to have drawn
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 355
all their religion chiefly from the Pentateuch. The doctrines
and expositions of the elders were received with implicit faith,
and in their practice they conformed with an entire submis¬
sion to all their sect.
"With respect to their faith, they believed in the existence
i of angels, the immortality of the soul, and a future state of
rewards and punishments, like the Pharisees; but seem to
have had no notion of the resurrection. They considered the
souls of men as composed of a most subtle ether, which, im¬
mediately after their separation from the body, or from the
cage or prison, as they called it, were adjudged to a place of
endless happiness or misery: that the good took their flight
over the ocean, to some warm or delightful regions prepared
for them; while the wjcked were conveyed to some cold and
intemperate climates, where they were left to groan under an
inexpressible weight of misery. They were likewise entirely
opposed to the Sadducean doctrine of free-will, attributing
all to an eternal fatality, or chain of causes. They were
averse to all kinds of oaths, affirming that a man's life ought
to be such that he may be credited without them. The con¬
templative sort placed the excellency of their meditative life
in raising their minds above the earth, and fixing their
thoughts on heaven; when they had attained this degree of
excellency, they acquired the character of prophets.
In their practice, they excelled all the other sects in aus¬
terity. If we may credit Philo, it was a fundamental maxim
with them, upon their entrance into the contemplative life,
to renounce the world, and to divide among their friends and
relations their properties and estates. They never ate till
after sunset, and the best of their food was coarse bread, a
little salt, and a few stomach herbs. Their clothing was
made of coarse wool, plain, but white ; they condemned all
sorts of unctions and perfumes, as luxurious and effeminate.
Their beds were hard, and their sleeps short. Their heads, or
superiors, were generally chosen according to seniority, unless
there started up among the brotherhood some more conspic¬
uous for learning, piety, or prophetic spirit. Some of them,
Indeed, were so contemplative that they never stirred out of
their cell, or even looked out of their window, during the
356 THE LIFE OF JESTJS CHRIST.
whole week, spending their time in reading the sacred books,
and writing comments upon them. On the Sabbath day they
repaired to their synagogues early in the morning, and con¬
tinued there the whole day in prayer, singing psalms, or ex¬
pounding the sacred books.
Having endeavored to explain the origin and tenets of the (>
several sects among the Jews, we now return to the history of
our blessed Saviour, whom we left preaching in the country
beyond Jordan, where he was surrounded by an innumerable
multitude of people.
In the audience of this vast assembly, he gave his disci¬
ples, in general, a charge to beware of the leaven of the
Pharisees, namely, hypocrisy ; because all their actions would
be brought to light, either in this world or in that which is to
come ; and therefore exhorted them to be very careful never to
commit any thing which could not bear the light, but to let
the whole of their behaviour be honest, just, and good. " Be¬
ware ye of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.
For there is nothing covered that shall not be revealed ; nei¬
ther hid, that shall not be known. Therefore whatsoever ye
have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that
which ye have spoken in the ear, in closets, shall be proclaimed
upon the housetops." Luke, xii. 1, 2, 3.
This argument against hypocrisy is improved as a reason
for their acquiring another quality, which would much better
serve all the ends they could propose ; namely, an undaunted
resolution in the performance of their duty, founded on a firm
confidence in G-od, who would bring to light the most secret
word and thought, publicly condemn the wicked, and justify
his faithful servants and children.
— 1!
the life op jesus christ. 357
CHAPTER XXII.
Our Saviour was invited by one of the Pharisees to his
house. Though he knew that this invitation arose not from
a generous motive, yet, as he never shunned any opportunity
of doing good, even to his most implacable enemies, lie ac¬
cepted it. At his entering the Pharisee's house, they placed
before him a man that had a dropsy, doubtless with an inten¬
tion to accuse him for healing on the Sabbath day; being
persuaded that he would work a miracle in favor of so melan¬
choly an object. Jesus, who knew the secret thoughts of their
hearts, asked the lawyers and Pharisees whether it was "law¬
ful to heal on the Sabbath day ?" But they refusing to give
any answer to the question, Jesus laid his hand on the dis¬
eased person, and immediately his complexion returned, his
body was reduced to its ordinary dimensions, and his former
health and strength renewed in an instant. So surprising a
miracle might surely have convinced these Pharisees, that the
author must have been endued with power from on high; but,
instead of being persuaded that he was a person sent from
God, and labored only for the benefit of the children of men,
they were contriving how they might turn this miracle to his
disadvantage. Our Lord, however, soon disconcerted their
projects, by proving that, according to their own avowed
practice, he had done nothing but what was truly lawful.
" Which of you," said he, " shall have an ass or an ox fallen
into a pit, and shall not straightway pull it out on the Sab¬
bath day ?" If a calamity happens to one of your beasts,
you make no scruple of assisting it on the Sabbath, though
the action may be attended with considerable labor; and
surely I may relieve a descendant of Abraham, when nothing
more is requisite than touching him with my hand. This ar¬
gument was conclusive, and so plain that the grossest stupid¬
ity must feel its force, and the most virulent, malice could not
contradict it.
As the entertainment approached, our blessed Saviour had
an opportunity of observing the pride of the Pharisees, and
remarking what an anxiety each of them expressed to obtain
358 THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
the most honorable place at the table. Nor did he let their
ridiculous behaviour pass without a proper animadversion,
in which he observed, that pride generally exposed a person
to many affronts, and that humility is the surest method of
gaining respect. " When thou art bidden," said he, " of any
man to a wedding, sit not down in the highest room ; lest a
more honorable man than thou be bidden of him; and he
that bade thee and him come and say to thee, Give this man
place ; and thou begin with shame to take the lowest room.
But when thou art bidden go and sit down in the lowest
room; that when he that bade thee cometh, he may say unto
thee, Friend, go up higher; then shalt thou have worship in
the presence of them that sit at meat with thee. For who¬
soever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth
himself shall be exalted." Luke, xiv. 8, etc.
Having thus addressed the guests in general, he turned
to the master of the house, and said unto him, " When thou
makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy
brethren, neither thy kinsmen, nor thy neighbors; lest they
also bid thee again, and a recompense be made thee. But
when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the
lame, and the blind." Luke, xiv. 12, 13. Be very careful
not to limit thy hospitality to the rich, but let the poor par¬
take of thy bounty. " And thou shalt be blessed; for they
can not recompense thee : for thou shalt be recompensed at
the resurrection of the just." Luke, xiv. 14.
One of the Pharisees, enraptured with the delightful pros¬
pect of the happiness good men enjoyed in the heavenly Ca¬
naan, cried out, " Blessed is he that shall eat bread in the
kingdom of God !" Blessed is he, who, being admitted into
the happy regions of Paradise, shall enjoy the conversation of
the inhabitants of those heavenly countries ; as those spiritual
repasts must regale and invigorate his mind beyond expres¬
sion. In answer to which our blessed Saviour delivered the
parable of the marriage-supper, representing, by the invitation
of the guests, the doctrine of the gospel, and the success those
beneficent invitations to the great feast of heaven should
meet with among the Jews ; foretelling, that though it was
attended with every inviting circumstance, they would dis-
— =T\
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 359
dainfully reject it, and prefer the pleasures of a temporal ex¬
istence to those of an eternal state ; while the Gentiles, with
the greatest cheerfulness, would embrace the beneficent offer,
and thereby be prepared to sit down with Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob, in the happy mansions of the kingdom of heaven.
But, as the parable was afterwards spoken by our blessed
Saviour in the temple, we shall defer our observations on it,
till we come to the history where it was again delivered.
When Jesus departed from the Pharisee's house, great
multitudes of people thronged round him to hear his doctrine ;
but mistook the true intention of it, expecting he was going
to establish the Messiah's throne in Jerusalem, and render all
the nations of the world tributary to his power. The benevolent
Jesus therefore took this opportunity to undeceive them, and
to declare in the plainest terms, that his kingdom was not of
this world ; and, consequently, that those who expected, by
following him, to obtain temporal advantages, would find
themselves wretchedly mistaken, as, on the contrary, his dis¬
ciples must expect to be persecuted from city to city, and
hated of all men for his name's sake ; though it was requisite
for those who would be his true followers, to prefer his service
to the richest grandeur and pleasure of the world, and to show,
by their conduct, that they had much less respect and value
for the dearest objects of their affection than for him. " If
any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother,
and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his
own life also, he can not be my disciple. And whosoever
does not bear his cross, and come after me, can not be my
disciple." Luke, xiv. 26, 27.
And in order to induce them to weigh this doctrine atten¬
tively in their minds, he elucidated it with two opposite cases
—that of an unthinking builder, and of a rash warrior. The
former was obliged to leave the structure unfinished, because
he had foolishly begun the building before he had computed
the cost; and the latter, reduced to the unpleasant dilemma
of being ingloriously defeated, or meanly suing for peace pre¬
vious to the battle, having rashly declared war before he had
considered the strength of his own and his enemy's arms.
" So likewise, whosoever he be of you," added the blessed
360
THE LIFE»OF JESUS CHRIST.
Jesus, "that forsaketh not all tliat lie hath, lie can not be
my disciple." Luke, xiv. 33.
The publicans and sinners, roused by the alarming doc¬
trine of our Lord, listened to it attentively. This opportunity
was readily embraced by the great Redeemer of mankind, who
not only condescended to preach to them the happy tidings
of eternal life, but even accompanied them to their own
houses ; that, if possible, the seeds of the gospel might take
root in their hearts. But this condescension of the meek and
humble Jesus was considered, by the haughty Pharisees, as
an action too mean for the character of a prophet. They
murmured, and were highly displeased at a condescension
which ought to have given them the greatest joy. But Jesus
soon showed them their mistake, by repeating to them the
parables of the lost sheep and the piece of money ; intimat¬
ing thereby, the great care all prophets and pastors ought to
take of those committed to their care, and the obligation they
lay under of searching diligently for every wandering sinner,
whose conversion is a graceful offering to the Almighty.
" There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one
sinner that repenteth." Luke, xv. 10.
To illustrate his doctrine still farther, and show to the
greatest sinner the willingness of God to receive him into his
grace and favor, if convinced of his unworthy and lost con¬
dition in himself, and of imploring forgiveness through the
merits of J esus Christ, and the renewal of his heart by the
efficacious influences of his Spirit, he delivered the expressive
parable of the prodigal son. Luke, xv.
There are three expositions given of this instructive rep¬
resentation, each of which seems to have some place in the
original design ; for it should be observed, and carefully re¬
membered, that the parables and doctrines of our Saviour are
by no means to be confined absolutely to one single point of
view, since they frequently have relation to different objects,
and consequently prove the riches and depth of the manifold
wisdom of God.
In this parable, for instance, the great and principal doc¬
trine intended to be particularly inculcated, is, that all sin¬
ners, upon their repentance and faith, are gladly received into
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 361
favor ; or that there is joy in heaven over one sinner that re-
penteth. There are, however, two other expositions of this
parable ; the first is that of the greatest part of the ancients,
who expound it of Adam. He was made of the image
of God, and endowed with many other excellent gifts, which
he might have used happily, had he heen content to stay in
his Father's house ; hut, like this younger brother, who fool¬
ishly desired his portion of goods to himself, that he might
he his own master, and under no confinement or restriction,
he was unwilling to remain under the obedience of the divine
precepts, he was desirous of having a free use of things in
Paradise, and by the devil's instigation effected a wretched
independency, which caused him to break the divine com¬
mand, and eat of the forbidden tree, to obtain the knowledge
of good and evil. Thus he lost for himself, and his posterity,
the substance put at first into his possession ; but his hea¬
venly Father, on his and his posterity's return, hath provided
such grace and compassion for them, that they may be rein¬
stated in their former place and favor. And the same grace
not being granted to the higher order of intellectual beings,
the fallen spirits, is the cause of their murmuring against
God and men, represented by the answer of the elder brother
in this parable.
Others, secondly, with a much greater show of proba¬
bility, expound this parable of the two people, the Jews and
Gentiles, who have both one Father, even God; and wThile
they both continued in their Father's house, the true church,
they wanted for nothing; there was plenty of food for the
soul, there was substance enough for them both. But the
latter, represented by the younger brother, possessed of his
share of knowledge, went into a strange country, left God,
and spent his substance, the evidence and knowledge of the
Almighty, fell into idolatry and wasted all he had in riotous
living—all his knowledge of God, in the loose and absurd
ceremonies of idolatry. Then, behold a mighty famine arose
in that land ; the worship of the true God was banished from
the country. In this dreadful dearth and hunger, he joined
himself to the devil, and worked all uncleanness and greedi¬
ness. But finding nothing to supply his spiritual hunger,
362 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
this prodigal, long estranged from his Father, reflecting on
his spiritual famine, and his own severe wants, humbly con¬
fessed his faults, returned to his offended Father, was read¬
mitted into favor and blest with the privileges of the gospel.
But the elder brother, the Jewish church, daily employed in
the field of legal ceremonies, and who had long groaned under
the yoke of the law, seeing the Gentiles received into the
covenant of the gospel, receive the remission of sins, and the
hopes of everlasting life, murmured against the benevolent
acts of the Almighty. God, however, out of his great com¬
passion, pleaded pathetically the cause of the elder brother,
offered him all things, upon supposition of his continuing in
his obedience, and declared that he had delivered the nations
from the heavy yoke of the ceremonial law.
Thus the parable has a very clear and elegant exposition;
the murmuring of the elder brother is explained to us with¬
out the least difficulty; and as the offense of receiving the
Gentiles to pardon and peace, through Jesus Christ, was so
great a stumbling block to the Jews, it is natural to imagine
thg,t our Saviour intended to obviate and remove it by this
excellent parable.
It is, however, evident, both from the context and the
occasion of delivering it, that the third interpretation is the
first in design and importance. The publicans and sinners
drew near to hear Jesus. This gave occasion to a murmur¬
ing among the Pharisees; and upon their murmuring, our
Saviour delivered this and two other parables, to show, that
if they would resemble God, and the celestial host, they
should, instead of murmuring, rejoice at seeing sinners willing
to embrace the doctrines of the gospel, because there is more
joy, in the presence of God and his angels, " over one sinner
that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons that
need no repentance."
The obstinacy and malicious temper of the Pharisees, who
opposed every good doctrine, made a deep impression on the
mind of the blessed Jesus: he did not, therefore, content him¬
self barely with justifying his receiving of sinners, in order to
their being justified through him, but, in the presence of the
scribes and Pharisees, turned himself to his disciples, and de-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 3G3
livered the parable of the artful steward, as an instance of
the improvements made by the children of this world, in em¬
bracing every opportunity and advantage for improving their
interests. u There was," said he, ua certain rich man which
had a steward j and the same was accused unto him that he
had wasted his goods. And he called him, and said unto him,
How is it that I hear this of thee ? Give an account of thy
stewardship ; for thou mayest be no longer steward." Luke,
xvi. 1, 2.
This reprimand of his Lord, and the inward conviction of
his own conscience, that the accusation was just, induced him
to reflect on his own ill management of his lord's affairs, and
in what manner he should support himself when he should
be discharged from his service. u "What shall I do ?" said he,
for my lord taketh away from me the stewardship ? I can
not dig ; to beg I am ashamed." Luke, xvi. 3.
In this manner he deliberated with himself, and at last
resolved on the following expedient, in order to make himself
friends who would succor him in his distress: "I am resolved
what to do, that, when I am put out of the stewardship, they
may receive me into their houses. So he calldd every one 'of
his lord's debtors unto him, and said unto the first, How*
much owest thou unto my lord ? And he said, an hundred
measures of oil And he said unto him, Take thy bill and
sit down quickly, and write fifty. Then said he to another,
And how much owest thou P And he said, An hundred
measures of wheat. And he said unto him, Take thy bill,
and write fourscore/' Luke, xvi. 4, etc.
To illustrate this parable, we beg leave to observe that
the riches and the trade of the Jews, originally, consisted
principally in the products of the earth; they were, if we
may be allowed the expression, a nation of farmers and shep¬
herds ; so that their wealth chiefly arose from the produce of
their flocks and herds, and the fruits of the earth, their corn,
their wine, and their oil.
Thus, the steward, to secure the friendship of his lord's
tenants, bound them to him under a lasting obligation ; and
his master, when he heard of the proceedings of the steward,
commended him, not because he acted honestly, but because
364 the life op jesus christ.
he had acted wisely : he commended the art and address he
had shown, in producing a future subsistence ; he commended
the prudence and ingenuity he had used with regard to his
own interest, and to deliver him from future poverty and
distress. " For the children of this world," added the blessed
Jesus, "are in their generation wiser than the children of
light." They are more prudent and careful, more anxious and
circumspect, to secure their possessions in this world, than
the children of light are to secure in the next an eternal in¬
heritance. u And I say unto you, Make to yourselves friends
of the mammon of unrighteousness ; that, when ye fail, they
may receive you into everlasting habitations." Luke, xvi. 9.
This advice of our Saviour is worthy* our most serious
attention ; the best use we can make of our riches being to
employ them in promoting the salvation of others. For, if
we use our abilities and interests in turning sinners from the
evil of their ways ; if we spend our wealth in this excellent
service, from pure motives, and to the glory of God, we shall
have the good-will of all the heavenly beings, who will greatly
rejoice at the conversion of sinners, and, with open arms, re¬
ceive us into the mansions of felicity.
CHAPTER XXIII.
Soon after our blessed Saviour had finished these dis¬
courses, one of his friends named Lazarus fell sick at Bethany,
a village about two miles from the countries beyond Jordan,
where Jesus was now preaching the gospel. The sisters of
Lazarus, finding his sickness was of a dangerous kind, thought
proper to send an account of it to Jesus ; being firmly per¬
suaded that he who had cured so many strangers, would read¬
ily come and give health to one whom he loved in so tender a
manner. " Lord," said they, " behold he whom thou lovest
is sick :" they did not add, Come down and heal him, make
haste and save him from the grave ; it was sufficient for them
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
3G5
to relate their necessities to their Lord, who was "both able
and willing to help them from their distress.
"When Jesus heard that, he said, This sickness is not
unto death." This declaration of the benevolent Jesus being
carried to the sisters of Lazarus, must have strangely sur¬
prised them, and exercised both theirs and his disciples'
faith ; since it is probable that before the messenger arrived
at Bethany, Lazarus had expired. Soon after, Jesus posi¬
tively assured his disciples that u Lazarus was dead."
The evangelist, in the beginning of this account, tells us,
that Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus, and
also, that after he had received the message, he abode two
days in the same place where he was. His design in this
might be to intimate, that his lingering so long after the
message came, did not proceed from want of concern for his
friends, but happened according to the counsel of his own
wisdom. For the length of time which Lazarus lay in the
grave put his death beyond all possibility of doubt, removed
every suspicion of fraud, and consequently afforded Jesus a
fit opportunity of displaying the love he bore to Lazarus, as
well as his undoubted resurrection from the dead. His sisters,
indeed, were, by this means, kept awhile in painful anxiety
on account of their brother's life, and at last pierced by the
sorrow of seeing him die ; yet they must surely think them¬
selves abundantly recompensed by the evidence, according to
the gospel, from this astonishing miracle, as well as by the
inexpressible surprise or joy they felt, when they again re¬
ceived their brother from the dead.
Jesus, having declared his resolution of returning into
Judea, Thomas, conceiving nothing less than destruction from
such a journey, yet unwilling to forsake his Master, said,
" Let us also go, that we may die with him." Let us not
forsake our Master in this dangerous journey, but accompany
him into Judea, that if the Jews, whose inveteracy we are
well acquainted with, should take away his life, we may also
expire with him.
The "journey to Judea being thus resolved on, Jesus de¬
parted with his disciples, and, in his way to Bethany, passed
through Samaria and G-alilee. <£ And as he entered into a
fF
366 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
certain village, there met him ten men that were lepers, which
stood afar off: and they lifted up their voices, and said, Jesus,
Master, have mercy on us. And when he saw them, he said
unto them, Gro, show yourselves unto the priests. And it
came to pass, that as they went they were cleansed." Luke,
xvii. 12.
Among these miserable objects, one of them was a native
of the country, who, perceiving that his cure was completed,
came hack, praising Grod for the great mercy he had received.
He had before kept at a distance from our Saviour, hut being
now sensible that he was entirely clean, he approached his
benefactor, that all might have an opportunity of beholding
the miracle, and fell on his face at his feet, thanking him, in
the most humble manner, for his condescension in healing
him of so terrible a disease. J esus, in order to intimate that
those who were enlightened with the knowledge of the truth,
ought, at least, to have shown as great sense of piety and
gratitude as this Samaritan, asked, "Were there not ten
cleansed ? but where are the nine ? There are not found that
returned to give glory to God, save this stranger." Luke,
xvii. 17, 18.
Jesus and his disciples now continued their journey to¬
wards Bethany, where he was informed, by some of the in¬
habitants of that village, that Lazarus was not only dead, as
he had foretold, but had now lain in the grave four days. The
afflicted sisters were overwhelmed with sorrow; so that many
of the Jews from Jerusalem came to comfort them concerning
their brother.
It seems the news of our Lord's coming had reached Beth¬
any before he arrived at the village; for Martha, the sister
of Lazarus, being informed of his approach, went out and
met him; but Mary, who was of a more melancholy and con¬
templative disposition, sat still in the house. No sooner was
she come into the presence of Jesus, than in an excess of
grief, she poured forth her complaint: Lord, said she, if thou
hadst complied with the message we sent thee, I well know
that thy interest with Heaven had prevailed ; my brother had
been cured of his disease, and preserved from the chambers of
the grave.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
3G7
Martha, doubtless, entertained a high opinion of our Sav¬
iour's power: she believed that death did not dare to approach
his presence; and, consequently, if Jesus had arrived at
Bethany before her brother's dissolution, he had not fallen a
victim to the king of terrors. But she imagined it was not
in his power to heal the sick at a distance ; though, at the
same time, she seemed to have some dark and imperfect hopes
that our blessed Saviour would still do something for her.
Ci But I know," said she, u that even now, whatsoever thou
wilt ask of God, God will give it thee/' She thought that
Jesus could obtain whatsoever he desired by prayer; and
therefore did not found hopes on his power, but on the power
of God, through his intercession. She doubtless knew that
the great Redeemer of mankind had raised the daughter of
Jairus, and the widow's son at Nam, from the dead, but
seems to have considered her brother's resurrection as much
more difficult, probably because he had been longer dead.
But Jesus, who was willing to encourage this imperfect
faith of Martha, answered, "Thy brother shall rise again."
As these words were delivered in an indefinite sense, with re¬
gard to time, Martha understood them only as an argument
of consolation drawn from the general resurrection, and ac¬
cordingly answered, " I know that he shall rise again at the
resurrection at the last day." She was firmly persuaded of
that important article of the Christian faith, the " resurrec¬
tion from the dead ;" at which important hour she believed
her brother would rise from the dust. And here she seems to
have terminated all her hopes, not thinking that the Son of
God would call her brother from the sleep of death. Jesus,
therefore, to instruct her in the great truth, replied, " I am
the resurrection and the life." I am the author of the resur¬
rection, the fountain and giver of that life they shall then re¬
ceive ; and therefore can, with the same ease, raise the dead
now, as at the last day. " He that believeth in me, though
he were dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and be¬
lieveth in me shall never die. Believest thou this ?" To
which Martha answered, " Yea, Lord, I believe that thou art
the Christ, the Son of God, which should come into the
world." I believe that thou art the true Messiah, so long
J
368 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHEIST.
promised by the prophets, and therefore "believe that thou art
capable of performing every instance of power that thou art
pleased to claim.
Martha now left Jesus, and called her sister, according to
his order. Mary no sooner heard that Jesus was come, than
she immediately left her Jewish comforters, who increased the
weight of her grief, and flew to her Saviour. The Jews, who
suspected she was going to weep over the grave of her brother,
followed her to that grea^i Prophet who was going to remove
all her sorrows. Thus the Jews, who came from Jerusalem
to comfort the two mournful sisters, were brought to the grave
of Lazarus, and made witnesses of his resurrection.
As soon as Mary approached the great Redeemer of man¬
kind, she fell prostrate at his feet, and, in a flood of tears,
poured out her complaint: " Lord, if thou hadst been here
my brother had not died/' No wonder the compassionate
Jesus was moved at so affecting a scene : on this side stood
Martha, pouring forth a flood of tears ; at his feet lay the af¬
fectionate Mary, weeping and lamenting her dear departed
brother ; while the Jews, who came to comfort the afflicted
sisters, unable to confine their grief, joined the common
mourning, and mixed their friendly tears in witness of their
love for the departed Lazarus, and in testimony to the justice
of the sisters' grief for the loss of so amiable, so deserving a
brother. Jesus could not behold the affliction of these two
sisters, and their friends, without having a share in it him¬
self ; his heart was melted at the mournful scene ; " he
groaned in spirit, and was troubled."
To remove the doubts and fears of these pious women, he
asked them where they had buried Lazarus ? not that he was
ignorant where the body of the deceased was laid; he who
knew that he was dead, when so far distant from him, and
could raise him up by a single word, must have known where
his remains were deposited : to which they answered, " Lord,
come and see." The Son of God, to prove that he was not
only so, but a most compassionate man, and to show us that
the tender affections of the human heart, when kept in due
bounds, and that friendly sorrow, when not immoderate, and
directed to proper ends, are consistent with the highest sane-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 369
tity of the soul, joined in the general mourning. lie wept,
even at the time he was going to give the most ample proof
of his divinity.
By his weeping, the Jews were convinced that he loved
Lazarus exceedingly ; but some of them interpreted this cir¬
cumstance to his disadvantage ; or, according to their mean
way of judging, they fancied he had suffered him to fall by the
stroke of death, for no other reason in the world, but for
want of power and affection to rescue him. And thinking the
miracle said to have been wrought on the blind man, at the
feast of the tabernacles, at least as difficult as the curing an
7 O
acute distemper, they rather called the former in question, be¬
cause the latter had been neglected. u Could not this man,"
said they, u which opened the* eyes of the blind, have caused
that even this man should not have died ?"
Our Lord, regardless of their questions, but grieving for
the hardness of their hearts and blindness of their infidelity,
groaned within himself, as he walked towards the sepulchre
of the dead. At his coming to the grave, he said, " Take ye
away the stone." To which. Martha answered, " Lord, by
this time he stihketh: for he hath been dead four days."
She meant to intimate that her brother's resurrection was not
now to be expected; but Jesus gave her a solemn reproof, to
teach her that there was nothing impossible with God, and
that the power of the Almighty is not to be circumscribed
within the narrow bounds of human reason. " Said I not
unto thee, that if thou wouldst believe, thou shouldst see the
glory of God ?" i. e., Have but faith, and I will display be¬
fore thee the power of Omnipotence.
The objections of Martha being thus obviated, she, with
the rest, waited the great event in silence ; and, in pursuance
with the command of the Son of God, took away the stone
from the place where the dead was laid. Jesus had, on many
occasions, publicly appealed to his own miracles, as the proofs
of his mission, though he did not generally make a formal ad¬
dress to his Father before he worked those miracles. But
being now to raise Lazarus from the dead, he prayed for his
resurrection, to convince the spectators that it could not be
effected without an immediate interposition of the divine
24
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
power. " Father/' said he, " I thank thee that thou hast
heard me. And I know that thou hearest me always : but
because of the people that stand by, I said it, that they may
believe that thou hast sent me." John, xi. 41, 42. I enter¬
tain no doubt of thy empowering me to d<j this miracle, and
therefore did not pray for my own sake : I know that thou
hearest me always. I prayed for the sake of the people, to
convince them that thou lovest me, and art continually with
me.
After returning thanks to his Father for this opportunity
of displaying his glory, " he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus,
come forth [" This loud and efficacious call of the Son of
G-od awakened the dead; the breathless clay was instantly
reanimated ; and he who had lain four days in the tomb
obeyed immediately the powerful sound. rt And he that was
dead came forth bound hand and foot with grave clothes;
and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith
unto them, Loose him, and let him go." John, xi. 44. It
would have been the least part of the miracle, had Jesus, by
his powerful word, unloosed the napkin wherewith Lazarus
was bound; but he brought him out in the same manner as
he was lying, and ordered the spectators to loose him, that
they might be the better convinced of the miracle ; for, in
taking off the grave clothes, they had the fullest evidence both
of his death and resurrection. For, on the one hand, the man¬
ner in which he was swathed must soon have killed him, if he
had been alive when buried; which consequently demon¬
strated, beyond all exception, that Lazarus had been dead
several days before Jesus called him again to life ; besides, in
stripping him, the linen probably offered, both to their eye
and smell, abundant proofs of his putrefaction ; and by that
means convinced them that he had not been in a delirium,
but was really dead. On the other hand, by his lively coun¬
tenance appearing, when the napkin was removed, his fresh
color, and his active vigor, those who came near, and handled
him, must be convinced that he was in perfect health, and had
an opportunity of proving the truth of the miracle by the
closest examination. There is something exceedingly beautiful
in our Lord's behaviour on this occasion: he did not utter one
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 371
upbraiding word, either to the doubting sisters or the malicious
Jews, nor did he let fall one word of triumph or exultation j
" Loose him, and let him go,1' were the only words we have
recorded. He was in this, as on all other occasions, consistent
with himself, a pattern of perfect humility and modesty.
Such was the astonishing work wrought by the Son of
God at Bethany ; and, in the resurrection of Lazarus, thus
corrupted, and thus raised by the powerful call of Jesus, we
have a striking emblem and a glorious earnest of the resurrec¬
tion of our bodies from the grave at the last, when the same
powerful mandate, which spoke Lazarus again into being, shall
collect the scattered particles of our bodies, and raise them to
immortality.
Such an extraordinary power displayed before the face of
the multitude, and near to Jerusalem, even overcame the prej¬
udices of some of the most obstinate among them. Many be¬
lieved that Jesus could be no other than the great Messiah so
long promised ; though others, who still expected a temporal
prince, and therefore unwilling to acknowledge him for their
Saviour, were filled with indignation, particularly the chief
priests and elders. But this miracle, as well as all the rest he
had wrought in confirmation of his mission, was too evident
to be denied ; and, therefore, they pretended that his whole
intention was to establish a new religion, which would both
endanger their church and nation. " Then gathered the chief
priests and Pharisees a council, and said, "What do we P for
this man doth many miracles. If we let him thus alone, all
men will believe on him ; and the Bomans shall come, and
take away both our place and nation." John, xi. 47, 48.
The common people, astonished at his miracles, will, if
we do not take care to prevent it, certainly set him up for the
Messiah; and the Bomans, under the pretense of a rebellion,
will deprive us both of our liberty and religion. Accordingly,
they came to a resolution to put him to death. This resolu¬
tion was not, however, unanimous ; for Nicodemus, Joseph
of Arimathea, and other disciples of our Saviour, then mem¬
bers of the council, urged the injustice of what they proposed
to do, from the consideration of his miracles and innocence.
But Oaiaphas, the high priest, from a principle of human
372 the life of jesus christ*
policy, told them, that the nature of government often re¬
quired certain acts of injustice, in order to procure the safety
of the state. "Ye know nothing at all, nor consider that it
is expedient for us that one man should die for the people,
and that t&e whole nation perish not." John, xi. 49, 50.
The council having thus determined to put Jesus to death,
deliberated, for the future, only upon the best method of ef¬
fecting it; and, in all probability, agreed to issue a proclama¬
tion, promising a reward to any person who would deliver
him into their hands. For this reason, our blessed Saviour
did not now go up to Jerusalem, though he was within two
miles of it; but went to Ephraim, a city on the borders of
the wilderness, where he abode with his disciples, being un¬
willing to go far into the country, because the passover, at
which he was to suffer, was now at hand.
While in retirement, the blessed Jesus foretold the ruin
of the Jewish state ; after which, he continued to preach his
divine mission over the adjacent countries, healing the sick
as he went along, and rebuking sin.
At length he returned to Jerusalem, into which he made
a public entry, accompanied by a multitude of many thou¬
sands. This drew upon him the malice of the Pharisees; but
this had no effect on his conduct; he continued to preach
daily in the temple and elsewhere to the multitude who
thronged to hear him.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Jesus, some time after repaired, with his disciples, into
the court room of the temple, called the treasury, from sev¬
eral chests being fixed to the pillars of the portico surround¬
ing the court, for rece ving the offerings of those who came to
worship in the temple. While he continued in this court, he
"beheld how the people cast money in+o the treasury: and
many that were rich cast in much. And there came a certain
poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a far-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 373
thing. And he called unto him his disciples and said unto
them, Yerily I say unto you that this poor widow hath cast
more in than all they which have cast into the treasury. For
all they did cast in of their abundance ; hut she of her want
did cast in all that she had, even all her living." Mark, xii.
41, etc.
Though the offering given by this poor widow was in itself
very small, yet, in proportion to the goods of life she enjoyed,
it was remarkably large ; for it was all she had, even all her
living. In order, therefore, to encourage charity, and to show
that it is the disposition of the mind, not the magnificence of
the offering, that attaches the regard of the Almighty, the
Son of Grod applauded this poor widow as having given more
in proportion, than, any of the rich. Their offerings, though
great in respect to hers, were but a small part of their
estates; whereas her offering was her whole stock. And from
this passage of the gospel, we should learn, that the poor,
who in appearance are denied the means of doing charitable
offices, are encouraged to do all they can. For how small
soever the gift may be, the Almighty, who beholds the heart,
values it, not according to what it is in itself, but according
to the disposition with which it is given.
On the other han 1, we should learn from hence, that it is
not enough for the rich that they exceed the poor in the gift
of charity; they should bestow in proportion to their income;
and they would do well to remember, that a little given,
where a little only is left, appears a much nobler offering in
the sight of the Almighty, and discovers a more benevolent
and humane temper of mind, than sums much larger be¬
stowed out of a plentiful abundance.
The disciples now remembered that their Master, at the
conclusion of his pathetic lamentation over Jerusalem, had
declared that the temple should not any more be favored with
his presence, till they should say, " Blessed is he that cometh
in the name of the Lord."
A declaration of this kind could not fail of greatly surpris¬
ing his disciples; and, therefore, as he was departing from
that sacred structure, they desired him to observe the beauty
of the building ; insinuating, that they thought it strange he
374
THE LIFE OF J E S XT S CHRIST.
should intimate an intention of leaving it desolate J tliat so
glorious a fabric, celebrated in every corner of the earth, was
not to be deserted rashly ; and that they should think them¬
selves supremely happy, when he, as the Messiah, and the
descendant of David, should take possession of it, and erect
his throne in the midst of Jerusalem. And, as they went out
of the temple, one of his disciples said unto him, " Master,
see what manner of stones and what buildings are here !"
The eastern wall of the temple, which fronted the Mount
of Olives, whither the disciples, with their Master, were then
retiring, was built from the bottom of the valley to a prodi¬
gious height, with stones of an incredible bulk, firmly com¬
pacted together, and therefore made a very grand appearance
at a distance. The eastern wall is supposed to have been the
only remains of Solomon's temple, and had escaped when the
Chaldeans burnt it. But this building, however strong and
costly it appeared, our Saviour told them should be totally
destroyed. "Seest thou," said he, "these great buildings?
there shall not be left one stone upon another, that shall not
be thrown down/' Mark, xiii. 2.
That noble edifice, raised with much labor, and at a vast
expense, shall be razed to the very foundation. The disciples,
therefore, when they heard their Master affirm, ^aat not so
much as one of these enormous stones, which had withstood
the fury of Nebuchadnezzar's army, and survived the destruct¬
ive hand of time, was to be left one upon another, they per¬
ceived that the whole temple was to be demolished, but did
not suspect that the sacrifices were to be taken away, and a
new mode of religion introduced, which rendered the temple
unnecessary. They, therefore, flattered themselves, that the
fabric then standing, however glorious it might appear, was
too small for the numerous worshipers who would frequent
it, when all the nations of the world were subject to the Mes¬
siah's kingdom, and was, therefore, to be pulled down, in
order to be erected on a more magnificent plan, suitable to
the idea they had conceived of his future empire. Filled with
these pleasing imaginations, they received the news with pleas¬
ure, meditating, as they walked to the mountain, on the glo¬
rious things which were shortly to come to pass.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 375
When they arrived oil the Mount of Olives, and their
Master had taken his seat on some eminence, from whence
they had a prospect of the temple, and part of the city, his
disciples drew near, to know when the demolition of the old
structure was to happen, and what were to be the signs of his
coming, and of the end of the world. " And as he sat upon
the Mount of Olives, the disciples came unto him privately,
saying, Tell us, when shall these things be ? and what shall
he the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world ?"
Matthew, xxiv. 3.
The disciples, by this request, seemed desirous of knowing
what signs should precede the erection of that extensive em¬
pire,, over which they supposed the Messiah was to reign ; for
they still expected he would govern a secular kingdom. They,
therefore, connected the demolition of the temple with their
Master's coming, though they had not the least notion that
he was to destroy the nation, and change the form of religious
, worship.
They, therefore, meant by the " end of the world," or, as
the words should have been translated, the 'end of the ages,
the period of the political government, then executed by
heathen procurators \ and considered their Master's coming
to destroy the constitution then subsisting, as a very desira¬
ble event. They also thought the demolition of the temple
proper, as they expected a larger and more superb building,
proportioned to the number of the Messiah's subjects, would
be erected in its stead.
That this is the real sense of the disciples' question, will
sufficiently appear, if we consider that the disciples were de¬
lighted with the prospect; whereas, if they had meant, by
the end of the world, the final period of all things, the de¬
struction of the temple would have exhibited to them, in their
present temper of mind, a melancholy prospect, which they
could not have beheld without a deep concern.
Our blessed Saviour, therefore, was careful to convince
them of their mistake, by telling them that he was not come
to rule a secular empire, as they supposed, but to punish the
J ews for their perfidy and rebellion, by destroying both their
temple and nation. "Take heed," said he, "that no man
376 T HIV LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
deceive you. For many shall come in my name, saying, I
am Christ; and shall deceive many."
This caution was far from being unnecessary, because,
though his disciples were to see their Master ascend into
heaven, they might take occasion, from the prophecy, to think
that he would appear again on earth, and, therefore, be in
danger of seduction by the false Christs that should arise.
" And ye shall hear of wars, and rumors of wars : see that ye
be not troubled : for all these things must come to pass, but
the end is not yet." Before this nation and temple are de¬
stroyed, terrible wars will happen in the land ; "For nation
shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom : and
there shall be famines, and pestilences, and earthquakes, in
divers places." Matthew, xxiv. 7.
These are the preludes of the important event, forerunners
of the evils which shall befall this nation and people. At the
same time you shall meet with hot persecutions ; walk there¬
fore circumspectly, and arm yourselves, both with patience
and fortitude, that you may be able to perform your duty,
through the whole course of these persecutions ; for ye shall
be brought before the great men of the earth for my sake.
" But when they shall lead you, and deliver you up, take no
thought beforehand what ye shall speak, neither do ye pre¬
meditate ; but whatsoever shall be given unto you in that
hour, that speak ye : for it is not ye that speak, but the Holy
Ghost." Mark, xiii. 11.
During this time of trouble and confusion, he told them,
the perfidy of mankind should be so great towards one an-'
other, that " brother shall betray the brother to death, and
the father the son ; and children shall rise up against their
parents, and shall cause them to be put to death." The un¬
believing Jews, and apostate Christians, shall commit the
most enormous and inhuman crimes. It is, therefore, no
wonder that the perfidy and wickedness of such pretended
Christians should discourage many disciples, and greatlv hin¬
der the propagation of the gospel. But he who lives by faith,
during these persecutions, and is not led away by false Chris¬
tians, shall escape that terrible destruction, which, like a
deluge, will overflow the land.
Drawn fry GSaLmar Jrom a
ted® OS K3TT 2L Q GD K1 » tE G3 05 S AIL E Rfl a
The 2£bs<ju*. of JDai/id .
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
377
And "when Jerusalem sliall be surrounded "with, armies,
pagan armies, bearing on their standards tlie images of tlieir
gods, the " abomination of desolation" mentioned by the
prophet Daniel, then let him who readeth the predictions of
that prophet understand, that the end of the city and sanc¬
tuary, together with the ceasing of sacrifices and oblations,
there predicted, is come, and consequently the final period of
the Jewish polity.
u Then let them which are in Judea flee to the mountains;
and let them which are in the midst of it depart out." Luke,
xxi. 21. u Let him which is on the house-top not come down
to take any thing out of his house : neither let him which is
in the field return back to take his clothes." Matthew, xxiv.
17, 18. Then shall be fulfilled the awful predictions of the
prophet Daniel, and the dreadful judgments denounced against
the impenitent and unbelieving.
In those days of vengeance, the women who are with child,
and those who have infants hanging at their breasts, shall be
particularly unhappy, because they can not flee from the im¬
pending destruction. " But pray ye that your flight be not
in the winter," when the badness of the roads, and the rigor
of the season, will render speedy traveling very troublesome,
if not impossible ; " neither on the Sabbath day," when you
shall think it unlawful. " For then shall be great tribulation,
such as was not since the beginning of the world to this time,
no, nor ever shall be." This is confirmed by what Josephus
tells us, that no less than eleven hundred thousand perished
in the siege.
The heavenly prophet added, that except the days of trib¬
ulation should be shortened, none of the inhabitants of Jeru¬
salem and Judea, of whom he was speaking, should escape
destruction : in confirmation of which Josephus tells us, that
the quarrels which raged during the siege were so fierce and
obstinate, that both within the walls of Jerusalem, and with¬
out in the neighboring country, the whole land was one con¬
tinued scene of horror and desolation; and had the siege con¬
tinued much longer, the whole nation of the Jews had been
totally destroyed, according to our Lord's prediction. "But,"
added our blessed Saviour, "for the elect's sake, whom he
378
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
hath, chosen, he hath shortened the days." By the elect, are
meant such of the Jews as had embraced the doctrines of the
gospel, and particularly those who were brought in with the
believing Gentiles.
As it is natural in time of trouble, to look with eager
expectation for a deliverer, our blessed Saviour cautioned his
disciples not to listen to any pretenses of that kind, as many
false Christs would arise, and deceive great numbers of the
people. A prediction that was fully accomplished, during
the terrible siege of Jerusalem by the Romans ; so Josephus
tells us, that many arose, pretending to be the Messiah, boast¬
ing that they would deliver the nation from all its enemies.
And the multitude, always too prone to listen to deceivers,
who promise temporal advantages, giving credit to those de¬
ceivers, became more obstinate in their opposition to the Ro¬
mans, and thereby rendered their destruction more severe and
inevitable.
And what still increased the infatuation of the people,
was their performing wonderful things during the war; and
accordingly Josephus calls them magicians and sorcerers.
Hence the propriety of the caution given by the Son of God,
who foretold that " they should show great signs and won¬
ders, insomuch that, if it were possible, they would deceive
the very elect. But take heed ; behold, I have foretold you
all things."
And, as the partisans of the false Christs might pretend,
that the Messiah was concealed awhile for fear of the Romans,
and the weaker sort of Christians, without this warning, have
imagined that Christ was actually returned to deliver the na¬
tion in its extremity, and to punish their enemies, who now
so cruelly oppressed them, and that he would show himself as
soon as it was proper, the blessed Jesus thought proper to
caution them against this particular, " Wherefore if they shall
say unto you, Behold, he is in the desert; go not forth : be¬
hold, he is in the secret chambers ; believe it not. For as
the lightning cometh out of the east, and shineth even unto
the west; so shall also the coming of the Son of Man be."
Matthew, xxiv. 26, etc.
The coming of the Son of Man shall be like lightning,
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 379
swift and destructive. But lie will not come personally ; liis
servants only sliall come, the Roman armies, who by his com¬
mand, shall destroy this nation, as eagles devour their prey.
Having thus given them a particular account of the various
circumstances which should precede the destruction of Jeru¬
salem, he next described that catastrophe itself, in all the
pomp of language and imagery made use of l>y the ancient
prophets when they foretold the destruction of'cities and
kingdoms. "But in those days, after that tribulation, the
sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light;
and the stars of heaven shall fall, and the powers that are in
heaven shall be shaken." Mark, xiii. 24, 25. u And ujion
the earth distress of nations, with perplexity; the sea and
the waves roaring; men's hearts failing them for fear, and for
looking after those things which are coming on the earth."
Luke, xxi. 25, 26.
Whosoever shall compare the prediction of our Saviour
with the history Josephus wrote of the war, can not fail of
being struck with the wisdom of Christ, and acknowledging
that his prediction was truly divine : for, as the Jewish na¬
tion was at this time in the most flourishing state, the event
here foretold appeared altogether improbable. Besides, the
circumstances of the destruction are very numerous and great;
and the whole delivered without any ambiguity. It is, there¬
fore, a prophecy of such a kind as could never have been
uttered by any impostor, and consequently the person who
delivered it was acquainted with the secret counsels of Heaven,
and was truly divine.
Having thus generally described the future state of retri¬
bution, our Lord passed to the consideration of the general
judgment, when those rewards and punishments should be
distributed in their utmost extent. This could not fail of
animating his disciples to a rigorous discharge of their duty :
and by the striking representation of the last judgment he has
here given, must greatly tend to rouse the consciences of men
from their lethargy, to consider, before it be too late, "the
things which belong to their peace."
Then shall the kingdom of heaven, the gosjiel kingdom, in
the last dispensation of it, when the kingdom of grace is going
380 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
to be swallowed up in the kingdom of glory, u be likened unto
ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet
the bridegroom. And five of them were wise, and five of
them were foolish." They that were foolish took their lamps,
but put no oil in their vessel; knowing that it was uncertain
when the bridegroom would arrive, and that they might in
all probability wait long for his coming. Nor were they mis¬
taken : for the bridegroom did not come so soon as they ex¬
pected. " While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered
and slept. And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold,
the bridegroom cometh ; go ye out to meet him. Then all
those virgins rose, and trimmed their lamps. And the foolish
said unto the wise, Give us of your oil: for our lamps are
gone out. But the wise answered, saying, Not so ; lest there
be not enough for us and you : but go ye rather to them that
sell, and buy for yourselves. And while they went to buy,
the bridegroom came ; and they that were ready went in with
him to the marriage : and the door was shut. Afterward
came also the other virgins, saying, Lord, Lord, open to us.
But he answered and said, Verily I say unto you, I know you
not. Watch, therefore, for ye know neither the day nor the
hour wherein the Son of Man cometh." Matthew, xxv. 5,
etc.
In order to understand this parable, we must remember
that it alludes to the custom of the eastern people. It was
usual with them for the bridegroom to bring his bride home
in the evening, sooner or later, as circumstances might hap¬
pen ; and, that they might be received properly at his house,
his female acquaintances, especially those of the younger sort,
were invited to come and wait with lamps, till some of his
retinue, dispatched before the rest, informed them that he was
near at hand ; upon which they trimmed their lamps, went
forth to welcome him, and conduct him, with his bride, into
the house ; for which they were honored as guests at the mar¬
riage feast, and shared in the usual festivities.
To ten such virgins our blessed Saviour compares those to
whom the gospel is preached ; because this was the general
number appointed to wait on the bridegroom : and to these
all Christian professors may be likened, who, taking their
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 381
lamp of Christian profession, go forth to meet the "bridegroom ;
that is, consider themselves candidates for the kingdom of
heaven, and desire to be admitted, with Christ, the celestial
bridegroom, into the happy mansions of immortality.
"We must remember, that there always was, and always
will be, a mixture of good and bad in the church, till the
great day of separation arrives. The weakness of the fool¬
ish is represented by their taking no oil in their vessels,
with their lamps ; that is, the foolish professors content
themselves with the bare lamp of profession, and never think
of furnishing it with the oil of divine grace, the fruit of
which is a life of holiness. "Whereas, the wise, well knowing
that a lamp, without the supply of oil, would be speedily ex¬
tinguished—that faith, without Live or holiness, will be of no
consequence—take care to secure a supply for themselves of
the divine grace, and to display in their lives the works of
love and charity. While all those virgins, though differently
supplied, waiting the coming of the bridegroom, all slum¬
bered and slept; that is, as some think, all Christians, both
good and bad, the sincere and the hypocrite, lie down to¬
gether in the sleep of death, and while the bridegroom delays
his coming, slumber in the chambers of the dust. But others
suppose that this argues the want of vigilance and care, even
in the wise as well as foolish ; that few, if any, are so atten¬
tive as they ought to be to th*' coming of the Lord.
The Jews have a tradition, that Christ's coming to judg¬
ment will be at midnight : which agrees with that particular
in the parable, "At midnight there was a cry made, Go ye
out to meet him." But, however this be, whether he will
come at midnight, or in the morning, it will be awfully sud¬
den and alarming. The great cry will be heard to the end of
the earth ; the trumpet shall sound, and the mighty arch¬
angel's voice pierce even the bowels of the earth and the
depths of the ocean: "Behold the bridegroom cometh: go
ye out to me£t him."
The graves, both earthly and watery, must surrender their
clayey tenants, and all will then begin to think how they may
prepare themselves to find admittance to the marriage-supper
of the Lamb. " Then all those virgins arose and trimmed
382 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
their lamps." But the foolish soon perceived their folly;
their lamps were gone out, totally extinguished, and they had
no oil to support the flame : in like manner the hypocrite's
hope shall perish. But the wise were in much happier con¬
dition : they had oil in their vessels, sufficient for themselves,
but none to spare ; for when the foolish virgins would have
procured some from them, they denied their request, fearing
there would not he enough for both.
There are here beautifully represented nominal and sin¬
cere Christians. The former, having only the bare lamp of a
profession, and who have not been solicitous to gain the oil
of divine grace, by a constant use of the means assigned, will
fare like the foolish virgins ; while the latter, whose hearts
are filled with divine oil, will, like the wise virgins enter into
the joy of their Lord.
But the foolish, going to purchase oil, missed the bride¬
groom, and, behold, " the door was shut." They at last,
however, reached the gate, and, with great importunity, cried,
"Lord, open unto us." But he answered, and said, " Verily
I say unto you, I know you not." As you denied me on
earth, I deny you now ; depart from me, I know ye not.
How justly, therefore, did our Saviour bid us all watch, that
we may be found ready whenever he cometh ; or commands,
by the king of terrors, our attendance before his judgment
seat. Let us not refuse this kind invitation of being con¬
stantly prepared to meet the heavenly Bridegroom; let us
get our lamps filled with oil, that we may be ready to follow
our great Master into the happy mansions of the heavenly
Canaan.
But, as this duty was of the utmost importance, our
blessed Saviour, to show us more clearly the nature and use
of Christian watchfulness, to which he exhorts us at the con¬
clusion of the parable of the ten virgins, he added another,
wherein he represented the different characters of a faithful
and slothful servant, and the difference of their'future accep¬
tation.
This parable, like the former, is intended to stir us up to
a zealous preparation for the coming of our Lord, by diligence
in the discharge of our duty, and by a careful improvement
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
383
of our souls in holiness ; and, at the same time, to expose, the,
vain pretenses of hypocrites, and to demonstrate that their fair
speeches and outward forms, without the power of godliness,
will be of no service whatever in the last day of account.
The Son of Man, said he, may, with respect to his final
coming to judge the world, he likened unto a man traveling
into a far country, who called his own servants, and delivered
unto them his goods. And unto one he gave five, talents, and
he lost no time, hut traded with the same ; and his increase
was equal to his industry and application ; he made them
other five talents. He that received two talents did the same,
and had equal success. But he that received one, very unlike
the conduct of his fellow-servants, went his way, digged in
the earth, and hid his lord's money, idle, useless, unemployed
and unimproved.
After a long time, and at an hour wrhen they did not ex¬
pect it, the lord of those servants returned, called them "before
him, and ordered them to give an account of their several
trusts. Upon wyhich, he that had received five talents, as a
proof of his fidelity, produced other five talents, saying, " Lord,
thou deliveredst unto me five talents ; hehold, I have gained
besides them five talents more." Matthew, xxv. 20. His
lord, highly applauding his industry and fidelity, said to him,
" Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been
faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many
things, enter thou into the joy of thy lord." Matthew, xxv. 21.
In like manner also, he that had received two talents, de¬
clared he had gained two other ; upon which he was honored
] with the same applause, and admitted into the same joy with
his fellow-servant; their master having regard to the industry
and fidelity of his servants, not to the number of the talents
only, but to the greatness of their increase.
After this, he that had received the one talent came, and,
with a shameful falsehood, to excuse his vile indolence, said,
" Lord, I knew thee that thou art a hard man, reaping where
thou hast not sown, and gathering where thou hast not
strowed : and I was afraid, and went and hid thy talent in
the earth ; lo, there thou hast that is thine." Matthew, xxv.
24, 25.
384 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
The perversion of even the smallest portion of grace
greatly excited the resentment of his lord, who answered,
" Thou wicked and slothful servant, thouknewest that I reap
where I sowed not, and gather where I have not strowed:
thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the ex¬
changers, and then at my coming I should have received mine
own with usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and
give it unto him which hath ten talents. For unto every one
that hath shall he given, and he shall have abundance : hut
from him that hath not shall he taken away even that which
he hath. And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer
darkness : there shall he weeping and gnashing of teeth."
Matthew, xxv. 26, etc.
Such is the parable of the talents, as delivered by our
blessed Saviour; a parable containing the measures of our
duty to God, and the motives that enforce it, all delivered in
the plainest and simplest manner. But its views are so ex¬
tensive and affecting, that while it instructs the meanest capa¬
city it engages reverence and attention from the greatest, and
strikes an impression on the most approved understanding.
We are to consider God as our Lord and Master, the author
and giver of every good gift, and ourselves as his servants or
stewards, who, in various instances and measures, have re¬
ceived from his goodness such blessings and abilities as may
fit us for the several stations and offices of life to which his
providence may appoint us. But then we are to observe, that
these are committed to us as a trust or loan, for whose due
management we are accountable to the donor.
If we faithfully acquit ourselves of this probationary
charge, we shall receive far greater instances of God's regard
and favor ; but if we are remiss and negligent, we must ex¬
pect to feel his resentment and displeasure.
A time will come, and how near it may be none of us can
tell, when our great Master will demand a particular account
of every talent he liath committed to our care. This time
may, indeed, be at a distance ; for it is uncertain when the
king of terrors will receive the awful warrant to terminate
our existence here below : yet it will certainly come, and our
eternal happiness or misery depends upon it; so that we
[
the life of jesus christ. 385
should all hare it continually in our thoughts, and engraven,
as with the point of a diamond, on the tables of our hearts.
We learn, from this instructive parable, that infinite
"Wisdom hath intrusted men with different talents, and ad¬
judged them to the various purposes of human life. But
though the gifts of men are unequal, none can, with justice,
complain ; since whatever is bestowed, be it more or less, is a
favor entirely unmerited. •
Each then should be thankful, and satisfied with his por¬
tion ; and, instead of envying the more liberal endowments
of others, apply himself to th6 improvement of his own. And
it should be observed, that the difficulty of the task is in pro¬
portion to the number of talents committed to each. He who
had received five, was to gain other five ; and he who had re¬
ceived two, was to account for other two.
Surely, then, we have no reason to complain, if our Mas¬
ter has laid on us a lighter burthen, a more easy and less
service, than he has on others ; especially, as our interest in
the favor of the Almighty does not depend on the number of
our talents, but on our diligence and application in the man¬
agement of them : so that the moral design of this parable is,
to engage our utmost attention to improve such talents as
our heavenly Father has thought proper to bestow upon us.
CHAPTER XXV.
The blessed Jesus used frequently to retire in the evening
from the city to the Mount of Olives, and there spend the
night, either in some village or the gardens, either to avoid
falling into the hands of his enemies, or for the sake of a little
retirement. They did not, indeed, presume to attack him
while he was surrounded by his followers, in the day-time ;
but, in all probability, had he lodged within the city, they
would have apprehended him during the darkness and silence
of the night.
When our blessed Saviour had finished these parables, he
25
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
added a short account of his own death, in order to fortify
his disciples against a greater trial than they had yet met
with ; namely, the sufferings of their Master. " And it came
to pass, when Jesus had finished all these sayings, he said
unto his disciples, Ye know that after two days is the feast of
the passover, and the Son of Man is betrayed to be crucified.
Then assembled together the chief priests, and the scribes,
and the elders of the people, into ttie palace of the high priest,
who was called Caiaphas, and consulted that they might take
Jesus by subtilty and kill hinft| But they said, Not on the
feast day, lest there be an uproar among the people." Mat¬
thew, xxvi. 1, etc.
When the evening approached, our blessed Saviour, with
his disciples, repaired to Bethany, and entered the house of
Simon the leper, probably one who experienced the healing
efficacy of his power. But while he sat at meat, a woman,
who had also, doubtless, been an object of his mercy, came
and poured a box of precious ointment upon his head.
This action displeased his disciples, who knew that their
Master was not delighted with luxuries of any kind: and
therefore they rebuked the woman, imagining that it would
have been more acceptable to the Son of God, if the oint-
•ment had been sold, and the money distributed among the
sons and daughters of poverty and affliction.
To reprove the disciples, Jesus told them that it had
pleased the divine Providence to order that there should al¬
ways be persons in necessitous circumstances, that the right¬
eous might never want occasions for exercising their charity;
but that those who did not testify their love to him, would
never more have the opportunity of doing it, as the time of
his ministry was near its period, when the king of terrors
should enjoy a short triumph over his body; and therefore
this woman had seasonably anointed him for his burial.
And to make them sensible of their folly in blaming the wo¬
man for this expression of love to him, he assured them that
she should be highly esteemed for this action, in every part'
of the world, and her memory live to the latest period of
time.
Judas Iscariot, (one of the twelve, having been more for-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST 387
ward than the rest in. condemning the woman, thought the
rebuke was particularly directed to him,) stung with the guilt
of his own conscience, arose from the table, and went imme¬
diately into the city, to the high priest's palace, whore he
found the whole council assembled. His passion would not
suffer him to reflect on the horrid deed he was going to com¬
mit : he immediately promised, for the reward of thirty
pieces of silver, to betray into their hands his Lord and Mas¬
ter.
Having thus engaged with ihe rulers of Israel, to put into
their hands a person who had often invited them, in the most
pathetic manner, to embrace the gracious terms of the gospel
offered by the Almighty, he sought an opportunity to betray
him in the absence of the multitude.
Our Lord, who well knew that the time of his suffering
drew nigh, desired, therefore, to celebrate the passover with
his disciples. He was now going to finish the mighty work
for which he came into the world ; and therefore would not
neglect to fulfill the smallest particular of the law of Moses.
He therefore sent two of his disciples into the city to pre¬
pare a lamb, and make it ready for eating the passover; tell¬
ing them that they should meet a man, bearing a pitcher of
water, who would conduct them to his house, and show them
a large upper room, furnished, which they were to make ready
for him. He was willing, in this last transaction, to convince
his disciples, that he knew every thing that should befall
him ; that his sufferings were all foretold by the Almighty ;
and that they were all, on his own account, submitted unto
voluntarily.
"When night approached, Jesus left Bethany, and every
thing being ready for him at the time he entered into the city,
he sat down at the appointed hour. But knowing that his
sufferings were now near, he told his disciples, in the most af¬
fectionate manner, that he had greatly longed to eat the pass-
over with them before he suffered, in order to show them the
strongest proofs of his love. These proofs were, to give them
a pattern of humility and love, by washing their feet; in¬
structing them in the nature of his death, and a propitiatory
sacrifice; instituting the sacrament, in commemoration of his
388 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
sufferings ; comforting them by the tender discourses recorded
John, xiv., xv., xvi., in which he gave them a variety of ex¬
cellent directions, together with many promises ; and rec¬
ommending them to the kind protection of his heavenly
Father. "With desire I have desired to eat this passover
with you before I suffer. For I say unto you, I will not
any more eat thereof, until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of
God."
Having thus spoken, he rose from the table, laid aside his
garments, like a servant, and with all the officiousness of a
humble minister, washed the feet of his disciples, without dis¬
tinction, although one of them, Judas Iscariot, was a monster
of impiety ; that they might at once behold a conjunction of
love and humility, of self-denial and indifference represented
by a person glorious beyond expression, their great Lord and
Master.
He washed their feet (according to a custom which pre¬
vailed in those hot countries, both before and after meat), in
order to show them an example of the utmost humility and
condescension.
The omnipotent Son of the Father lays every thing aside,
that he may serve his followers ; heaven stoops to earth, and i
one abyss calls upon another ; and the miseries of man, which '
were almost infinite, are exceeded by a mercy equal to the
immensity of the Almighty. He deferreth this ceremony,
which was an honorable civility paid to honorable strangers
at the beginning of their feast, that it might be preparatory
to the second, which he intended should be a feast to the
whole world, when all the followers of the blessed Jesus should
have an opportunity, in a spiritual manner, of feeding on his
flesh, and drinking his blood.
When our blessed Saviour came to Peter, he modestly de¬
clined it; but his Master told him, if he refused to submit
implicitly to all his orders, he could have no part with him.
On which Peter cried out, " Lord, not my feet only, but also
my hands and my head." But Jesus told him, that the per¬
son who was washed had no reason to wash any part of the
body except the feet, which he might dirty by walking from
the bath : and added, "Ye are all clean, as to the outward
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
389
laver, "but not as to the inward and spiritual laver : I well
know that one of you will betray me."
When our gracious Lord had finished this menial service,
he asked his disciples if they knew the meaning of what he
had done, as the action was purely emblematical ? You
truly, added he, style me Master and Lord ; for I am the Son
of Grod and the Saviour of the world. But if I, your Master
and your Lord, have condescended to wash your feet, you
surely ought to perform, with the utmost pleasure, the hum¬
blest offices of love to one another. I have set you a pattern
of humility, and I recommend it to you.
And certainly nothing can more effectually show us the
necessity of this heavenly temper of mind, than its being
recommended to us by so great an example ; a recommenda¬
tion which, in the present circumstances, was particularly
seasonable ; for the disciples having heard their great Master
declare that the kingdom of heaven was at hand, their minds
were filled with ambitious thoughts. And therefore our blessed
Saviour added, Ye need not be ashamed to follow my exam¬
ple in this particular; for no servant can think it beneath
him to condescend to perform those actions his Lord has done
before him. And therefore, if he knows his duty, he will be
happy if he practices it. He, moreover, added that though
he had called them all to the apostleship, and well knew the
secret dispositions of every heart, before he chose them, they
need not be surprised that one among them should prove a
traitor, as thereby the Scripture would be fulfilled : " He
that eateth bread with me, hath lifted up his heel against
me."
As our blessed Saviour was now to be but a short time
with his disciples, he thought proper to take his farewell of
them, which he did in a most affectionate manner. These
melancholy tidings greatly troubled them. They were un¬
willing to part with so kind a friend, so dear a master, so wise
a guide, and so profitable a teacher; especially as they thought
they should be left in a forlorn condition^ a poor and helpless
prey to the rage and hatred of a blind and malicious gener¬
ation. They seemed willing to die with their Lord, if that
might be accepted. Why can not I follow thee ? I will lay
390 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
down, my life for th.ee ! was the language of one, and even all
of them; but they could not support the thoughts of a dis¬
consolate separation.
Their great and compassionate Master, seeing them thus
dejected, endeavored to cheer their drooping spirits : " Let
not your hearts be troubled." Listen attentively to what I
am going to deliver for your consolation : " I am going to
prepare a place for you ; I will come again, and receive you
to myself, that where I am there ye may be also." A reviv¬
ing word of promise. They were one day to meet again their
dear, their affectionate Master, in a place where they should
live together to eternity.
But death makes so vast a distance between friends, and
the disciples then knew so little of a future state, that they
seemed to doubt whether they should, after their parting,
meet their great Eedeemer. They neither knew the place
where he was going, nor the way that led to his kingdom :
" Lord," said they, " as we know not whither thou goest, how
can we know the way ?" In answer to this question, he told
them, that he was " the way, the truth, and the life as if
he had said, Through the propitiatory sacrifice I am about to
offer, the sacred truths I hav<? delivered, and the divine as¬
sistance which I shall hereafter dispense, you are to obtain
that happiness which I go to prepare for you.
But, lest all these arguments should not be sufficient to
quiet their minds, he had still another, which could not fail
of success : " If ye love me," says he, " ye will rejoice, be¬
cause I said, I go to the Father :" intimating that he would
consider it as a proof of their love to him, if they ceased to
mourn. They doubtless thought that by grieving for his
death, they expressed their love to their Master, and it might
seem strange that our Saviour should put so contrary an in¬
terpretation on their friendly sorrow, or require so unnatural
a thing of them, as to rejoice at his departure. What (they
might think), shall we rejoice at so amiable a friend's removal
from us ? or can we4)e glad that he retires and leave us in
this vale of misery ? No, it is impossible ; the human heart,
on so melancholy an occasion, can have no disposition to re¬
joice.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
391
Our blessed Saviour, therefore, adds tliis reason, to solve
the seeming paradox : because he was going to his Father ;
that is, he was going to ascend to the right hand of infinite
Power, from whence he would send them all the assistance
they could desire. It must not, however, be supposed that ho
meant by these words that his disciples should not be concerned
at his death, or that they could not love him unless they ex¬
pressed a visible joy on this occasion. That would, indeed,
have been a hard interpretation of their grief: he knew their
grief flowed from love ; and that if their love had not been
strong, their sorrow had been much less. Indeed, their Mas¬
ter was fully convinced that love was the occasion of their sor¬
row ; and, therefore, he used these arguments to mitigate it,
and direct it in a proper course.
Nor did our Lord intend to intimate that all sorrow for
so worthy a friend was unlawful, or an unbecoming expres¬
sion of their love: doubtless he was not displeased to see his
disciples so tenderly affected at his removal from them. He
who shed tears at the grave of Lazarus, blended with sighs
and groans, can not be thought to forbid them wholly at his
own. He, therefore, did not chide his disciples with angry
reproaches, as though they had been entirely in the wrong,
but gently reasoned with them by kind persuasions: " Let
not your hearts be troubled as rather pitying than con¬
demning their sorrow.
Soon after Jesus had spoken these things, his heart was
greatly troubled to think that one of his disciples should
prove his enemy ; he complained of it at the table, declaring
that one of them should betray him. This moving declara¬
tion greatly affected the disciples ; and they began every one
of them to say to their Master, "Lord, is it I ?" But Jesus
giving them no decisive answer, John, the beloved disciple,
whose sweet disposition and other amiable qualities, is per¬
petuated in the peculiar love his Master bore him, and was
now reclining on his bosom, asked him, who among the dis¬
ciples could be guilty of so detestable & crime ? Jesus told
him, that the person to whom he should give the sop, when
he had dipped it, was he who should betray him, Accord¬
ingly, as soon as our Saviour had dipped the sop in the dish,
392 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST.
he gave it to Judas Iscariot, saying to him, at the same time,
" That thou doest, do quickly."
Judas reeeived the sop, without knowing any thing of
what his Master had told the beloved disciple: nor did any
of the disciples, except St. John, entertain the least sus¬
picion that Judas was the person who Would betray their
Master.
The innocent disciples were, indeed, so deeply affected
with his declaration, that one of them should betray him,
that they did not remark the words of Jesus to his apostate
disciple; but continued to ask him who was the person that
should be guilty of so base a crime? Willing, at last, to
satisfy their importunity, the blessed Jesus declared, that the
person who dipped his hand with him in the dish should be¬
tray Hm This, to the eleven, was a joyful declaration, but
confounding, in the highest degree, to Judas. Impudent as
he was, it struck him speechless, pointing him out plainly,
and displaying the foulness of his heart.
While Judas continued mute with confusion, the blessed
Jesus declared that his death should be wrought according to
the decrees of Heaven, though that would not, in the least,
mitigate the crime of the person who betrayed him : adding,
" it had been good for that man if he had never been born."
Judas, having now recovered himself a little, asserted his in¬
nocence, by a question which implied a denial of the charge.
But his Master soon silenced him, by positively affirming that
he was really the person.
As various conjectures have been formed concerning the
motives which induced the perfidious J udas cruelly to deliver
up his Master into the hands of his enemies, it may not be
improper to cite those which appear to be most probable,
though the decision must be entirely left to'the reader.
Some are of opinion that he was induced to commit this
villainy by the resentment of the rebuke given him by his
Master, for blaming the woman who came with the precious
ointment, and anointed the head of Jesus, as he sat at meat
in the house of Simon the leper. But, though this had,
doubtless, its weight with the traitor, yet it could not, I think,
be his only motive; because the rebuke was given in general
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
393
to all the disciples, who had certainly been forward with him
in censuring the woman. Nor can we imagine, even if he had
been rebuked'alone, that so mild a reproof could provoke any
person, however wicked, to the horrible act of murdering his
friend; much less Judas, whose covetous disposition must
have disposed him to bear every thing from his Master, from
whom he expected the highest preferment, if he should openly
declare himself the Messiah, and take the reins of government
into his own hands.
Others think that Judas betrayed his Master through
covetousness. But, if we understand by covetousness, the
reward given by the priests, this opinion is equally defective;
for the sum was too small for the most sordid wretch to think
equivalent to the life of a friend, especially when he expected
from him the highest posts and advantages.
Others attribute the perfidy of Judas to his doubting
whether his Master was the Messiah ; and that he betrayed
him in a fit of despair. But, of all the solutions, this is the
worst founded. For, if Judas believed his Master to be an
impostor, he must have observed something in his behaviour
which led him to form such an opinion of him; and, in that
case, he would doubtless have mentioned it to the chief priests
and elders, when he made the contract with them; which it
is plain he did not, as they would have reminded him of it,
when he came back and expressed his remorse for what he had
done. It should also be observed, that had Judas given them
any intimations of this kind, they would doubtless have urged
them against our blessed Saviour himself, in the course of his
trial, when they were at so great a loss for witnesses to sup¬
port their accusation ; and against the apostles, afterwards,
when they reproved them for speaking in the name of Jesus.
Besides, had Judas thought his Master an impostor, and pro¬
posed nothing by his treachery but the price he put upon his
life, how came he to sell him for such a trifle, when he well
knew that the chief priests and rulers would have given him
any sum rather than not have got him into their hands.
In fine, the supposition that Judas believed his Master to
be an impostor, is directly confuted by the solemn declaration
he made to the priests, when he declared the deepest convic-
394 the life of jesus chri.st.
tion of the innocence of our great Redeemer: "I have sinned/'
says he, "in betraying innocent "blood."
It must he remembered, that the remorse he felt for his
crime, when he saw his Master condemned, was too bitter to
be endured; so that he fled even to the king of terrors for
relief.
CHAPTER XXVI.
The great Redeemer, ever mindful of the grand design of
his mission, even the salvation of lost and perishing sinners,
. was not in the least prevented by the treachery of his apos¬
tate disciple : for, knowing that he must become a sacrifice
for sin, etc., he instituted the sacrament of his supper, to per¬
petuate the memory of it through all ages. Accordingly, as
they were eating the paschal supper, " Jesus took bread, and
blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said,
Take, eat; this is my body/' Matthew, xxvi. 26. Observe
this rite no longer in remembrance of your deliverance from
Egypt, but in remembrance of me, who, by dying for you, will
bring you out of the spiritual bondage, a bondage far worse
than the Egyptian, under which your fathers groaned, and
will establish you in the glorious liberty of the children of
God. Do it in remembrance of me, who, by laying down
my life, will ransom you from sin, from death, from hell, and
will set open the gates of heaven to you, that you may enter
immortality in triumph.
Having given the bread to his disciples, he also took the
cup, and gave it to them, saying, " Drink ye all of it; for
this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for
many for the remission of sins." Matthew, xxvi. 27, 28.
All of you, and all of my disciples, in all ages, must drink
of this cup, because it represents my blood shed for the re¬
mission of the sins of mankind : my blood by which the new
covenant between God and man is ratified. It is, therefore,
my blood of the new covenant j so that this institution exhib-
THE tlFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
395
its to your joyful meditation the grand basis of the hope of
the children of men, and perpetuates the memory of it to the
end of the world. He added, u I will not drink henceforth of
this fruit of the vine, until that day when I drink it new with
you in my Father's kingdom." Matthew, xxvi. 29.
The manifestation of the Son of God is the most illus¬
trious, the most momentous event, that is possible to engage
the meditations of men. To his life and death, his resurrec¬
tion and ascension into glory, we are indebted for our hopes
and assurances of pardon, for our happiness. To procure our
salvation, he made the most amazing condescension from the
dignity he enjoyed with his Father, by putting on the vail of
flesh ; he poured divine instruction from his lips, and shone
forth with an all-perfect and all-lovely example. For our
benefit, he submitted to a course of the most cruel treatment
from his bitter enemies, to the agonies of the cross, und to the
stroke of the king of terrors. For our happiness, he arose
again with power and luster, ascended into the mansions of
eternal happiness, manages our affairs with the Father, and
holds the reins of government. With the greatest wisdom
and goodness, therefore, the beneficent Jesus instituted a rite
that should recall his love to our memories, and awake each
pious passion in our breast; a rite which, by the breaking of
bread and the pouring out of wine, should represent to us, in
a striking manner, that most signal proof of the affection
both of him and his heavenly Father, when his tender frame
was exposed to wounds and bruises, when streams of the most
precious blood issued from his sacred veins.
Our blessed Saviour, after delivering the sacramental cup,
and telling them that his blood was shed for them, mentioned
the treachery of Judas a second time : " Behold, he is at hand
that doth betray me." Matthew, xxvi. 46. This second dec-
claration was made, very properly, after the institution of the
sacrament, which exhibits the highest instance of our great
Eedeemer's love to mankind, his dying to obtain the remission
of their sins ; for it abundantly proves, that the person who
could be deliberately guilty of such an injury to so kind a
friend, must have been a monster, the foulness of whose in¬
gratitude can not be described by the force of language.
396 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
It is thought that some of the disciples, particularly struck
with horror at' the thought of Judas' treachery, rebuked him,
by asking him, with surprise, how he could betray his Mas¬
ter P This accusation Judas, no doubt, repelled, by impu¬
dently denying the fact; but consciousness of guilt giving
ed^e to the reproaches of his brethren, and to every circum¬
stance of th*e affair, he immediately left the company, exceed¬
ingly displeased at thinking himself insulted and affronted.
The important, the awful scene now approached, when
the great work was to be finished. The traitor J udas was
gone to the chief priests and elders, for a band of soldiers to
apprehend him; but this did not discompose the Redeemer
of mankind : he took occasion to meditate on the glory that
would accrue to himself and his Almighty Father, from those
sufferings, and spake of it to his disciples. " Now," said he,
" is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him."
He told them that, having already done honor to his Father,
by the past actions of his life, and being about to honor him
yet further by his sufferings and death, which would display
his perfections, particularly his infinite love to the human
race, in the most astonishing and amiable light, he was, in
his turn, to receive honor from his father: intimating that
his human nature was to be exalted to the right hand of Om¬
nipotence, and that his mission from God was to be supported
by irrefragable attestations. But his disciples, imagining that
he spake of the glory of a temporal kingdom, their ambition
was again revived, and they began to dispute, with as much
keenness as ever, which of them should be greatest in that
kingdom. This contention Jesus suppressed by the argu¬
ments he had formerly used for the same purpose. Among
the Gentiles, said he, they are reckoned the greatest who have
the greatest power, and have exercised it in the most absolute
manner ; but your greatness shall be very different from
theirs : it shall not consist in being unlimited with regard to
tyrannical power, even though it should be joined with an
affectation of titles, which denote qualities truly honorable ;
whosoever desires to be great, or chief, among you, let him
be so by his humility, and the service he renders to the rest,
in imitation of me, your Master, whose greatness consists in
i
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 397
this, that I am "become the servant of you all: adding, as
they had continued with him in his temptation, he would
bestow upon them such a kingdom as his Father had ap¬
pointed for him. At the same time, to check their ambition,
and lead them to form a just notion of his kingdom, he told
them that he was soon to leave them, and that whithtr he
was going, they could not at that time follow him; for which
reason, instead^of contending with one another which of them
should he greatest, they would do well to be united among
.themselves in the happy bond of love. For, by loving one
another sincerely and fervently, they would prove themselves
his disciples, to the conviction of mankind, who could not be
ignorant that love was a distinguishing part of his character.
Having thus spoken, they finished the Passover with sing¬
ing a hymn, and went out to the Mount of Olives.
On their arrival at the place which was to be the scene of
his sufferings, he desired them to fortify themselves by prayer,
and forewarned them of the terrible effects his sufferings would
have upon them; they would make them all stumble that very
night, agreeable to the prophecy of Zechariah : " I will smite
the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered
abroad." To strengthen their faith, therefore, he not only
mentioned his own resurrection, but told them they should
see him in Galilee, after he was risen from the dead.
On our blessed Saviour's mentioning the offense that his
disciples would take at his suffering, Peter recollected what
had been said to him in particular, before they left the house.
Grieved, therefore, afresh, to find his Master entertain such
thoughts of him, and being now armed with a sword, the
vehemence of his temper urged him to boast a second time of
his courageous and close attachment to his Master. " Though
all men," said he, " should be offended because of thee, yet
will I never be offended." But Jesus, knowing that human
confidence and security were weak and frail, thought proper
to forewarn him again of his danger, and told him that the
cock should not crow before he had denied him.
Peter, however, still continued to repeat his confidence:
I will die with thee, but never deny thee. The disciples all
joined with Peter in professing their fixed resolution of suf-
398 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
fering death, rather than they would deny their Master 5 but
the event fully confirmed the prediction of our Saviour.
From hence we may learn how ignorant men are of their own
hearts, and that the strongest resolutions in their own strength
avail nothing.
The compassionate Eedeemer of mankind, not willing to
lose one single moment of the short time of his ministry that
yet remained, continued to instruct his discrgles in the great
truths he came into the world to explain; and, from the
vines which were growing around him on the Mount of Olives,
he began his excellent discourse with the parable of the vine,
to the following import:
Hitherto, said the blessed Jesus, the Jewish church and
nation have been the peculiar care of Providence; as a choice
and goodly vine, likely to bring forth much fruit, is the spe¬
cial care of the husbandman. But, from henceforth, my
church, my disciples, and the professors of my religion, of
what country or nation soever they be, shall become the peo¬
ple of God, and the peculiar care of Divine Providence. I
will be to them as the root and stock of the vine, of which
they are the branches, and my Father the husbandman and
vine-dresser.
As, in the management of a choice vine, the skillful vine¬
dresser cuts off all the barren and superfluous branches, that
they may not burden nor exhaust the trees, and prunes and
dresses the fruitful branches, that they may grow continually,
and so bear more fruit; thus, in the government of my
church, all useless, wicked and incorrigible members, my
Father, sooner or later, by his judgment, cuts off and de¬
stroys ; but thole who are sincerely pious and good, he by
the various and merciful dispensations of his providence to¬
wards them, tries, purifies and amends, that they may daily
improve, and be more and more abundant in all good works.
Now ye, my apostles, are such members as these, being
purified in heart and mind, and prepared for every good work,
by your lively faith in me, and sincere resolutions to obey my
commands. Continue steadfastly in this state, and then you
may be sure of deriving all spiritual blessing from me, as the
branches receive sap and nourishment from the vine. But as
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST 399
a branch, without continuing in the vine, can not hear any
fruit, hut presently dries up and perishes, so ye, unless ye
continue steadfast in your communion with me (by a lively
faith in your obedience, so as to receive grace and spiritual
blessings,) can never bring forth any good fruit of true holi¬
ness and righteousness, but will fall into vanity, superstition
and wickedness, and, at last, utterly perish.
I am, as it were, I say, the root and stock of the vine,
whereof ye are the branches. He that continues to adhere to
me, by a constant faith in me, shall bring forth much fruit
unto everlasting life; even as a branch which continues to
grow in a vine, and receives sap and nourishment from it.
But he that does not continue his relation ta me in this man¬
ner, becomes a false and useless professor, and shall be cast
out from me, and perish for ever ; even as a fruitless branch
is cut off from the vine, and left to wither and dry, and is at
last burned in the fire.
If you continue in me, by believing my words, and hold¬
ing fast what ye believe, and obeying and practicing it accord¬
ingly, no power or malice, either of man or of devils, shall be
able to hurt you or oppose your doctrines. For, though I be
absent from you in body, I will hear your prayers, and my
Father himself also will hear you; and whatsoever ye shall
ask, for the glory of the Almighty, and the propagation of
my true religion in the world, shall certainly be granted you.
But, above all things, carefully remember to demonstrate
your continuance in me, by abounding in all good works of
holiness, righteousness, and charity. This is the honor which
my Father desires and expects from you; even, as it is the
glory and desire of a vine-dresser, that his vine should bring
forth much fruit. And this is the honor that I myself expect
from you, that ye shall prove yourselves to be really and in¬
deed my disciples, by imitating my example, and obeying my
commands. This ye are bound to do, not only in duty, but
in gratitude also ; for, as my Father hath loved me, so have
I also loved you; and ye, in like manner, ought to love me
again, that you may continue to be loved by me. But the
way to express your love towards me, and to continue to be
loved by me, is to keep my commandments; even as I, by
400 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
keeping my Father's commandments, have expressed my love
towards him, and continue to "be loved by him.
These things have I spoken to you before my departure,
that the comfort ye have taken in my presence may be con¬
tinued in my absence, and ever increased until the coming of
the Holy Spirit, as it will be upon this condition, which I
have so often repeated to you, that you keep my command¬
ments, that ye love one another : not after the common
fashion of the world, but in such a manner as I have loved
you ; nor can you be ignorant what sort of love that is, when
I tell you that I am now going to lay down my life for you.
This is the highest instance in which it is possible for a man
to express his love towards his greatest friends and benefac¬
tors ; but this I am going to do for you, and for all mankind.
I might, indeed, justly call you servants, considering the in¬
finite distance between me and you, and the obligation ye
have to obey my commandments, but I have not treated you
as servants, (who are not admitted into their Master's coun¬
sels,) but as friends, revealing to you the whole will of my
Father with all freedom and plainness.
I have, I say, behaved myself to you as to the nearest
friends. Not that you first obliged me, or did any acts of
kindness for me; but I have freely, and of my own good
pleasure, chosen you to be my apostles, and the preachers of
my gospel, that you may go and declare the will of God to
the world, and bring forth much lasting fruit, in the conver¬
sion of men to the knowledge of the truth, and to the profes¬
sion and practice of true religion. In the performance of this
work, whatsoever ye shall ask of my Father, in my name,
in order to enable you to perform it effectually and with full
success, shall certainly be granted you.
Now all these things which I have spoken unto you con¬
cerning the greatness of my love towards you, in choosing you
to be my apostles, in revealing unto you the whole will of my
Father, and in laying down my life for you, X have urged and
inculcated upon you for this reason chiefly, as I at first told
you, that ye may learn, after my example, to "love one
another." The world, indeed, you must expect, will hate
and persecute you, upon my account. But this you ought
THE LIFE OP JESUS OHBIST,
401
not to be surprised or terrified at, knowing that it is no worse
treatment than I myself have met with "before you.
Be not, therefore, surprised when you meet with opposi¬
tion ; nor think to find better treatment in the world than I
myself have done. Remember what I have already told you,
that the disciple is not above his master; nor is he that is
sent greater than he that sent him. If men had gen¬
erally and readily embraced my*doctrine, you might, indeed,
have had some reason to expect that they would readily have
received yours also. But since I myself have suffered great
indignities and persecutions from wicked and perverse, from
obstinate and incorrigible men, only for opposing their vices,
it is highly reasonable that you should expect to undergo the
like treatment, upon the like account. In all which sufferings
you will, moreover, have this further comfortable consider¬
ation to support you, that the justice of your own cause, and
the injustice of your persecutors, will, by that means, most
evidently appear; seeing ye are persecuted only for professing
and preaching, in my name, the doctrine of true religion;
and they persecute you only because they know not God, and
out of mere malice will not bear to be instructed in his com¬
mands.
Indeed, had not I appeared to the world with all possible
demonstrations of authority and truth, teaching them a most
holy and undeniable doctrine, sufficient to reform their man¬
ners and amend their lives, and moreover demonstrated my
divine commission by such proofs as ought to satisfy and con¬
vince the most doubting and suspicious minds, they might
have had some plea and excuse of ignorance for their unbe¬
lief. But now, since all reasonable evidence has been offered
tliein, and proper methods used for their conversion and sal¬
vation, and yet they willfully and obstinately reject these
means of grace, it is plain they have no excuse for their sin ;
but they oppose and persecute you only because they will not
forsake their worldly lusts, and out of mere malice will not
bear to be instructed in the commands of the Almighty. So
that they who oppose and persecute you, as they have before
persecuted me, show plainly that they are haters of God, and
of his most holy commandments ; which is, as I have already
26
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
told you, a plain evidence of the justice of your own cause,
and of the injustice of your persecutors.
If I had not, I say, done such works among them as no
irian ever did, they might, indeed, have had some appearance
of excuse for their sin. But now, having seen abundant proofs
of my authority, and undeniable evidence of the truth of my
doctrine, and yet willingly and obstinately persisting to op¬
pose it, because inconsistent with their lusts, it is plain that
their dishonoring me is a dishonor done to my Father him¬
self, and a direct contempt of his commands; so that they
are utterly inexcusable. But it is no wonder, when men have
given themselves wholly up to be governed by worldly affec¬
tions, passions, and vices, they should act contrary to all the
reason and evidence in the world: -for this is but the natural
consequence of obstinate and habitual wickedness ; and here¬
by is only fulfilled in me what holy David long since propheti¬
cally complained of, that they hated him without a cause.
But notwithstanding all the opposition that wicked and
incorrigible men will make against my doctrine, there will
not be wanting powerful promoters of it, who shall effectually
overcome all opposition. For the Comforter, whom I said, I
will send you from heaven, even that" Spirit of truth," which
cometh forth and is sent by the Father, shall, when he cometh,
with wonderful efficacy, bear testimony to the truth of my
doctrine, and cause it to be spread through the world with
incredible success. Nay, and ye yourselves also, though now
so weak, fearful, and doubting, shall then very powerfully
bear testimony to the truth of all the things whereof ye, hav¬
ing been all along present with me, have been witnesses from
the beginning.
Thus have I warned you, beforehand, of the opposition
and persecution ye must expect to meet with in the world,
that when it cometh ye may not be surprised and terrified, so
as to be discouraged thereby from persisting in the perform¬
ance of your duty.
Having finished his discourse, " Jesus lifted up his eyes
to heaven, and prayed," with great fervency, to his Father.
[The prayer itself is recorded in the seventeenth chapter of
John.]
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 403
His prayer being ended, Jesus and his disciples came down
from the Mount of Olives, into a field below, called Gethsem-
ane, through which the brook Cedron ran, and in it, on the
other side of the brook, was a garden, called the garden of
Gethsemane. Here he desired his disciples to sit down till
he should retire to pray, taking with him Peter, James, and
John, those three select disciples, whom he had before chosen
to be witnesses of his transfiguration, and now to be eye¬
witnesses of his passion, leaving the other disciples at the gar¬
den door, to watch the approach of Judas and his band.
The sufferings which he was on the point of undergoing,
were so great, that the very prospect of them excited this
doleful exclamation: " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even
unto death ; tarry ye here, and watch." On this great occa¬
sion, he sustained those grievous sorrows in his soul, by which,
as well as by dying on the cross, he became a sincere offering,
and accomplished the redemption of mankind.
He now withdrew from them about a stone's cast, and his
human nature being overburdened beyond measure, he found
it necessary to retire and pray, that if it was possible, or con¬
sistent with the salvation of the world, he might be delivered
from the sufferings which were then lying on him. It was
not the fear of dying on the cross which made him speak or
pray in such a manner. To suppose this, would infinitely
degrade his character. Make his sufferings as terrible as pos¬
sible, clothe them with all the aggravated circumstances of
distress; yet the blessed Jesus, whose human nature was
strengthened by being connected with the divine, could not
but shrink at the prospect of such sufferings as he had to en¬
dure. He addresses his divine Father with a sigh of fervent
wishes, that the cup might, if possible, be removed from him.
In the Greek,, it is, "0 that thou wouldst remove this cup
from me !" And having first knelt and prayed, he fell pros¬
trate on his face, accompanying his address with due expres¬
sions of resignation, adding, immediately, "Not as I will but
as thou wilt."
At length he obtained relief, being heard on account of
his perfect and entire submission to the will of his heavenly
Father." "And when he rose up from prayer, and was come
404 the life of jesus christ.
to his disciples, he found them sleeping for sorrow/' This
circumstance shows how much his disciples were affectert with
their Master's sufferings. The sensations of grief which they
felt on seeing his unspeakable distress, so overpowered them,
that they sunk into a sleep.
Our blessed Saviour, for the last time, came to his dis¬
ciples, and seeing them still asleep, he said, " Sleep on now,
and take your rest; behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son
of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us he
going : behold, he is at hand that doth betray me." Mat¬
thew, xxvi. 45,46. The event will soon be over which ca.uses
your sorrow : I am betrayed, and ready to be delivered unto
death.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Judas, who had often resorted to the garden of Gethsem-
ane with the disciples of our Lord, knowing the spot, and the
usual time of Kis Master's repairing thither, informed the
chief priests and elders that the time for apprehending Jesus
was now come. They therefore sent a band of soldiers with
him, and servants carrying lanterns and torches to show them
the way; because, though it was always full moon at the
passover, the sky might be dark with clouds, and the place
whither they were going was shaded with trees. At the same
time, a deputation of their number accompanied the band, to
see that every one did his duty.
Judas having thus received a band of men and officers
from the chief priests and Pharisees, they went thither with
lanterns, and torches, and weapons; for they were exceedingly
anxious to secure and get him into their hands ; and the sol¬
diers having, perhaps, never seen Jesus before, found it neces¬
sary that Judas should distinguish him, and point him out to
them by some particular sign.
The treacherous Judas went before the band, at a small
distance, to prepare them for the readier execution of their
office, by kissing his Master, which was the token agreed
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 405
upon, that they might not mistake him, and seize a wrong
person. " And he that was called Judas, one of the twelve,
went before them, and drew near unto Jesus to kiss him."
Stung with remorse at the horrid engagement into which he
had entered, and not being now able to retract from the exe¬
cution of it, he determined to make use of art in his vile pro¬
ceedings, and weakly imagined he could deceive him whom he
was about to betray, on a supposition that when he should
give the kiss, it might be considered by his Master as a singu¬
lar mark of his affection. When, therefore, they approached
near the spot, Judas (who was at the head of the band) sud¬
denly ran forward, and coming up to Jesus, said, "Hail
Master ! and kissed him. And Jesus said ^into him, Friend,
wherefore art thou come ? Betrayest thou the Son of Man
with a kiss ?" Before, however, Judas could make any reply,
the band (who had fixed their eyes on the person he had
kissed) arrived immediately, and surrounded Jesus.
The artifice and wicked designs of the base and perfidious
Judas are here manifestly displayed. In order to conceal his
villainy from his Master and his disciples, he walked hastily,
and, without awaiting for the band, went up directly and sa¬
luted him, wishing, perhaps, to have that considered as a
token of apprising him of his danger. But Jesus did not fail
to convince him that he knew the meaning and intent of his
salutation ; saying, " Betrayest thou the Son of Man with a
kiss ?" Judas certainly concealed his treachery so well that
Peter did not suspect him, or it is probable he would have
struck at him rather than at Malchus, the high priest's serv¬
ant.
The appointed time of our Lord's sufferings being now
come, he did not, as formerly, avoid his enemies ; but on the
contrary, on their telling him they sought Jesus of Nazareth,
he replied, "I am he thereby intimating to them that he
was willing to put himself into their hands. At the same
time, to show them that they could not apprehend him with¬
out his own consent, he, in an extraordinary manner, exerted
his divine power; he made the whole band fall back, and
threw them to the ground. "Jesus, therefore, knowing all
things that should come upon him, went forth, and said unto
406 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST,
them, Whom seek ye ? They answered him, Jesus of Naza¬
reth. Jesus said unto them, I am he ; and Judas also, who
betrayed him, stood with them. As soon, then, as he had
said unto them, X am he, they went backward, and fell to the
ground/' But the soldiers and the Jews, imagining, perhaps,
that they had been thrown down by some demon or evil
spirit, with whom th£ Jews said he was in confederacy, ad¬
vanced toward him a second time. u Then he asked again,
Whom seek ye P And they said, Jesus of Nazareth. Jesus
answered, I have told you that I am heexpressing again
his willingness to fall into their hands. " If, therefore, ye seek
mfe, let these go their way." If your business be with me
alone, suffer my disciples to pass: for the party had sur¬
rounded them also. He seems to have made this request to
the soldiers, that the saying might be fulfilled, which he spake,
" Of them which thou gavest me have I lost none." For, as
he always proportioned the trials of his people to their
strength, so here he took care that the disciples should es¬
cape the storm, which none but himself could sustain.
At length one of the soldiers, more daring than the rest,
rudely caught Jesus and bound him; upon which Peter drew
his sword, and smote off the ear of the high priest's servant,
who, probably, was showing greater forwardness than the rest
in this business. " Then Simon Peter, having a sword, drew
it, and smote the high priest's servant, and cut off his right
ear : the servant's name was Malchus." The enraged disci¬
ple was on the point of singly attacking the whole band,
when J esus ordered him to sheath his sword, telling him that
his unseasonable and imprudent defense might prove the oc¬
casion of his destruction. " Then said Jesus unto him, Put
up thy sword into his place : for all they that take the sword
shall perish with the sword." Matthew, xxvi. 52. He told
him likewise, that it implied both a distrust of God, who can
always employ a variety of means for the safety of his peo¬
ple, and also his ignorance in the Scriptures. "Thinkest
thou," said he, " that I can not now pray to my Father, and
he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels?
But how then shall the Scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it
must be ?" Matthew, xxvi. 53, 54.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
407
The word legion was a Roman military term, being a
name which they gave to a body of five or six thousand men;
wherefore, in regard that the band which surrounded them
was a Roman cohort, our Lord might make use of this term
by way of contrast, to show what an inconsiderable thing the
cohort was in comparison of the force he could summon to
his assistance ; more than twelve legions, not of soldiers, but
of angels He was yet tenderly inclined to prevent any bad
consequences which might have followed Peter's rashness, by
healing the servant, and adding, in his rebuke to him, a dec¬
laration of his willingness to suffer: " The cup which my
Father hath given me, shall I not drink it ?"
The circumstance of his healing the ear of Malchus by
touching it, evidently implies that no wound or distemper
was incurable in the hand of Jesus; neither was any injury
so great that he could not forgive. It seems somewhat sur¬
prising that this evident miracle did not make an impression
upon the chief priests, especially as our Lord put them in
mind, at the same time, of the other miracles; for, having
first said, " Suffer ye thus far; and he touched his ear, and
healed him/* he added, "Be ye come out, as against a thief,
with swords and staves ? "When I was daily with you in the
temple, ye stretched forth no hands against me: but this is
your hour, and the power of darkness." Luke, xxii. 51, etc.
The priests had kept at a distance for some time, but drew
near when they understood that Jesus was in their power ; •
for they were proof against all conviction, being obstinately
bent on putting him to death. And the disciples, when they
saw their Master in the hands of his enemies, forsook him,
and fled, according to his prediction, notwithstanding they
might have followed him without any dangg*, as the priests
had no design agains* them. " Then all the disciples forsook
him> and fled. Then the band, and the captain and officers,
took Jesus, and bound him." But it was not the cord which
held him: his infinite love was, by far, the stronger band.
He could have broken those weak ties, and exerted his divin¬
ity in a more wonderful manner: he could have stricken them
all dead, with as much ease as he had before thrown them on
the ground j but he patiently submitted to this, as to every
408 the life of jesus christ.
indignity which, they chose to offer him, so meek was he under
the greatest injuries. Haying thus secured him, they led him
away. " And there followed him a certain young man, having
a linen cloth cast about his naked "body ; and the young men
laid hold on him ; and he left the linen cloth, and fled from
them naked." This, perhaps, was the proprietor of the gar¬
den, who, being awakened by the noise, came out with the
linen cloth in which he had been lying, cast round his naked
body ; and, having a respect for Jesus, followed him, forget¬
ting the dress he was in.
They first led Jesus to Annas, father-in-law of Caiaphas,
who was the high priest that year. Annas, having himself
discharged the office of high priest, was consequently a person
of distinguished character, which, together with his relation
to the high priest, made him worthy of the respect they now
paid him. But he refused, singly, to meddle in the affair;
they therefore carried Jesus to Caiaphas himself, at whose
. .palace the chief priests, elders and scribes were assembled,
having staid there all night, to see the issue of their strata¬
gem. This Caiaphas was he that advised the council to put
Jesus to death, even admitting he was innocent, for the safety
of the whole Jewish nation. He seems to have enjoyed the
sacerdotal dignity during the whole course of Pilate's govern¬
ment in Judea; for he was advanced by Valerius Gratus,
Pilate's predecessor, and was divested of it by Vittellius, gov¬
ernor of Syria, after he had deposed Pilate from his procura-
torship.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
The apprehending of their dear Master could not but
strike his disciples with horror and amazement: though lie,
had forewarned them of that event, such was their consterna¬
tion, that they fled different ways ; some of them, however,
recovering out of the panic that had seized them, followed the
band at a distance, to see what the issue would be. Of this
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 409
number was Peter, and another disciple, whom John has
mentioned without giving his name, and who therefore is
supposed to have been John himself. This disciple, being
acquainted at the high priest's, got admittance for himself
first, and soon after for Peter, who had come with him. " And
Simon Peter followed Jesus, and so did another disciple.
That disciple was known unto the high priest, and went in
with Jesus into the palace of the high priest. But Peter
stood at the door without. Then went out that other dis¬
ciple, which was known unto the high priest, and spake unto
them that kept the door, and brought in Peter. And when
they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and were set
down together, Peter sat down among them." The maid
servant, who kept the door, concluding Peter to be a disciple
also, followed after him to the fire, and looking earnestly at
him, charged him with the supposed crime. " Then said the
damsel that kept the door unto Peter, Art not thou, also, one
of this man's disciples ?" This blunt attack threw Peter into
such confusion that he flatly denied his having any connection
with Jesus ; replying " I am not," and adding, " I know not,
neither understand I what thou sayest." As if he had said,
I do not understand any reason for your asking me such a
question.
Thus the very apostle who had before acknowledged his
Master to be the Messiah, the Son of the living God, and had
so confidently boasted of his fortitude and firm attachment to
him in the greatest dangers, proved himself an arrant deserter
of his cause upon trial. His shameful fears were altogether
inexcusable, as the enemy who attacked him was one of the
weaker sex, and the terror of the charge was in a great mea¬
sure taken off by the insinuation made in it, that John was
likewise known to be Christ's disciple ; for, as he was known
.it the high priest's, he was consequently known in that char¬
acter. " Art thou not also one of this man's disciples ?"
Art thou not one of them, as well as he who is sitting with
you P Nothing can account for this conduct of Peter, but
the confusion and panic which had seized him on this occa¬
sion. As his inward perturbation must have appeared in his
countenance and gesture, he did not choose to stay long with
410 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST,
the servants at the fixe. He went out, therefore, into the
porch, where he was a little concealed. 11 And he went into
the porch ; after he had been some time there, another maid
saw him, and began to say to them that stood by, This is one
of them ; and he again denied it, with an oath, I know not
the man adding peijury to falsehood.
After Peter had been thus attacked without doors, he
thought proper to return and mix with the crowd at the fire.
"And Simon Peter stood and warmed himself." From this
circumstance, it is clear, that the ensuing was the third de¬
nial ; and that Peter left the porch, where the second denial
happened, and was come again into the hall. " Here one of
the servants of the high priest (being his kinsman, whose ear
Peter cut off), saith, Did not I see thee in the garden with
him ? Peter then denied again, and immediately the cock
crew." The words of Malchus's kinsman bringing to Peter's
remembrance what he had done to that man, threw him into
such a panic, that when those who stood by repeated the
charge, he impudently denied it: " He even began to curse
ahd to swear, saying, I know not this man of whom you
speak." For, when they heard Peter deny the charge, they
supported it by an argument drawn from the accent with
which he pronounced his answer. Surely thou art one of
them ; for thou art a Galilean, and thy speech agreeth there¬
to ; so, that being pressed on all sides, to give his lie the bet¬
ter color, he profaned the name of God, by imprecating the
bitterest curses on himself, if he was telling a falsehood.
Perhaps he hoped, by these acts of impiety, to convince them
effectually that he was not the disciple of the holy Jesus.
Thus the apostle denied his Master three distinct times,
with oaths and asseverations, totally forgetting the vehement
protestations he had made a few hours before, that he would
never deny him. He was, probably, permitted to fall in this
manner, to teach us two lessons; first, that the strongest
resolutions, formed in our own strength, can not withstand
the torrent of temptation ; secondly, that the true disciples
of Christ, though they fall, may be brought to a conviction
of their sins ; for he no sooner denied his Master the third
time, than the cock crew, and first awakened in him a con-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
411
sciousness of his sin. " And the Lord turned and looked up¬
on Peter ; and Peter remembered the words of the Lord, how
he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou Bhalt deny
me thrice. And Peter went out and wept bitterly."
CHAPTER XXIX.
When the band of soldiers arrived at the high priest's
with Jesus, they found there all the chief priests, the scribes,
and the elders, assembled : " 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. And the high priest
asked Jesus of his disciples, and his doctrine." He inquired
of him what his disciples were ? for what end he had gathered
them ; whether it was to make himself a king ? and what the
doctrine was which he taught them ? In these questions
there was a great deal of art; for, as the crime laid to our
Saviour's charge, was, that he had set up for the Messiah, and
deluded the people, they expected that he would clainl that
dignity in their presence, and so would, on his own confession,
have condemned him without any further progress. This was
unfair, as it was artful and ensnaring. To oblige a prisoner,
on his trial, to confess what might take away his life, was a
very inequitable method of proceeding; and Jesus expressed
his opinion thereof with very good reason, and complained of
it, bidding them prove what they had laid to his charge, by
witnesses. "Jesus answered him, I spake openly to the
world; I ever taught in the synagogue, and in the temple,
whither the Jews always resort; and in secret have I said
nothing. "Why askest thou me ? ask them which heard me,
what I have said unto them : behold, they know what I said."
It was greatly to the honor of our blessed Redeemer, that all
his actions were done in public, under the eye even of his
enemies; because, had he been carrying on any imposture,
the lovers of goodness and truth had thus abundant op¬
portunities of detecting him with propriety; he, therefore,
412 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
in his defense, appealed to that part of his character, hut his
answer was construed to he disrespectful ; " for, when he had
thus spoken, one of the officers, which stood by, struck Jesus
with the palm of his hand, saying, Answerest thou the high
priest so ?" To which he meekly replied, with the greatest
serenity, " If I have spoken evil, hear witness of the evil;
hut if well, why smitest thou me ?" Show me, prove before
this court, wherein my crime consists, or record it on the evi¬
dence on the face of my trial; which if you can not, how can
you answer for this inhuman treatment to a defenseless pris¬
oner, standing on his trial before the world, and in open
court ?
* t • Tm
Thus Jesus became an example of his own precept, ""Who¬
soever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the
other also," (Matthew, v. 39,) bearing the greatest injuries
with a patience that could not be provoked.
When the council found that Jesus declined answering
the questions, whereby they expected to have drawn from him
an acknowledgment of his being the Messiah, they proceeded
to examine many witnesses to prove his having assumed that
character; as they considered such a pretension as blasphemy
in his mouth, who being only a man, according to their
opinion, could not, without the highest affront to the divine
Majesty, pretend to the title of the Son of God, as it belonged
to the Messiah.
But, in this examination, they acted like interested and
enraged persecutors, rather than as impartial judges, forming
their questions in the most-artful manner, in order, if pos¬
sible, to draw expressions from him, which they might pervert
into suspicions of guilt, as some foundation for condemning
Jesus, who had so long and faithfully labored for their sal¬
vation.
Their witnesses, however, disappointed them, some of them
disagreeing in their story, and others mentioning things of no
manner of importance. At last, two persons agreed in their
depositions ; namely, in hearing him say, that he was able
to destroy the temple of God, and to raise it in three days.
But this testimony was absolutely false; for our great Be-
deemer never said he could destroy and build the temple of
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
413
Jerusalem in three (lays, as they had affirmed. It is true,
that after banishing the traders from the temple, when the
Jews desired to know by what authority he undertook to
make such reformation, he referred them to the miracle of his
resurrection; bidding them u destroy this temple," pointing
probably to his body, u and in three days he would raise it
up." The witnesses, ^therefore, either through malice or
ignorance, perverted his answer into an affirmation that ho
was able to destroy and build the magnificent temple of Je¬
rusalem in three days ; and the judges considered this asser¬
tion as blasphemy, because it could only be done by the di¬
vine power.
Our Saviour made no reply to the evidences that were
produced against him, which greatly incensed the high priest;
who, supposing that he intended, by his silence, to put an
affront on the council, rose from his seat, and, with great per¬
turbation, demanded the reason of so remarkable a conduct.
"Answerest thou nothing? said he*: What is it which these
witness against thee?" And some of the council added,
Art thou Christ ?" To which our blessed Saviour answered,
If I should tell you plainly, you would not believe me ; and
if I should demonstrate it to you by the most evident and
undeniable arguments, ye would neither be convinced nor let
me go.
The high priest, finding all his attempts to trepan our
Saviour in vain, said to him, I adjure you solemnly, by the
dreadful and tremendous name of Grod, in whose presence you
stand, that you tell me plainly and truly, whether you are
the Messiah, the Son of God.
The consequence attending the confession of the truth, did
not intimidate the blessed Jesus; for being adjured by the
chief magistrate, he immediately acknowledged his charge :
adding, Ye shall shortly see a convincing evidence of this
truth, in that wonderful and unparalleled destruction which
I will send upon the Jewish nation ; in the quick and pow¬
erful progress which the gospel shall make upon the earth ;
and finally, in my glorious appearance in the clouds of heaven,
at the last day, the sign you have so often demanded in con¬
firmation of my mission.
414 the life of jesus christ?.
Upon our blessed'Saviour's making this answer a number
of them cried out at once, " Art thou the Son of God ?" To
which our great Redeemer replied, " Ye say that I am a
manner of speaking among the Jews, which expressed a plain
and strong affirmation of the thing expressed.
When the high priest heard this second assertion, he rent
his clothes, with great indignation, and said unto the council,
Why need we trouble ourselves to seek for more witnesses,
that he hath spoken manifest and notorious blasphemy ?
What think ye ? To which they all replied, that for assum¬
ing to himself the character of the Messiah, he deserved to be
put to death.
Then began the servants and common people to fall upon
him, as a man already condemned ; spitting upon him, buf¬
feting him, and offering all manner of rudeness and indigni¬
ties. They blindfolded him; and some of the council, in
order to ridicule him for having professed to be the great
Prophet, bid him exercise his prophetical gift, in declaring
who had smitten him.
Such was the treatment of the Son of God, the Saviour o£
sinners, which, though derogatory to his character, he bore
with patience and resignation, leaving his people an example
to follow his steps, and to submit to the will of God in all
things, nor murmur at any of the dispensations of his provi¬
dence.
CHAPTER XXX.
The blessed Jesus being thus condemned by the unani¬
mous voice of the grand assembly, it was resolved to carry
him before the governor, that he likewise might pass sentence
on him. The Roman governors of Judea generally resided at
Csesarea ; but at the great feast they came up to Jerusalem,
to prevent or suppress tumults, and to administer justice, it
being a custom for the Roman governors of provinces to visit
the principal towns under their jurisdiction, on this latter
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 415
account. Pilate being accordingly come to Jerusalem, some
time before the feast, had been informed of the great ferment
among the rulers, and the true character of the person on
whose account it was raised, for he entertained a just notion
of it: u He knew that for envy they had delivered him." He
knew the cause of their envy, was impressed with a favorable
opinion of Jesus, and wished, if possible, to deliver him from
his vile persecutors.
Early in the morning, the Jewish council brought Jesus
to the hall of judgment or governor's palace. They, them¬
selves, however, went not into the hall, but stood without,
lest they should be defiled, and rendered incapable of eating
the passover.
Now Judas Iscariot, who had delivered his Master into
the hands of the council, finding his project turn out very
different from what he expected, was filled with the deepest
remorse for what he had done. He saw all his golden dreams
of temporal honors and advantages sunk at once to nothing •
he saw his kind, his indulgent Master, condemned and for¬
saken by all his followers. He saw all this, and determined
to make all the satisfaction in his power for the crime he had
committed.
Accordingly, he came and confessed openly his sin, before
the chief priests and rulers, offered them the money they had
given him to commit it, and earnestly wished he could recall
the fatal transaction of the preceding night.
It seems he thought this was the most public testimony
he could possibly give of his Master's innocence and his own
repentance. I hav^, said he, committed a most horrid crime,
in betraying an innocent man to death.
But this moving speech of Judas had no effect on the
callous hearts of the Jewish rulers. They affirmed, that how¬
ever he might think the prisoner innocent, and for that rea¬
son had sinned in bringing the sentence of death upon his
head, they were not to blame ; because they knew him a blas¬
phemer, who deserved to die. " What is that to us ?" said
they, " see thou to that." Nay, they even refused to take
the money they had given him as a reward for performing the
base act of betraying his Master.
416
THE LIFE OF J E S TJ S CHRIST.
The deepest remorse ncf^r seized upon the wretched Judas,
and his soul was agitated by the horrors of despair. The in¬
nocence and benevolence of his Master, the many favors he
himself had received from him, and the kind offices he had
done for the sons and daughters of affliction, crowded at once
into his mind, and rendered his torments intolerable. Eacked
with these agonizing passions, and unable to support the
misery, he threw down the wages of his iniquity in the tem¬
ple, and confessing, at the same time, his own sin, and the
innocence of his Master, went away in despair, and hanged
himself.
Thus perished Judas Iscariot, the traitor, a miserable
example of the fatal influence of covetousness, and a standing
monument of divine vengeance, to deter future generations
from acting in opposition to thd dictates of conscience, through
a love for the things of this world ; for which this wretched
mortal betrayed his Master, his Friend, his Saviour, and ac¬
cumulated such a load of guilt on himself as sunk his soul
into the lowest pit of perdition.
The pieces of silver cast down by Judas were gathered up
and delivered to the priests, who thinking it unlawful to put
them into the treasury, because they were the wages of a trai¬
tor, agreed to lay them out in purchasing the potter's field,
and to make it a common burial-place for strangers.
We have already observed that the chief priests and elders
refused to go themselves into the judgment hall, lest they
should contract some pollutions in the house of a heathen,
which would have rendered them unfit for eating the Pass¬
over, The same reason also hindered tji«m from entering
the governor's palace, on other festivals, when that magistrate
attended in order to administer justice ; a kind of structure
was therefore erected, adjoining to the palace, which served
instead of a tribunal or judgment seat. This structure, called,
in the Hebrew, Gabbatha, was finely paved with small pieces
of marble, of different colors, being always exposed to the
weather. One side of this structure joined to the palace, and
a door was made in the wall, through which the governor
passed to this tribunal. By this contrivance the people might
stand round the tribunal in the open air, hear and see the
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
417
governor when he spake to them from the pavement, and
observe the whole administration of justice, without danger
of being defiled, either by him or any of his retinue.
Before this tribunal the great Eedeemer of mankind was
brought, and the priests and elders having taken their places
around the pavement, the governor ascended the judgment
seat, and asked them what accusation they had brought
against the prisoner? Though nothing was more natural
tlian for the governor to ask?, this question, yet the Jews
thought themselves highly affronted by it, and haughtily an¬
swered, If he had not been a very great and extraordinary
malefactor, we should not have given you this trouble at all,
much less at so unseasonable an hour.
Pilate then examinad Jesus, and finding he had not been
guilty either of rebellion or sedition, but that he was accused
of particulars relating to the religion and customs of the
Jews, grew angry, and said, What are these things to me ?
Take him yourselves, and judge him according to your own
law: plainly insinuating that, in his opinion, the crime they
laid to the prisoner's charge was not of a capital nature ; and
that such punishments as they were permitted by Caesar to
inflict, were adequate to any misdemeanor that Jesus was
charged with. But this proposal of the Roman governor was
absolutely refused by the Jewish priests and elders, because
it condemned the whole proceeding ; and therefore they an¬
swered, "We have no power to put any one to death, as this
man certainly deserves, who has attempted not only to make
innovations in our religion, but also to set up himself for a
king.
The eagerness of the Jews to get Jesus condemned by the
Eoman governor, who often sentenced malefactors to be cru¬
cified, tended to fulfill the saying of our great Redeemer, who,
•during the course of his ministry, had often mentioned what
kind of death he was, by the counsel of his Father, appointed
to die.
Pilate finding it impossible to prevent a tumult, unless he
proceeded to try Jesus, ascended again the judgment seat, and
commanded his accusers to produce their accusations against
Tiim, Accordingly they accused him of seditious practices,
27
418
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
affirming that lie had used every method in his power to dis¬
suade the people from paying taxes to Caesar, pretending that
he himself was the Messiah, the great King of the Jews, so
long expected. But they brought no proof of these assertions.
They only insinuated they had already convicted him of this
assertion, which was absolutely false. Pilate, however, asked
him, Is it true what these men lay to your charge, that you
have indeed attempted to set up yourself as King of the
Jews ? To which Jesus replied, Have you ever, during your
stay in this province, heard any thing of me that gave you
reason to suspect me guilty of secret practices and seditious
designs against the government: or do you found your ques¬
tion only on the present clamor and tumult that is raised
against me ? If this be the case, be very careful lest you be
imposed on merely by the ambiguity of a word; for, to be
" King of the Jews," is not to erect a temporal throne in op¬
position to Cassar, but a thing of a very different nature; the
kingdom of the Messiah is a heavenly kingdom.
To which Pilate replied, Am I Jew ? Can I tell what
your expectations are, and in what sense you understand
these words ? The rulers and chiefs of your own people, who
are the most proper judges of these particulars, have brought
you before me, as a riotous and seditious person: if this be
not the truth, let me know what is, and the crime thou hast
been guilty of.
J esus answered, I have, indeed, a kingdom, and this king¬
dom I have professed to establish. But then it is not of this
world, nor have my endeavors to establish it any tendency to
cause disturbances in the government. For, had that been the
case, my servants would not have suffered me to have fallen
into the hands of the Jews. But I tell you plainly, my king¬
dom is wholly spiritual. I reign in the hearts of my people,
and subdue their wills and affections into a conformity to thS
will of God.
You acknowledge, then, in general, answered Pilate, that
you have professed to be a king ? To which the blessed J esus
replied, In the sense I have told you, I have declared, and do
now declare myself to be a king. For this very end I was born,
and for this purpose I came into the world, that I should bear
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
419
witness to the truth; and whosoever sincerely loves, and is
always ready to embrace the truth, will hear my testimony,
and be convinced of it.
Pilate answered, " "What is truth ?" and immediately went
out to the Jews, and said unto them, I have again examined
this man, but can not find him guilty of any fault, which, ac¬
cording to the Roman law, is worthy of death.
The generous declaration made by the governor, of the
innocence of our blessed Saviour, had no effect on the super¬
stitious and bigoted Jews. They even persisted in their accu¬
sations with more vehemence than before, affirming that he
attempted to raise a sedition in Galilee : " He stirreth up,"
said they, " the people, beginning from Galilee to this place/'
Jesus, however, made no answer at all to this heavy
charge. Nay, he continued silent, notwithstanding the gov¬
ernor himself expressly required him to speak in his own
defense. A conduct so extraordinary, in such circumstances,
astonished Pilate exceedingly ; for he had great reason to be
persuaded of the innocence of our dear Eedeemer. The truth
is, he was altogether ignorant of the divine counsel by which
the whole affair was directed.
There were many reasons which induced the blessed Jesus
not to make a public defense. He came into the world purely
to redeem lost and undone sinners, by offering himself up a
sacrifice for them ; but had he pleaded with his usual force,
the people had, in all probability, been induced to ask his re¬
lease, and consequently his death had been prevented. Be¬
sides, the gross falsehood of the accusation, known to all the
inhabitants of Galilee, rendered any reply absolutely needless.
In the mean time, the chief priests continued to accuse
him with great noise and tumult. And the meek and hum¬
ble Jesus still continuing mute, Pilate spake again to him,
saying, Wilt thou continue to make no defense ? Dost thou
hear how vehemently these men accuse thee ?
But Pilate, recollecting what the chief priests had said
with regard to a sedition in Galilee, asked, If Jesus came out
of that country ? and on being informed he did, he immedi¬
ately ordered him to be carried to Herod, who was also then
at Jp.rusalem.
420 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHKIST.
The governor supposed that Herod, in whose dominion
the sedition was said to have been raised, must be a much
better judge of the affair than himself; besides, he being a
Jew rendered him more versed in the religion of his own coun¬
try, and gave him greater influence over the chief priests and
elders; he therefore considered him as the most proper person
to prevail on the Jewish council to desist from their cruel
persecution. But if, contrary to all human probability, he
should at their solicitation, condemn Jesus, Pilate hoped to
escape the guilt and infamy of putting an innocent man to
death. He might also propose, by this action, to regain
Herod's friendship, which he had formerly lost, by encroach¬
ing, in all probability, on his privileges.
But however that be, or whatever motive induced Pilate
to send our great Kedeemer to Herod, the latter greatly re¬
joiced at this opportunity of seeing Jesus, hoping to have the
pleasure of beholding him perform some great miracle.
In this he was, however, disappointed ; for, as Herod had
apostatized from the doctrine of John the Baptist, to which
he was once probably a convert, and had even put his teacher
to death, the blessed Jesus, however liberal of his miracles to
the sons and daughters of affliction, would not work them to
gratify the curiosity of a tyrant, nor even answer one of the
many questions he proposed to him.
Herod finding his expectations thus cut off, ordered our
blessed Saviour to be clothed with an old robe, resembling in
color those worn by kings, and permitted his servants to in¬
sult him.
From Herod's dressing him in this manner, it evidently
appears, that the chief priests and elders had accused him of
nothing, but his having assumed the character of the Messiah;
for the affront put upon him was plainly in derision of that
profession.
The other head of accusation, namely, his having attempt¬
ed to raise a sedition in Galilee, on account of tribute paid to
Caesar, they did not dare to mention, as Herod could not fail
of knowing it to be a gross and malicious falsehood. And no
crime worthy of death being laid to his charge, Herod sent
him again to Pilate. It seems, that though he was displeased
the life of jesus christ.
421
with the great Redeemer of mankind for refusing to perform
a miracle before him, yet he did not think proper to comply
with the wishes of his enemies.
CHAPTER XXXI.
The Roman governor, in order to acquire popular applause,
used generally, at the feast of the passover, to release a pris¬
oner nominated by the people. At this feast there was one
in prison, named Barabbas, who, at the head of a number of
rebels, had made an insurrection in the city, and committed
murder during the confusion.
The multitude, being now assembled before the governor's
palace, began to call aloud on him to perform the annual
office of mercy, customary at that festival.
Pilate glad of this opportunity, told them that he was
very willing to grant the favor they desired: and asked them
whether they would have Barabbas or Jesus released unto
them ? But, without waiting for an answer, he offered to re¬
lease Jesus, knowing that the chief priests had delivered him
through envy, especially as Herod had not found him guilty
of the crime laid to his charge.
"While these particulars were transacting, Pilate received a
message from his wife, then with him at Jerusalem, and who
had that morning been greatly affected by a dream, which
gave her much uneasiness. The dream had so great an effect
on the Roman lady that she could not rest till she had sent
an account of it to her husband, who was then sitting with
the tribunal on the pavement, and begged him to have no
hand in the death of the righteous person he was then judging.
The people had not yet determined whetl^Jr they would
have Jesus or Barabbas released to them; therefore, when
Pilate received the message from his wife, he called the chief
priests and rulers together, and, in the hearing of the multi¬
tude, made a speech to them, in which he gave them an ac¬
count of the examination which Jesus had undergone, both
422 THE LITE OF JESUS CHRIST.
at his own and Herod's tribunal, declaring that in "both courts
it had turned out honorably to his character: for which rea¬
son he proposed to them that he should be the object of the
people'-s favor.
Pilate did the priests the honor of desiring to know their
inclination in particular, perhaps with a design to soften their
stony hearts, and, if possible, to move them for once to pity
an injured but innocent man. But he was persuaded that if
pity was absolutely banished from their callous breasts, his
proposals would have been acceptable to the people, whom he
expected would embrace the first opportunity of declaring in
his favor ; yet, in this he was disappointed. They cried
out, all at once, "Away with this man, and release unto us
Barabbas."
Pilate himself was astonished at this determination of the
multitude, and repeated his question; for he could hardly be¬
lieve what he had himself heard. But on their again declaring
that they desired Barabbas might be released, he asked them
what he should do with Jesus, which is called Christ. As if
he had said, You demanded that Barabbas should be released;
but what shall I then do with Jesus ? You can not surely
desire me to crucify him, whom so many of you have ac¬
knowledged as your Messiah P " But they cried, saying,
Crucify him, crucify him. Then Pilate said unto them, Why,
what evil hath he done ? And they cried out the more ex¬
ceedingly, Crucify him."
They were so resolutely determined to have him destroyed,
that notwithstanding the governor urged them again and
again to desire his release, declared his innocence, and offered
several times to dismiss him, they would not hear it, utter¬
ing their rage, sometimes in hollow, distant, inarticulate
murmurs, and sometimes in furious outcries: to such a pitch
were their passions raised by the craft and artful insinuations
of their priestijl
Pilate, finding it therefore in vain to struggle with their
prejudices, called for water, and washed his hands before the
multitude, crying out, at the same time, that the prisoner
had no fault, and that he himself was innocent of his blood.
By this action and declaration, Pilate seems to have in-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST, 423
tended to make an impression on the Jewish, populace, by
complying with the institution of Moses, which orders, in case
of an unknown murder, the elders of the nearest city to wash
their hands publicly, and say, " Our hands have not shed this
blood," Deuteronomy, xxi, 7. And, in allusion to this law,
the Psalmist says, " I will wash mine hands in innocence."
According, therefore, to the Jewish rite, Pilate made the most
solemn and public demonstration of the innocence of our Re¬
deemer, and of his resolution of having no hand in his death.
But, notwithstanding the solemnity of this declaration,
the Jews continued inflexible, and cried out, with one voice,
"His blood be on us, and on our children." Dreadful impre¬
cation ! it shocks humanity ! An imprecation which brought
on them the dreadful vengeance of Omnipotence, and is still a
heavy burden on that perfidious people !
The governor, finding it impossible to alter thei* choice,
released unto them Barabbas. And, as it was the general
practice of the Roman to scourge those criminals they con¬
demned to be crucified, Pilate ordered the blessed Jesus to be
scourged before he delivered him to the soldiers to be put to
death.
The soldiers having scourged Jesus, and received orders to
crucify him, carried him into the Praetorium, or common
hall, where they added the shame of disgrace to the bitterness
of his punishment; for, sore as he was by reason of the stripes
they had given him, they dressed him in a purple robe, in de¬
rision of his being King of the Jews. Having dressed him in
a purple robe of mock majesty, they put a reed in his hand
instead of a scepter, and, after plaiting a wreath of thorns,
they put it on his head for a crown, forcing it down in so rude
a manner, that his temples were torn, and his face besmeared
with his most precious blood. To the Son of God, in this
condition, the rude soldiers bowed the knee, pretending to do
it out of respect; but, at the same time, gave him severe
blows on his head, which drove the points of the wreath afresh
into his temples, and then spit on him, to express their high¬
est contempt.
The governor, whose office obliged him to be present at
this shocking scene of inhumanity, was ready to burst with
424 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST.
•
grief. The sight of an innocent and eminently holy person,
treated with such shocking barbarity, raised in his breast the
most painful sensations of pity. And though he had given
sentence that it should be as the Jews desired, and had deliv¬
ered our dear Redeemer to the soldiers to be crucified, he was
in hopes that if he showed him to the people in that condition,
they must relent, and earnestly petition for him to be re¬
leased.
Filled with this thought, he resolved to carry him out, and
exhibit to their view a spectacle capable of softening the most
envenomed, obdurate, and enraged enemy; and went out him¬
self, and said unto them, Though I have sentenced this man
to die, and have scourged him as one that is to be crucified,
yet I once more bring him before you, that I may testify how
fully I am persuaded of his innocence, and that ye may yet
have an#opportunity of saving his life.
As soon as the governor had finished his speech, Jesus ap¬
peared on the pavement, his hair, his face, his shoulders all
clotted with blood, and the purple robe bedaubed with spit¬
tle of the soldiers. And that the sight of Jesus in this dis¬
tress might make the greater impression on the people, Pilate,
while coming forward, cried out, " Behold the man !" As if
he had said, Will nothing make you relent ? Have ye lost all
the feelings of humanity, and bowels of compassion ? Can
you bear to see the innocent, a son of Abraham, thus injured ?
But all this was to no purpose; the priests, whose rage
and malice had extinguished not only the sentiments of just¬
ice and feelings of pity natural to any heart, but also that
love which countrymen bear for each other, no sooner saw
Jesus, than they began to fear the fickle populace might
relent; and, therefore, laying decency aside, they led the way
to the multitude, crying out, with all their might, Crucify
him ! crucify him !
Pilate, vexed to see the Jewish rulers thus obstinately
bent on the destruction #of one from whom they had nothing
to fear that was dangerous, either with regard to their church
or state, passionately told them, that if they would have him
crucified, they must do it themselves ; because he would not
suffer his people to murder a man who was guilty of no crime.
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 425
But this they also refused, thinking it dishonorably to
receive permission to punish a person who had been more
than once publicly declared innocent by his judge. Besides,
they considered with themselves, that the governor might
afterwards have called it sedition, as the permission had been
extorted from him. Accordingly, they told him, that even
though none of the things alleged against the prisoner were
true, he had committed such a crime, in presence of the coun¬
cil itself, as by their law deserved the most ignominious death.
He had spoken blasphemy, calling himself the Son of God, a
title which no mortal could assume without the highest de¬
gree of guilt; u "We have a law, and by our law he ought to
die, because he made himself the Son of God."
When Pilate heard that Jesus called himself the Son of
God, his fear was increased. Knowing the obstinacy of the
Jews, in all matters of religion, he was afraid they would
make a tumult in earnest; or, perhaps, he was himself more
afraid than ever to take away his life, because he suspected it
might be true. He doubtless remembered the miracles said to
have been performed by Jesus, and therefore suspected that
he really was the Son of God. For, it was well known, that
the religion which the governor professed, directed him to
acknowledge the existence of demigods and heroes, or men
descended from gods. Nay, the heathen believed that their
gods themselves appeared upon earth in the forms of men.
Reflections of this kind induced Pilate to go again to the
judgment hall, and ask Jesus from what father he sprung,
and from what country he came ? But our blessed Saviour
gave him no answer, lest the governor should reverse his sen¬
tence, and absolutely refuse to crucify him.
Pilate marveled greatly at his silence, and said unto J esus,
Why dost thou refuse to answer me ? You can not be ignor¬
ant that I am invested with absolute power, either to release
or crucify you. To which Jesus answered, I well know that
you are Caesar's servant, and accountable to him for your
conduct I forgive you any injury which, contrary to your
inclination, the popular fury constrains you to do unto me.
Thou hast thy power " from above," from the emperor ; for
which cause, the Jewish high priest, who hath put me into
426
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
thy|Jiands, and, by pretending that I am Caesar's enemy,
forces thee to condemn me; or, if thou refusest, will accuse
thee as negligent of the emperor's interest: he is more guilty
than thou. " He that delivered me unto thee hath the greater
sin."
This sweet and modest answer made such an impression
on Pilate, that he went out to the people, and declared his
intention of releasing Jesus, whether they gave their consent
or not. Upon which, the chief priests and rulers of Israel
cried out, " If thou let this man go, thou art not Caesar's
friend: whosoever maketh himself a king, speaketh against
Caesar." If thou releasest the prisoner, who hath set himself
up for a king, and has been accused of endeavoring to raise a
rebellion in the country, thou art unfaithful to the interests
of the emperor, thy master.
This argument was weighty, and shook Pilate's resolution
to the very basis. He was terrified at the thought of being
accused to the emperor, who, in all affairs of government,
always suspected the worst, and punished the most minute
crimes relative thereto with death.
The governor, being thus constrained to yield, contrary to
his inclination, was very angry with the priests for stirring up
the people to such a pitch of madness, and determined to
affront them.
He therefore brought Jesus out, a second time, into the
pavement, wearing the purple robe and crown of thorns; and,
pointing to him, said, " Behold your king !" ridiculing their
national expectation of a Messiah.
This sarcastical expression stung them to the quick, and
they cried out, " Away with him! crucify him !" To which
Pilate answered, with the same mocking air, " Shall I crucify
your king ?" The chief priests answered, We have no king
but Caesar. Thus did they publicly renounce their hope of
the Messiah, which the whole economy of their religion had
been calculated to cherish ; they also publicly acknowledged
their subjection to the Romans, and, consequently, condemned
themselves, when they afterwards rebelled against the empe¬
ror.
the life of jesus christ.
427
CHAPTER XXXII. '
The solemn, the awful period, now approached, when the
Son of God, the Redeemer of the world, was to undergo the
oppressive burden of our sins, upon the tree, and submit unto
death, even the death of the cross, that we might live at the
right hand of God for ever and ever.
Sentence being pronounced upon the blessed Jesus, the
soldiers were ordered to prepare for his execution, a command
which they readily obeyed; and, after clothing him in his own
garments, led him away to crucify him. It is not said that
they took the crown of thorns from his temples; probably he
died wearing it, that the title placed over his head might be
the better understood.
Being arrived at the place of execution, which was called
Golgotha, or the Place of Skulls, from the criminals' bones
which lay scattered there, some of our Redeemer's friends
offered him a stupefying potion, to render him insensible to
the ignominy and excruciating pain of this punishment. But
as soon as he tasted the potion, he refused to drink it, being
determined to bear his sufferings, however sharp, not by in¬
toxicating and stupefying himself, but by the strength of
patience, fortitude, and faith.
Jesus having refused the potion, the soldiers began to
execute their orders, by stripping him quite naked, and in
that condition began to fasten him to the cross. But while
they were piercing his hands and his feet with nails, instead
of crying out through the sharpness of the pain, he calmly,
though fervently, prayed for them, and for all those who had
any hand in his death; beseeching his heavenly Father to for¬
give them, and excusing them himself by the only circum¬
stance that could alleviate their guilt; I mean their ignorance.
"Father," said the compassionate Redeemer of mankind,
"forgive them ; for they know not what they do." This was
infinite meekness and goodness, truly worthy of the only-
begotten Son of God an example of forgiveness, which, though
it can never be equaled by any, should be imitated by all.
But, behold, the appointed soldiers dig the hole in which
428 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
the cross is to be erected !—the cross is placed in the ground,
and the blessed Jesus lies on the bed of sorrows—they nail
him to it—his nerves break—his blood distills—he hangs upon
his wounds naked, a spectacle to heaven and earth !
Thus was the only-begotten Son of Grod, who came down
from heaven to save the world, crucified by his own creatures;
and, to render the ignominy still greater, placed between two
thieves. " Hear 0 heavens ! O earth, earth, earth hear! The
Lord hath nourished and brought up children, and they have
rebelled against him."
It was usual for the crimes committed by malefactors to
be written on a white board, with black, and placed over then-
heads on the cross. In conformity to this custom, Pilate wrote
a title in the Hebrew, Greek and Latin languages, that all
foreigners, as well as natives, might be able to read it, and
fastened it to the cross, over the head of Jesus; and the in¬
scription was, "This is the King of the Jews." But when
the chief priests and elders read this title, they were greatly
displeased; because, as it represented the crime for which
Jesus was condemned, it insinuated that he had been acknowl¬
edged for the Messiah. Besides, being placed over the head
of one who was dying by the most infamous punishment, it
implied that all "who attempted to deliver the Jews should
perish in the same manner. The faith and hope of the nation,
therefore, being thus publicly ridiculed, it is no wonder that
the priests thought themselves highly affronted, and accord¬
ingly came to Pilate, begging that the writing might be al¬
tered. But as he had intended the affront in revenge for
their forcing him to crucify Jesus, contrary both to his judg¬
ment and inclination, he refused to grant their request: " What
I have written," said he, " I have written."
When the soldiers had nailed the blessed Jesus to the
cross, and erected it, they divided his garments among them.
But his coat, or his vesture, being without seam, woven from
the top throughout, they agreed not to rend it, but to cast
lots for it; by which the prediction of the prophet, concerning
the death and sufferings of the Messiah, was fulfilled. " They
parted my garments among them, and for my vesture did they
cast lots." A sufficient indication that every circumstance of
• ♦
THE LIFE OF JESUS OH BIST. 429
the death and passion of the blessed Jesus was perfectly known
long before in the court of heaven ; and accordingly, his being
crucified between two malefactors was expressly foretold:
"And he was numbered with the transgressors."
The common people, of the baser sort, whom the vile
priests had incensed against the blessed Jesus, by the malici¬
ous falsehoods they had spread concerning him, and which
they pretended to found on the deposition of witnesses ; the
common people, I say, seeing him hang in so infamous a
manner upon the cross, and reading the inscription placed
over his head, expressed their indignation at him by sarcasti-
cal expressions: u Ah thou," said they, u that destroyest the
temple, and buildest it in three days, save thyself, and come
down from the cross."
But the common people were not the only persons who
mocked and derided the blessed Jesus, while he was suffering
to obtain the remission of sins for all mankind. The rulers,
who now imagined they had effectually destroyed his preten¬
sions to the character of the Messiah, joined the populace in
ridiculing him, and, with a meanness of soul which many in¬
famous wretches would have scorned, mocked him, even while
he was struggling with the agonies of death. They scoffed
at the miracles by which he demonstrated himself to be the
Messiah, and promised to believe on him, on condition of his
proving his pretensions, by descending from the cross. " He
saved others," said they, " himself he can not save : if he be
the King of Israel, let him now come down from the cross,
and we will believe on him."
In the meantime, nothing could be more false and hypo¬
critical than this pretension of the stiff-necked Jews ; for they
afterwards continued in their unbelief, notwithstanding they
well knew that he raised himself from the dead; a much
greater miracle than his coming down from the cross would
have been; a miracle attested by witnesses whose veracity
they could not call in question. It was told them by the
soldiers whom they themselves placed at the sepulchre to
watch the body, and who they were obliged to bribe largely
to conceal the truth. It is therefore abundantly evident, that
if the blessed Jesus had descended from the cross, the Jewish
430 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
priests would have continued in their infidelity J ana conse¬
quently that their declaration was made with no other inten¬
tion than to insult the Redeemer of mankind, thinking it
impossible for him now to escape out of their hands.
The soldiers also joined in the general scene of mockery:
" If thou be the King of the Jews," said they, " save thyself."
If thou art the great Messiah expected by the Jews, descend
from the cross by miracle, and deliver thyself from these ex¬
cruciating torments.
Nor did even one of the thieves forbear mocking the great
Lord of heaven and earth, though laboring himself under the
most racking pains, and struggling with the agonies of death.
But the other exercised a most extraordinary faith, at a time
when our great Redeemer was in the highest affliction, mocked
by men, and hanged upon the cross, as the most ignominious
of malefactors. The Jewish criminal seems to have enter¬
tained a more rational and exalted notion of the Messiah's
kingdom than even the disciples themselves. They expected
nothing but a secular empire : he gave strong intimations of
his having an idea of Christ's spiritual dominion; for at the
very time when Jesus was dying on the cross, he begged to be
remembered by him when he came into his kingdom. " Lord,
remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom." Nor did
he make his request in vain : the great Redeemer of mankind
answered him, "Verily, I say unto thee, to-day shalt thou
be with me in Paradise/'
But let us attentively consider the history of our blessed
Saviour's passion, as it offers to our view events absolutely
astonishing. For when we remember the perfect innocence
of our great Redeemer, the uncommon love he bore to the
children of men, and the many kind and benevolent offices he
did for the sons and daughters of affliction; when we reflect
on the esteem in which he was held all along by the common
people, how cheerfully they followed him to the remotest
corners of the country, nay, even into the desolate retreats of
the wilderness, and with what pleasure they listened to his
discourses; when we consider these particulars, I say, we
can not help being astonished to find them at the conclusion
rushing all of a sudden into the opposite extreme, and every
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST,
431
individual, as it were, combined to treat him with the most
barbarous cruelty.
When Pilate asked the people if they desired to have
Jesus released, his disciples, though they were numerous, and
might have made a great appearance in his behalf, remained
absolutely silent, as if they had been speechless or infatuated.
The Roman soldiers, notwithstanding their general had de¬
clared him innocent, insulted him in the most inhuman man¬
ner. The scribes and Pharisees ridiculed him. The common
people, who had received him with hosannas a few days be¬
fore, mocked him as they passed by, and railed at him as a
deceiver. Nay, the very thief on the cross reviled him.
This sudden revolution in the humor of the whole nation
may seem unaccountable. But if we could assign a proper
reason for the silence of the disciples, the principles which in¬
fluenced the rest might be discovered in their several speeches.
The followers of the blessed Jesus had attached themselves to
him in the expectation of being raised to great wealth and
power in his kingdom, which they expected would have been
established long before this time. But seeing no appearance
at all of what they had so long hoped for, they permitted him
to be condemned, perhaps because they thought it would have
obliged him to break the Boman yoke by a miracle.
With respect to the soldiers, they were angry that any
one should pretend to royalty in Judea, where Csesar had
established his authority. Hence they insulted our blessed
Saviour with the title of king, and paid him, in mockery, the
honors of a sovereign.
As for the common, people, they seem to have lost their
opinion of hi™, probably because he had neither convinced
the council, nor rescued himself when they condemned him.
They began, therefore, to consider the assertion of his de¬
stroying the temple, and building it in three days, as a kind
of blasphemy, because it required a divine power to execute
such an undertaking.
The priests and scribes were filled with the most implaca¬
ble and diabolical malice against him ; because he had torn
off the mask of hypocrisy, and showed them to the people
in their true colors. It is, therefore, no wonder that they
432 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
ridiculed his miracles, from whence lie derived his reputa¬
tion.
In short, the thief also fancied that he might have deliv¬
ered both himself and them, if he had been the Messiah; but,
as no such deliverance appeared, he upbraided him for making
pretensions to that high character.
But now, my soul, take one view of thy dying Saviour,
breathing out his spirit upon the cross ! Behold his unspotted
flesh lacerated with stripes, by which thou art healed 1 See his
hands extended and nailed to the cross—those beneficent hands
which were incessantly stretched out to unloose thy heavy bur¬
dens, and to impart blessings of every kind ! Behold his feet
riveted to the accursed tree with nails—those feet which always
went about doing good, and traveled far and near to spread the
glad tidings of everlasting salvation ! Yiew his tender tem¬
ples encircled with a wreath of thorns, which shoot their keen
afflicting points into his blessed head—that head which was
ever meditating peace to poor and lost undone sinners, and
spent many a wakeful night in ardent prayer for their happi¬
ness ! See him laboring in the agonies of death ! breathing
out his soul in the hands of his Almighty Father, and pray¬
ing for his cruel enemies ! Was ever love like this ? was
ever benevolence so gloriously displayed ?
But see the sun, that glorious luminary of heaven, as it
were, hide his face from this detestable action of mortals, and
is wrapt in the pitchy mantle of chaotic darkness ! This
preternatural eclipse of the sun continue 1 for three hours, to
the great terror and astonishment of the people present at the
crucifixion of our dear Redeemer. And surely nothing could
be more proper than this extraordinary alteration in the face
of nature, while the Sun of righteousness was withdrawing
his beams, not only from the promised land, but from the
whole world; for it was at once a miraculous testimony,
given by the Almighty himself to the innocence of his Son,
and a proper emblem of the departure of him who was the
light of the world, at least, till his luminous rays, like beams
of the morning, shone out anew with additional splendor in
the ministry of his apostles.
Nor was the darkness which now covered Judea, and the
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 433
neighboring countries, beginning about noon and continuing
till Jesus expired, the effect of an ordinary eclipse of the sun
It is well known that this phenomenon can only happen at
the change of the moon, whereas the Jewish passover, at
which our great Eedeemer suffered, was always celebrated at
the full. Besides, the total darkness of an eclipse of the sun
never exceeds twelve or fifteen minutes, whereas this contin¬
ued full three hours. Nothing, therefore, but the immediate
hand of that Almighty Being which placed the sun in the
center of the planetary system, could have produced this ex¬
traordinary darkness. Nothing but Omnipotence, who first
lighted this glorious luminary of heaven, could have deprived
it of its cheering rays. Now, ye scoffers of Israel, whose
blood ye have so earnestly desired, and wished it might fall
upon you and your children, behold, all nature is dressed in
a sable vail of sorrow, and, in a language that can not be
mistaken, mourns the departure of its Lord and Master;
weeps for your crimes, and deprecates the vengeance of
Heaven upon your guilty heads. Happy for you that this
suffering Jesus is compassion itself, and even in the agonies
of death prays to his heavenly Father to avert from you the
stroke of his justice.
This preternatural eclipse of the sun was considered as a
miracle by the heathen themselves; and one of them cried
out, " Either the world is at an end, or the God of nature
suffers." And well might he use the expression; for never
since this planetary system was called from its primitive chaos,
was known such a deprivation of light in the glorious lumi¬
nary of day. Indeed, when the Almighty punished Pharaoh
for refusing to let the children of Israel depart out- of his
land, the sable vail of darkness was for three days drawn over
Egypt. But this darkness was confined to a part of that
kingdom, whereas this that happened at our Saviour s cruci¬
fixion was universal.
When the darkness began the disciples naturally consid¬
ered it as a prelude to the deliverance of their Master. For,
though the chief priests, elders, and people had sarcastically
desired him to descend from the accursed tree, his friends
could not but be persuaded, that he who had delivered so
28
434
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
many from incurable diseases, wb.D liad restored limbs to the
maimed and eyes to tlie blind, who bad given speech to the
dumb, and called the dead from the chambers of the dust,
might easily save himself, even from the cross.
When, therefore, his mother, his mother's sister, Mary
Magdalene, and the beloved disciple, observed the vail of dark¬
ness begin to extend over the face of nature, they drew near
to the foot of the cross, probably in expectation that the Son
of God was going to shake the frame of the universe^ unloose
himself from the cross, and take ample vengeance on his cruel
and perfidious enemies.
The blessed Jesus was now in the midst of his sufferings.
Yet when he saw his mother and her companions, their grief
greatly affected his tender breast, especially the distress of his
mother. The agonies of death, under which he was now la¬
boring, could not prevent his expressing the most affectionate
regard, both for her and for them. For, that she might have
consolation to support her under the greatness of her sorrows,
he told her the disciple whom he loved would, for the sake of
that love, supply his place to her after lie was taken from
them, even the place of a son; and, therefore, he desired her
to consider him as such, and expect from him all the duties
of a child. " Woman," said he, " behold thy son."
But now the moment, when he should resign his soul into
the hands of his heavenly Father, approached, and he repeated
part, at least, of the twenty-second Psalm, uttering, with a
loud voice, these remarkable words, " Eloi, eloi, lama sabac-
thani ?" that is, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken
me ?"
Some believe that our blessed Saviour repeated the whole
Psalm ; it having been the custom of the Jews, in making
quotations, to mention only the first words of the Psalm or
section which they cited. If so, as this Psalm contains the
most remarkable particulars of our dear Redeemer's passion,
being, as it were, a summary of the prophecies relating to that
subject, by repeating it on the cross, the blessed Jesus signi¬
fied that he was now accomplishing the things that were pre¬
dicted concerning the Messiah. And as this Psalm is composed
in the form of a prayer, by pronouncing it at this time, he
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
435
also claimed of his Father the performance of all the promises
he had made, whether to him or his people.
Some of the people who stood by, when they heard our
blessed Saviour pronounce the first words of the Psalm, mis¬
understood him, probably from their not hearing him dis¬
tinctly, and concluded that he called for Elias. Upon which
one of them filled a sponge with vinegar, put it on a reed, and
gave it to him to drink; being desirous to keep him alive as
long as possible, to see whether Elias would come to take him
down from the cross.
But as soon as Jesus had tasted the vinegar, he said, "It
is finished that is, the work of man's redemption is accom¬
plished ; the great work, which the only-begotten Son of God
came into the world to perform, is finished.
In speaking these words, he cried with an exceeding loud
voice; and afterwards addressed his Almighty Father, in
words which form the best pattern of a recommendatory
prayer at the hour of death, "Father, into thy hands I com¬
mend my spirit/' And having uttered these words, "he
bowed his head, and yielded up the ghost."
But behold, at the very instant the blessed Jesus resigned
his soul into the hands of his heavenly Father, the vail of the
temple was miraculously rent from the top to the bottom,
probably in the presence of the priest who burnt incense in the
holy place, and who, doubtless, published the account when
he came out; for our blessed Saviour expired at the ninth
hour, the very time of offering the evening sacrifice.
Nor was this the only miracle that happened at the death
of the great Messiah ; the earth trembled from its very foun¬
dations ; the flinty rocks burst asunder, and the sepulchres
hewn in them were opened; and many bodies of saints de¬
posited there awaked, after his resurrection, from the sleep of
death, left the gloomy chambers of the tomb, went into the
city of Jerusalem, and appeared unto many.
436 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
It was expressly forbidden by the law of Moses, that the
bodies of those that were hanged should remain all night on
the tree. In conformity to this law, and because the Sabbath
was at hand, the Jews begged the governor that the legs of
the three persons crucified might be broken to hasten their
death. To this request Pilate readily consented; and, ac¬
cordingly, gave the necessary order to the soldiers to put it in
execution.
But on perceiving that Jesus was already #ead, the soldiers
did not give themselves the trouble of breaking his legs, as
they had done those of the malefactors that were crucified
with him. One of them, however, either out of wantonness
or cruelty, thrust a spear into his side, and out of the wound
flowed blood and water.
This wound, therefore, was of the greatest importance to
. mankind, as it abundantly demonstrated the truth of our I
Saviour's death, and consequently prevented all objections
that the enemies to our holy faith would otherwise have raised
against it. The evangelist adds, that the legs of our great
Eedeemer were not broken, but his side was pierced, that two
particular prophecies might be fulfilled : "A bone of him
shall not be broken and " They shall look on him whom
they have pierced."
Among the disciples of Jesus, was one called Joseph of
Arimathea, a person equally remarkable for his birth, for¬
tune, and office. This man, who was not to be intimidated
by the malice of his countrymen, went boldly to Pilate, and
begged the body of his great Master. He had, indeed, noth¬
ing to fear from the Eoman governor, who, during the whole
course of our Saviour's trial, had shown the greatest anxiety
to release him ; but he had reason to apprehend that this ac¬
tion might draw down upon him the malice of the rulers of
the Jews, who had taken such great pains to get the Messiah
crucified.
However, the great regard he had for the remains of his
Master, made him despise the malice of the Jews ; being per-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 437
suaded that Omnipotence would defend him, and cover his
enemies with shame and confusion. And he well knew, that
if no friend procured a grant of the body, it would be igno-
miniously cast out among the executed malefactors.
Pilate was at first surprised at the request of Joseph,
thinking it highly improbable that he should be dead in so
short a time. He had, indeed, given orders for the soldiers
to break the legs of the crucified persons ; but he knew it was
common for them to live many days after that operation was
performed; for, though the pain they felt must have been ex¬
quisite to the last degree, yet, as the vital parts remained
untouched, life would continue some time in the miserable
body.
The governor, therefore, called the centurion, to know the
truth of what Joseph had told him; and being convinced,
from the answer of that officer, that Jesus had been dead some
time, he readily gave the body to Joseph.
This worthy counselor having obtained his request, re¬
paired to Mount Calvary; and being assisted by Nicodemus,
took the body down from the crobs. The latter was formerly
so cautious in visiting Jesus, that he came to him by night.
But, in paying the last duties to his Master, he used no art
to conceal his design. He showed a courage far superior to
that of any of his apostles, not only assisting Joseph in tak¬
ing down the body of Jesus from the cross, but bringing with
him a quantity of spices necessary in the burial of our Sav¬
iour.
Accordingly, they wrapped the body with the spices, in
fine linen, and laid it in a new sepulchre, which Joseph had
hewn out of a rock for himself. The sepulchre was situated
in a garden near Mount Calvary; and, in which having care¬
fully deposited the body of the blessed Jesus, they fastened
the door, by rolling to it a very large stone. " And when
Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen
cloth. And laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn
out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of
the sepulchre, and departed." Matthew, xxvii. 59, 60.
The women of Galilee, who had watched their Redeemer
in his last moments, and accompanied his body to the sepul-
•438
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
chre, observing that the funeral rites were performed in a
hurryj agreed among themselves, as soon as the Sabbath was
past, to return to the sepulchre, and embalm the body of their
Saviour, by anointing and swathing him in the manner then
coipmon among the Jews. Accordingly, they retired to the
city, and purchased the spices necessary for that purpose,
Nicodemus having furnished only a mixture of myrrh and
aloes.
During these transactions, the chief priests and Pharisees
remembering that Jesus had more than once predicted his own
resurrection, came to the governor, and informed him of it;
begging, at the same time, that a guard might be placed at
the sepulchre, lest his disciples should carry away the body,
and affirm that he was risen from the dead. This happened
a little before it was dark in the evening, called the next day
that followed, by the evangelist, because the Jewish day be¬
gan at sunset.
This request being thought reasonable by Pilate, he gave
them leave to take as many soldiers as they pleased, out of a
cohort, which, at the feast, came from the castle of Antonia,
and kept guard at the porticoes of the temple. For, that
they were not Jewish but Roman soldiers, whom the priests
employed to watch the sepulchre, is evident from their asking
them of the governor. Besides, when the soldiers returned
with the news of our Saviour's resurrection, the priests de¬
sired them to report that his disciples had stolen him away
while they slept: and, to encourage them to tell the falsehood
boldly, promised, that if their neglect of duty came to the
governor's ears, proper methods should be used to pacify him,
and deliver them from any punishment: a promise which
there was no need of making to their own servants.
The priests having thus obtained a guard of Roman sol¬
diers, men long accustomed to military studies, and therefore
the most proper for watching the body, set out with them to
the sepulchre ; and, to prevent these guards from combining
with the disciples in carrying on any fraud, placed them at
their posts, and sealed the stone which was rolled to the door
of the sepulchre.
Thus what was designed to expose the mission and doc-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
439
trine of Jesus, as rank falsehood and vile imposture, proved,
in fact, the strongest confirmation of the truth and divinity
of the same, that could possibly he given ; and placed what
they wanted to refute (which was his resurrection from the
dead), even beyond a doubt.
%•
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Very early in the morning, after the Sabbath, Mary Mag¬
dalene, and the other Mary, came to visit the sepulchre, in
order to embalm our Lord's body; for the performance of
which they had, in concert with several other women from
Galilee, brought ointment and spices. But before they reached
the sepulchre, there was a great earthquake preceding the most
memorable event that ever happened among the children of
men, the resurrection of the Son of God from the dead. "For
the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and
rolled away the stone from the door of the sepulchre, and sat
upon it; hi3 countenance was like lightning, and his raiment
white as snow ; and for fear of him, the keepers did shake,
and became as dead menthey fled into the city, and the
Saviour of the world rose from the dead.
The angel, who had till then sat upon the stone, quitted
his station, and entered into the sepulchre. In the meantime,
Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, were still on their way
to the place, with Salome, who joined them on the road. As
they proceeded on their way, they consulted among them¬
selves with regard to the method of putting their design of
embalming their Master into execution: particularly with re¬
spect to the enormous stone which they had seen placed there,
with the utmost difficulty, two days before. " Who," said
they, " shall roll away the stone from the door of the sepul¬
chre ?" But, in the midst of this deliberation, about remov¬
ing this great and sole obstacle to their design (for it does
not appear they knew any thing of the guard), they lifted up
their eyes, and perceived it was already rolled away.
440 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
Alarmed at so extraordinary and unexpected a circum¬
stance, Mary Magdalene concluded that the stone could not
have been rolled away without some design; and that those
who rolled it away could have no other intent than that of
removing our Lord's body. Imagining, by appearances, that
they had really done so, she ran immediately to acquaint
Peter and John of what she had seen, and what she suspected;
leaving Mary and jjklome there, that if the other women
should arrive during her absence, they might acquaint them
with their surprise at finding the stone removed, and of Mary
Magdalene's running to inform the apostles of it.
In the meantime, the soldiers, who were terrified at seeing
an awful messenger from on high roll away the stone from the
door of the sepulchre, and open it in quality of a servant, fled
into the city, and informed the Jewish rulers of these mirac¬
ulous appearances. This account was highly mortifying to
the chief priests, as it was a proof of our Saviour's resurrec¬
tion that could not be denied: they, therefore, resolved to
stifle it immediately ; and accordingly bribed the soldiers to
conceal the real fact, and to publish everywhere, that his dis¬
ciples had stolen the body out of the sepulchre.
While Mary Magdalene was going to inform the disciples
that the stone was rolled away from the mouth of the sepul¬
chre, and the body taken away, Mary and Salome continued
advancing towards the place, and at their arrival found, what
they expected, the body of their beloved Master gone from
the sepulchre, where it had been deposited by Nicodemus and
Joseph of Arimathea ; but at the same time beheld, to their
great astonishment, a beautiful young man in shining raiment,
very glorious to behold, sitting on the right side of the sepul¬
chre.
Matthew tells us, that it was the angel who had rolled
away the stone, and frightened away the guards from the
sepulchre. It seems he had now laid asidg the terrors in
which he was then arrayed, and assumed the form and dress
of a human being, in order that these pious women, who had
accompanied our Saviour during the greatest part of the time
of his public ministry, might be as little terrified as possible.
But, notwithstanding his beauty and benign appearance,
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 441
they were greatly affrighted, and on the point of turning "back,
when the heavenly messenger to banish their fears, told them,
in a gentle accent, that he knew their errand. u Fear not,"
said he, u for I know that ye seek Jesus which was crucified.
He is not here ; for he is risen, as he said and then invited
them to come down into the sepulchre, and view the place
where the Son of God had lain ; that is, to look on the linen
clothes, and the napkin that had been about his head, and
which he had left behind him when he arose from the dead ;
for, to look at the place in any other view, would not have
tended to confirm their faith of his resurrection.
The women, greatly encouraged by the agreeable news, as
well as the peculiar accent with which this blessed messenger
from the heavenly Canaan delivered his speech, went down
into the sepulchre, when, behold, another of the angelic choir
appeared.
They did not, however, yet seem to give sufficient credit
to what was told them by the angel; and therefore the other
gently reproved them for seeking the living among the dead,
with an intention to do him an office due only to the latter,
and for not believing what was told them by a messenger
from heaven, or rather for not remembering the words which
their Master himself had told them with regard to his own
resurrection. " Why seek ye the living among the dead ?
He is not here, but is risen: remember how he spake unto
you when he was yet in Galilee, saying, The Son of Man
must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be cruci¬
fied, and the third day rise again."
"When the women had satisfied their minds by looking at
the place where the Lord had lain, and where nothing was to
be found but the linen clothes, the angel who first appeared
to them resumed the discourse, and bade them go and tell his
disciples, particularly Peter, the glad tidings of his Master's
resurrection from the dead; that he was going before them
into Galilee; and that they should there have the pleasure of
seeing him.
The reason why the disciples were ordered to go into Gal¬
ilee, to meet their great and beloved Master, seems to be this:
they were most of them at Jerusalem, celebrating the pass-
442 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
over; and it may be easily imagined that, on receiving the
news of their Lord's resurrection, many, if not all, would re¬
solve to tarry at Jerusalem, in expectation of meeting him
there : a thing that must have proven of great detriment to
them at that time of the year, when the harvest was about to
begin, the sheaf of first-fruits being always offered on the
second day of the passover week.
In order, therefore, to prevent their staying so long from
home, the message was sent directing them to return into
Galilee, with full assurance that they should there have the
pleasure of seeing their Lord and Master ; and by that means
have all their doubts removed, a^gd be fully convinced that he
had patiently undergone all his sufferings for the sins of man¬
kind.
The women, highly elated with the news of their Lord's
resurrection, left the sepulchre immediately, and ran to carry
the disciples the glad tidings.
During these transactions at the sepulchre, Peter and
John, having been informed by Mary Magdalene that the
stone had been rolled away, and the body of Jesus not to be
found, were hastening to the grave, and missed the women
who had seen the appearance of angels.
The disciples being astonished at what Mary Magdalene
had told them, and desirous of having their doubts cleared
up, made all the haste possible to the sepulchre ; and John,
being younger than Peter, arrived at the place first, but did
not go in, contenting himself with stooping down, and seeing
the linen cloth lying, which had been wrapped about the Sav¬
iour's body. Peter soon arrived, and went to the sepulchre,
where he saw the linen clothes and the napkin that was about
his head not lying with the linen clothes, but wrapped to¬
gether in a place by itself.
Our Lord left the grave clothes in the sepulchre, probably
to show that his body was not stolen away by his disciples,
who, in such a case, would not have taken time to have
stripped it. Besides, the circumstance of the grave clothes
induced the disciples themselves to believe, when the resur¬
rection was related to them. But at that time they had no
suspicion that he was risen from the dead.
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
443
These two disciples having thus satisfied themselves that
what Mary Magdalene had told them was really true, re¬
turned to their respective habitations, but Mary, who had
returned, continued weeping at the door of the sepulchre.
She had, it seems, followed Peter and John to the garden, hut
did not leave it with them, being anxious to find the body.
Accordingly, stepping down into the place to examine it once
more, she saw two angels sitting, the one at the head and the
other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. They
were now in the same position as when they appeared to the
other women, but had rendered themselves invisible while
Peter and John were at the sepulchre.
Mary, on beholding these heavenly messengers dressed in
the robes of light, was greatly terrified. But they, in the
most endearing accent, asked her, ""Woman, why weepest
thou ?" To which she answered, " Because they have taken
away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him."
On pronouncing these words, she turned herself about, and
saw Jesus standing near her j but the terror she was in, and
the garments in which he was now dressed, prevented her
from knowing him for some time. Jesus repeated the same
question used before by the angel, "Woman, why weepest
thou ?" To which Mary, who now supposed him to be the
gardener, answered, Sir, if his body be troublesome in the
sepulchre, and thou hast removed him, tell me where he is
deposited, and I will take him away. But our blessed Sav¬
iour, willing to remove her anxiety, called her by her name,
with his usual tone of voice; on which she immediately knew
him, and falling down before him, would have embraced his
knees, according to that modesty and reverence with which
the women of the East saluted the men, especially those who
were their superiors in station.
But Jesus refused this compliment, telling her that he was
hot going immediately to heaven. He was often to show
himself to the disciples before he ascended ; so that she would
have frequent opportunities of testifying her regard to him.
And, at the same time, said to her, " Go to my brethren, and
say unto them, I ascend to my Father and your Father, and
to my God and your God."
444 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
Tims did the blessed Jesus contemplate, with a singular
pleasure, the work of redemption he had just finished. The
happy relation between God and man, which had long been
canceled by sin, was now renewed.
The women, on their arrival, told as many of the disciples
as they could find, that they had seen at the sepulchre the
appearance of angels, who assured them that Jesus was risen
from the dead. This new information astonished the disciples
exceedingly ; and as they had before sent Peter and John to
examine into the truth of what Mary Magdalene had told
them, concerning the body being removed out of the sepul¬
chre, so they now judged it highly proper to send some of
their number to see the angels, and learn from them the joy¬
ful tidings of that great transaction, of which the women had
given them an account.
That it was really the case, appears from what the disci¬
ples, in their journey to Emmaus, told their great Lord and
Master ; namely, that when the women came and told them
that they had seen the angels, certain of their number went
to the sepulchre, and found it even as the women had said,
but him they saw not.
The second deputation from the apostles did not go alone;
for, as Mary Magdalene returned with Peter and J ohn, who
were sent to examine into the truth of her information, so the
women who brought an account of the appearance of angels,
in all probability returned with those who were sent to be
witnesses of the truth of their report. Besides curiosity,
they had an errand thither. The angels had expressly ordered
them to tell the news to Peter in particular; for which rea¬
son, when they understood that he was gone to the sepulchre,
it is natural to think they would return with the disciples to
seek him. About the time that the disciples and women set
out from the sepulchre, Peter and John reached the city ; but
passing through a different street, did not meet their breth¬
ren.
The disciples having a great desire to reach the place,
soon left the women behind ; and, just as they arrived, Mary
Magdalene, having seen the Lord, was coming away. But
they did not meet her, because they entered the garden at one
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
445
door, while she was coming out at another. "When they came
to the sepulchre, they saw the angels, and received from them
the news of their blessed Master's resurrection, for St. Luke
tells us," They found it even as the women had said." Highly
elated with what they saw, they departed, and ran Lack to the
city, with such expedition, that they gave an account of what
they had seen in the hearing of the two disciples, before Mary
Magdalene arrived.
Nor will their speed appear at all incredible, if we con¬
sider that the nature of the tidings the apostles had to carry,
gave them wings, as it were, to make their brethren partakers
of their joy at this surprising transaction.
In the meantime, the company of women, who followed
the disciples, happened to meet Peter and John. But they
had not gone far from the sepulchre, before Jesus himself met
them, and said, " All hail 1" On which they approached
their great Lord and Master, held him by the feet, and wor¬
shiped him. The favor of embracing his knees, Jesus had
before refused to Mary Magdalene, because it was not then
necessary ; but he granted it to the women, because the an-
• gels' words having strongly impressed their minds with the
notion of his resurrection, they might have taken his appear¬
ance for an illusion of their own imagination, had he not
permitted them to touch him, and convince themselves, by
the united reports of their senses, that he was their great
Lord anl Master, who was then risen from the dead, after
having suffered on the cross for the sins of mankind.
This company of pious women having tarried some time
with Jesus on the road, did not arrive with the joyful tidings
of their great Master's resurrection till some time after Peter
and John; and perhaps were overtaken by Mary Magdalene
on the road, unless we suppose she arrived a few minutes be¬
fore them. But be that as it may, this is certain, that they
arrived either at or near the same time; so that their accounts
of this miraculous event tended to confirm each other.
The disciples were now lost in astonishment at what the
women had related; they considered the account they had
before given them, of their having seen the angels, as an im¬
probability, and now they seem to have considered this as
446 THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
something worse, for the evangelist tells us, that they " be¬
lieved not."
Peter, indeed, to whom the angel had sent the message,
was disposed, by his sanguine temper, to give a little more
credit to their words than the rest, possibly, because the mes¬
sengers from the heavenly Canaan had done him the honor of
naming him in particular.
Elated with the respect thus paid him, he immediately
repaired again to the sepulchre; hoping, in all probability,
that his Master would appear to him, or at least the angel
who had so particularly distinguished him from the rest of
the disciples.
As soon as Peter arrived at the sepulchre, he stooped
down, and seeing the linen clothes lying in the same manner
as before, he viewed their position, the form in which they
were laid, and returned, wondering greatly in himself at what
had happened.
CHAPTER XXXV*
Soon after the women's first return to the disciples with
the news that they had seen the appearance of angels, who
told them that Jesus had risen from the dead, two of the dis¬
ciples departed on their journey to a village called Emmaus,
about two miles distant from Jerusalem. The concern they
were in, on account of the. death of their great and beloved
Master, was sufficiently visible in their countenances. And,
as they pursued their journey, talking one with another, and
debating about the things that had lately happened among
them, concerning the life and doctrine, the sufferings and
death of the holy Jesus, and of the report that was just spread
among his disciples, of his being that very morning risen from
the dead, Jesus himself overtook them, and joined company
with them.
As he appeared like a stranger, they did not in the least
suspect that their fellow-traveler was no other than the great
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
447
Redeemer of the sons of men. He soon entered into discourse
with them, by inquiring what event had so closely engaged
them in conversation, and why they appeared so sorrowful
and dejected, as if they had met with some heavy disappoint¬
ment ?
One of them, whose name was Cleophas, "being surprised
at the question, replied, Is it possible that you can be so great
a stranger to the affairs of the world, as to have been at Jeru¬
salem, and not have heard the surprising events that have
happened there ? Events that have astonished the whole
city, and are now the constant topic of conversation among
all the inhabitants ? Jesus asked, what surprising events he
meant. To which Cleophas replied, The transactions which
have happened concerning Jesus of Nazareth, who appeared
as a great prophet and teacher sent from God ; and accord¬
ingly, was highly venerated among the people, for the excel¬
lency of his doctrine, his humility of life, and the number,
benefit and greatness of his miracles.
Our chief priests and elders, therefore, envying him as one
who lessened their authority over the people, apprehended
him, and found means to put him to death.
But we firmly believed he would have proved himself the
Messiah, or great Deliverer; and this persuasion we a long
time supported; nor were we willing to abandon it, even
when we saw him put to death. But it is now three days
since these things were done ; and, therefore, begin to fear we
were mistaken.
This very morning, indeed, a thing happened, which ex¬
tremely surprised us, and we were very solicitous with regard
to the event. Some women, who had entertained the same
hopes and expectations as we, going early in the morning to
pay the last sad duties to their Master, by embalming his
body, returned with great haste to the city, and informed us
that they had been at the sepulchre, but were disappointed in
not finding the body; and to increase our surprise, they
added, that they had seen the appearance of angels, who had
told them that Jesus was risen from the dead.
This relation seemed, at first, to us not probable, nay, al¬
together incredible ; but two of the company going immedi-
448 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
ately after to the sepulchre, found every thing exactly as the
women had reported ; they saw the angels^but heard not any
thing of the body 5 so that we are still in doubt and perplexity
with regard to this wonderful event. In reply, Jesus said,
Why are ye so very averse to believe all that the prophets,
have, with one voice, predicted of the Messiah ? Is it not
clearly and very prophetically foretold, in all the prophetic
writings, that it was appointed by the counsel of Omnipotence
for the Messiah to suffer in this manner, and that after sus¬
taining the greatest indignities, reproach, and contempt, from
the malice and perverseness of mankind, and even undergoing
an ignominious and cruel death, he should be exalted to a
glorious and eternal kingdom ? Having said this, he began
at the writings of Moses and explained to them, in order, all
the principal passages, both in the books of that great legis¬
lator, and the writings of the other prophets, relating to his
own sufferings, death, and glorious resurrection.
And this he did with such surprising plainness, and clear¬
ness, and strength, that the two disciples, not yet suspecting
who he was, were as much amazed to find a stranger so well
acquainted with all that Jesus did and suffered, as they at
first wondered at his appearing to be so totally ignorant of
these transactions. They were also astonished to hear him
interpret and apply the Scriptures to their present purpose,
with such readiness and convincing clearness of argument, as
carried with it a strange and unusual authority and efficacy.
When, therefore, they came to the village whither they were
going, and J esus seemed as if he would have passed on, and
traveled farther, they, desirous of his company, pressed him,
in the strongest manner, to tarry with them that night, as it
was then late.
To this request the great Redeemer of mankind consented;
and when they were sat down to supper, he took bread, and
gave thanks to God, and brake it, and gave it to them in the
same manner he used to do while he conversed with them up¬
on earth, before his death. This engaged their attention, and
looking steadfastly on him, they perceived it was their great
and benevolent Master.
But they had then no time to express their joy and aston-
I
I THE LIFE Or JESUS CHRIST. 449
ishment to their benevolent Redeemer; for he immediately
vanished out of their sight.
As soon as theif Master departed, they said one to another,
How slow and stupid were we before, not to know him upon
the road, while he explained to us the Scriptures ; when, be¬
sides the affability of his discourse, and the strength and clear¬
ness of his argument, we perceived such an authority in what
he said, and such a powerful efficacy attending his words, and
striking our hearts with affection, that we could not but have
known him (if we had not been remarkably stupid), to have
been the very same that used to accompany his teaching, and
was peculiar to it!
This surprising event would not permit them to stay any
longer in Emmaus. They returned that very night to Jeru¬
salem, and found the apostles, with several other disciples,
discoursing about the resurrection of their Master; and, on
their entering the room, the disciples accosted them, say¬
ing, " The Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared unto Si¬
mon."
They had given little credit to the reports of the women,
supposing they were occasioned more by imagination than re¬
ality. But when a persi »n of Peter's capacity and gravity
declared he had Been the Lord, they began to think that he
was really risen from the dead. And their belief was greatly
confirmed by the arrival of the two disciples from Emmaus,
who declared to their brethren, how Jesus appeared to them
on the road, and how they discovered him to be their Master,
by the circumstances before related.
While the disciples from Emmaus were thus describing
the manner of the appearance of Jesus to them, and offering
arguments to convince those who doubted the truth of it,
their great Master himself put an end to the debate, by
standing in the midst of them, and saying, " Peace be unto
you."
This appearance of our blessed Saviour greatly terrified
the disciples, who supposed they had seen a spirit; for having
secured the doors of the house where they assembled, for fear
of the Jews, and Jesus having opened the locks by his mirac¬
ulous power, without the knowledge of any in the house, it
29
450 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
was natural for them to think that a spirit only could enter.
The circumstance, therefore, of the doors being shut, is very
happily mentioned by St. John j because it suggests a reason
why the disciples took their Master for a spirit, notwithstand¬
ing many of them were convinced that he was really risen from
the dead, and were at that moment conversing about his res¬
urrection.
But to dispel their fears and doubts, Jesus came forward
and spoke to them in the most endearing manner, showed
them his hands and feet, and desired them to handle him, in
order to convince themselves, by the united powers of their
different senses, that it was he himself, and no specter or ap¬
parition. "Why are ye troubled," said the benevolent Re¬
deemer of mankind, "and why do thoughts arise in your
hearts ? Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself:
handle me and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones as ye
see me have."
These infallible proofs sufficiently convinced the disciples
of the truth of their Lord's resurrection, and they received
him with exultation and rapture. But their joy and wonder
had so great an effect upon their minds, that some of them,
sensible of the great commotion they were in, suspended their
belief till they had considered the matter more calmly. Je¬
sus, therefore, knowing their thoughts, called for meat, and
ate with them, in order to prove more fully the truth of his
resurrection from the dead, and the reality of his presence
with them on this occasion.
After giving this farther ocular demonstration of his hav¬
ing vanquished the power of death, and opened the tremendous
portals of the grave, he again repeated his salutation, " Peace
be unto you adding, " The same commission that my Father
hath given unto me, I give unto you ] go ye therefore into
every part of the world, and* preach the gospel to all the chil¬
dren of men." Then breathing unto them, he said, Receive
ye the Holy Ghost, to direct and assist you in the execution
of your commission. Whosoever embraces your doctrine, and
sincerely repents and believes on me, ye shall declare unto
him the free forgiveness of his sins, and your declaration shall
be ratified and confirmed in the courts of heaven. And who-
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
451
soever either obstinately rejects your doctrine, disobeys it, or
behaves himself unworthily after he hath embraced it, his
sins shall not be forgiven him; but the censure ye shall pass
upon him on earth shall be confirmed in heaven.
Thomas, otherwise called Didymus, was absent at the
meeting of the apostles; nor did this happen without the
special direction of Providence, that the particular and ex¬
traordinary satisfaction which was afterwards granted him,
might be an abundant and undediable testimony of the truth
of our blessed Saviour's resurrection to all succeeding gen¬
erations. The rest of the apostles, therefore, told him that
they had seen the Lord, and repeated to him the words
he had delivered in their hearing. But Thomas replied, This
event is of such great importance, that unless, to prevent all
possibility of deception, I see him with mine own eyes, put
my fingers into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand
into his side, which the soldier pierced with the spear, I will
not believe that he is really and truly risen from the dead.
Eight days after the resurrection of our great Kedeemer,
the blessed Jesus showed himself again to his disciples, while
Thomas was with them, and upbraided his disciple for his
unbelief; but knowing that it did not, like that of the Phari¬
sees, proceed from a wicked mind, but from an honest heart,
and a sincere desire of being satisfied of the truth, he thus
addressed himself to his doubting disciple: Thomas, said he,
since thou wilt not be content to rely on the testimony of
others, but must be convinced by the experience of thine own
senses, behold the wounds in my hands, and reach hither thy
hand and thrust it into my side, and doubt no longer of the
reality of my resurrection.
Thomas was immediately induced to believe, by the invi¬
tation of his dear Master, and being fully satisfied, he cried
out, I am abundantly convinced, thou art, indeed, my Lord,
the very same that was crucified; and I acknowledge thine
Almighty power in having triumphed over death, and wor¬
ship thee as my God.
To which the blessed Jesus replied, Because thou hast
seen me, Thomas, thou hast believed that I am really risen
from the dead. But blessed are they who, without such evi-
452 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
dence of the senses, shall, upon credible testimony, be willing
to believe and embiace a doctrine which tends so greatly to
the glory of God and the salvation of the sons of men.
St. John adds, that the blessed Jesus appeared, on several
other occasions, to his disciples, after his resurrection; and
by men/ other clear and infallible proofs (not mentioned by
the Evangelist), fully convinced them that he was alive after
his passion. But those which are mentioned are abundantly
sufficient to excite men to believe that Jesus was the Son of
God, the great Messiah so often foretold by the ancient proph-.
ets ; and tlaL by reason of that belief they may attain ever¬
lasting life in the happy regions of the heavenly Canaan.
Oar blessed Saviour having, first by the angels, and after¬
wards in person, ordered his disciples to repair to their respect¬
ive habitations in Galilee, it is reasonable to think they would
leave Jerusalem as soon as possible. This they-accordingly
did, and on their arrival at their respective places of abode,
applied themselves to their usual occupations ; and the apos¬
tles returned to their old trade of fishing, on the lake of
Tiberias. Here they were toiling with their nets very early
in the morning, and saw Jesus standing on the shore, but did
not then know him to be their Master, as it was somewhat
dark, and they at a considerable distance from him. He,
however, called to them, and asked if they had taken any fish ?
To which they answered, they had caught nothing. He then
desired them to let down their net on the right side of the
boat, and they should not be disappointed.
The disciples, imagining that he might be acquainted with
the places proper for fishing, did as he directed them, and
inclosed in their net such a prodigious multitude of fishes that
they were not able to draw it into the boat, but were forced
to drag it after them in the water towards the shore.
It seems they had toiled all the preceding night to no
purpose ; and, therefore, such remarkable success could not
fail of causing various conjectures among them, with regard to
the stranger on the shore who had given them such happy
advice. Some of the apostles declared they could not imagine
who he was ; but others were persuaded that this person was
no other than their great and beloved Master. John was fully
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
453
convinced of his being the Lord, and accordingly told his
thoughts to Simon Peter> who, making no doubt of it, girded
on his fisher's coat, and leaped into the sea, in order to get
ashore sooner than the boat could be brought to land, drag¬
ging after it a net full of large fishes.
When the disciples came ashore, they found a fire kindled,
and on it a fish broiling, and near it some bread. But neither
being sufficient for the company, Jesus bade them bring of
the same fish they had now caught, and invited them to*jat
with him. Thus did the blessed Jesus prove again to his
disciples the reality of his resurrection, not only by eating
with them, but by w< >rking a miracle like that which, at the
beginning of his ministry, had made such an impression upon
them, as disposed them to be his constant followers.
This was the third time that Jesus appeared publicly to
a great number of his disciples in a body, besides his show¬
ing himself several times to particular persons upon special
occasions.
"When they had eaten, Jesus reminded Peter how diligent
and zealous he ought to be, in order to wipe off the stain of
his denying him when he was carried before the high priest:
Simon, son of Jonas, haid our blessed Saviour to him, art
thou more zealous and affectionate in thy love towards me
than the rest of my disciples P To which Peter answered,
" Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee." He was taught
modesty and diffidence by his late fall; and therefore would
not compare himself with others, but humbly appealed to his
Master's omniscience for the sincerity of his regard to him.
Jesus answered, Express then thy love towards me by the
care of my flock committed to thy charge. " Feed my lambs;
feed my sheep." Show thy love to me, by publishing the
great salvation I have accomplished, and feeding the souls of
faithful believers with that food which never perishes, but
pndures for ever and ever.
I well know, indeed, continued the .blessed Jesus, that
thou wilt continue my faithful shepherd, even until death.
For the time will come, when thou who now girdest on thy
fisher's coat voluntarily, and stretchest out thy hand io come
to me, shall, in thine old age, be girt by others, and forced
454 the life of jesus christ.
to stretch out thy hands against thy will, in a very different
manner, for the sake of the constant profession of my religion.
By these last words, Jesus signified the manner of Peter's
death, and that he should finally suffer martyrdom, for the
glory of God, and the testimony of the truth of the Christian
religion.
The time heing now come when the disciples were to meet
their great Lord and Master, according to the messages he
had«ent them by the women, and, in all probability, appointed
at some former appearance not mentioned by the Evangelist,
the brethren set out for the mountain in Galilee, perhaps that
on which he was transfigured. Here five hundred of them
were gathered together, expecting the joyful sight of their
Master, after he had triumphed over death and the grave;
some of them not having yet seen him after his resurrection.
They did not wait long before Jesus appeared, on which
they were seized with rapture, their hearts overflowed with
gladness, they approached their kind, their benevolent Mas¬
ter, and worshiped him. Some few, indeed, doubted; it
being natural for men to be afraid to believe what they vehe¬
mently wished, lest they should indulge themselves in false
joys, which vanish like a morning cloud. But Jesus after¬
wards appeared frequently to them, and gave them full satis¬
faction, and instructed them in many things relating to their
preaching the gospel, establishing the Church and spreading
it through the whole earth.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A few days before the feast of Pentecost, or the " feast
of weeks," the disciples went up to the city of Jerusalem,
where the blessed J esus made his last appearance to them y
and after instructing them in many particulars concerning the
kingdom of God, and the manner they were to behave them¬
selves in propagating the doctrine of the gospel, he put them
in mind, that during his abode with them in Galilee he
had often told them that all things written in the law, the
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 455
prophets, and the Psalms, concerning him were to he exactly
accomplished. At the same time 44 he opened thtdr under¬
standings" "by divine illumination, he removed their preju¬
dices by the operation of his Spirit, cleared their doubts, im¬
proved their memories, strengthened their judgments, and
enabled them to discern the true meaning of the Scriptures.
Having thus qualified them for receiving the truth, he
again assured them that both Moses and the prophets had
foretold that the Messiah was to suffer in the very manner he
had suffered; that he was to rise from the dead on the third
day, as he had done; and that repentance and remission of
sins were to be preached in the Messiah's name among all
nations, beginning with the Jews in Jerusalem.
He next delivered unto them their commission to preach
the doctrine of repentance and remission of sins, in his name,
among all nations, and to testify unto the world the exact
accomplishment, in him, of all things foretold concerning
the Messiah; and to enable them to perform this impor¬
tant work, promised to bestow on them the gift of the Holy
Spirit, which he called the promise of his Father, because
the Almighty had promised it by his prophets.
Having thus strengthened them for the important work
they were going to undertake, he led them on to the Mount
of Olives, as far as Bethany, where, standing on a hill above
the town, he told them that he was going to ascend to his
Father, for which reason they might go courageously through all
the world, and preach the gospel to every rational creature ;
that they who believed should be admitted into his church by
the rite of baptism, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the
Holy Ghost, and be taught, in consequence of their baptism,
to obey all the precepts he had enjoined upon them; that such
baptized believers should receive the pardon of their sins, to¬
gether with eternal life in the happy mansions of his Father's
kingdom; but such as refused to embrace the doctrines of
the gospel should be for ever excluded from those happy re¬
gions, and have their portion in the lake that burnetii with
fire and brimstone; that while they were employed in this
work he should be constantly with them, to assist them by
his Spirit, and protect them by his providence. Finally, that
456 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST.
those who should, through their preaching, be induced to be¬
lieve, should themselves work most astonishing miracles, by
which the gospel should be propagated with the greatest
rapidity.
When the blessed Jesus had spoken these things, he lifted
up his hands and blessed them. And in the action of blessing
them, he was parted from them; in the midst of the day, a
shining cloud received him out of their sight; that is, this
brilliant cloud encompassed him about, and carried him up
to heaven, not suddenly, but at leisure, that they might be¬
hold him departing, and see the proof of his ascending into
heaven, as he had promised them.
The cloud in which the blessed Jesus ascended was more
bright and pure than the clearest lambent flame, being, as is
supposed, no other than the shechinah, or glory of the Lord;
the visible symbol of the divine presence, which had so often
appeared to the patriarchs of old, which filled the temple at
its dedication, and which in its greatest splendor could not be
beheld with mortal eyes; for which reason it is called the
light inaccessible.
As he ascended, the flaming cloud that surrounded him
marked his passage through the air, but gradually lost its
magnitude in the eyes of those who stood below, till it at last
vanished, together with their beloved Master, out of their
sight.
We shall conclude this chapter with a few observations on
the general conduct of our blessed Redeemer during his abode
with men on earth.
The human character of the blessed Jesus, as it results
from the account given him by the evangelists (for they have
not formally drawn it up), is entirely different from that of all
other men whatsoever; for whereas they have selfish passions
deeply rooted in their breasts, and are influenced in them by
almost every thing they do, Jesus was so entirely free/rom
them that the most severe scrutiny can not furnish one single
action in the whole course of his life wherein he consulted his
own interest only. No, he was influenced by very different
motives: the present happiness and eternal welfare of sin-
I ners regulated his conduct; and while others followed their
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 457
respective occupations, Jesus had no other business than that
of doing the will of his Father, and promoting the happiness
of the sons of men. Nor did he wait till he was solicited to
extend his benevolent hand to the distressed; "he went about
doing good/' and always accounted it " more blessed to give
than to receive," resembling God rather than man. Benevo¬
lence was the very life of his soul; he not only did good to
objects presented to him for relief, but he industriously sought
them ou$ in order to extend his compassionate assistance.
It is common for persons of the most exalted faculties to
be elated with success and applause, or dejected by censure
and disappointments; but the blessed Jesus was never elated
by the one or depressed by the other. He was never more
courageous than when he met with the greatest opposition
and cruel treatment, nor more humble than when the sons of
men worshiped at his feet.
He came into the world inspired with the grandest purpose
that ever was formed: that of saving from eternal perdition,
not a single nation, but the whole world ; and in the execu¬
tion of it went through the longest and heaviest train of labors
that ever was sustained, with a constancy and resolution on
which no disadvantageous impression could be made by any
accident whatever. Calumny, threatenings, bad success, with
many other evils constantly attending him, served only to
quicken his endeavors in this glorious enterprise, which he
unceasingly pursued, even till he had finished it by his
death.
The generality of mankind are prone to retaliate injuries
received, and all seem to take a satisfaction in complaining of
the cruelties of those who oppress them ; whereas the \yhole
of Christ's labors breathed nothing but meekness, patience,
and forgiveness, even to his bitterest enemies, and in the midst
of the most excruciating torments. The words, " Father, for¬
give them, for they know not what they do," uttered by him
when his enemies were nailing him to the cross, fitly express
the temper which he maintained through the whole course of
his life, even when assaulted by the heaviest provocations. ^ He
was destined to sufferings here below, in order that he might
raise his people to honor, glory, and immortality in the realms
458
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST.
of bliss above; and therefore patiently, yea joyfully, submitted
to all that the malice of earth and hell could inflict. He was
vilified that we might be honored; he died that we might
live for ever and ever.
To conclude : the greatest and best men have discovered
the, degeneracy and corruption of human nature, and shown
them to have been nothing more than men; but it was other¬
wise with Jesus. He was superior to all the men that ever
lived, both with regard to the purity of his manners and the
perfection of his holiness. He was holy, harmless, undefiled,
and separated from sinners.
Whether we consider him as a teacher or as a man, " he
did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." His whole
life was perfectly free from spot or weakness; at the same
time it was remarkable for the greatest and most extensive
exercises of purity and goodness. But never to have com¬
mitted the least sin in word or in deed ; never to have uttered
any sentiment that could be censured upon the various topics
of religion and morality, which were the daily subjects of his
discourses ; and that through the course of a life filled with
action, and led under the observation of many enemies, who
had always access to converse with him, and who often came
to find fault, is a pitch of perfection evidently above the reach
of human nature, and consequently he who possessed it must
have been divine.
Such was the Person who is the subject of the evangelical
history. If the reader, by reviewing his life, doctrines, and
miracles, as they are here represented to him, united in one
series, has a clearer idea of these things than before, or ob¬
serves a beauty in his actions thus linked together, which,
taken separately, do not appear so fully ; if he feels himself
touched by the character of Jesus in general, or with any of
his sermons or actions in particular, thus simply delineated in
writing, whose principal charms are the beauties of truth;
above all, if his dying so generously for men strikes "him with
admiration, or fills him with hope, in the prospect of that
pardon which is thereby purchased for the world, let him
seriously consider with himself what improvement he ought
to make of the divine goodness.
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 459
Jesus, by liis death, hath set open the gate of immortality
to the sons of men; and by his word, spirit, and example,
graciously offers to make them meet for the glorious rewards
in the kingdom of the heavenly Canaan, and to conduct them
into the inheritance of the saints of light. Let us, there¬
fore, remember that being born under the dispensations of'
his gospel, we have, from our earliest years, enjoyed the best
means of securing to ourselves an interest in that favor of
God which is life, and that loving kindness which is better
than life.
We have been called to aspire after an exaltation to the
nature and felicity of the Almighty, exhibited to mortal eyes
in the name of the man Christ Jesus, to fire us with the no¬
blest ambition. His gospel teaches us that we are made for
eternity; and that our present life is, to our future existence,
as infancy to manhood. But, as in the former, many things
are to be learned, many hardships to be endured, many habits
to be acquired, and that by a course of exercises which, in
themselves though painful and possibly useless to the child,
yet are necessary to fit him for the business and enjoyments
of manhood; so while we remain in this infancy of human
life, things are to be learned, hardships to be endured, and
habits to be acquired by a laborious discipline, which, how¬
ever painful, must be undergone, because necessary to fit us
for the employments and pleasures of our riper existence in
the realms above, always remembering that whatever our
trials may be in this world, if we ask for God's assistance, he
has promised to give it. Inflamed, therefore, with the love
of immortality and its joys, let us submit ourselves to our
heavenly Teacher, and learn of him those lessons which alone
can render life pleasant, death desirable, and fill our hearts
with ecstatic joy.
460 the life of jestjs chkist
CHAPTER XXXVII.
"We can not close this delightful scene of the life of our
dear Lord and Saviour more comfortably, than by considering
the benefits resulting from a due attendance to his doctrines
by all who shall, by faith, receive and embrace the same.
Probably none have been greater enemies to the progress
of religion than those who delineate it in a gloomy and terri¬
fying form ; nor any guilty of a more injurious calumny
against the gospel, than those who represent its precepts as
rigorous impositions, and unnecessary restraints.
True religion is the perfection of human nature, and
the foundation of uniform exalted pleasure ; of public order,
and private happiness. Christianity is the most excellent,
and the most useful institution, having the " promise of the
life that now is, and of that which is to come." It is the
voice of reason ; it is also the language of Scripture, " The
ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths
are peace and our blessed Saviour himself assures us,
that his precepts are easy, and the burthen of his religion
light.
The Christian religion is a rational service, a worship " in
spirit and truth," a worship worthy of the Almighty to re¬
ceive, and of the nature of man to pay. It comprehends all
we ought to believe, and all we ought to practice; its positive
rites are few, of plain and easy significance, and manifestly
adapted to establish a sense of our obligation to God.
The gospel places religion, not in abstruse speculation, and
metaphysical subtleties; not in outward show, and tedious
ceremony; not in superstitious austerities, and enthusiastic
visions ; but in purity of heart, and holiness of life. The
sum of our duty, according to our great Master himself, con¬
sists in the love of God and of our neighbor; according to St.
Paul, in denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, and in living
soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present evil world;
according to St. James, in visiting the fatherless and widows
in affliction, and in keeping ourselves unspotted from the
world. This is the constant strain and tenor of the gospel.
n
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 4G1
This it inculcates most earnestly, and on this it lays the
greatest stress.
But is the Christian system only a republication of the
law of nature, or merely a refined system of morality ? No,
certainly ; it is a great deal more. It is an act of grace, a
stupendous plan of Providence designed for the recovery of
•mankind from a state of degradation and ruin, and to the
favor of the Almighty, and to the hopes of a happy immor¬
tality, through a Mediator.
Under this dispensation, true religion consists in " repent-
tance towards God," and u faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,"
as the person appointed by the supreme authority of heaven
and earth to reconcile apostate man to his offended Creator ;
as a Sacrifice for Sin ; our vital Head, and governing Lord.
This is religion, as we are Christians. And what hardship,
what exaction is there in all this ? Surely, none. Nay, the
practice of religion is much easier than the servitude of sin.
Our rational powers, all will readily agree, are dreadfully
impaired, and the soul weakened, by sin. The animal passions
are strong and corrupt, and dreadfully oppose the dictates of
the Spirit of God: objects of sense make powerful impressions
on the mind. We are, in every situation, surrounded with many
snares and temptations. In such a disordered state of things,
we can not please God, till created anew in Christ Jesus unto
good works. We must be born again ; born from above.
The God of all grace has planted in the human breast a
quick sense of good and evil; a faculty which strongly dic¬
tates right and wrong: and though by the strength of appe¬
tite and warmth of passion men are often hurried into im¬
moral practices, yet, in the beginning, especially when there
has been the advantage of a good education, it is usually with
reluctance and opposition of mind. What inward struggles
precede! what bitter pangs attend their sinful excesses ! what
guilty blushes and uneasy fears ! what frightful prospects and
pale reviews. " Terrors are upon them, and a fire not blown
consumeth them/' To make a mock of sin, and to commit
iniquity without remorse, is, in some instances, an attainment
that requires length of time, and much painful labor ; more
labor than is requisite to attain that salvation which is the
462 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST
glory of the man, the ornament of the Christian, and the
chief of his happiness.
The soul can no more he reconciled to acts of wickedness
and injustice, than the body to excess, "but by suffering many
bitter pains, and cruel attacks.
The mouth of conscience may, indeed, be stopped for
awhile by false principles ; its sacred whispers may be
drowned by the noise of company, and stifled by the enter¬
tainments of sense; but this principle of conscience is so
clear and strong, that the sinner's arts will be unable to lull
her into a lasting security. #
When the hour of calamity arrives, when sickness seizeth,
and death approaches the sinner, conscience then restrains
him to listen to her accusation, and will not suffer the tem¬
ples of his head to take any rest. " There is no peace to the
wicked the foundations of peace are subverted; they are
at utter enmity with their reason, with their conscience, and
with their God.
Not so is the case of true Teligion. For when religion,
pure and genuine, forms the temper and governs the life, con¬
science applauds, and peace takes her residence in the breast.
The soul is in its proper state. There is order and regularity
both in the faculties and actions. Conscious of its own integ¬
rity, and secure of the divine approbation, the soul enjoys a
calmness not to be described. But why do I call this happy
frame mere calmness ? The air may be calm, and the day
overcast with thick mists and dark clouds. The pious and
virtuous mind resembles a serene day enlightened and enliv¬
ened with the brightest rays of the sun. Though all without
may be clouds and darkness, there is light in the heart of a
devout man. " He is satisfied with favor, and filled with
peace and joy in believing." In the concluding scene, the
awful moment of dissolution, all is peaceful and serene. The
immortal part quits its tenement of clay, with the well-
grounded hope of ascending to happiness and glory.
Nor does the gospel enjoin any duty but what is fit and
reasonable. It calls upon all its professors to practice rever¬
ence, submission, love, and gratitude to God ; justice, truth,
and universal benevolence to men; and to maintain the govern-
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 463
ment of our minds. And what has any one to object against
this ? From the least to the greatest commandment of our
dear Redeemer, there is not one which impartial reason can
find fault with. " His law is perfect; his precepts are true
and righteous altogether." Not even those excepted which
require us " to love our enemies, to deny ourselves," and to
" take up our cross," To forgive an injury is more generous
and manly than to revenge it; to control a licentious appe¬
tite, than to indulge it; to suffer poverty, reproach, and even
death itself, in the sacred cause of truth and integrity, is
much wiser and better, than by base compliances to make
" shipwreck of faith and a good conscience."
Thus in a storm at sea, or a conflagration on the land, a
man with pleasure abandons his slumber to secure his jewels.
Piety and virtue are the wisest and most reasonable things in
the world, vice and wickedness the most irrational and absurd.
The all-wise Author of our being hath so framed our na¬
tures, and placed us in such relations, that there is nothing
vicious but what is injurious, nothing virtuous but what is
advantageous to our present interest, both with respect to
body and mind. Meekness and humility, patience, and uni¬
versal charity, and grace, give a joy "unknown to trans¬
gressors,"
The divine virtues of truth, equity, and love, are the only
support of society. Temperance and sobriety are the best
preservatives of health and strength; but sin and debauchery
impair the body, consume the substance, reduce to poverty,
and form the direct path to an immature and untimely death.
Now this is the chief excellency of all laws, and what will
always render their burden pleasant and delightful, that they
enjoin nothing unbecoming or injurious.
Besides, to render our duty easy, we have the example, as
well as the commands, of the blessed Jesus. The masters of
morality among the heathen gave excellent rules for the reg¬
ulation of men's manners ; but they wanted either the hon¬
esty or the courage to try their own arguments upon them¬
selves. It was a strong presumption that the yoke of the
scribes and Pharisees was grievous, when they laid " heavy
burdens upon men's shoulders," which they themselves refused
464 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST.
to toucn with one of their fingers. Not thus our great law¬
giver, Jesus Christ the righteous. His behaviour was, in all
respects, conformable to his doctrine. His devotion, how sub¬
lime and ardent! benevolence towards men, how great and
diffusive ! He was in life an exact pattern of innocence ; for
he " did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth." In
the Son of God, incarnate, is exhibited the brightest, the fair¬
est resemblance of the Father, that earth or heaven ever be¬
held ; an example peculiarly persuasive, calculated to inspire
resolution, and to animate us to use our utmost endeavors to
imitate the divine pattern, the example of " the author and
finisher of our faith," of him " who loved us, and gave himself
for us." Our profession and character, as Christians, obliges
us to make his example the model of our lives. Every motive
of decency, gratitude, and interest, constrains us to tread the
paths he trod before us.
We should also remember that our burden is easy; be¬
cause God, who " knoweth whereof we are made, who consid¬
ered that we are but dust," is ever ready to assist us. The
heathen sages themselves, had some notion of this assistance,
though guided only by the glimmering lamp of reason. But
what they looked upon as probable, the gospel clearly and
strongly asserts. We there-hear the apostle exhorting, "Let
us come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain
mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." We there
hear the blessed Jesus himself arguing in this convincing
manner : " If ye being evil, know how to give good gifts unto
your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father
give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him ?"
Another particular, which renders the Christian religion
delightful, is its leading us to the perfect, eternal life of heaven.
It can not be denied but that we may draw from the light
of reason strong presumptions of a future state. The present
existence does not look like an entire scene, but rather like
the infancy of human nature, which is capable of arriving at
a much higher degree of maturity; but whatever solid foun¬
dation the doctrine of a future state may have in nature and
reason, certain it is, through the habitual neglect of reflection,
and the force of irregular passions, this doctrine was, before
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 465
the coming of our blessed Saviour, very much, disfigured, and
in a great measure lost, among the sons of men.
In the heathen world, a future state of rewards and pun¬
ishments was a matter of mere speculation and uncertainty;
sometimes hoped for, sometimes doubted of, and sometimes
.absolutely denied. The law of Moses, though of divine ori¬
gin, is chiefly enforced by promises of temporal blessings;
and, even in the writings of the prophets, a future immortal¬
ity is very sparingly mentioned, and obscurely represented ;
but the doctrine of our Saviour hath " brought life and im¬
mortality to light/' In the gospel we have a distinct account
of another world, attended with many engaging circum¬
stances ; about which the decisions of reason were dark and
confused. We have the testimony of the Author of our re¬
ligion, who was raised from the dead, and who afterwards, in
the presence of his disciples, ascended into heaven. In the
New Testament, it is expressly declared, that good men,
"when absent from the body, are present with the Lord."
Here we are assured of the resurrection of the body in a
glorious form, clothed with immortal vigor, suited to the
active nature of the animating spirit, and assisting its most
enlarged operations and incessant progress towards perfection.
Here we are assured, that " the righteous shall go into life
everlastingthat they shall enter into the kingdom of the
heavenly Canaan, where no ignorance shall cloud the under¬
standing, no vice disturb the will. In these regions of per¬
fection, nothing but gratitude employs the tongue ; there the
righteous shall be united to an innumerable company of an¬
gels, and to the general assembly and church of the first¬
born ; there they shall see their exalted Redeemer at the
right hand of Omnipotence, and sit down with him on his
throne; there they shall be admitted into the immediate
presence of the supreme Fountain of life and happiness, and,
beholding his face, be farther changed into the same image
from glory to glory. Here language, here imagination fails
me ! It requires the genius, the knowledge, and the pen of
an angel, to paint the happiness and blissful scene of the New
Jerusalem, which human eyes can not behold, till this mortal
body shall be purified from its corruption, and dressed in the
30
466 THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
*
robes of immortality: " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
neither hath it entered into the heart to conceive, the joys
which Grod hath prepared for those that love him."
What is the heaven of the heathen, compared with the
heaven of the Christian ? The hope, the prospect of this is
sufficient to reconcile us to all the difficulties that may attend
our progress, sweeten all our labors, alleviate every grief, and
silence every murmur.
But why, says the libertine, in the gayety of his heart,
should there be any difficulties or restraint at all ? God hath
made nothing in vain. The appetites he hath planted in the
human breast are to be gratified. To deny or restrain them,
is ignominious bondage; but to give full scope to every desire
and passion of the heart, without check or control, is true
manly freedom.
In opposition to this loose and careless way of reasoning,
let it be considered, that the liberty of a rational creature
doth not consist in an entire exemption from all control, but
in following the dictates of reason, as the governing principle,
and in keeping the various passions in due subordination. To
follow the regular motion of those affections which the wise
Creator hath implanted within us, is our duty ; but as our
natural desires, in this state of trial, are too often irregular,
we are bound to restrain their excesses, and not to indulge
them, but in a strict subserviency to the integrity and peace
of our minds, and to the order and happiness of human soci¬
ety established in the world. Those who allow the supreme
command to be usurped by sensual and brutal appetites, may
" promise themselves liberty," but are truly and absolutely
the " servants of corruption." To be vicious, is to be en¬
slaved. We behold with pity those miserable objects that
are chained in the galleys, or confined in dark and loathsome
dungeons: but much more abject and vile is the slavery of
the sinner ! No slavery of the body is equal to the bondage
of the mind; no chains press so closely, or gall so cruelly, as
the fetters of sin, which corrode the very substance of the
soul, and fret every faculty.
It must, indeed, be confessed, that there are some profli¬
gates, so hardened by custom, as to be past all feeling; and,
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 467
• .
because insensible of their bondage, boast of this insensibility
as a mark of their native freedom, and of their happiness.
Yain men ! they might extol, with equal propriety, the pecu¬
liar happiness of an apoplexy, or the profound tranquillity of
a lethargy.
Thus have we endeavored to place in a plain and conspic¬
uous light some of the peculiar excellencies of the Christian
religion ; and from hence many useful reflections will natu¬
rally arise in the mind of every attentive reader. It is the
religion of Jesus that hath removed idolatry and superstition,
and brought immortality to light, when concealed under the
vail of darkness almost impenetrable. This hath set the
great truths of religion in a clear and conspicuous point of
view, and proposed new and powerful motives to influence
our minds, and to determine our conduct. Nothing is en¬
joined to be believed but wh£t is worthy of God, nothing to
be practiced but what is friendly to man. All the doctrines
of the gospel are rational and consistent; all its precepts are
truly wise, just, and good. The gospel contains nothing
grievous to an ingenuous mind ; it debars us from nothing,
but doing harm to ourselves, or to our fellow-creatures ; and
permits us to range anywhere, but in the paths of danger
and destruction. It only requires us to accept the remedy
provided, to act up to its excellent commands, and to prefer
to the vanishing pleasures of sin, the smiles of a reconciled
God, and " an eternal weight of glory." And is this a rigor¬
ous exaction, a heavy burden not to be endured ? How can
sinful mortals harbor so unworthy a thought P
Surely no man, who is a real friend to the cause of reli¬
gion, and to the interest of mankind, can ever be an enemy
to Christianity, if he truly understands it, and seriously re¬
flects on its wise and useful tendency. It conducteth us to
our journey's end by the plainest and securest .path; where
the " steps are not straitened, and where he that runneth
stumbleth not." Let us who live under this last and most
gracious dispensation of God to mankind, " count all things
but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ J esus
our Lordand not suffer ourselves, by the slight cavils of
unbelievers, to be " moved away from the hope of the gos-
468 THE JilFE OF JESUS CHRIST.
pel. Let us demonstrate that we believe the superior excel¬
lency of the Christian dispensation, by depending on Christ,
and conforming to his precepts. Let us show that we are
Christians in deed and in truth; not by endless disputes
about trifles, and the transports of a blind zeal, but 'by
abounding in those "fruits of righteousness, which are,
through Christ, to the praise and glory of God."
From what has been said, we may clearly perceive how
groundless all these prejudices are, which some conceive
against religion, as if it were a peevish, morose scheme, bur¬
densome to human nature, and inconsistent with the true
enjoyment of life. Such sentiments are too apt to prevail in
the heat of youth, when the spirits are brisk and lively, and
the passions warm and impetuous ; but it is wholly a mis¬
take, and a mistake of the most dangerous tendency. The
truth is, there is no pleasure like that of a good conscience;
no real peace but what results from the sense of the divine
favor. This strengthens the mind, and can alone support it
under all the various and unequal scenes of the present state
of trial. This lays a sure foundation of an easy, comfortable
life, of a serene and peaceful death, and of eternal joy and
happiness hereafter; whereas vice is ruinous to all our most
valuable interests ; spoils the native beauty, and subverts the
order of the soul; renders us the scorn of man, the rejected
of God, and, without timely repentance, will rob us of a
happy eternity. Religion is the health, the liberty, and the
happiness of the soul; sin is the disease, the servitude, and
destruction of it.
If this be not sufficient to convince you, let me lead you
into the chamber of an habitual rioter, the lewd debauchee,
worn out in the cause of iniquity, " his bones full of the sins
of his youth," that from his own mouth, as he lies on his ex¬
piring bed, you may learn that " the way of transgression is
hard," and that, however sweet sin may be in the commis¬
sion, " it stings like a serpent and bites like an adder."
I am going, reader, to represent to you the last moments
of a person of high birth and spirits, of great parts and strong
passions, every way accomplished, but unhappily attached to
those paths which lead us to vice and destruction.
1
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 469
His unkind treatment was the cause of the death of a
most amiable wife, and his monstrous extravagance, in effect,
disinherited his only child. And surely the death-bed of a
profligate is next in horror to that abyss to which it leads !
It has the most of hell that is visible upon earth, and he that
hath seen it hath more than faith to confirm him in his
creed. I see now (says the worthy divine, from whom I shall
borrow this relation,) for who can forget it ? Are there in
it no flames and furies ? You are ignorant, then, of what a
scared imagination can figure ! what a guilty heart can feel!
How dismal it is 1 The two great enemies of soul and body,
sickness and sin, sink and confound his friends ; silence and
darkness are the dismal scene. Sickness excludes the light of
heaven, and sin its blessed hope. Oh, double darkness, more
than Egyptian 1 actually to be felt!
The sad evening before the death of that noble youth
whose last hours suggested these thoughts, I was with him.
No one else was there but his physician and an intimate ac¬
quaintance whom he loved, and whom he had ruined. At
my coming he said,
" You and the physician are come too late: I have neither
life nor hope. You both aim at miracles. You would raise
the dead."
" Heaven/' I said, " was merciful."
" Or I could not," answered he, " have been thus guilty.
What has it not done to bless and to save me ? I have been
too strong for Omnipotence. I plucked down ruin."
I said, " The blessed Redeemer"
" Hold, hold," said he, " you wound me 1 This is the
rock on which I have split! I denied his name !"
Refusing to hear anything from me, or take anything
from his physician, he Jay silent, as far as sudden darts of
pain would permit, till the clock struck. Then he cried out,
with vehemence, " Oh, time ! time ! it is fit thou ehouldst
thus strike thy murderer to the heart. How art thou fled
for ever ! A month !—oh, for a single week ! I ask not for
years, though an age were too little for the much I have to do!"
On my saying to him,(C We could not do too much—that
heaven was a blessed place"—
j
470
THE LIFE OF JESUS CHBIST.
"So much, the worse," replied he, "'tis lost ! 'tis lost!
Heaven is to me the severest part of hell !"
Soon after, I proposed prayer. To which, he answered,
" Pray, you that can—I never pray ! I can not pray.
My conscience is too much wounded. I have deserted my
benevolent Maker, and my soul is enveloped in the deepest
horrors."
His friend, being much troubled—even to tears—at this,
(for who could forbear ?—I could not,) he, with the most
affectionate look, said, 4
" Keep these tears for thyself, I have undone thee. Dost
thou weep for me P That is cruql. What can pain me
more ?" *
Here his friend, too much affected, would have left him.
"No," said he, "stay. You still may hope ; therefore
hear me. How madly have I talked—how madly hast thou
listened and believed ! But look on my present state as a
full answer to thee and to myself. This body is all weakness
and pain ; but my soul, as if stung up by torment to greater
strength and spirit, is full powerful to reason—full mighty
to suffer ; and that which thus triumphs within the jaws of
mortality is doubtless immortal. And as for a Deity, noth¬
ing less than an Almighty could inflict the pain I feel."
I was about to congratulate this passive, involuntary con¬
fession—in.his asserting the two prime articles of his creed
extorted by the rack of nature—when he thus very passion¬
ately added,
"No, no ! let me speak on—I have not long to speak.
My much injured friend ! my soul, as my body, lies in ruins
—in scattered fragments of broken thoughts. Remorse for
the past throws my thoughts on the future, whose dread of
the future strikes it back on the past. I turn, and turn, and
find no ray. Didst thou feel half the mountain that is on
me, thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his stake, and
bless Heaven for the flame ; that it is not an everlasting flame
—that it is not an unquenchable fire."
How were we struck ! yet, soon after, still more. With
an eye of distraction, with a face of despair, he cried out,
" My principles have poisoned my friend; my extravagance
THE LIFE OP JESUS CHRIST. 471
has beggared my boy; my unkindness has murdered my wife 1
And is there another hell ? Oh, thou blasphemed, yet most
indulgent Lord God! Hell itself is a refuge, if it hides me
from thy frown."
Soon after, his understanding failed ; his terrified imagina¬
tion uttered horrors not to be repeated, or ever forgotten; and
before the sun (which I hope has seen few like him) arose,
this gay, young, noble, ingenious, accomplished, and most
wretched mortal expired.
It will, perhaps, be said, that the sons of vice and riot
have pleasure in sensual indulgences. Allowed; but it is
altogether of the lower kind, empty, fleeting, and transient:
"like the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the mirth of
the wicked." It makes a noise and a blaze for the present,
but soon vanishes away into smoke and vapor.
On the other hand, the pleasure of religion is solid and
lasting ; and will attend us through all, even the last stages
of life. "When we have passed the levity of youth, and have
lost our relish for the gay entertainments of sense ; when old*
age steals upon us, and stoops us toward the grave, this will
cleave fast to us, and give us relief It will be so far from
terminating at death, that it then commences perfect, and
continually improves, with new additions.
PART III.
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
ST. PETER.
St. Peter was born at Bethsaida, a city of Galilee, situ¬
ate on the banks of the lake of Gennesareth, called also the
sea of Galilee, from its being situated in that country and
the lake of Tiberias, from that city being built on its banks.
The particular time of this great apostle's birth can not he
known ; the evangelist and other writers among the primitive
^Christians having been silent with regard to this particular.
It is, however, pretty certain, that he was at least ten years
older than his Master; the circumstances of his being mar¬
ried, and in a settled course of life, when he first became a
follower of the great Messiah, and that authority and respect
the gravity of his person procured him among the rest of the
apostles, sufficiently declare this conjecture to be just.
As he was a descendant of Abraham, he was circumcised
according to the rites of the Mosaic law and called by his
parents Simon or Simeon, a name common at that time
among the Jews. But after his becoming a disciple of the
blessed Jesus the additional title of Cephas was conferred upon
him by his Master, to denote the firmness of his faith ; the
word Cephas, in the Syriac, the pommon language of the Jews
at that time, signifying a stone or rock; and thence he is
called, in Greek, Petros, and by us Peter, which implies the
same thing.
With regard to the parents of St. Peter, the evangelists
have also been silent, except in telling us that his father's
name was Jonah, who was highly honored by our blessed
Saviour, who chose two of his sons, Andrew and Peter, to be
k.
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 473
his apostles, and preachers of the glad tidings of salvation to
the children of men.
St. Peter, in his youth, was brought up to the trade of
fishing on the lake of Bethsaida, famous for different kinds
of fish, which excelled all others in the fineness of their
taste.
Here he followed the trade of fishing, hut afterwards re¬
moved to Capernaum, where he settled; for we find he had a
house there when our Saviour began his public ministry, and
there he paid tribute. Nicephorus tells us that Helen, the
mother of Constantine, erected a beautiful church over the
ruins of St. Peter's house, in honor of that apostle.
Sacred history hath not ascertained of what sect the apos¬
tle was. "We know indeed, that his brother Andrew was a
follower of John the Baptist, that preacher of repentance ;
and it is very unlikely that he, who was ready to carry his
brother the early tidings of the Messiah, that the " Sun of
righteousness" was already risen in those parts, should not
be equally solicitous to bring him under the discipline and
influence of J ohn the Baptist, the day-star which appeared to
usher in the appearance of the Son of God.
He became acquainted with the immaculate Lamb of
God, in the following manner: The blessed Jesus having
spent thirty years in the solitude of a private life, had lately
been baptized by John in Jordan, and there owned by the
solemn attestation of Heaven to be the Son of God ; where¬
upon he was immediately hurried into the wilderness, and
there for forty days maintained a personal contest with the
devil. But having conquered this great enemy of mankind,
he returned to " the place beyond Jordan/' where John was
baptizing his proselytes, and endeavoring to answer the Jews,
who had sent a deputation to him to inquire concerning this
new Messiah that appeared among them. To satisfy these
curious inquirers of Israel, John faithfully related every thing
he knew concerning him, gave him the greatest character, and
soon after pointed him out to his disciples ; upon which two
of them presently followed the great Redeemer of mankind,
one of which was Andrew, Simon's brother.
Nor did he conceal the joyful discovery he had made; for
474 THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
early in the morning lie hastened to acquaint his brother Si¬
mon that he had found the Messiah.
Simon was one of those who waited for the redemption of
Israel, ravished with the joyful news, and impatient of delay,
presently followed his brethren to the place ; and on his ar¬
rival our blessed Saviour immediately gave him a^ proof of his
divinity ; saluting him at first sight by his name, and telling
him both who he was, his name and kindred, and what title
should soon be conferred upon him.
From this time Peter and his companions became the in¬
separable and constant disciples of the great Messiah, living
under the rules of his discipline and institutions.
The blessed Jesus, having entered upon his important
mission, thought proper to select some peculiar persons from
among his followers to be constant witnesses of his miracles
and doctrine, and who, after his departure, might be entrust¬
ed with the care of building his church, and planting that re¬
ligion in the world, for which he himself left the mansions of
heaven, and put on the vail of mortality. In order to this,
he withdrew privately, in the evening, to a solitary mountain,
where he spent the night in solemn addresses to his Almighty
Father, for rendering the great work he was going to under¬
take prosperous and successful.
The next day, early in the morning, the disciples came to
him, out of whom he made choice of twelve to be his apostles,
and the attendants on his person. *
These he afterwards invested with the power of working
miracles, and sent them into different parts of Judea, in order
to carry on with more rapidity the great work which he him¬
self had so happily begun.
We have no farther account of St. Peter in particular, till
the night after our Saviour's miraculously feeding the multi¬
tude in the wilderness. Jesus had ordered his disciples to
take ship, and pass over to the other side, while he sent the
multitude away. But a violent storm arising, they were in
great danger of their lives, when their Master came unto them,
walking on the surface of the boisterous billows, with the same
ease as if it had been dry ground.
At his approach the disciples were greatly terrified, sup-
—
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 475
posing they had seen a spirit. But their compassionate Mas¬
ter soon dispelled their fears, by telling them it was he him¬
self, and therefore they had no reason to be terrified.
Peter, who was always remarkable for bold resolutions,
desired his Master to give him leave to come to him on the
water; and on obtaining permission, he left the ship, and
walked on fhe sea to meet his Saviour. But when he heard
the deep roar around him, and the waves increase, he began to
be afraid; and as his faith declined, his body sunk in the
water; so that in the greatest agony he called for assistance
to him who was able to save. Nor was his cry in vain ; the
compassionate Redeemer of mankind stretched out his hand,
and again placed him on the surface of the water, with this
gentle reproof, uO thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou
doubt ?" And no sooner was the blessed Jesus and his dis¬
ciple entered into the ship, than the winds ceased, the waves
subsided, and the ship was at the land whither they were
going.
Some time after, the great Bedeemer of the souls of men,
being to receive a specimen of his future glorification, took
with him three of his most intimate apostles, Peter and the
two sons of Zebedee, and went up into a very high mountain,
and while they were employed in earnest addresses to the
Almighty, he was transfigured before them, darting such lus¬
ter from his face as exceeded the meridian rays of the sun in
brightness; and such beams of light issued from his gar¬
ments, as exceeded the light of the clearest day ; an evident
and sensible representation of that state, when the "just shall
walk in white robes, and shine as the sun in the kingdom of
their Father."
In the meantime Peter and the two apostles were fallen
asleep; but on their waking were strangely surprised to see
the Lord surrounded with so much glory, and those two great
persons conversing with him. They, however, remained si¬
lent till those visitants from the courts of heaven were going
to depart, when Peter, in rapture and ecstacy of mind, ad¬
dressed himself to his Master, declared their infinite pleasure
and delight in being favored with this glorious spectacle ; and
desired his leave to erect three tabernacles, one for him, one
476 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
for Moses, and one for Elias. But while he was speaking, a
bright cloud overshadowed these two great prophets, and a
voice came from it, uttering these remarkable words, " This
is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye him."
On which the apostles were seized with the utmost consterna¬
tion, and fell upon their faces to the ground; but Jesus touch¬
ing them, bid them dismiss their fears, and look up with con¬
fidence ; they immediately obeyed, but saw their Master only.
After this heavenly scene our blessed Lord traveled
through Galilee, and at his return to Capernaum, the tax-
gatherers came to Peter and asked him, whether his Master
was not obliged to pay tribute. When our blessed Saviour
was informed of this demand, rather than give offense, he
wrought a miracle to pay it. Our great Redeemer was
going, for the last time, to Jerusalem ; and he ordered two
of his disciples, probably Peter and John, to fetch him an
ass, that he might enter into the city on it, as had been fore¬
told. The disciples obeyed their Master, and brought the ass
to J esus, who being mounted thereon, entered the city amidst
the hosannas of a numerous multitude, with palm-branches
in their hands, proclaiming at once both the majesty of a
prince, and the triumph of a Saviour.
The blessed Jesus proceeded from Jerusalem to Bethany,
from whence he sent two of his disciples, Peter and John, to
make preparation for his celebrating the passover.
Every thing being ready, our blessed Saviour and his
apostles entered the house, and sat down to the table. But
their great Master, who often taught them by example as
well as precept, arose from his seat, laid aside his upper gar¬
ment, took the towel, and pouring water into a basin, began
to wash his disciples' feet, to teach them humility and charity,
by his own example. But on his coming to Peter, he would
by no means permit his Master to perform so mean and con¬
descending an office. What, the Son of G-od stoop to wash
the feet of a sinful mortal! A thought which shocked the
apostle, who strenuously declared, " Thou shalt never wash
my feet." But the blessed Jesus told him, that if he washed
him not, he could have no part with him; intimating, that
this action was mystical, and signified the remission of sins,
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 477
and the purifying virtue of the Spirit of the Most High, to be
poured upon all true Christians. This answer sufficiently re¬
moved the scruples of Peter, who cried out, " Lord, not my
feet only, but also my hands and my head." "Wash me in
every part, rather than let me lose my portion in thee.
The blessed Jesua, having set this pattern of humility, be¬
gan to reflect on his approaching sufferings, and on the person
who should betray him into the hands of wicked and cruel
men, telling them, that not a stranger, or an enemy, but one
of his friends, one of his apostles, and even one of them who
then sat at the table, would betray him.
This declaration exceedingly affected them all in general,
and Peter in particular, who made signs to St. John to ask
him particularly who it was. Jesus complied with this re¬
quest, and gave them to understand that it was Judas Iscar-
iot.
Our great Redeemer now began the institution of his sup¬
per, that great and solemn institution, which he resolved to
leave behind him, to be constantly celebrated in his church,
as a standing monument of his love in dying for mankind ;
telling theril at the same time that he himself was now going
to leave them, and that " whither he went, they could not
come."
Supper being now ended, they Bung a hymn, and departed
to the Mount of Olives ; where Jetms again put them in mind
how greatly the things he was going to suffer would offend
them. To which Peter replied, that " though all men should
be offended because of him, yet he himself would never be
offended."
They now repaired to the garden of Gethsemane; and
leaving the rest of the apostles near the entrance, our blessed
Saviour, taking with him Peter, James, and John, retired
into the most solitary part of the garden, to enter on the pre¬
paratory scene of the great tragedy that was now approaoh-
ing.
Here the blessed Jesus labored under the bitterest agony
that ever human nature suffered, during which he prayed
with the utmost fervency to his Father, " offering up prayers
and supplications with strong crying and tears ; and his
478 THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the
ground."
While our "blessed Eedeemer was thus interceding with
the Almighty, his three disciples were fallen asleep, though
he had made three several visits to them, and calling to Peter,
asked him if he could not watch one hour with him. Advis¬
ing them all to watch and pray, that they might not enter
into temptation, adding, " the spirit indeed is willing, but
the flesh is weak."
While he was discoursing with them, a band of soldiers,
from the chief priests and elders, preceded by the traitor
Judas, to conduct and direct them, rushed into the garden,
and seized the great high priest of our profession. Peter,
whose ungovernable zeal would admit of no restraint, drew
his sword, and, without the least order from his Master,
struck at one of the persons who seemed to be remarkably
busy in binding Jesus, and cut off his right ear. This wild
and unwarrantable zeal was very offensive to his Master, who
rebuked Peter, and entreated the patience of the soldiers
while he miraculously healed the wound.
But now the fidelity of the apostles, which they had urged
with' so much confidence, was put to the trial. They saw
their Master in the hands of a rude and inconsiderate band of
men; and therefore should have exerted their power to re¬
lease him, or at least have been the companions of his suffer¬
ings, and endeavored by every kind, endearing action, to have
lessened his grief. But alas ! instead of assisting or comfort¬
ing their great Master, they forsook him and fled.
The soldiers after binding Jesus, led him away, and de¬
livered him to the chief priests and elders, who carried him
from one tribunal to another, first to Annas, and then to
Caiaphas, where the Jewish Sanhedrim were assembled, in
order to try and condemn him.
In the meantime, Peter, who had followed the other dis¬
ciples in their flight, recovered his spirits, and being en¬
couraged by his companion, St. John, returned to seek his
Master. Seeing him leading to the high priest's hall, he fol¬
lowed at a distance to know the eventj but on his coming to
the door, was refused admittance, till one of the disciples who
THE LIVES Or THE APOSTLES.
479
was acquainted there, came out, and prevailed upon the ser¬
vant who kept the door, to let him in. Peter, "being admit¬
ted, repaired to the fire, burning in the middle of the hall,
round which the officers and servants were standing ; where
being observed by the maid-servant who let him in, she
charged him with being one of Christ's disciples ; but Peter
publicly denied the charge, declaring that he did not know
him, and presently withdrew into the porch, where being se¬
cluded from the people, the reflection of his mind awakened
his conscience into a quick sense of his duty, and the promise
he had a few hours before made to his Master. But alas 1
human nature, when left to itself, is remarkably frail and in¬
constant. This Peter sufficiently experienced ; for while he
continued in the porch, another maid met him, and charged
him with being one of the followers of Jesus of Nazareth,
which Peter firmly denied, and, the better to gain belief,
ratified it with an oath.
About an hour after this, the servant of the high priest,
he whose ear Peter had cut off, charged him with being a dis¬
ciple of Christ, and that he himself had seen him in the gar¬
den with him: adding that his very speech sufficiently proved
that he was a Galilean. Peter, however, still denied the feet;
and, to his sin, ratified it not only by an oath, but a solemn
curse and execration, that " he was not the person," and that
" he knew not the man." But no sooner had he uttered this
denial, (which was the third time,) than the " cock crewat,
whicji his Master turned about, and earnestly looked upon
him in a manner that pierced him to the heart, and brought
to his remembrance what his Saviour had more than once
foretold, namely, that he would basely and shamefully deny
him. Peter was now no longer able to conceal his sorrow: he
flew from the palace of the high priest, and " wept bitterly,"
passionately bewailing his folly, and the aggravations of his
sin.
It is certain, from various circumstances, that Peter, after
the crucifixion of his Lord and Master, stayed at Jerusalem,
or at least in the neighborhood ; for when Mary Magdalene
returned from the sepulchre to inform the disciples that the
stone was rolled away from the door, and the body not to be
480 THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
found, Peter and John set out immediately towards the gar¬
den. John, who was the younger, arrived at the sepulchre
first, looked into it, hut did not enter, either out of fear or
reverence to our Saviour. Peter came soon after, and reso¬
lutely went into the sepulchre, where he found the linen
clothes lying together in one place, and the napkin that was
about his head wrapped together in another, a sufficient indi¬
cation that the hody was not stolen away ; for had that been
the case, so much care and order would not have been ob¬
served in disposing of the linen clothes.
But Peter did not wait long in suspense with regard to
his great Lord and Master ; for the same day Jesus appeared
to him ; and as he was the first of the disciples who had
made a signal confession of the divinity of the Messiah's mis¬
sion, so it was reasonable he should first see him after his
resurrection, and at the same time to convince him that the
crime he had been guilty of, in denying him, was pardoned,
and that he was come, like the good Samaritan, to pour oil
into the wounded conscience.
Soon after the apostles prepared to obey the command of
their great Master, of retiring into Galilee ; and we find that
Peter, Nathaniel, the two sons of Zebedee, and two other
disciples, returned to their old trade of fishing in the lake.
One morning early, as they were laboring at their employ¬
ment, having spent the whole night to no purpose, they saw
on the shore a grave person, who called to them, and asked
them if they had any meat ? To which they answered, No.
Cast then, replied he, the net on the right side of the ship,
and ye shall find. They followed his directions, and caught
a prodigious number of large fish. Astonished at such re¬
markable success, the disciples looked upon one another for
some time, till St. John told Peter, that the person on the
shore was, doubtless, their great Lord and Master, whom the
winds, the sea, and the inhabitants of the watery region were
ready to obey.
Peter no sooner heard the beloved disciple declare his
opinion concerning the stranger, than his zeal took fire, and,
notwithstanding the coldness of the season, he girt on his
fisher's coat, threw himself into the sea, and swam to shore ;
THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES. 481
his impatience to be with his dear Lord and Master not suf¬
fering him to stay the few minutes necessary to bring the ship
to land.
As soon as the disciples came on shore, they found a%re
kindled, and fish laid upon it, either immediately created by
the power of their divine Master, or which came ashore of its
own accord, and offered itself to his hand. But notwith¬
standing there were fish already on the fire, he ordered them
to bring those they had now caught, and dress them for their
repast, he himself eating with them; both to give them an
instance of mutual love and friendship, and also to assure
them of the truth of his human nature, since he was risen
from the dead.
When the repast was ended, our blessed Saviour addressed
himself particularly to Peter, urging him to the utmost dili¬
gence in the care of souls : and because he knew that nothing
but a sincere love to himself could support him under the
trouble and dangers of so laborious and difficult an employ¬
ment, he inquired of him, whether he loved him more than
the rest of the apostles : mildly reproving him for his over¬
confident resolution. Peter, whom fatal experience had taught
humility, modestly answered that none knew so well as him¬
self the integrity of his affections. Thou knowest the hearts
of all men, nothing is hid from thee, and therefore thou
knowest that I love thee. The question was three several
times repeated by our blessed Saviour, and as oftentimes an¬
swered by the apostle ; it being but just, that he, who by a
threefold denial had given so much reason to question his af¬
fection, should now by a threefold confession, give more than
common assurance of his sincere love to his Master; and to
each of these confessions our great Kedeemer added this sig¬
nal trial of his affection, "Feed my sheep." Instruct and
tench them with the utmost care, and the utmost tenderness.
Not long after, our blessed Saviour appeared to his dis¬
ciples at Jerusalem, to take his last farewell of them who had
attended him during his public ministry among the sons of
men. He led them out as far as Bethany, a small village on
the Mount of Olives, where he briefly told them that they
were the persons he had chosen to be the witnesses, both of
31
482 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
his death and resurrection ; a testimony which they should
publish in every part of the world. In order to which, he
w^uld, after his ascension into heaven, pour out his Spirit up¬
on them, in an extraordinary manner, that they might be the
better enabled to struggle with that violent rage and fury,
with which the doctrine of the gospel would be opposed by
men and devils. Adding, that in the meantime, they should
return to Jerusalem, and there wait till those miraculous
powers were given them from on high.
Having finished this discourse, he laid hands upon them,
and gave them his solemn benediction ; during which he was
taken from them, and received up into the regions of the
heavenly Canaan. The apostles, who beheld their Master
visibly ascend into heaven, were filled with a greater sense of
his glory than they had ever been while he conversed with
them familiarly on earth. And having performed their solemn
adoration to him, they returned to Jerusalem with great joy,
there to wait for the accomplishment of their great Master's
promise.
The apostles, though deprived of the personal presence of
their dear Lord and Master, were indefatigable in fulfilling
the commission they had received from him. The first object
that engaged their attention, after their return to Jerusalem,
was to fill up the vacancy in their number, lately made by the
unhappy fall and apostacy of Judas. In order to this, they
called together the church, and entered into " an upper room,3'
when Peter, as president of the assembly, proposed to them
the choice of a new apostle.
He put them in mind that Judas, one of the disciples of
their great and beloved Master, being betrayed by his covet¬
ous and insatiable temper, had lately fallen from the honor of
his place and ministry. That this was no more than what
the prophet had long since foretold should come to pass, and
that the care of the church, which had been committed to him,
ighould devolve upon another ; that therefore it was highly
necessary that some person who had been familiarly convers¬
ant with the blessed Jesus, from first to last, and consequently,
& competent witness both of his doctrine and miracles, his death,
resurrection, and ascension, should be substituted in his room.
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 483
After filling up the vacancy in the apostolic number, they
spent their time in prayer and meditation, till the feast of
Pentecost; when the promise of their great Master in sending
the Holy Ghost was fulfilled. The Christian assembly were
met as usual to perform the public services of their worship,
when suddenly a sound, like that of a mighty wind, rushed in
upon them ; representing the powerful efficacy of that divine
Spirit which was now to be communicated to them. Upon
this they were all immediately filled with the Holy Ghost,
which, in an instant, enabled them to speak fluently several
languages they had never learned, and probably never heard.
The report of so sudden and strange an action was soon
spread through every part of Jerusalem, which at that time
was full of Jewish proselytes, u devout men of every nation
under heaven, Parthians, Medes, Elamites, the dwellers in
Mesopotamia and Judea, Cappadocia, Pontus, and Asia,
Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt, the parts of Lybia and Cy-
rene," from Bome, from Crete, and from Arabia. These no
sooner heard of this miraculous effusion of the Holy Spirit,
than they flocked in prodigious numbers to the Christian as¬
sembly, where they were amazed to hear these Galileans speak¬
ing to them in their own native languages, so various and so
very different from one another.
This surprising transaction had different effects on the
minds of the people: some attributing it to the effect of a
miracle, and others to the power and strength of " new wine."
Upon which the apostles all stood up, and Peter, in the name
of the rest, undertook to confute the injurious calumny.
The effect of his discourse was equally wonderful and sur¬
prising ; for great numbers of those, who before ridiculed the
religion of Jesus, now acknowledged him for their Saviour,
and flew to him for refuge from the impending storm : and St.
Luke tells us, that there were that day added to the church
no less than three thousand souls, who were all baptized and
received into the flock of the great Shepherd of Israel, the
bishop of our souls.
Soon after this wonderful conversion, Peter and John, go¬
ing up to the temple about three in the afternoon, near the
conclusion of one of the solemn hours of prayer, saw a poor
484 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
impotent cripple, near forty years of age, who had been lame
from liis birth, lying at the "beautiful gate of the temple,"
and asking alms of those who entered the sacred edifice.
This miserable object moved their compassion ; and Peter
beholding him with attention, said, The riches of this world,
the silver and gold so highly coveted by the sons of men, are
not in my power to bestow ; but I possess the power of re¬
storing life and health, and am ready to assist thee.
Then taking the man by the hand, he commanded him in
the name of " Jesus of Nazareth, to rise up and walk/' Im¬
mediately the nerves and sinews were strengthened, and the
several parts ©f the diseased members performed their natural
functions. Upon which the man accompanied them into the
temple, walking, exulting, and praising God.
So strange and extraordinary a cure filled the minds of the
people with admiration, and their curiosity drew them around
the apostle, to view the man who had performed it. Peter,
seeing the multitude gathering round them, took the oppor¬
tunity of speaking to them in the following manner : " Men
and brethren, this remarkable cure should not excite your ad- i
miration of us, as if we had performed it by our own power. I
It was wrought in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, our cruci¬
fied Master, by the power of that very Christ, that holy and
just person, whom you yourselves denied, and delivered to Pi¬
late." I
While Peter was speaking to the people in one part of the
temple, John was, in all probability, doing the same in the
other; and the success plainly indicated how powerful the
preaching of the apostles was ; five thousand persons em¬
bracing the doctrines of the gospel, and acknowledging the
crucified Jesus for their Lord and Saviour.
The labors of the apostles were crowned with abundant
success, and it seems that such was the aversion of the invet¬
erate Jews to those who became converts to the faith of Christ,
that they were deprived of business, in their respective call¬
ings ; for we find that the professors of the religion of the
holy J esus sold their effects, and brought the money to the
apostles, that they might deposit it in one common treasury,
and from thence supply the several exigencies of the church.
THE £IVES OF THE APOSTLES. 485
The Christian doctrine had been propagated hitherto with¬
out much violence or opposition, in Jerusalem, but now a
storm commenced with the death of the protomartyr Stephen,
nor did it end but with the dispersion of the disciples, by
which means the glad tidings of the gospel, which had till
now been confined to Judea, was preached to the Gentilo
world, and an ancient prophecy fulfilled, which says, " Out
of Sion shall go forth the law, and the word of the law from
Jerusalem/' Thus does the Almighty bring good out of evil,
and cause the malicious intentions of the wicked to redound
to his praise.
The storm, though violent, being at length blown over,
the church enjoyed a time of calmness and security ; during
which St. Peter went to visit the churches lately planted in
those parts by the disciples whom the persecution had dis¬
persed. And at his arrival at Lydda, he miraculously healed
iEneas, who had been afflicted with the palsy, and confined
to his bed eight years ; but on Peter's bidding him arise in
the name of Jesus, he was immediately restored to perfect
health. Nor was the success of his miracle confined to iEneas
and his family; the fame of it was blazed through all the
neighboring country, and many believed in the doctrine of the
Son of God. It was even known at Joppa, a sea-port town
about six miles from Lydda, and the brethren immediately
sent for Peter, on the following melancholy occasion : Tabi-
tha, whose Greek name was Dorcas, a woman venerable for
her piety and extensive charity, was lately dead, to the great
loss of mankind, who loved genuine benevolence, especially
the poor and afflicted, who were supported by her charity.
At Peter's arrival, he found her dressed for funeral solem¬
nity, and surrounded by mournful widows, who showed the
coats and garments wherewith she had clothed them, the
monument of her liberality. But Peter put them all out,
and kneeling down prayed with the utmost fervency; then
turning to the body, he commanded her to arise, and taking
her by the hand, presented her in perfect health to her friends
and others, who were assembled to pay their last duties to so
good a woman. This miracle confirmed those who had newly
embraced the doctrine of Jesus, and converted many more to
486 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES,
the faith. After which he staid a considerable time at Joppa,
lodging in the house of one Simon, a tanner.
Peter, after having finished his visitation to the newly-
planted churches, returned to Jerusalem, and was indefati¬
gable in instructing the converts in the religion of Jesus, and
preaching the glad tidings of salvation to the descendants
of Jacob. But he did not long continue in this pleasing
course ; Herod Agrippa, in order to ingratiate himself into
the favor of the Jews, put the apostle James to death, and
finding the action was highly acceptable to that stiff-necked
people, he resolved to extend his cruelty to Peter, and accord¬
ingly cast him into prison. But the churches were incessant
in their prayers to God for his safety ; and what have mortals
to fear, when guarded by the hand of Omnipotence ? Herod
was persuaded he should soon accomplish his intentions, and
sacrifice Peter to the insatiable cruelty of the Jews.
But the night before this intended execution, a messenger
from the court of heaven visited the gloomy horrors of the
dungeon, where he found Peter asleep between his keepers.
The angel raised him up, took off his chains, and ordered him
to gird on his garments, and follow him. Peter obeyed, and
having passed through the first and second watch, they came
to the iron gate leading to the city, which opened to them of
its own accord. The angel also accompanied him through one
of the streets, and then departed from him ; on which Peter
came to himself, and perceived that it was no vision, but that
his great and beloved Master had really sent a messenger from
above, and released him from prison.
In the morning the officers came from Herod to the prison,
with orders to bring Peter out to the people, who were gath¬
ered together to behold his execution. But when they came
to the prison, the keepers informed them that the apostle had
made his escape; which so exasperated Herod, that he com¬
manded those who were entrusted with the care of the pris¬
oner, to be put to death.
As we have now related the principal transactions of this
apostle, that are founded on Scripture authority, we shall
have recourse to ancient historians for the residue of his life.
Towards the latter end of the reign of Nero, when Peter
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 487
was in Rome, orders were given by that emperor for appre¬
hending him, together with his companion, Paul.
St. Ambrose tells us, that when the people perceived the
danger to which St. Peter was now exposed, they prayed him
to quit Eome, and repair for a while to some secure retreat,
that his life might be preserved for the benefit of the church.
Peter, with great reluctance, yielded to their entreaties, and
made his escape by night; but as he passed the gate, he was met
by a person in the form of his great and beloved Master, and
on his asking him whither he was going, answered, " To Eome,
to be crucified a second time which Peter taking for a re¬
proof of his cowardice, returned again into the city, and was
soon after apprehended, and cast, together with St. Paul, into
the Mamertime prison. Here they were confined eight or
nine months ; but spent their time in the exercise of religion,
especially in preaching to the prisoners, and those who re¬
sorted to them. And during this confinement, it is generally
thought, St. Peter wrote the second epistle to the dispersed
Jews, wherein he endeavors to confirm them in the belief and
practice of Christianity, and to fortify them against those
poisonous and pernicious principles and actions >Thich even
then began to break in upon the Christian church.
Nero at last returning from Achaia, entered Rome in tri¬
umph ; and soon after his arrival resolved that the apostles
should fall as victims and sacrifices to his cruelty and re¬
venge. While the fatal stroke was daily expected, the Chris¬
tians in Rome were continually offering up their prayers to
Heaven to protect those two holy persons. But the Almighty
was now willing to put an end to their sorrows ; and after
sealing the truth they had preached with their own blood, to
receive them into the regions of eternal bliss and happiness,
and exchange their crowns of martyrdom for crowns of glory*
Accordingly they were both condemned by the cruel emperor1
of Rome ; and St. Peter having taken his farewell of the
brethren, especially of St. Paul, was taken from the prison
and led to the top of the Vatican mount, near the Tiber,
where he was sentenced to surrender up his life on the
cross.
At his coming to the place of execution, he begged the
488 THE lilYES OP THE APOSTLES.
favor of the officers that lie might be executed not in the
common manner, but with his head downward, affirming that
he was unworthy to suffer in the same posture in which his
Lord had suffered before him. This request was accordingly
complied with ; and the great apostle St. Peter surrendered
up his soul into the hands of his great and beneficent Mas¬
ter, who came down from heaven to ransom mankind from
destruction, and open for them the gates of the heavenly
Canaan.
His body, being taken down from the cross, is said to have
been embalmed by Marcellimus, the presbyter, after the man¬
ner of the Jews, and then buried in the Vatican, near the
Appian way, two miles from Eome.
ST. PAUL.
This great apostle of the Gentiles was a descendant from
the ancient stock of Abraham. He belonged to the tribe of *
Benjamin, the youngest son of Jacob. Tarsus, the place of
his nativity, was the metropolis of Cilicia, and situated about
three hundred miles distant from Jerusalem ; it was exceed¬
ingly rich and populous, and a Eoman municipium, or free
corporation, invested with the privileges of Eome by the first
two emperors, as a reward for the citizens' firm adherence to
the Caesars in the rebellion of Crassus. St. Paul was there¬
fore born a Eoman citizen, and he often pleads this privilege
on his trials.
It was common for the inhabitants of Tarsus to send
their children into other cities for learning and improvement,
especially to Jerusalem, where they were so numerous that
they had a synagogue of their own, called the synagogue of
the Cilicians. To this capital our apostle was also sent, and
brought up at the school of that eminent rabbi, Gamaliel, in
the most exact knowledge of the law of Moses. Nor did he
fail to profit by the instructions of that great master, for he
so diligently conformed himself to precepts that, without
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 489
"boasting, he asserts of himself that, touching the righteous¬
ness of the law, he was blameless, and defied even his enemies
to allege any thing to the contrary, even in his youth. lie
joined himself to the sect of the Pharisees, the most strict
order of the Jewish religion, but, at the same time, the
proudest and greatest enemies to Christ and his holy religion.
With regard to his double capacity, of Jewish extraction
and Roman freedom, he had two names, Saul and Paul; the
former Hebrew, and the latter Latin. "We must also consider
his trade of tent-making as a part of his education ; it being
a constant practice of the Jews to bring up their children to
some honest calling, that, in case of necessity, they might pro¬
vide for themselves by the labor of their own hands.
The first action we find him engaged in was the disputa¬
tion he and his countrymen had with the martyr Stephen
with regard to the Messiah. The Christian was ±00 hard for
them in. the dispute ; but they were too powerful for him in
their civil interests, for being enraged at his convincing argu¬
ments, they carried him before the high priest, who by false
accusations condemned him to death. How far Saul was
concerned in this cruel action is impossible to say; all we
know is that he " kept the raiment of them that slew him,"
The storm of persecution against the church being thus
begun, it increased prodigiously, and the poor Christians of
Jerusalem were miserably harassed and dispersed. In this
persecution our apostle was a principal agent, searching all
the adjacent parts for the afflicted saints, beating some in the
synagogue, inflicting other cruelties, confining some in prison,
and procuring others to be put to death.
But it was the will of Providence he should be employed
in a work of very different nature ; and accordingly, he was
stopped in his journey. For as he was traveling between Je-
rusalem and Damascus, to execute the commission of the
Jewish Sanhedrim, a refulgent light, far exceeding the bright¬
ness of the sun, darted upon him ; at which both he and his
companions were terribly amazed and confounded, and imme¬
diately fell prostrate on the ground. While they lay in this
state, a voice was heard, in the Hebrew language, saying,
"Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?" To which Saul
490 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
replied, " Who art thou, Lord ?" And was immediately an¬
swered, " I am Jesus, whom thou persecutest: it is hard for
thee to kick against the pricks." As if the blessed J esus had
said, " All thy attemps to extirpate the faith in me will prove
abortive; and like kicking against the spikes, wound and tor¬
ment thyself."
In the meantime our blessed Saviour appeared in a vision
to Ananias, a very devout and religious man, highly esteemed
by all the inhabitants of Damascus. " And the Lord said
unto him, Arise, and go into the street, which is called
Straight, and inquire in the house of Judas, for one called
Saul, of Tarsus : for behold he prayeth, and hath seen in a
vision a man named Ananias, coming in and putting his hand
on him, that he might receive his sight."
Ananias, who was ever ready to obey the commands of the
Most High, startled at the name, having heard of the bloody
practices of Saul at Jerusalem, and what commissionJie was
now come to execute in Damascus. He, therefore, suspected
that his conversion was nothing more than a snare artfully
laid by him against the Christians. But our blessed Saviour
soon removed his apprehensions, by telling, him that his sus¬
picions were entirely destitute of foundation; and that he had
now taken him, as a chosen vessel, to preach the Gospel both
to the Jews and Gentiles, and even before the greatest mon-
archs of the earth. " Go thy way," said he, " for he is a
chosen vessel unto me, to bear my name before the Gentiles,
and kings, and the children of Israel." At the same time
he acquainted him with the great persecutions he should un¬
dergo for the sake of the gospel: " For I will show him how
great things he must suffer for my name's sake."
This quieted the fears of Ananias, who immediately obeyed
the heavenly vision, repaired to the house of Judas, and, lay¬
ing his hands upon Saul, addressed him in words to this
effect:—"That Jesus," said he, "who appeared to thee in
the way, hath sent me to restore thy sight, and by the infu¬
sion of his Spirit to give thee the knowledge of those truths
which thou hast blindly and ignorantly persecuted ; but who
now is willing to receive thee by baptism into his church, and
make thee a member of his body."
"T
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 491
This speech, was no sooner pronounced, than there fell
from his eyes thick films, resembling scales, and he received
his sight: and after baptism conversed with the Christians at
Damascus. Nor did he only converse with them, he also, to
the great astonishment of the whole church, preached the
gospel to those Christians he came with an intention to de¬
stroy, at the same time boldly asserting, u that Jesus was the
Christ, the Son of Godand proving it to the Jews, with
such demonstrative evidence that they were confounded, and
found it impossible to answer him.
The miraculous convert, at the instance of the divine
command, retired into Arabia Petrsea, where he received a
full revelation of all the mysteries of Christianity: for he
himself declares that he conversed not with flesh and blood.
Having preached in several parts of that country some time,
he returned again to Damascus, applying himself, with the
utmost assiduity, to the great work of the ministry, frequent¬
ing the synagogues there, powerfully confuting the objections
commonly made by the descendants of Jacob against Jesus of
Nazareth, and converting great numbers of Jews and Gentiles.
He was, indeed, remarkably zealous in his preaching, and
blessed w£*h a very extraordinary method of reasoning, whereby
he proved the fundamental points of Christianity, beyond ex¬
ception. This irritated the Jews to the highest degree ; and
at length, after a two or three years' continuance in those
parts, they found means to prevail on the governor of Da¬
mascus to have him put to death. But they knew it would be
difficult tq take him, as he had so many friends in the city ;
they therefore kept themselves in a continual watch, searched
all the houses where they supposed he might conceal himself,
and also obtained a guard from the governor, to observe the
gates, in order to prevent his escaping from them.
In this distress his Christian friends were far from desert¬
ing him; they tried every method that offered to procure his
escape, but finding it impossible for him to pass through either
of the gates of the city, they let him down from one of their
houses, through a window, in a basket, over the wall, by
which means the cruel designs of his enemies were rendered
abortive.
492
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
During this interval, he was remarkably assiduous in
preaching the gospel of the Son of Grod, and confuting the
Hellenist Jews with the greatest courage and resolution. But
snares were laid for him, as malice can as easily cease to be,
as to remain inactive. Being warned by God in a vision that
his testimony would not be received at Jerusalem, he thought
proper to depart, and preach the gospel to the Gentiles. Ac¬
cordingly, being conducted by his brethren to Csesarea Pliil-
lippi, he set sail for Tarsus, his native city : from whence he
was soon after brought, by Barnabas, to Antioch, to assist
him in propagating Christianity in that city.
Soon after their arrival, they entered the synagogue of the
Jews on the Sabbath day, and after the reading of the law,
Paul, being invited by the rulers of the synagogue, delivered
an address so powerful, that it obtained from the converted
Jews a request that it should again be delivered the ensuing
Sabbath; when almost the whole city flocked to hear the
apostle ; at which the J ews were filled with envy, and coif-
tradicted Paul, uttering many blasphemous expressions against
the name of Jesus of Nazareth.
This increased the malice and fury of the J ews, who, by
false and artful insinuations, prevailed on some of the more
bigoted and honorable women to bring over their husbands to
their party; by which means Paul and Barnabas were driven
out of the city.
Among the converts at Lystra was a man who had been
lame from his mother's womb, and never had walked. But
Paul perceiving that he had faith to be saved thought proper
to add the cure of his body to that of his soul, knowing that
it would not only be beneficial to him but to all the rest of
the believers, by confirming their faith. And that the mira¬
cle might be wrought in the most conspicuous manner, lie, in
the midst of the congregation, said, in an audible voice, to the
man, " Stand upright on thy feet." And the words were no
sooner pronounced than his strength was at once restored,
and he leaped up and walked.
The apostles indefatigably persevered in the execution of
their important commission, declaring, wherever they went,
the glad tidings of salvation, through repentance unto life,
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 493
and faitli in the Lord Jesus Christ. But the malice of the •
Jews still pursued them ; for some of these bigoted Israelites
coming from Antioch and Iconium exasperated and stirred
up the multitude; so that those very persons who could
hardly "be restrained from offering sacrifice to them now used
them like slaves, stoning them in so cruel a manner that
Paul was thought to he dead, and as such they dragged him
out of the city ; but while the Christians of Lystra were at¬
tending on the body, probably in order to carry him to the
grave, he arose, and returned with them into the city, and
the next day departed with Barnabas to Derbe, where they
preached the gospel, and converted many; no danger being
able to terrify them fr< >m the work of the ministry, and pub¬
lishing the glad tidings of salvation in every place.
They did not, however, long continue at Derbe, but re-
tured to Lystra, Icrmium, Antioch, and Pisidia, confirming
the Christians of those places in the faith, earnestly persuad¬
ing them to persevere, and not to be discouraged with those
troubles and persecutions which they must expect would
attend the profession of the gospel. And that the affairs of
the church might be conducted with more regularity they
ordained elders and pastors, to teach, to instruct, and to
, watch over them, and then left them to the protection of the
Almighty, to whose care they recommended them by prayer
and fasting.
After leaving Antioch they passed through Pisidia, and
came to Pamphilia ; and after preaching the gospel at Perga
they went down to Attalia.
Having thus finished tliQ circuit of their ministry they
returned back to Antioch, in Syria, from whence they at first
departed. Here they summoned the church, and gave them an
account of their ministry, the success it had met in different
parts, and how great a door had thus been opened for the
conversion of the Gentile world.
The controversy concerning the observation of Jewish cer¬
emonies in the Christian church being decided in favor of St.
Paul, he and his companions returned back to Antioch ; and
soon after Peter himself came down. On reading the decretal
epistle in the church, the converts conversed freely and inof-
494 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
»
fensively with, tlie Gentiles, till some of tlie Jews coming
thither from Jerusalem, Peter withdrew his conversation, as
if it had been a thing uawarrantable and unlawful. By such
a strange method of proceeding the minds of many were dis¬
satisfied, and their consciences very uneasy. St. Paul with
the greatest concern observed it, and publicly rebuked Peter,
with that sharpness and severity his unwarrantable practice
deserved.
Soon after this dispute Paul and Barnabas resolved to
visit the churches they had planted among the Gentiles, and
Barnab^S was desirous of taking with them his cousin Mark;
but this Paul strenuously opposed, as he had left them in
their former journey. This trifling dispute arose to such a
height that these two great apostles and fellow-laborers in
the gospel parted; Barnabas, taking Mark with him, repaired
to Cyprus, his native country, and Paul having made choice
of Silas, and recommended the success of his undertaking to
the care of Divine Providence, set forward on his intended
journey.
They first visited the churches of Syria and Cilicia, con¬
firming the people in the faith by their instructions and ex¬
hortations. Hence they sailed to Crete, where Paul preached
the gospel, and constituted Titus to be the first bishop and
pastor of the island. From hence Paul and Silas returned
back to Cilicia, and came to Lystra, where they found Tim¬
othy, whose father was a Greek, but his mother a Jewish con¬
vert, and by her he had been brought up under all the advan¬
tages of a pious and religious education. This person St.
Paul designed for the companion of his travels, and a special
instrument in the ministry of his gospel. But knowing that
his being uncircumcised would prove a stumbling-block to the
Jews he caused him to be circumcised; being willing, in law¬
ful and indifferent matters, to conform himself to the tempers
and apprehensions of men in order to save their souls.
Every thing being ready for their journey, St. Paul and
his companions departed from Lystra, passed through Phrygia,
and the country of Galatia, where the apostle was entertained
with the greatest kindness and veneration, the people looking
upon him as an angel sent immediately from heaven: and
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 495
"being "by revelation forbidden to go into Asia, he was com¬
manded by a second vision to repair to Macedonia to preach
the gospel. Accordingly our apostle prepared to pass from
Asia into Europe.
Here St. Luke joined them, and became ever after the
inseparable companion of St. Paul, who, being desirous of
finding the speediest passage into Macedonia, took ship with
his companions, Silas, Luke, and Timothy, and came to Samo-
thraeia, an island in the JEgean Sea, not far from Thrace ;
and the next day he went to Neapolis, a port of Macedonia.
Leaving Neapolis they repaired to Phillippi, the metropolis
of that part of Macedonia, and a Eoman colony, where they
stayed some days.
In this city, Paul, according to his constant practice,
preached in a proseucha, or oratory of the Jews, which stood
by the river side, at some distance from the city, and was
much frequented by the devout women of their religion, who
went there to pray and hear the law. And after several days,
as they were repairing to the same place of devotion, there
met them a damsel who possessed a spirit of divination, by
whom her masters acquired very great advantage. This
woman followed Paul and his companions, crying out,
" These men are the servants of the most high God, which
show unto us the way of salvation !" Paul, at first, took no
notice of her, not being willing to multiply miracles without
necessity. But when he saw her following them several days
together, he began to be troubled, and commanded the spirit,
in the name of Jesus, to come out of her. The evil spirit
with reluctance obeyed, and left the damsel that very instant.
This miraculous cure proving a great loss to her masters,
who acquired large gains from her soothsayings, they were
filled with envy and malice against the apostles; and by their
instigation, the multitude arose, and seized upon Paul and
his companions, hurried them before the magistrates and gov¬
ernors of the colony; accusing them of introducing many
innovations which were prejudicial to the state, and unlawful
for them to comply with, as being Eomans.
The magistrates being concerned for the tranquillity of
the state, and jealous of all disturbances, were very forward
496 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
to punish the offenders, against whom great numbers of the
multitude testified ; and therefore commanded the officers to
strip them, and scourge them severely, as seditious persons.
This was accordingly executed ; after which the apostles
were committed to close custody, the gaoler receiving more
than ordinary charge to keep them safely; and he accord¬
ingly thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet
fast in the stocks. But the most obscure dungeon, or the
pitchy mantle of the night, can not intercept the beams of
divine joy and comfort from the souls of pious men. Their
minds were all serenity; and at midnight they prayed and
sang praises so loud, that they were heard in every part of
the prison. Nor were their prayers offered to the throne of
grace in vain : an earthquake shook the foundations of the
prison, opened the doors, loosed the chains, and set the pris¬
oners at liberty.
This convulsion of nature roused the gaoler from his
sleep ; and concluding from what he saw that all his prison¬
ers were escaped, he was going to put a period to his life;
but Paul observing him, hastily cried, " Do thyself no harm,
for we are all here." The keeper was now as greatly sur¬
prised at the goodness of the apostles, as he was before terri¬
fied at the thoughts of their escape: and calling for a light,
he came immediately into the presence of the apostles, fell
down at their feet, and took them from thp dungeon, brought
them to his own house, washed their stripes, and begged of
them to instruct him in the knowledge of that God who was
so mighty to save.
St. Paul readily granted his request, and replied, That if
he believed in Jesus Christ, he might be saved with his whole
house; accordingly, the gaoler, with all his family, were,
after a competent instruction, baptized, and received as mem¬
bers of the church of Christ.
As soon as it was day, the magistrates, either hearing
what had happened, or reflecting on what they had done as
too harsh and unjustifiable, sent their sergeant to the gaoler,
with orders to discharge the apostles. The gaoler joyfully
delivered the message, and bid theni " depart in peacebut
Paul, that he might make the magistrates sensible what in-
THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES. 497
jury they had done them, and how unjustly they had pun¬
ished them, without examination or trial, sent them word,
that as they had thought proper to scourge and imprison
Romans, contrary to the laws of the empire, he expected
they should come themselves and make them some satisfac¬
tion.
The magistrates were terrified at this message; well
knowing how dangerous it was to provoke the formidable
power of the Romans, who never suffered any freeman to he
beaten uncondemned; they came therefore to the prison, and
very submissively entreated the apostles to depart without
any further disturbance.
This small recompense for the cruel usage they had re¬
ceived was accepted by the meek followers of the blessed
Jesus ; they left the prison, and retired to the house of
Lydia, where they comforted their brethren with an account
of their deliverance, and departed.
During the stay of the apostles at Thessalonica, they
lodged in the house of a certain Christian, named Jason,
who entertained them very c< lurteously. But the Jews would
not suffer the apoRtles to continue at rest. They refused to
embrace the gospel themselves, and therefore envied its suc¬
cess, and determined to oppose its progress. Accordingly,
they gathered together a great number of lewd and wicked
wretches, who beset the house of Jason, intending to take
Paul, and deliver him up to an incensed multitude. But in
this they were disappointed; Paul and Silas being removed
from thence by the Christians, and concealed in some other
part of the city, and finally sent away by night to Beraaa, a
city about fifty miles south of Thessalonica, but out of the
power of their enemies. Here also Paul's great love for his
countrymen, the Jews, and his earnest desire of their salva¬
tion, excited him to preach to them in particular ; accord¬
ingly, he entered into their synagogue, and explained the
gospel unto them, proving, out of the Scriptures of the Old
Testament, the truth of the doctrines he advanced.
Paul leaving Bersea under the conduct of certain guides,
it was said he designed to retire by sea out of Greece, that
his restless enemies might cease their persecution; but the
32
498 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
guides, according to Paul's order, brought him to Athens,
and left him there after receiving from him an order for Silas
and Timotheus to repair to him as soon as possible.
While St. Paul continued at Athens, expecting the arrival
of Silas and Timothy, he walked up and down, to take a
more accurate survey of the city, which he found miserably
overrun with superstition and idolatry.
Their superstitious practices grieved the spirit of the
apostle; accordingly he exerted all his strength for their con¬
version ; he disputed on the Sabbath days in the synagogues
of the Jews, and at other times took all opportunities of
preaching to the Athenians the coming of the Messiah to save
the world.
During St. Paul's stay at Athens, Timothy, according to
the order he had received, came to him, out of Macedonia,
and brought an account that the Christians of Thessalonica
were under persecution from their fellow-citizens, ever since
his departure : at which St. Paul was greatly concerned, and
at first inclined to visit them in person, to confirm them in
the faith they had embraced ; but being hindered by the ene¬
mies of the gospel, he sent Timothy to comfort them, and
put them in mind of what they had at first heard, namely,
that persecution would be the constant attendant on their
profession.
On Timothy's departure, St. Paul left Athens, and trav¬
eled to Corinth, a very populous place, and famous for its
trade.
During his stay at Corinth, he wrote his second epistle to
the Thessalonians, to supply his absence. In this epistle he
again endeavors to confirm their minds in the truth of the
gospel, and prevent their being shaken with those troubles
which the wicked and unbelieving Jews would be continually
raising against them.
St. Paul, on his leaving the church at Corinth, took ship
at Cenchrea, the port of Corinth, for Syria, taking with him
Aquila and Priscilla; and on his arrival at Ephesus, he
preached awhile in the synagogue of the Jews, promising to
return to them, after keeping the passover at Jerusalem.
Accordingly, he again took ship, and landed at Cassarea, and
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 499
from thence traveled to Jerusalem, where he kept the feast,
visited the chur^i, and then repaired to Antioch. Here he
staid some time, and then traversed the countries of Galatia
and Phrygia, confirming the newly-converted Christians, till
he came to Ephesus, where he fixed his abode for three years,
bringing with him Gaius of Derbe, Aristarchus, a native of
Thessalonica, Timotheus and Erastus of Corinth, and Titus.
After this, he entered into the Jewish synagogues, where,
for the first three months, he contended and disputed with
the Jews, endeavoring, with great earnestness and resolution,
to convince them of the truth of the Christian religion. But
when, instead of success, he met with nothing but obstinacy
and infidelity, he left the synagogue, and taking those with
him whom he had converted, instructed them and others who
resorted to him, in the school of one Tyrannus, a place where
scholars used to be instructed.
About this time the apostle wrote his epistle to the Gala-
tians ; for he had heard that, since his departure, corrupt
opinions had crept in among them, with regard to the ne¬
cessity of observing the legal rites.
Soon after the great tumult at Ephesus, about the god¬
dess Diana, Paul called the Christians together, and took his
leave of them with the most tender expressions of love and
affection. He had now spent almost three years at Ephesus,
and founded there a very considerable church, of which he
had ordained Timothy the first bishop. He first traveled
about two hundred miles northward, to Troas, before he took
ship, expecting to meet Titus there. But missing him, he
proceeded on his voyage to Macedonia.
On his arrival there, he preached the gospel in several
places, even as far as Illyricum, now called Sclavonia. During
this journey he met with many troubles and dangers, " with¬
out were fightings, and within were fears."
During the stay of Titus in Macedonia, Paul wrote his
second epistle to the Corinthians, and sent it to them by
Titus and Luke.
About this time he also wrote his first epistle to Timothy,
whom he left at Ephesus.
During his stay in Greece, he went to Corinth, where he
500 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
wrote his famous epistle to the Romans, which he sent by
Phoebe, a deaconess of the church of Cenchrea, near Corinth.
St. Paul being now determined to return into Syria, in
order to convey the contributions to the brethren at Jerusa¬
lem, set out on his journey; but being informed that the
Jews had formed a design of killing and robbing him by the
way, he returned back into Macedonia, and came to Phjllippi,
from whence he went to Troas, where he staid seven days.
Here he preached to them on the Lord's day, and continued
his discourse till midnight, being himself to depart in the
morning.
The night being thus spent in holy exercises, St. Paul took
his leave of the brethren in the morning, traveling on foot to
Assos, a sea-port town, whither he had before sent his com¬
panions by sea. From thence they sailed to Mj^tilene, a city
in the isle of Lesbos. They next sailed from thence, and
came over against Chios, and the day following landed at
Trogyllium, a promontory of Ionia, near Samos. The next
day they came to Miletus, not putting in at Ephesus, because
the apostle was resolved, if possible, to be at Jerusalem on
the day of Pentecost.
On his arrival at Miletus, he sent to Ephesus, to summon
the elders of the church : and on their coming, reminded
them of the manner in which' he had conversed among them,
how faithfully and affectionately he had discharged the offices
of his ministry, and how incessantly he had labored for the
good of the souls of men.
Paul with his companions, now departed from Miletus,
and arrived at Coos, from whence they sailed the next day to
Ehodes, a large island in the JEgean Sea. Leaving this place,
they came to Patara, the metropolis of Lycia, where they
went on board another vessel bound for Tyre, in Phoenicia.
On his arrival, he visited the brethren there, and continued
with them a week, and was advised by some of them, who
had the gift of prophecy, not to go up to Jerusalem. But
the apostle would by no means abandon his design, or refuse
to suffer any thing, provided he might spread the gospel of his
Saviour. Finding all persuasions were in vain, they jointly
accompanied him to the shore, where he kneeled down, and
1
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 501
prayed with, them; and after embracing them with the Tit-
most affection, he went on board, and came to Ptolemias, and
the next day to Caesarea.
During their stay in this place, Agabus, a Christian proph¬
et, came thither from Judea, who, taking Paul's girdle, bound
his own hands and feet with it, signifying, by this symbol,
that the Jews would bind Paul in that manner, and deliver
him over to the Gentiles. "Whereupon both, his own com¬
panions and the Christians of Caesarea earnestly besought
him that lie would not go up to Jerusalem. But the apostle
asked them if they intended by these passionate dissuasives
to add more affliction to his sorrow. " For I am ready," con¬
tinued he, u not only to be bound, but also to die at Jerusa¬
lem, for the name of the Lord Jesus/'
When the disciples found that his resolution was not to
be shaken, they importuned him no further, leaving the event
to be determined according to the pleasure of the Most High.
And all things being ready, Paul and his companions set for¬
ward on their journey, and were kindly and joyfully received
by the Christians on their arrival at Jerusalem.
Our apostle, soon after his arrival, encountered Tertullus,
who, in a short, but eloquent speech, began to accuse him,
charging him with sedition, heresy, and the profanation of
the temple.
The orator having finished his charge against the apostle,
Felix told St. Paul that he was now at liberty to make his
defense, which he did in the following manner:
" I answer this charge of the Jews with the greatest satis¬
faction before thee, because thou hast for many years been a
judge of this nation. About twelve days since, I repaired to
Jerusalem, to worship the God of Jacob. But I neither dis¬
puted with any man, or endeavored to stir the people in the
synagogues or the city. Nor can they prove the charge they
have brought against me.
" This, however, I really confess, that after the way which
they call heresy, so worship I the God of my fathers, and ac¬
cording to this faith, I am careful to maintain a clear and
quiet conscience, both towards God and man."
Felix having thus heard both parties, refused to pass any
J
502 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
final sentence till lie had more fully advised about it, and con¬
sulted Lysias, the governor of the castle, who was the most
proper person to give an account of the sedition and tumult.
Some time after St. Paul had appealed unto Caesar, king
Agrippa, who succeeded Herod in the Tetrarchate of Galilee,
and his sister Bernice, came to Caesarea to visit the new gov¬
ernor. Festus embraced this opportunity of mentioning the
case of our apostle to king Agrippa, together with the remark¬
able tumult this affair had occasioned among the Jews, and
the appeal he had made to Caesar. This account excited the
curiosity of king Agrippa, and he Was desirous of hearing
himself what St. Paul had to say in his own vindication.
Accordingly, the next day, the king and his sister, accom¬
panied with Festus the governor, and several other persons
of distinction, came into the court with a pompous and splen¬
did retinue, when the prisoner was brought before them. On
his appearing, Festus informed the court how greatly he had
been importuned by the Jews, both at Csesarea and Jerusa¬
lem, to put the prisoner to death as a malefactor.
Festus having finished his speech, Agrippa told Paul he
was now at liberty to make his own defense : and silence be¬
ing made, he delivered himself in the following manner, ad¬
dressing his speech particularly to Agrippa :
" I consider it as a particular happiness, king Agrippa,
that I am to make my defense against the accusations of the
Jews before thee : because thou art well acquainted with all
their customs, and the questions commonly debated among
them: I therefore beseech thee to hear me patiently. All
the Jews are well acquainted with my manner of life, from
my youth, the greatest part of it having been spent with my
own countrymen at Jerusalem. They also know that I was
educated under the institutions of the Pharisees, the strictest
sect of our religion, and am now arraigned for a tenet believed
by all our fathers ; a tenet 'sufficiently credible in itself, and
plainly revealed in the Scriptures, I mean the resurrection of
the dead. Why should any mortal think it either incredible
or impossible, that God should raise the dead ?
" I, indeed, formerly thought myself indispensably obliged
to oppose the religion of Jesus of Nazareth. Nor was I satis-
w#-
THE LIYES OF THE APOSTLES. 503
fied with imprisoning and punishing with death itself the
saints I found at Jerusalem j I even persecuted them in
strange cities, whither my implacable zeal pursued them,
having procured authority for that purpose from the chief
priests and elders.
u Accordingly I departed for Damascus, with a commis¬
sion from the Sanhedrim: but as I was traveling towards
that city, I saw at mid-day, O king, a light from heaven, far
exceeding the brightness of the sun, encompassing me and my
companions. On seeing this awful appearance, we all fell to
the earth, and I heard a voice which said to me, in the He¬
brew language, 1 Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? It
is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.* To which I an¬
swered, 4 Who art thou, Lord ?' and he replied, * I am Jesus,
whom thou persecutest/ But be not terrified, arise from the
eaath ; for X have appeared unto thee, that thou mightest be
both a witness of the things thou hast seen, and also of others
which I will hereafter reveal unto thee. My power shall de¬
liver thee from the Jews and Gentiles, to whom now I send
thee to preach the gospel; to withdraw the vail of darkness
and ignorance; to turn them from falsehood unto truth,1 and
from the power of Satan unto God/
" Accordingly, king Agrippa, I readily obeyed the heav¬
enly vision. I preached the gospel first to the inhabitants of
Damascus, then to those of Jerusalem and Judea, and after¬
wards to the Gentiles ; persuading them to forsake their in¬
iquities, and, by sincere repentance, turn to the living God.
" These endeavors to save the souls of sinful mortals exas¬
perated the Jews, who caught me in the temple, and entered
into a conspiracy to destroy me. But, by the help of Om¬
nipotence, I still remain a witness to all the human race,
preaching nothing but what Moses and all the prophets fore¬
told, namely, that the Messiah should suffer, be the first that
should rise from the chambers of the grave, and publish
the glad tidings of salvation, both to the Jews and Gen¬
tiles/'
While the apostle thus pleaded for himself, Festus cried
out, " Paul, thou art mad ; too much study hath deprived
thee of thy reason." But Paul answered, " I am far, most
504 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
noble Festus, from being transported with idle and distracted
ideas ; the words I speak are dictated by truth and sobriety,
and I am persuaded that the king, Agrippa himself, is not
ignorant of these things." To which Agrippa answered,
" Thou hast almost persuaded me to embrace the Christian
faith/' Paul replied, " I sincerely wish that not only thou,
but also all that hear me, were not almost, but altogether,
the same as I myself, except being prisoners."
It being now finally determined that Paul should be sent
to Eome, he was, with several other prisoners of consequence,
committed to the care of Julius, commander of a company
belonging to the legion of Augustus, and was accompanied in
his voyage by St. Luke, Aristarchus, Trophimus, and some
others not mentioned by the sacred historian.
In the month of September, they embarked on board a
ship of Adramyttium, and sailed to Sidon, where the centu¬
rion courteously gave the apostle leave to go on shore to visit
his friends and refresh himself.
After a short stay, they sailed for Cyprus, and arrived
opposite the Fair-Havens, a place near Myra, a city of Lycia.
Here, the season being far advanced, and Paul foreseeing it
would be a dangerous voyage, persuaded them to put in and
winter there. But the Eoman centurion preferring the opin¬
ion of the master of the ship, and the harbor being at the
same time incommodious, resolved, if possible, to reach Phoe-
nice, a port of Crete, and winter there. But they soon found
themselves disappointed ; for the fine southerly gale which
had favored them for some time, suddenly changed into a
stormy and tempestuous wind at north-east, which blew with
such violence that the ship was obliged to sail before it; and
to prevent her sinking they threw overboard the principal
part of her lading.
In this desperate and uncomfortable condition they con¬
tinued fourteen days, and on the fourteenth night the mari¬
ners discovered they were near some coast, and, therefore, to
avoid the rocks, thought proper to come to an anchor, till the
morning might give them better information.
The country near which they were was, as Paul had fore¬
told, an island called Melita, now Malta, situated in the
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
505
Lybian Sea, "between Syracuse and Africa. Here they landed,
and met with great civility from the people, who treated
them with humanity, and entertained them with every neces¬
sary accommodation. ,
After three months' stay in this island, the centurion, with
liis charge, went on board the Castor and Pollux, a ship of
Alexandria, bound to Italy. They put in at Syracuse, where
they tarried three days; then they sailed to Eegium, and
from thence to Puteoli, where they landed, and, finding some
Christians there, staid, at their request, a week with them,
and then set forward on their journey to Eome. The Chris¬
tians of this city, hearing of the apostle's coming, went to
meet him as far as the distance of about thirty miles from
Eome, and others as far as the Apiiforum, fifty-one miles dis¬
tant from the capital They kindly embraced each other,
and the liberty he saw the Christians enjoy at Rome greatly
tended to enliven the spirits of the apostle.
Having refreshed himself after the fatigue of his voyage,
the apostle sent for the heads of the Jewish consistory at
Eome, and related to them the cause of his coming, in the
following manner : " Though I have been guilty of no vio¬
lence of the laws of our religion, yet I was delivered by the
Jews at Jerusalem to the Eoman governors, who more than
once would have acquitted me as innocent of any capital of¬
fense ; but, by the perverseness of my persecutors, I was
obliged to appeal unto Caesar ; not that I had anything to
accuse my nation of—I had recourse to this method merely
to clear my own innocence."
For two whole years Paul dwelt at Eome, in a house he
had hired for his own use, wherein he assiduously employed
himself in preaching and writing for the good of the
church.
St. Paul lived about three years at Ephesus, preaching
the gospel to the numerous inhabitants of that city, and was
therefore well acquainted with the state and condition of the
place ; so that, taking the opportunity of Tychicus's going
thither, he wrote his epistle to the Ephesians, wherein he en¬
deavors to countermine the principles and practices both of
the Jews and Gentiles, to confirm them in the belief and
506 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
practices of the Christian doctrine, and to instruct them fully
in the great mysteries of the gospel.
Having thus discharged his ministry, both hy preaching
and writing, in Italy, St. Paul, accompanied hy Timothy,
prosecuted his long-intended journey into Spain; and, ac¬
cording to the testimony of several writers, crossed the sea
and preached the gospel in Britain.
He continued there eight or nine months, and then re¬
turned again to the East, visited Sicily, Greece, and Crete,
and then repaired to Rome.
Here he met with Peter, and was, together with him,
thrown into prison, doubtless in the general persecution raised
against the Christians under pretense that they had set fire
to the city. How long he remained in prison is uncertain,
nor do we know whether he was scourged before his execu¬
tion. He was, however, allowed the privilege of a Roman
citizen, and therefore beheaded.
Being come to the place of execution, which was the
Aquse Salvia?, three miles from Rome, he cheerfully, after a
solemn preparation, gave his neck to the fatal stroke ; and
from this vale of misery passed to the blissful regions of im¬
mortality, to the kingdom of his beloved Master, the great
Redeemer of the human race.
He was buried in the Yia Ostiensis, about two miles from
Rome; and about the year 317, Constantine the Great, at
the instance of Pope Sylvester, built a stately church over his
grave, adorned it with a hundred marble columns, and beau¬
tified it with the most exquisite workmanship.
ST. ANDREW.
This apostle was born at Bethsaida, a city of Galilee,
built on the banks of the lake of Gennesareth, and was son to
John, or Jonas, a fisherman of that town. He was brother
to Simon Peter, but whether older or younger is not certainly
known, though the generality of the ancients intimate that he
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES, 507
was the younger. He was "brought up to his father's trade,
at which he labored till our blessed Saviour called him to be a
fisher of men, for which he was, by some preparatory instruc¬
tions, qualified even before the appearance of the Messiah.
John the Baptist had lately preached the doctrine of re¬
pentance, and was, by the generality of the Jews, from the
impartiality of his precepts and the remarkable strictness and
austerity of his life, held in great veneration.
In the number of his followers was our apostle, who ac¬
companied him beyond Jordan, when the Messiah, who had
some time before been baptized, came that way. Upon his
approach, the Baptist pointed him out as the Messiah, styling
him the Lamb of God, the true sacrifice that was to expiate
the sins of the world. As soon as the Baptist had given this
character of Jesus, Andrew and another disciple, probably
St. John, followed the Saviour of mankind to the place of
his abode.
Something more than a year after, Jesus, passing through
Galilee, found Andrew and Peter fishing on the sea of Gal¬
ilee, where he fully satisfied them of the greatness and divinity
of his person, by a miraculous draught of fishes, which they
took at his command.
After the ascension of the blessed Jesus into heaven, and
the descent of the Holy Ghost on the apostles, to qualify
them for their great undertaking, St. Andrew, according to
the generality of ancient writers, was chosen to preach the
gospel in Scythia and the neighboring countries.
Accordingly he departed from Jerusalem, and first traveled
through Cappadocia, Galatia and Bythinia, instructing the
inhabitants in the faith of Christ, and continued his journey
along the Euxine Sea, into the deserts of Scythia. An anci¬
ent author tells us that he first came to Amynsus, where, be¬
ing entertained by a Jew, he went into the synagogue, preached
to them concerning Jesus, and from the prophecies of the Old
Testament proved him to be the Messiah and Saviour of the
world.
He went next to Trapezium, a maritime city on the
Euxine Sea; from whence, after visiting many other places,
he came to Nice, where he stayed two years, preaching and
508 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
working miracles with great success. After leaving Nice, he
passed to Nicodemia, and from thence to Chalcedon, whence
he sailed through the Propontis, came hy the Euxine Sea to
Heraclea, and afterwards to Amastris.
He next came to Synope, a city situated on the same sea,
and famous both for the birth and burial of king Mithridates;
here he met with his brother Peter, and stayed with him a
considerable time.
Departing from Synope, he returned to Jerusalem ; but
he did not continue long in that neighborhood. He returned
again to the province alloted him for the exercise of his min¬
istry, which greatly flourished through the power of the divine
grace that attended it.
He traveled over Thrace, Macedonia, Thessaly, Achaia
and Epirus, preaching the gospel, propagating Christianity,
and then confirming the doctrine he taught with feigns and
miracles. At last he came to Petrea, a city of Achaia, where
he gave his last and greatest testimony to the gospel of his
divine Master, sealing it with his blood.
iEgenas, proconsul of Achaia, came at this time to Petrea,
where, observing that multitudes had abandoned the heathen
religion, and embraced the gospel of Christ, he had recourse
to every method, both of favor and cruelty, to reduce the peo¬
ple to their old idolatry. The apostle observed to him, that
if he would renounce his idolatries, and heartily embrace the
Christian faith, he should, with him and the numbers who
had believed in the Son of God, receive eternal happiness in
the Messiah's kingdom. The proconsul answered, that he
himself should never embrace the religion he mentioned. The
apostle replied, that he saw it was in vain to endeavor to
persuade a person incapable of sober counsels, and hardened
in his own blindness and folly. iEgenas could hold no longer;
and after treating him with very opprobrious language, and
showing him the most distinguished marks of contempt, he
passed sentence upon him that he should be put to death.
He first ordered the apostle to be scourged, and seven lie-
tors successively whipped his naked body; but seeing his
invincible patience and constancy, he commanded him to
be crucified; but to be fastened to the cross with cords, in-
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
509
stead of nails, that his death might he more lingering and
tedious.
On his coming near the cross, he saluted it in the follow¬
ing manner : " I have long desired and expected this happy-
hour. The cross has been consecrated by the body of Christ
hanging on it, and adorned with his members as with so many
inestimable jewels."
After offering up his prayer to the throne of grace, and
exhorting the people to constancy and perseverance in the
faith he had delivered to them, he was fastened to the cross,
on which he hung two whole days, teaching and instructing
the people in the best manner his wretched situation would
admit, being sometimes so weak and faint as scarce to have
the power of utterance.
In the meantime great interest was made to the proconsul
to spare his life : but the apostle earnestly begged of the Al¬
mighty that he might now depart, and seal the truth of his
religion with his blood. His prayers were heard, and he ex¬
pired on the last day of November, but in what year is un¬
certain.
His body having been taken down from the cross, was de¬
cently and honorably interred by Maximillia, a lady of great
quality and estate, and whom Nicephorus tells us, was wife
to the proconsul.
Constantine the Great afterwards removed his body to
Constantinople, and buried it in the great church he had
built to the honor of the apostles.
ST. JAMES THE GKEAT.
This apostle (who was surnamed the Great, by way of
distinction, from another of that name) was the sun of Zeb-
edee, and by trade a fisherman, to which he applied himself
with remarkable assiduity, and was exercising his employ¬
ment when the Saviour of the world, passing by the sea of
Galilee, saw him with his brother in the ship, and called
them both to be his disciples.
510 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
Soon after this he "was called from the station of an or¬
dinary disciple to the apostolic office, and even honored with
some particular favors beyond most of the apostles, being one
of the three whom our Lord made choice of as his companions
in the more intimate transactions of his life, from which the
rest were excluded. Thus, with Peter, and his brother John,
he attended his Master when he raised the daughter of Jairus
from the dead; he was admitted to Christ's glorious trans¬
figuration on the mount; and when the holy Jesus was to
undergo his bitter agonies in the garden, as preparatory suf¬
ferings to his passion, James was one of the three taken to be
a spectator of them.
When our Lord was determined on his journey to Jerusa¬
lem, he sent some of his disciples before him to make prepar¬
ations for his coming ; but, on their entering a village of Sa¬
maria, they were rudely rejected, from the old grudge that
subsisted between the Samaritans and Jews, and because the
• /
Saviour, by going up to Jerusalem, seemed to slight their
place of worship on Mount Gerizim. This piece of rudeness
and inhumanity was so highly resented by St. James and his
brother, that they came to Jesus desiring to know if he would
not imitate Elias, by calling fire down from heaven to consume
this barbarous, inhospitable people ?
Herod, who was a bigot to the Jewish religion, as well as
desirous of acquiring the favor of the Jews, began a violent
persecution of the Christians, and his zeal animated him to
pass sentence of death on St. James immediately. As he was
led to the place of execution, the officer that guarded him to
the tribunal, or rather his accuser, having been converted by
that remarkable courage and constancy shown by the apostle
at the time of his trial, repented of what he had done, came
and fell down at the apostle's feet, and heartily begged pardon
for what he had said against him. The holy man, after re¬
covering from the surprise, tenderly embraced him " Peace,"
said hfi, <c my son, peace be unto thee, and pardon of thy
faults." Upon which the officer publicly declared himself a
Christian, and both were beheaded at the same time. Thus
fell the great apostle St. James, taking cheerfully that cup of
which he had long since told his Lord he was ready to drink.
the lives of the afqstles. 511
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST.
From the very minute and circumstantial account this
evangelist gives of John the Baptist, he is supposed to have
been one of his followers, and is thought to be that other dis¬
ciple who, in the first chapter of his gospel, is said to have
been present with Andrew, when John declared Jesus to be
ie the Lamb of God," and thereupon to have followed him to
the place of his abode.
He was by much the youngest of the apostles, yet he was
admitted into as great a share of his Master's confidence as
any of them. He was one of those to whom he communi¬
cated the most private transactions of his life ; one of those
whom he took with him when he raised the daughter pf
Jairus from the dead: one of those to whom he displayed a
specimen of his <livinity, in his transfiguration on the mount:
one of those who were present at his conference with Moses
and Elias, and heard that voice which declared him " the be¬
loved Son of God and one of those who were companions
in his solitude, most retired devotions, and bitter agonies in
the garden.
After the ascension of the Saviour of the world, when the
apostles made a division of the provinces among themselves,
that of Asia fell to the share of St. John, though he did not
immediately enter upon his charge, but continued at Jerusa¬
lem till the death of the blessed Virgin, which might be about
fifteen years after our Lord's ascension. Many churches of
note and eminence were of his foundation, particularly those
of Smyrna, Pergamus, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia, Lao-
dicea, and others ; but bis chief place of residence was at
Ephesus, where St. Paul had many years before founded a
church, and constituted Timothy bishop of it.
After spending several years at Ephesus, he was accused
to Domitian, who had begun a persecution against the; Chris¬
tians, as an eminent asserter of atheism and impiety, and a
public subverter of the religion of the empire ; so that by his
command the proconsul sent him bound to Rome, where he
met with the treatment that might have been expected from
512 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
so barbarous a prince, being thrown into a caldron of boiling
oil. But the Almighty, who reserved him. for further service
in the vineyard of his Son, restrained the heat, as he did in
the fiery furnace of old, and delivered him from this seemingly
unavoidable destruction. And surely one would have thought
that so miraculous a deliverance should have been sufficient
to have persuaded any rational man that the religion he
taught was from God, and that he was protected from danger
by the hand of Omnipotence. But miracles themselves were
not sufficient to convince this cruel emperor, or abate his fury.
He ordered St. John to be transported to an almost desolate
island in the Archipelago, called Patmos, where he continued
several years, instructing the poor inhabitants in the knowl¬
edge of the Christian faith ; and here, about the end of Do-
mitian's reign, he wrote his book of Revelations, exhibiting
by visions and prophetical representations, the state and con¬
dition of Christianity in the future period? and ages of the
church.
Upon the death of Domitian, and the succession of Narva,
who repealed all the odious acts of his predecessor, and by
public edicts recalled those whom the fury of Domitian had
banished, St. John returned to Asia, and fixed his seat again
at Ephesus ; the rather because the people of that city had
lately martyred Timothy the bishop.
In this manner St. John continued to labor in the vine¬
yard of his great Master, until death put an end to all his
toils and su,fferings, which happened in the beginning of Tra¬
jan's reign, in the ninety-eighth year of his age; and, accord¬
ing to Eusebius, his remains were buried near Ephesus.
The greatest instance of our apostle's care for the souls of
men is in the writings he left to posteritythe first of which
in time, though placed last in the sacred canon, is his Apoca¬
lypse, or book of Revelations, which he wrote during his
banishment at Patmos.
Next to the Apocalypse, in order of time, are, his three
epistles ; the first of which is catholic, calculated for all times
and places, containing the most excellent rules for the conduct
of a Christian life, pressing to holiness and pureness of man¬
ners, and not to be satisfied with a naked and empty profession
THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES. 513
of religion. The other two epistles are "but short, and di¬
rected to particular persons; the one to a lady of great qual¬
ity, the other to the charitable and hospitable Gaius, the
kindest friend and most courteous entertainer of all indigent
Christians.
Before he undertook the task of writing the gospel, he
caused a general fast to be kept by all the Asiatic churches,
to implore the blessing of Heaven on so great and momentous
an undertaking. When this was done, he set about the work,
and completed it in so excellent and sublime a manner, that
the ancients generally compared him to an eagle soaring aloft
among the clouds, whither the weak eye of »man was not able
to follow him.
Such is the character given of the writings of this great
apostle and evangelist, who was honored with the endearing
title of being the beloved disciple of the Son of God: a writer
so profound as to deserve, by way of eminence, the character
of " St. John the Divine."
ST. PHILIP.
This apostle was a native of Bethsaida, " the city of An¬
drew and Peter." He had the honor of being first called to
be a disciple of the great Messiah, which happened in the
following manner: our blessed Saviour, soon after his return
from the wilderness, where he had been tempted by the devil,
met with Andrew and his brother Peter, and after some dis¬
course parted from them. The next day, as he was passing
through Galilee, he found Philip, whom Ke presently com¬
manded to follow him, the constant form he made use of in
calling his disciples, and those that inseparably attended him.
It can not be doubted, that notwithstanding St. Philip
was a native of Galilee, yet he was excellently skilled in the
law and the prophets. Metaphrastes assures us, that he had,
from his childhood, been excellently educated j that he fre-
33
514 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
quently read over" the books of Moses, and attentively consid¬
ered the prophecies relating to the Messiah.
Nor was our apostle idle after the honor he had received
of being called to attend the Saviour of the world ; he im¬
mediately imparted the glad tidings of the Messiah's appear¬
ance to his brother Nathaniel, and conducted him to Jesus.
After being called to the apostleship we have very little
record of him by the evangelists. It was, however, to him
that our Saviour proposed the question, where they should
fiifd bread sufficient to satisfy the hunger of so great a multi¬
tude. Philip answered, that it was not easy to procure so
great a quantity; not considering that it was equally easy
for Almighty power to feed double the number, when it should
be his divine will.
The compassionate Jesus had been fortifying their minds
with proper considerations against his departure from them,
and had told them that he was going to prepare for them a
place in the mansions of the heavenly Canaan ; that he was
" the way, the truth, and the life and that no man could
come to the Father but by him.
Philip, not thoroughly understanding the force of his Mas¬
ter's reasonings, begged of him, that he would " show them
the Father."
Our blessed Lord gently reproved his ignorance, that after
attending so long to his instructions, he should not know that
he was the image of his Father, the express character of his
infinite wisdom, power, and goodness, appearing in him; that
he said and did nothing but by his Father's appointment;
which, if they did not believe, his miracles were a sufficient
evidence : that such demands were, therefore, unnecessary and
impertinent; and that it was an indication of great weakness
in him, after three years' education under his discipline and
instruction, to appear so ignorant with regard to these par¬
ticulars.
The ancients tell us, that in the distribution made by the
apostles of the several regions of the world, the Upper Asia
fell to his share, where he labored with an indefatigable dili¬
gence and industry.
After several years successfully exercising his apostolical
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
515
office in all those parts, lie came at last to Hierpolis in Phry-
gia, a city remarkably rich, and populous, but at the same
time overrun with the most enormous idolatry.
St. Philip being grieved to see the people so wretchedly
enslaved by error and superstition, continually offered his ad¬
dresses to Heaven, till, by his prayers, and often calling on the
name of Christ, he procured the death, or at least the vanish¬
ing of an enormous serpent, to which they paid adoration.
Having thus demolished their deity, he demonstrated to
them how ridiculous and unjust it was for them to pay divine
honors to such odious creatures: showed them that God
alone was to be worshiped as the great parent of all the
world, who in the beginning made man after his glorious im¬
age, and when fallen from that innocent and happy state,
sent his own Son into the world to redeem him. This dis¬
course roused them from their lethargy, they were ashamed
of their late idolatry, and great numbers embraced the doc¬
trines of the gospel.
This provoked the great enemy of mankind, and he had
recourse to his old methods, cruelty and persecution. The
magistrates of the city seized the apostle, and having thrown
him into prison, caused him to be scourged. When this pre¬
paratory cruelty was over, he was led to execution, and, be¬
ing bound, was hanged against a pillar; or, according to
others, crucified. The apostle being dead, his body was taken
down by St. Bartholomew, his fellow-laborer in the gospel,
and Mariamne, St. Philip's sister, the constant companion of
his travels, and decently buried; after which, they confirmed
the people in the faith of Christ, and departed from them.
ST. BARTHOLOMEW.
This apostle is mentioned amongst the twelve immediate
■ disciples of our Lord under the appellation of Bartholomew,
though it is evident from divers passages of Scripture, that
he was also called Nathaniel: we shall, therefore, in our ac-
516 THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
count of his life, consider the names of Nathaniel and Barthol¬
omew as belonging to one and the same person.
With regard to his descent and family, some are of opin¬
ion that he was a Syrian, and that he was descended from the
Ptolemies of Egypt. But it is plain from the evangelical
history, that he was a Galilean ; St. John having expressly
told us that Nathaniel was of Cana, in Galilee.
The Scripture is silent with regard to his trade and man¬
ner of life, though, from some circumstances, there is room to
imagine that he was a fisherman. He was at the first coming
to Christ, conducted by Philip, who told him they had now
found the long-expected Messiah, so often foretold by Moses,
and the prophets, "Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph."
And when he objected that the Messiah could not be born at
Nazareth, Philip desired him to come and satisfy himself
that he was the Messiah.
At his approach, our blessed Saviour saluted him with
this honorable appellation, that he was an " Israelite indeed,
in whom there was no guile not in an absolute, but re¬
stricted sense; for perfection can not be attached to human
nature, but in the character of the blessed Jesus, of whom it
is said, with peculiar propriety, that he was " holy, harmless,
undefiled, and separate from sinners also, that he " knew
no sin, neither was guile," that is, fraud or deception, found
in his tongue.
He was greatly surprised at our Lord's salutations, won¬
dering how he could know him at first sight, as imagining he
had never before seen his face.
Our apostle having his peculiar spot allotted him fjr the
promulgation of the gospel of his blessed Master, who had
now ascended into heaven, and dispensed his Holy Spirit to
fit and qualify his disciples for the important work, visited
different parts of the world to preach the gospel, and pene¬
trated as far as the Hither India.
After spending considerable time in India, and the eastern
extremities of Asia, he returned to the northern and western
parts, and we find him at Hierpolis, in Phrygia, laboring in
concert with St. Philip to plant Christianity in those parts |
and to convince the blind idolaters of the evil of their ways,
1
the lives op the apostles. 517
and direct them in the paths that lead to eternal salvation.
„ This enraged the bigoted magistrates, and he was, together
with St Philip, designed for martyrdom, and in order to this,
fastened to a cross; but their consciences pricking them for a
time, they took St. Bartholomew down from the cross and set
him at liberty.
From hence he retired to Lycadnia, and St. Chrysostom
assures us that he instructed and trained up the inhabitants
in the Christian discipline. His last remove was to Albano-
ple, in Great Armenia, a place miserably overrun with idol¬
atry, from which he labored to reclaim the people. But his
endeavors to " turn them from darkness unto light, and from
the power of Satan unto God," were so far from having the
desired effect, that it provoked the magistrates, who prevailed
on the governor to put him to death, which he cheerfully un¬
derwent, sealing the truth of the doctrine he had preached
with his blood.
ST. MATTHEW.
St. Matthew, called also Levi, though a Roman officer,
was a true Hebrew, and probably a Galilean. His trade was
that of a publican or tax-gatherer to the Romans, an office-
detested by the generality of the Jews, on two accounts ; first,
because having fanned the custom of the Romans, they used
every method of oppression to pay their rents to the Romans ;
secondly, because they demanded tribute of the Jews, who con¬
sidered themselves as a free people, having received that privi¬
lege from God himself.
Our blessed Saviour having cured a person long afflicted
with the palsy, retired out of Capernaum, to walk by the sea¬
side, where he taught the people that flocked after him.
Here he saw Matthew sitting in his office, and called him
to follow him. The man was rich, had a large and profitable
employment, was a wise and prudent person, and doubtless
understood what would be his loss to comply with the call of
Jesus. He was not ignorant that he must exchange wealth
j
518 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
for poverty, a custom-house for a prison, and rich and power¬
ful masters for a naked and despised Saviour. But he over¬
looked all those considerations, left all his interest and rela¬
tions, to become our Lord's disciple, and to embrace a more
spiritual way of life.
After St. Matthew's election to the apostleship, he con¬
tinued with the rest till the ascension of his great and beloved
Master; but the evangelical writers have recorded nothing
particular concerning him during that period.
After our blessed Saviour's ascension into heaven, St. Mat¬
thew, for the first eight years at least, preached in different
parts of Judea; but afterwards he left the country of Pales¬
tine, to convert the Gentile world.
After his leaving Judea, he traveled into several parts, es¬
pecially Ethiopia, but the particular places he visited are not
known with any certainty.
However, after laboring indefatigably in the vineyard of
his Master, he suffered martyrdom at a city of Ethiopia, called
Nadabar ; but by what kind of death is not absolutely known,
though the general opinion is, that he was slain with an hal-
bert.
St. Matthew was a remarkable instance of the power of
religion in bringing men to a better temper of mind. If we
reflect upon his circumstances while he continued a stranger
to the great Redeemer of mankind, we shall find that the love
of the world had possessed his heart.
His contempt of the world appeared in his exemplary tem¬
perance and abstemiousness from all delights and pleasures ;
nay, even from the ordinary conveniences and accommodations
of it. He was mean and modest in his own opinion, always
preferring others to himself; for whereas the other evangelists,
in describing the apostles by pairs, constantly places him be¬
fore St. Thomas, he modestly places him before himself. The
rest of the evangelists are careful to mention the honor of his
apostleship, but speak of his former sordid, dishonest, and dis¬
graceful course of life, only under the name of Levi; while he
himself sets it down with all the circumstances, under his own
proper and common name.
The last thing we shall remark in the life of this apostle,
THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
519
is his gospel, written at the entreaty of the Jewish converts,
while he abode in Palestine; but at what time is uncertain;
some will have it to have been written eight, some fifteen, and
some thirty years after our Lord's ascension. It was origi¬
nally written in Hebrew, but soon after translated into Greek
by one of the disciples.
After the Greek translation was admitted, the Hebrew copy
was chiefly owned and useckby the Nazarei, a middle sect be¬
tween Jews and Christians; with the former they adhered to
the rites and ceremonies of the Mosaic law, and with the lat¬
ter they believed in Christ, and embraced his religion; and
hence this Gospel has been styled " The Gospel according to
the Hebrews," and " The Gospel of the Nazarenes."
ST. THOMAS.
Evangelical history is entirely silent with regard either
to the country or kindred of Thomas. It is, however, certain
that he was a Jew, and in all probability a Galilean.
He was, together like the rest, called to the apostleship ;
and, not long after, gave an eminent instance of his being
ready to undergo the most melancholy fate that might attend
him. For when the rest of the apostles dissuaded their Mas¬
ter from going into Judea, at the time of Lazarus' death, be¬
cause the Jews lately endeavored to stone him, Thomas de¬
sired them not to hinder bis journey thither, though it might
cost them all their lives.
When the holy Jesus, a little before his sufferings, hac|
been speaking to them of the joys of heaven, and had told
them that he was going to prepare mansions for them, that
they might follow him, and that they knew both the place
whither he was going, and the way thither; our apostle re¬
plied, that they knew not whither he was going, much less
the way that would lead them thither. To which our Lord
returned this short but satisfactory answer, " I am the way
I am the person whom the Father has sent into the world
520 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
to show mankind the paths that lead to eternal life, and
therefore you can not miss the way, if you follow my ex¬
ample.
After the disciples had seen their great Master expire on
the cross, their minds were distracted by hopes and fears con¬
cerning his resurrection, about which they were not then fully
satisfied ; which engaged him the sooner to hasten his appear¬
ance, that by the sensible manifestation of himself he might
put the matter beyond all possibility of dispute. Accordingly,
the very day in which he arose from the dead, he came into
the house where they were assembled, while the doors about
them were close shut, and gave them sufficient assurance that
he was risen from the dead.
At this meeting Thomas was absent, having probably
never joined their company since their dispersion in the gar¬
den, where every one's fears prompted him to consult his own
safety. At his return, they told him that the Lord had ap¬
peared to them ; but he obstinately refused to give credit to
what they said, or believe that it was really he, presuming
it rather a specter or apparition, unless he might see the
very print of the nails, and feel the wounds in his hands
and side.
But our compassionate Saviour would not take the least
notice of his perverse obstinacy, but on that day seven-night
came again to them, as they were solemnly met at their devo¬
tions, and calling to Thomas, bade him look upon his hands,
put his fingers into the prints of the nails, and thrust his
hand into his side, to satisfy his faith by a demonstration
from the senses. Thomas was soon convinced of his error
and obstinacy, confessing that he now acknowledged bim to
be his Lord and Master, saying, " My Lord and my God."
Our great Redeemer having, according to promise before
his ascension, poured an extraordinary effiision of the Holy
Ghost upon the disciples to qualify them for the great work
of preaching the gospel, St. Thomas, as well as the rest,
preached the gospel in several parts of Judea ; and after the
dispersion of the Christian church in Jerusalem, repaired into
Parthia, the province assigned him for his ministry. After
which, as Sempronius and others inform us, he preached the
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
521
gospel to the Medes, Persians, Carmanians, Hyrcani, Bracta-
rians, and the neighboring nations.
Leaving Persia, he traveled into Ethiopia, preaching the
glad tidings of the gospel, healing their pick, and working
other miracles, to prove he had his commission from on
high. And after traveling through these countries he en¬
tered India. *
"When the Portuguese first visited these countries after
their discovery of a passage by the Cape of Good Hope, they
received the following particulars, partly from constant and
uncontroverted traditions preserved by the Christians in those
parts; namely, that St. Thomas came first to Socotora, an
island in the Arabian Sea, and then to Cranganor, where,
having converted many from the error of their ways, he trav¬
eled further into the East; and having successfully preached
the gospel, returned back to the kingdom of Coromandel,
where at Maliapour, the metropolis of that kingdom, not far
from the mouth of the Ganges, he began to erect a place for
divine worship, till prohibited by the idolatrous priests, and
Sagamo, prince of that country. But after performing several
miracles, the work was suffered to proceed, and Sagamo him¬
self embraced the Christian faith, whose example was soon
after followed by great numbers of his friends and subjects.
This remarkable success alarmed the Brachmans, who
plainly perceived that their religion would soon be extir¬
pated, unless some method could be found of putting a stop
to the progress of Christianity; and therefore resolved to put
the apostle to death. At a small distance from the city was
a tomb, whither St. Thomas often retired for private devo¬
tions. Hither the Brachmans and their armed followers pur¬
sued him, and while he was at prayer, they first shot at him
with a shower of darts, after which one of the priests ran
him through with a lance.
His body was taken up by his disciples and buried in the
church he had so lately erected, and which was afterwards
improved into a fabric of great magnificence.
522
the lives of the apostles.
ST. JAMES THE LESS.
It has "been doubted by some whether this was the same
with that St. James who was afterwards bishop of Jerusalem,
two of this name being mentioned in the sacred writings,
namely, St. James the Great, and St. James the Less, both
apostles. The ancients mention a third, surnamed the Just,
which they will have to be distinct from the former, and
bishop of Jerusalem. But this opinion is built on a sandy
foundation, for nothing is plainer than that St. James the
apostle (whom St. Paul calls "our Lord's brother/' and
reckons, with Peter and John, one of the pillars of the
church), was the same who presided among the apostles,
doubtless by virtue of his episcopal office, and determined
the causes in the synod of Jerusalem. ,It is reasonable to
think that he was the son of Joseph, afterwards the husband
of Mary, by his first wife, whom St. Jerome styles Escha, and
adds that she was the daughter of Aggi, brother to Zacharias,
the father of John the Baptist. Hence he was reputed our
Lord's brother.
After the resurrection, he was honored with the particular
appearance of our Lord to him, which, though passed over in
silence by the evangelists, is recorded by St. Paul.
Some time after this appearance, he was chosen bishop of
Jerusalem, and preferred before all the rest for his near rela¬
tion to Christ.
When St. Paul came to Jerusalem after his conversion,
he applied to St. James, and was honored by him with "the
right hand of fellowship." And it was to St. James that
Peter sent the news of his miraculous deliverance out of
prison. " Go," said he, " show these things unto James and
to the brethren ;" that is, to the whole church, especially to
St. James the pastor of it.
He performed every part of his duty with all possible care
and industry, omitting no particular necessary to be observed
by a diligent and faithful guide of souls, strengthening the
weak, instructing the ignorant, reducing the erroneous, and
reproving the obstinate.
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 523
But a person so careful, so successful in his charge, could
not fail of exciting the spite and malice of his enemies; a sort
of men to whom the apostle has given too true a character,
that " they please not God, and are contrary to all men."
They «were vexed to see St. Paul had escaped their hands, by
appealing unto Caesar; and therefore turned their fury against
St. James : but being unable to effect their design under the
government of Festus, they determined to attempt it under
the procuratorship of Albinus his successor, Ananus the
younger, of the sect of the Sadducees, being high priest.
In order to this a council was summoned, and the apostle,
with others, arraigned and condemned as violators of the law.
But that the action might appear more plausible and popular,
the scribes and Pharisees, masters in the art of dissimulation,
endeavored to ensnare him; and, at their first coming, told
him that they had all placed the greatest confidence in him ;
that the whole nation as well as they, gave him the title of a
just man, and one that was no respecter of persons; that
they therefore desired that he would correct the error and
false opinion the people had conceived of Jesus, whom they
considered as the Messiah, and take this opportunity of the
universal confluence to the paschal solemnity to set them
right in their opinions in this particular, and would go with
them to the top of the temple, where he might be seen and
heard by all.
The apostle readily consented ; and being advantageously
placed on a pinnacle of the temple, they addressed him in the
following manner: " Tell us, for we have all the reason in the
world to believe, that the people are thus generally led away,
with the doctrine of Jesus who was crucified; tell us, what is
the instruction of the crucified J esus ?" To which the apostle
answered, with an audible voice, "Why do you inquire #>f
Jesus the Son of Man ? He sits in heaven, at the right hand
of the Majesty on high, and will come again in the clouds of
heaven/' The people below hearing this, glorified the blessed
Jesus, and openly proclained, " Hosanna to the Son of
David."
The scribes and Pharisees now perceived that they had
acted foolishly; that instead of altering, he had confirmed the
524 the lives of the apostles.
people in their belief; and that there was no way left but to
dispatch him immediately, in order to warn others by his suf¬
ferings, not to believe in Jesus of Nazareth. Accordingly they
suddenly cried out, that James himself was seduced, and be¬
come an impostor: and they immediately threw him from the
pinnacle on which he stood, into the court below ; but not
being killed on the spot, he recovered himself so far as to rise
on his knees, and pray fervently to Heaven for his murderers.
But malice is too diabolical to be pacified with kindness, or
satisfied with cruelty. Accordingly his enemies, vexed that
they had not fully accomplished their work, poured a shower
of stones upon him, while he was imploring their forgiveness
at the throne of grace; and one of them, dissatisfied with this
cruel treatment, put an end to his misery with a fuller's club.
Thus did this great and good man finish his course, in the
ninety-sixth year of his age, and about twenty-four years after
our blessed Saviour's ascension into heaven. His death was
lamented by all good men, even by the sober and just persons
among the Jews, as Josephus himself confesses.
ST. SIMON THE ZEALOT.
St. Simon, in the catalogue of the apostles, is styled " Simon
the Canaanite," whence some conjecture he was born in Cana
in Galilee, and others will have him to have been the bride¬
groom mentioned by St. John, at whose marriage our blessed
Saviour turned the water into wine. But this word has no
relation to his country, or the place of his nativity, being de¬
rived from the Hebrew word " kana," which signifies " zeal,"
and denotes a warm and sprightly temper. What some of
the evangelists therefore call " Canaanite," others, rendering
the Hebrew by the Greek word, style " Zealotnot from his
great zeal, his ardent affection to his Master, and his desire of
advancing his religion in the world, but from his warm, active
temper, and zealous forwardness in some particular sect of
religion before his coming to our Saviour.
the lives of the apostles. 525
St. Simon continued in communion with the rest of the
apostles and disciples at Jerusalem; and at the feast of Pen¬
tecost received the same miraculous gifts of the Holy Ghost;
so that as he was qualified with the rest of his "brethren for
the apostolical office, in propagating the gospel of the Son of
God, we can not doubt of his exercising his gifts with the
same zeal and fidelity, though in what part of the world is
uncertain. Some say he went into Egypt, Gyrene and Africa,
preaching the gospel to the inhabitants of those remote and
barbarous countries. And others add, that after he had passed
through those burning wastes, he took ship, and visited the
frozen regions cf the north, preaching the gospel to the in¬
habitants of the western parts, and even to Britain, where
having converted great multitudes and sustained the great¬
est hardships and persecutions, he was at last crucified, and
buried in some part of Great Britain, but the place where, is
unknown. •
ST. JUDE.
This apostle is mentioned by three several names in the
evangelical history, namely, Jude or Judas, Thaddeus and
Lebbeus.
He was brother to St. James the Less, afterwards bishop
of Jerusalem, being the eon of Joseph the reputed father of
Christ, by a former wife. It is not known when or by what
means he became a disciple of our blessed Saviour, nothing
being said of him, till we find him in the catalogue of the
twelve apostles; nor afterwards, till Christ's last supper,
when discoursing with them about his departure, and com¬
forting them with a promise that he would return to them
again, (meaning after his resurrection,) and that the " world
should see him no more, though they should see him," our
apostle said to his Master, " Lord, how is it that thou wilt
manifest thyself to us, and not unto the world ?"
Paulinus tells us that the province which fell to the share
of St. Jude, in the apostolic division of the provinces, was
f[ -
526 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
Lybia ; but lie does not tell us whether it was tlie Cyrenian
Lybia, which, is thought to have received the gospel from St.
Mark, or the more southern parts of Africa. But however
that be, in his first setting out to preach the gospel, he trav¬
eled up and down Judea and Galilee ; then through Samaria
unto Idumea, and to the cities of Arabia and the neighbor¬
ing countries, and afterwards to Syria and Mesopotamia.
Nicephorus adds, that he came at last to Edessa, where
Abagarus governed, and where Thaddeus, one of the seventy,
had already sown the seeds of the gospel. Here he- perfected
what the other had begun ; and having by his sermons and
miracles established the religion of Jesus, he died in peace ;
but others say that he was slain at Berytus, and honorably
buried there. The writers of the Latin church are unani¬
mous in declaring that he traveled into Persia, where, after
great success in his apostolical ministry for many years, he
was at last, for his freely and Openly reproving the super¬
stitious rites and customs of the Magi, cruelly put to death.
St. Jude left only one epistle, which is placed the last of
those seven styled catholic, in the sacred canon. It was some
time before this epistle was generally received in the Church.
The author, indeed, like St. James, St. John, and sometimes
St. Paul himself, does not call himself an apostle, styling
himself only "the servant of Christ." But he has added
what is equivalent, "Jude the brother of James," a character
that can belong to no one but our apostle. And surely the
humility of a follower of Jesus should be no objection against
his writings.
ST. MATTHIAS.
As Matthias was not an apostle of the first election,
immediately called and chosen of the Son of God himself, it
can not be expected that any account of him can be found in
the evangelical history. He was one of our Lord's disciples,
probably one of the seventy; he had attended on him the
the lives of the apostles.
527
whole time of his public ministry, and after his death was
elected into the apostleship, to supply the place of Judas,
who, after betraying his great Lord and Master, laid violent
hands on himself.
The defection of Judas having made a vacancy in the
# apostolic college, two persons were proposed, Joseph, called
Barnabas, and Matthias, both duly qualified for the impor¬
tant office. The method of election was by lots ; and this
course seems to have been taken by the apostles because the
Holy Ghost was not yet given, by whose immediate dictates
and inspirations they were afterwards chiefly guided. The
prayer being ended, the lots were drawn, by which it ap¬
peared that Matthias was the person, and he was accordingly
numbered among the twelve apostles.
St. Matthias spent the first year of his ministry in Judea,
where he reaped a very considerable harvest of souls, and then
traveled into different parts of the world, to publish the glad
tidings of salvation to a people who had never before heard
of a Saviour, but the particular parts he visited are not cer¬
tainly known.
It is uncei^ain by what kind of death he left the regions
of mortality, and sealed the truth of the gospel he had so
assiduously preached, with his blood. Dorotheus says he
finished his course at Sebastople, and was buried there, near
the temple of the sun. An ancient Martyrology reports him
to have been seized by the Jews, and as a blasphemer to have
been stoned and then beheaded. But the Greek offices, sup¬
ported herein by several ancient breviaries, tell us that he was
crucified.
St. Mark was descended from Jewish parents, of the
tribe of Levi The ancients generally considered him as one
of the seventy disciples; and Epiphanus expressly tells us
that-he was one of those who, taking exception at our Lord's
discourse of " eating his flesh and drinking his blood/' went
ST. MARK.
528 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
back and walked no more with him. But there appears no
manner of foundation for these opinions, nor likewise for that
of Nicephorus, who will have him to he the son of St. Peter's
sister.
Eusehius tells us that St. Mark was sent into Egypt by
St. Peter to preach the gospel, and accordingly planted a.
church in Alexandria, the metropolis of it. He did not, how¬
ever, confine himself to Alexandria, and the oriental parts of
Egypt, but removed westward to Lybia, passing through the
countries of Marmacia, Pentapolis, and others adjacent, where
the people were both barbarous in their manners and idola¬
trous in their worship, yet by his preaching and miracles he
prevailed on them to embrace the tenets of the gospel;
nor did he leave them till he had confirmed them in the
faith.
After this long tour he returned to Alexandria, where he
preached with the greatest freedom, ordered and disposed of
'the affairs of the church, and wisely provided for a succession,
by constituting governors and pastors of it. But the restless
enemy of the souls of men would not suffer our apostle to
continue in peace and quietness ; for while he yras assiduously
laboring in the vineyard of his Master, the idolatrous in¬
habitants, about the time of Easter, when they were cele¬
brating the solemnities of Serapis, tumultuously entered the
church, forced St. Mark, then performing divine service, from
thence ; and binding his feet with cords, dragged him through
the streets, and over the most craggy places, to the Bucelus, a
precipice near the sea, leaving him there in a lonesome prison
for that night; but his great and beloved Master appeared
to him in a vision, comforting and encouraging his soul, un¬
der the ruins of his shattered body. The next morning early
the tragedy began afresh, for they dragged him about in the
same cruel and barbarous manner, till he expired. But their
malice did not end with his death : they burnt his mangled
body after they had so inhumanly deprived it of life : but the
Christians, after the horrid tragedy was over, gathered up his
bones and ashes, and decently interred them near the place
where he used to preach. His remains were afterwards, with
great pomp, removed from Alexandria to Venice, where they
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 529
were religiously honored, and he was adopted the tutelar saint
anil patron of that state.
He suffered martyrdom on the 25th of April, but the year
is not absolutely known: the most probable opinion, how¬
ever, is, that it happened about the end of Nero's reign.
His Gospel, the only writing he left behind him, was writ¬
ten at the entreaty and earnest desire of the converts at Rome,
who not content with having heard St. Peter preach, pressed
St. Mark, his fellow-disciple, to commit to writing an histori¬
cal account of what had been delivered to them, which he
performed with equal faithfulness and brevity, and being pe¬
rused and approved by St. Peter, it was commanded to be pub¬
licly read in their assemblies.
ST. LUKE.
This disciple of the blessed Jesus was born at Antioch,
the metropolis of Syria, a city celebrated for its schools of
learning, which produced the most renowned masters in the
arts and sciences. So that, being born, as it were, in the lap of
the muses, he could not well fail of acquiring an ingenious and
liberal education. But he was not contented with the learn¬
ing of his own country; he traveled for improvement into
several parts of Greece and Egypt, and became particularly
skilled in physic, which he made his profession.
St. Luke was a Jewish proselyte; but at what time he
became a Christian is uncertain. It is the opinion of some,
from the introduction to his Gospel, that he had the facts
from the reports of others, who were eye-witnesses, and sup¬
pose him to have been converted by St. Paul.
But, however this be, |3t. Luke became the inseparable
companion of St. Paul, in all his travels, and his constant
fellow-laborer in the work of the ministry. This endeared
him to that apostle, who seems delighted with owning him for
his fellow-laborer, and in calling him "the beloved physi¬
cian," and the " brother whose praise is in the gospel."
34
530 THE LIVES OF" THE APOSTLES.
St. Luke wrote two books for the use of the Church, his
Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles.
His Gospel contains the principal transactions of our Lord's
life; and the particulars omitted by him are in general of less
importance than those of the other evangelists.
With regard to the Acts of the Apostles, written by St.
Luke, the work was, no doubt, performed at Kome, about the
time of St. Paul's residing there, with which he concludes his
history.
ST. BARNABAS.
St. Barnabas was a descendant of the tribe of Levi, of a
family removed out of Judea, and settled in the isle of Cy¬
prus, where they had purchased an estate, as the Levites might
do out of their own country. His parents finding him of a
promising genius and disposition, placed him in one of the
schools of Jerusalem, under the tuition of Gamaliel, St. Paul's
master ; an incident which, in all probability, laid the first
foundation for that intimacy that afterwards subsisted be¬
tween those two eminent servants of the blessed Jesus.
The first mention we find of St. Barnabas in the holy
Scriptures, is the record of that great and worthy service he
did the church of Christ, by succoring it with the sale of his
patrimony in Cyprus, the whole price of which he laid at the
apostles' feet, to be put into the common stock, and disposed
of as they should think fit among the indigent followers of
.the holy Jesus.
And now St. Barnabas became considerable in the minis-
.iry and government of the church; for we find that St. Paul,
coming to Jerusalem three years after his conversion, and not
readily procuring admittance into, the church, because he had
been so grievous a persecutor of it, and might still be suspect¬
ed of a design to betray it, addressed himself to Barnabas, a
leading man among the Christians, and one that had personal
knowledge of him. He accordingly introduced him to Peter
and James, and satisfied them of the sincerity of his conver-
THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES. 531
sion, and in "what a miraculous manner it was brought about.
This recommendation carried so much weight with it, that
Paul was not only received into the communion of the apos¬
tles but taken into Peter's house, " and abode with him fif¬
teen days." Galatians, i. 18.
About four or five years after this, the agreeable news was
brought to Jerusalem, that several of their body who had
been driven out of Judea by the persecutions raised about St.
Stephen, had preached at Antioch with such success that a
great number, both of Jews and proselytes, embraced Chris¬
tianity ; and were desirous that some of the superior order
would come down and confirm them. This request was im¬
mediately granted, and Barnabas was deputed to settle the new
plantation. But there being too large a field for one laborer,
he went to fetch Saul from Tarsus, who came back with him
to Antioch, and assisted him a whole year in establishing that
church.
"When the apostles had fulfilled their charitable embassy,
and stayed some time at Jerusalem to see the good effects of
it, they returned again to Antioch, bringing with them John,
whose surname was Mark, the son of Mary, sister to Barnabas,
and at whose house the disciples found both security for their
persons and conveniency for the solemnities of their worship.
But soon after the apostles returned to Antioch, an express
relation was made to the church by the mouth of one of the
prophets who ministered there, that Barnabas and Saul should
be set apart for an extraordinary work, unto which the Holy
Ghost had appointed them Upon this declaration, the
church set apart a day for a solemn mission; after devout
prayer and fasting, they laid their hands upon them, and or¬
dained them to their office ; which was to travel over certain
countries, and preach the gospel to the Gentiles.
Paul and Barnabas being thus consecrated " the apostles
of the Gentiles," entere4 upon their province, taking with
them John Mark, for their minister or deacon, who assisted
them in many ecclesiastical offices, particularly in taking care
of the poor.
The first city they visited after their departure from An¬
tioch, was Seleucia, a city of Syria, adjoining the sea ; from
532
THE LIYES OF THE APOSTLES.
■whence they sailed to the island of Cyprus, the native place
* of St. Barnabas, and arrived at Salamis, a port formerly re¬
markable for its trade. Here they boldly preached the doc¬
trines of the gospel in the synagogues of the Jews ; and from
thence traveled to Paphos, the capital of the island, and
famous for a temple dedicated to Yenus, the tutelar goddess
of Cyprus. Here their preaching was attended with remark¬
able success; Sergius Paulus, the proconsul, being, among
others, converted to the Christian faith.
Leaving Cyprus, they crossed the sea to preach in Para¬
philia, where their deacon John, to the great grief of his uncle
Barnabas, left them and returned to Jerusalem : either tired
with continual travels, or discouraged at the unavoidable
dangers and difficulties which experience had sufficiently in¬
formed him would constantly attend the preachers of the gos¬
pel from hardened Jews and idolatrous Gentiles.
Soon after their arrival at Lystra, Paul cured a man who
had been lame from his mother's womb, which so astonished
the inhabitants, that they believed them to be gods, who had
visited the world in the forms of men. Barnabas they treated
as Jupiter, their sovereign deity, either because of his age or
the gravity and comeliness of his person ; for all the writers
of antiquity represent him as a person of venerajble aspect
and a majestic presence. But the apostles, with the greatest
humility, declared themselves to be but mortals : and the in¬
constant populace soon satisfied themselves of the truth of
what they had asserted; for at the persuasion of their indefati¬
gable persecutors, who followed them thither also, they made
an assault upon them, and stoned Paul, till they left him for
dead. But, supported by an invisible power from on high,
he soon recovered his spirits and strength, and the apostles
immediately departed for Derbe. Soon after their arrival,
they again applied themselves to the work of the ministry,
and converted many to the religion of the blessed Jesus.
From Derbe they returned back to Lystra, Iconium and
Antioch, in Pisidia, " confirming the souls of the disciples,
and exhorting them to continue in the faith ; and that we
must, through much tribulation, enter into the kingdom of
God." Acts, xiv. 22. After a short stay they again visited
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 533
the churches of Pamphilia, Perga and Attala, where they
took ship and sailed to Antioch, in [Syria, the place from*
whence they first set out. Soon after their arrival, they called
the church of this city together, and gave them an account
of their travels, and the great success with which their preach¬
ing in the Gentile world had been attended.
After some time Paul made a proposal to Barnabas, that
they should repeat their late travels among the Gentiles, and
see how the churches they had planted increased in their num¬
bers, and improved in the doctrines they had taught them.
Barnabas very readily complied with the motion ; but deRired
they might take with them his reconciled nephew, John Mark.
This Paul absolutely refused, because, in their former voyage,
Mark had not shown the constancy of a faithful minister of
Christ, but consulted his own ease at a dangerous juncture ;
departed from, them without leave at Pamphilia, and returned
to Jerusalem- Barnabas still insisted on taking him; and
the other continuing as resolutely opposed to it, a short debate
arose, which terminated in a separation, whereby these two
holy men, who had for several years been companions in the
ministry, and with united endeavors propagated the gospel of
the Son of God, now took different provinces. Barnabas,
with his kinsman, sailed to his own country, Cyprus; and
Paul, accompanied by Silas, traveled to the churches of Syria
and Cilicia.
After this separation from St. Paul, the sacred writings
give us no account of St. Barnabas ; nor are the ecclesiastical
writers agreed among themselves with regard to the actions of
this apostle after his sailing for Cyprus. This, however, seems
to be certain, that he did not spend the whole remainder of
his days in that island, but visited different parts of the world
preaching the glad Ridings of the gospel, healing the sick, and
working other miracles among the Gentiles. After long and
painful travels, attended with different degrees of success in
different places, he returned to Cyprus, his native country,
where he suffered martyrdom, in the following manner : cer¬
tain Jews coming from Syria and Salamis, where Barnabas was
then preaching the gospel, being highly exasperated at his ex¬
traordinary success, fell upon him as he was disputing in the
534 the lives of the apostles.
synagogue, dragged Mm out, and after the most inhuman tor¬
tures, stoned him to death. His kinsman, John Mark, who
was a spectator of this barbarous action, privately interred
his body in a case, where it remained till the time of the Em¬
peror Zeno, in the year of Christ 485, where it was discovered,
with St. Matthew's Gospel in Hebrew, written with his own
hand, lying on his breast.
ST. STEPHEN.
Both the Scriptures and the ancient writers are silent
with regard to the birth, country, and parents of St. Stephen.
Epiphanus is of opinion that he was one of the seventy disci¬
ples ; but this is very uncertain. Our blessed Saviour ap¬
pointed his seventy disciples to teach the doctrines and preach
the glad tidings of the gospel; but it does not appear that
St. Stephen and the six other first deacons had any particular
designation before they were chosen for the service of the
table; and therefore St. Stephen could not have been one of
our Lord's disciples, though he might have followed him, and
listened to his discourses.
He was remarkably zealous for the cause of religion, and
full of the Holy Ghost, working many wonderful miracles be¬
fore the people, and pressing them with the greatest earnest¬
ness to embrace the doctrine of the gospel.
This highly provoked the Jews ; and some of the syna¬
gogues of the freed-men of Cyrenia, "Alexandria, and other
places, entered into dispute with him; but being unable to
resist the wisdom and spirit by which he spoke, they sub¬
orned false witnesses against him, to testify that they heard
him blaspheme against Moses and against God. Nor did
they stop here ; they stirred up the people by their calumnies,
so that they dragged him before the council of the nation, or
great Sanhedrim, where they produced false witnesses against
him, who deposed that they heard him speak against the
temple, and against the law, and affirm that Jesus of Naza¬
reth would destroy the holy place, and abolish the law of
Moses. Stephen, supported by his own innocence, and an
the lives of the apostles.
535
invisible power from on high, appeared undaunted in the
midst of this assembly, and his countenance shone like that
of an angel; when the high priest asking him what he had
to offer against the accusation laid to his charge, he answered
in a plain and faithful address to the Jews, which he closed
in the following manner:
" Ye stiff-necked, ye uncircumcised in heart and ears,
ye will for ever resist the Holy Ghost. Ye tread in the paths
of your fathers : as they did, so do you still continue to do.
Did not your fathers persecute every one of the prophets P
Did not they slay them who showed the coming of the Holy
One, whom ye yourselves have betrayed and murdered ? Ye
have received the law by the disposition of angels, but never
kept it."
At these words they were so highly enraged that they all
gnashed their teeth against him. But Stephen lifting up his
eyes to heaven, saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at
the right hand of Omnipotence. Upon which he said to the
council, " I see the heavens open, and the Son of Man stand¬
ing at the right hand of God." This so greatly provoked the
Jews that they cried out with one voice, and stopped their
ears, as if they had heard some dreadful blasphemy; and
falling upon him, they dragged him 0ut of the City and
stoned Tiim to death.
Stephen, while they were mangling his body with stones,
was praying to Omnipotence for their pardon. " Lord," said
he, " lay not this sin to their charge." And then calling on
his dear Redeemer to receive his spirit, he yielded up his
souL
TIMOTHY.
Timothy was a convert and disciple of St. Paul. He
was born, according to some, at Lystra; or, according to
others, at Derbe. His father was a Gentile, but his mother
a Jewess, whose name was Eunice, and that of his grand¬
mother Lois.
These particulars are taken notice of, because St. Paul
536
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
commends their piety, and the good education which they had
given Timothy. When St. Paul came to Derbe and Lystra,
about the year of Christ 51 or 52, the brethren gave a very ad¬
vantageous testimony of the merit and good disposition of Tim¬
othy ; and the apostle would have him along with him, and
he initiated him at Lystra before he received him into his
company. Timothy applied himself to labor with St. Paul
in the business of the gospel, and did him many important
services through the whole course of his preaching.
This holy disciple accompanied St. Paul to Macedonia,
to Phillippi, to Thessalonica, to Berea; and when the apOstle
went from Berea, he left Timothy and Silas there to confirm
the converts. When he came to Athens, he sent for Timo¬
thy to come thither to him ; and when he was come, and had
given him an account of the churches of Macedonia, St. Paul
sent him back to Thessalonica, from whence he afterwards
returned with Silas, and came to St. Paul at Corinth.
Some years after this, St. Paul sent Timothy and Erastus
into Macedonia ; and gave Timothy orders to call at Corinth,
to refresh the minds of the Corinthians, with regard to the
truths he had inculcated in them. Some time after, writing
to the same Corinthians, he recommends them to take care of
Timothy, and send him back in peace; after which Timothy
returned to St. Paul in Asia, who there staid for him. They
went together into Macedonia ; and the apostle puts Timo¬
thy's name with his own, before the second epistle to the
Corinthians, which he wrote to them from Macedonia, about
the middle of the year of Christ 57. And he sends his rec¬
ommendations to the Romans in the letter which he wrote to
them from Corinth the same year.
When St. Paul returned from Rome, in 64, he left Timo¬
thy at Ephesus to take care of that church, of which he was
the first bishop, as he is recognized by the council of Chalce-
don. St. Paul wrote to him from Macedonia the first of the
two letters which are addressed to him. He recommends him
to be more moderate in his austerities, and to drink a little
wine because of the weakness of his stomach, and his frequent
infirmities. After the apostle came to Rome, in the year 65,
being now very near his death, he wrote to him his second
U.:
the lives op the apostles. 537
letter, which, was fall of the marks of kindness and tenderness
for this, his dear disciple ; and which is justly looked upon as
the last will of St, Paul. He desires him to come to Borne
before winter, and bring with him several things which St.
Paul had left at Troas. If Timothy went to Rome, as it is
probable he did, he must have been a witness of the martyr¬
dom of this apostle, in the year of Christ 66.
If he did not die before the year 97, we can hardly doubt
but that he must be the pastor of the church of Ephesus, to
whom John writes in his Revelations : though the reproaches
with which he seems to load him for his instability in having
left his first love, do not seem to agree to so holy a man as
Timothy was.
TITUS.
Titus was a Gentile by religion and birth, but converted
by St. Paul, who calls him his son. St. Jerome says that he
was St. Paul's interpreter ; and that probably, because he
might write what St. Paul dictated, or explained in Latin
what this apostle said in Greek; or rendered into Greek
what St. Paul said in Hebrew or Syriac. St. Paul took him
with him to Jerusalem, when he went thither in the year 51
of the vulgar era, about deciding the question which was then
started, whether the converted Gentiles ought to be made sub¬
ject to the ceremonies of the law ? Some would then have
obliged him to circumcise Titus ; but neither he nor Titus
would consent to it. Titus was sent by the same apostle to
Corinth, upon occasion of some disputes which then divided
the church. He was very well received by the Corinthians
and very much satisfied with their ready compliance; but
would receive nothing from them, imitating thereby the dis¬
interestedness of his master.
From hence he went to St. Paul in Macedonia, and gave
him an account of the state of the church at Corinth. A
little while after, the apostle desired him to return again to
538 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
Corinth, to set things in order preparatory to his coming.
Titus readily undertook this journey, and started imme¬
diately, carrying with him St. Paul's second letter to the
Corinthians. Titus was made bishop of the isle of Crete,
about the 63d year of Christ, when St. Paul was obliged to
quit that island, in order to take care of the other churches.
The following year he wrote to him, to desire that as soon
as he should have sent Tychicus or Artemus to him for sup¬
plying his place in Crete, Titus would come to him to Nico-
polis in Macedonia, or to Mcopolis in Epirus, upon the gulf
of Ambracia, where the apostle intended to pass his winter.
Titus was deputed to preach the gospel in Dalmatia ; and
he was still there in the year 65, when the apostle wrote his
second epistle to Timothy. He afterwards went into Crete;
from which it is said he propagated the gospel into the neigh¬
boring islands. He died at the age of 94, and was buried in
Crete. We are assured that the cathedral of the city of
Candia is dedicated to his name ; and that his head is pre¬
served there entire. The Greeks keep his festival on the 25th
of August, and the Latins on the 4th of January.
THE VIRGIN MARY.
As we are taught by the predictions of the prophets that
a virgin was to be the mother of the promised Messiah, so we
are assured, by the unanimous concurrence of the evangelists,
that this virgin's name was Mary, the daughter of Joachim
and Anna, of the tribe of Judah : and married to Joseph of
the same tribe.
What is said concerning the birth of Mary and her parents,
is to be found only in some apocryphal writings. St. John
says, that Mary the wife of Cleophas was the virgin's sister
Mary, that was of the royal race of David.
That the mother of our Lord, notwithstanding her mar¬
riage, was even in that state to remain a pure virgin, and to
conceive Christ in a miraculous manner is the clear doctrine
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 539
of the holy Scriptures. " Behold," says Isaiah, in chapter
vii., " a virgin shall conceive and bear a son."
Though we can not doubt but that God, who ordained
this mystery, provided for all circumstances requisite to its
accomplishment; yet' we may consider which way a decorum
was preserved in this case by marriage. St. Matthew says,
"■ The virgin was espoused to Joseph ; and that before they
came together, she was found to be with child of the Holy
Ghost."
Notwithstanding the various circumstances relating to
this affair, as told us in apocryphal books, are not to be re¬
lied on as certain ; yet, however, Mary's resolution of conti-
nency, even in a married state, can not be called in question,
since her virginity is attested by the gospel; and that her¬
self, speaking to the angel, who declared to her that she
would become the mother of a son, told him, "That she
knew not a man," or that she lived in continency with her
husband.
The virgin Mary then being espoused, or married, to Jo¬
seph, the angel Gabriel appeared to her, in order to acquaint
her that she should become the mother of the Messiah. Mary
asked him how that could be, since she knew no man. To
which the angel replied that the Holy Ghost should come
upon her, and that the power of the Highest should over¬
shadow her, so that she should conceive without the concur¬
rence of any man. Whether the holy virgin, immediately
after the annunciation, went up to the passover of Jerusalem
or not, we have no account from the Evangelist St. Luke,
hut this he assures us, that a little while after she set out for
Hebron, a city in the mountains of Judah, in order to visit
her cousin Elizabeth, to congratulate her on her pregnancy.
After Mary had continued here about three months, till
Elizabeth was delivered, she then returned to her own house.
When she was ready to be delivered, an edict was pub¬
lished by Caesar Augustus, in the year of the world 4000, the
first of Christ and the third before the vulgar era, which de¬
creed that all the subjects of the Eoman empire should go
to their respective cities and places, there to have their names
registered according to their families. Thus Joseph and
L1 —
540 THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
Mary, who were both, of the lineage of David, repaired to the
city of Bethlehem—the original and .native place of their
family. But while they were in this city, the time being ful¬
filled in which Mary was to be delivered, she brought forth
her first-born son, wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and
laid him in a manger of the stable or cavern whither they
had retired.
The Greek fathers generally agree that the place of Christ's
birth was a cavern. Justin and Eusebius place it out of the
city, but in the neighborhood, and St. Jerome says it was at
the extremity of the city towards the south. It was com¬
monly believed that the virgin brought forth Jesus the night
after her arrival at Bethlehem, or on the 25th of December
Such is the ancient tradition of the church.
At the same time the angels made the birth of Christ
known to the shepherds, who were in the fields near Bethle¬
hem, and who came in the night to see Mary and Joseph, and
the child lying in the manger, in order to pay him their trib¬
ute of adoration. Mary took notice of all these things, and
laid them up in her heart. Some time after came the Magi,
or wise men, from the East, and brought to Jesus the myste¬
rious presents of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, having been
directed thither by a star which led the way before them, to
the very place where the babe lay.
But the time of Mary's purification being come, that is,
forty days after the birth of Jesus, she went to Jerusalem in
order to present her son in the temple, and there to offer the
sacrifice appointed by the law, for the purification of women
after childbirth.
Afterwards, when Joseph and Mary were preparing to re¬
turn to their own country of Nazareth, the angel of the Lord
appeared to Joseph in a dream, bidding him to retire into
Egypt with Mary and the child, because Herod had a design
to destroy Jesus. Joseph obeyed the admonition, and con¬
tinued in Egypt till after the death of Herod, when both he
and Mary returned to Nazareth, not daring to go to Bethle¬
hem, because it was the jurisdiction of Archelaus, the son and
successor of Herod the Great.
Joseph and Mary went every year to Jerusalem, to the
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
541
feast of the passover, and when Jesus was twelve years of
age they brought him with them to the capital. When the
days of the festival were ended, they set out on their return
home ; hut the child Jesus continued at Jerusalem, without
their perceiving it; and thinking that he might he with some
of the company, they went on a day'g journey. "When not
finding him among their acquaintance, they returned to Je¬
rusalem seeking for him. Three days after, they found him
in the temple, sitting among the doctors, hearing them and
asking them questions. "When they saw him they were filled *•
with astonishment; and Mary said to him, My son, why
have you served us thus ? Behold your father and myself,
who have sought you in great affliction. Jesus answered
them, "Why did you seek me ? did not you know that I must
he employed ahout my Father's business? Afterwards he
returned with them to Nazareth, and lived in filial submis¬
sion to them ; but his mother laid up all these things in her
heart. The gospel says nothing more of the Virgin Mary till
the marriage at Cana of Galilee, where she was present, with
her si in Jesus.
In process of time, according to the divine appointment
respecting his mission, our Saviour resolved to manifest him¬
self to the world, and therefore went to the baptism of St.
John, from thence into the wilderness, and thence to the
before-mentioned wedding, to which he, with his mother and
disciples, had been invited. At this entertainment, the pro¬
vision of wine being somewhat scanty, Christ's mother told
her son they had no wine, not doubting of his power to sup¬
ply them ; to which Jesus answered, in terms which had
some appearance of a rebuke, "Woman, what have I to do
with thee P mine hour is not yet come.
There being in the room six great stone pitchers, Jesus
ordered them to be filled brim-full of water ; and afterwards
commanded the servants to fill out and carry it to the mast< r
of the feast, who, on tasting, found it was excellent wine.
And this is the first miracle Jesus wrought at the beginning
of his public ministry.
From hence our Lord went to Capernaum with his mother
and brethren ; that is, with his relations and disciples, in
542 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
order to fix the Virgin Mary in a settled habitation, while he
traveled about the country in the exercise of his ministry.
The gospel informs us, that as our blessed Saviour, in the
course of his travels for the fulfillment of his divine mission,
was on a certain day teaching in a house at Capernaum, so
great a crowd of people stood about him, that neither he nor
his disciples had time to take any refreshment, which caused
a report to be spread abroad that he had fainted away.
The mother of Jesus and his brethren, as it was natural
•for them, upon hearing such a report, came instantly to seek
him, and endeavored to take him out of the crowd, in order
to give him all the relief in their power. But when they
could not get into the house for the throngs of people, they
caused a message to be conveyed from one to another, till it
was told Jesus " that his mother and his brethren were at the
door, and desired to speak with him." Jesus being accord¬
ingly informed of their coming, and that they waited to speak
to him, being at that instant engaged in the work of his min¬
istry, preaching the word of God, he asked this question:
Who is my mother, and who are my brethren ? and looking
upon those who were round about him, he said, These are
my mother and brethren ; declaring, "That whosoever did
the will of his heavenly Father, the same was his mother, his
sister, and brother."
From this time we have no further account of the holy
Virgin, till we find her in Jerusalem, at the last passover our
Saviour .celebrated in that city. Here she saw all that was
transacted against him, followed him to Mount Calvary, and
stayed at the foot of the cross during the passion of her
blessed Son. We can not doubt that her soul was at this time
pierced through, as old Simeon prophesied, with the most acute
pains for the death of such a Son. Yet her constancy was
remarkable ; for when the apostles were frightened away from
their Master, she, with a courage undaunted and worthy ot
the mother of Christ, continued even in the midst of the ex¬
ecutioners, being prepared to die with her Son.
Our blessed Saviour, being now ready to leave the world,
and seeing his own mother at the foot of the cross, and his
beloved disciple, St. John, near her, he bequeathed her to him
THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES. 543
"by liis last will and testament, saying to his mother, u Woman,
behold thy son." And to the disciple, u Behold thy mother
and from that hour the disciple took her home to his own
house.
St. Luke acquaints us, in the first chapter of the Acts,
that the Virgin Mary was with the apostles and others, and
continued with them when assembled at Jerusalem after his
ascension, waiting for the descent of the Holy Ghost. After
this she dwelt in the house of St. John the Evangelist, who
took care of her as his own mother. It is thought he took
her along with him to Ephesus, where she continued some
time, and there is a letter of the council of Ephesus, importing,
that in tEe fifth century it was believed she was buried there.
Yet this opinion was not so universally received, but that
some authors of the same age think the Virgin Mary died and
was buried at Jerusalem : or rather in her sepulchre at Geth-
semane, near that city, where to this day it is shown in a
magnificent church dedicated to her name.
Epiphanius, the most learned father of the fourth century,
declares he could not tell whether she died a natural death, or
by martyrdom: or whether she was buried or not. "None
(says he) know any thing of her decease: but that it was
glorious can not be doubted."
A learned writer has added to the before-cited passage of
the council of Ephesus, another remark from their act:
" That the cathedral church of Ephesus was dedicated under
the name of the Virgin Mary; and that we find no other
church of her name at that time in any approved author."
The sentiments of the Roman church are, that she is
dead ; but they are divided as to her having risen again : or
whether she stays for the general resurrection at Ephesus,
Jerusalem, or any other place.
With regard to the age at which she died, and the precise
year of her death, it is needless to trouble ourselves about
this inquiry; since nothing can be said on these matters
but what is very doubtfld: and they can not be fixed but at
random.
544 THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
MARY, THE SISTER OF LAZARUS.
This holy woman lias been preposterously confounded
with the sinful person who sat at the feet of the blessed Jesus
weeping, while he was at meat in the house of Simon the
leper. (See Luke, vii. 37, 39.) Who this sinner was is un¬
known : some will have her to be Mary Magdalene ; but this
opinion has nothing more than conjecture for its basis.
But whoever that sinner was, she was a very different per¬
son from Mary, the sister of Lazarus, who, with her sister
Martha, lived with their brother at Bethany, a village near
Jerusalem. The blessed Jesus had a particular affection for
this family and often retired to their house with his disciples.
One day, and perhaps the first time that Jesus went thither,
Martha received him with remarkable affection, and took the
greatest pains in providing a proper entertainment for him :
but Mary, her sister, continued sitting at our Saviour's feet,
listening to his words with peculiar attention. This Martha
considered as an instance of disrespect, and therefore said to
Jesus, " Lord, dost thou not care that my sister hath left me to
serve alone ? Bid her therefore that she help me." But the
blessed Jesus justified Mary, by telling her sister, that she had
chosen the better part, which should not be taken from her.
Some time after, their brother Lazarus fell sick, and his
sisters sent to acquaint J esus of the misfortune ; but he did
not arrive at Bethany till after Lazarus was dead. Martha,
hearing Jesus was come into the neighborhood, went and told
him, that if he had not been absent her brother had been still
alive. J esus promised her that her brother should rise again.
To which Martha answered, "I know that he shall rise again
at the last day." Jesus replied, "lam the resurrection and
the life ; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet
shall he live : and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall
never die. Believest thou this ?" Martha answered, " Yea,
Lord : I believe that thou art the Christ the Son of God,
which should come into the world."
Having said this, she departed, and gave her sister notice
privately, that J esus was come. Mary, as soon as she heard
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 545
the welcome tidings, arose and went to Jesus; and as Martha
had done before her, said, u Lord, if thou hadst been here, my
brother had not died." The blessed Jesus was greatly moved
at the pathetic complaints of these two worthy sisters, and on
asking whero they had buried him, they conducted him to the
sepulchre.
On his arrival at the place where the body of Lazarus was
deposited, the great Redeemer of mankind groaned deeply in
his spirit ; he wept, he prayed to his Father, and then cried
with a loud voice, u Lazarus, come forth." The dead obeyed
the voice of the Son of God; Lazarus immediately revived,
and Jesus restored him to his sisters.
After performing this stupendous miracle, Jesus departed
from the neighborhood of Jerusalem, and did not return
thither till some days before the passover. Six days before
that festival, J esus came again to Bethany with his disciples,
and was invited to a supper at the house of Simon the leper.
Martha attended, and Lazarus was one of the guests.
During the supper, Mary, to express her gratitude, took
a pound of spikenard, a very precious perfume, and poured it
on the head and feet of Jesus, wiping his feet with the hair
(if her head; and the wThole house was filled with the odor of
the ointment. Judas Iscariot was highly offended at this
generous action; but his Master vindicated Mary, and told
him, that by this she had prevented his embalmment, signify¬
ing that his death and burial were at hand.
After this we have no account of Mary, the sister of
Lazarus, in the sacred writings. Several authors, indeed,
by not distinguishing properly between Mary, the sister of
Martha, and Mary Magdalene, say, that she was present at
the crucifixion of the great Redeemer of mankind : and also
that both she and her sister accompanied the women who
went to embalm the body. This is not, indeed, improbable ;
but it is certain neither of them are particularly mentioned
by the evangelists. The ancient Latins believed, and the
Greeks are still of the same opinion, that both Martha and
Mary continued at Jerusalem, and died there; and several
ancient Martyrologists place their feast on the 19th of Janu-
ary.
35
546 THE LIVES OP THE APOSTLES.
JOSEPH.
Joseph, or Joses, was the son of Mary Cleophas, brother
to St. James the Less, and a near relation to the blessed
Jesus, according to the flesh ; being the son of Mary, the
holy Virgin's sister, and Cleophas, who was Joseph's brother,
or son to Joseph himself, as several of the ancients suppose ;
who have asserted that Joseph was married to Mary Cleophas,
of Escha, before he was married to the holy Virgin. Some
believe Joseph, the son of Mary Cleophas, to be the same with
Joseph Barsabas, surnamed the Just, who is mentioned in the
Acts of the Apostles, anil was proposed, with St. Matthias,
to fill up the traitor Judas's place ; but in this there is no
certainty. We learn nothing particular in Scripture concern¬
ing Joseph, the brother of our Lord. If he was one of those
among his near kinsmen who did not believe in him, when
they would have persuaded him to go to the feast of the
tabernacles, some months before our Saviour's death, it is
probable that he was afterwards converted; for it is inti¬
mated in Scripture, that at last all our Saviour's brethren
believed in him ; and St. Chrysostom says, that they were sig¬
nalized for the eminence of their faith and virtue.
JOSEPH OF AKIMATHEA.
Joseph of Arimathea, or of Ramatha, Rama, or Eamula,
a city between Joppa and Jerusalem, was a Jewish senator,
and privately a disciple of Jesus Christ: he was not con¬
sentient with the designs of the rest of the Jews, particularly
the members of the Sanhedrim, who condemned and put
J esus to death: and when our Saviour was dead, he went
boldly to Pilate, and desired the body of Jesus in order to
bury it. This he obtained, and accordingly buried it after an
honorable manner in a sepulchre newly made in a garden;
which was upon the same Mount Calvary where Jesus had
been crucified. After he had placed it there, he closed the
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 547
entrance of it with a stone cut particularly for this purpose,
and -which exactly filled the open part of it.
The Greek church keeps the festival of Joseph of Arima-
thea, July the 3^t.
We do not meet with his name in the old Latin Martyr-
ologies ; nor was it inserted in the Roman till after the ymr
1585. The body of Joseph of Arimathea was, it is said,
brought to the abbey of Moyenmontier by Fortunatus, arch¬
bishop of Grada; to which Charlemagne had given this mon¬
astery under the denomination of a benefice. His remains
were honored till the tenth age j but then the monastery
being given to canons, who continued seventy years there,
the relics were carried away by some foreign monks, and so
lost with many others.
NICODEMUS.
Kicodeitus, one of the disciples of our blessed Saviour,
was a Jew by nation, and by sect a Pharisee. The gospel
calls him a ruler of Ihe Jews ; and Christ gives him the name
of a Master of Israel. When our Saviour began to manifest
himself by his miracles, at Jerusalem, at the first passover
which he celebrated there after his baptism, Nicodemus made
no doubt but he was the Messiah, and came to him by night,
that he might learn of him the way of salvation. Jesus told
him, that no one could see the kingdom of heaven except he
should be born again. Nicodemus taking this in the literal
sense, made answer, How can a man be born again ? Can he
enter a second time into his mother's womb ? To which Je¬
sus replied, If a man be not born again of water and the Spirit,
he can not enter into the kingdom of God. That which is
born of the flesh, is flesh ; and that which is born of the Spirit,
is Spirit. Nicodemus asked him, How can these things be ?
Jesus answered : "Art thou a master of Israel, and ignorant
of these things P We tell you what we know, and you receive
not our testimony. If you believe not common things, and
548 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
wliicli may be called earthly, how will you believe me if! speak
to you of heavenly things ?"
After this conversation, Nicodemus "became a disciple of
Jesus Christ; and there is no doubt to be^nade but he came
to hear him as often as our Saviour came to Jerusalem. It
happened on a time that the priests and Pharisees had sent
officers to seize Jesus, who returned to them, and made this
report, that never man spoke as he did ; to which the Phari¬
sees replied, " Are you also of his disciples ? Is there any
one of the elders or Pharisees that have believed in him ?"
Then Nicodemus thought himself obliged to make answer,
saying, " Does the law permit us to condemn any one before
he is heard ?" To which they replied, " Are you also a Gali¬
lean ? Head the Scriptures, ajid you will find that never any
prophet came out of Galilee." After this the council was
dismissed. At last Mcodemus declared himself openly a dis¬
ciple of Jesus Christ, when he came with Joseph of Arima-
thea to pay the last duties to the body of Christ crucified :
which they took down from the cross, embalmed, and laid in
the sepulchre.
Nicodemus received baptism from the disciples of Christ;
but it is uncertain whether before or after his passion.
The Jews being informed of this, deposed him from his
dignity of senator, excommunicated and drove him from Je¬
rusalem. It is said, also, that they would have put him to
death; but that in consideration of Gamaliel, who was his
uncle, or cousin-german, they contented themselves with beat¬
ing him almost to death, and plundering his goods,
Gamaliel conveyed him to his country-house, and provided
him with what was necessary for his support; and when he
died, Gamaliel buried him honorably near St. Stephen.
His body was discovered in 415, together with those of
St. Stephen and Gamaliel; and the Latin church pays honor
to all three on the 3d o£ August.
THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES,
549
JOnN MARK.
John Mark, cousin to St. Barnabas, and a disciplo of Lis,
was tlie son of a Christian woman, named Mary, who had a
house in Jerusalem, where the apostles and the faithful gen¬
erally used to meet. Here they were at prayers in the night,
when St. Peter, who was delivered out of prison "by the angel,
came and knocked at the door: and in this house the cele¬
brated church of Sion was said to have been afterwards estab¬
lished.
John Mark, whom some very improperly confound with
the evangelist St. Mark, adhered to St. Paul and St. Barna¬
bas, and followed them in their return to Antioch: he con¬
tinued in their company and service till they came to Perga,
in Pamphylia, but then seeing that they were undertaking a
longer journey, he left them, and returned to J erusalem. This
happened in the year 45 of the common era.
S jrne years after, that is to say in the year 51, Paul and
Barnabas preparing to return into Asia, in order to visit the
churches which they had formed there, Barnabas was of opin¬
ion that John Mark should accompany them in this journey :
but Paul would not consent to it: upon which occasion these
two apostles separated. Paul went to Asia, and Barnabas,
with John Mark, to the ible of Cyprus. "What John Mark
did, after this journey, we do not know, till we find him at
Pionae in the year 63, performing signal service for St. Paul
during his imprisonment.
The apostle speaks advantageously of him in his epistle to
the Colossians : " Marcus, sister's son to Barnabas, saluteth
you. If he come unto you, receive him." He makes mention
of him again in his epistle to Philemon, written in the year
G2, at which time he was with St. Paul at Rome ; but in the
year 65 he was with Timothy in Asia. And St. Paul writing
to Timothy, desires him to bring Marcus to Home adding,
that he was useful for him in the ministry of the gospeL
In the Greek and Latin churches, the festival of J ohn
Mark is kept on the 27th of September. Some say that he
■""■as a bishop of Biblis, in Phoenicia ; the Greeks give him the
J
550 THE TilYES OF THE APOSTLES.
title of apostle ; and say tliat the sick were cured by liis shadow
only. It is very probable that be died at Ephesus, where his
tomb was very much celebrated and resorted to. He is some¬
times called simply John, or Mark. The year of his death
we are strangers to ) and shall not collect all that is said of
him in apocryphal and uncertain authors.
CLEMENT.
Clement is mentioned by St. Paul in his epistle to the Phi-
lippians, where the apostle says that Clement's name is writ¬
ten in the book of life. The generality of the fathers, and
other interpreters, make no question but that this is the same
Clement who succeeded St. Peter after Linus and Cletus, in
the government of the church of Rome ; and this seems to
be intimated, when in the office of St. Clement's day, that
church appoints this part of the epistle to the Philippians to
be read.
"We find several things relating to Clement's life in the
recognitions and constitutions called apostolical; but as those
works are not looked upon as authentic, though there may be
truths in them derived from the tradition of the first ages, little
stress is to be laid upon their testimony. The constitutions
inform us that Linus was ordained by St. Paul; Tertullian
and Epiphanius say that St. Peter ordained Clement. Eufinus
tells us that this apostle chose St. Clement for his successor.
But Epiphanius believes that after he had been made bishop
of Eome by St. Peter, he refused to exercise his office till, after
the death of Linus and Anaclet, he was obliged to take upon
himself the care of the church; and this is the most generally
received opinion. St. Peter's immediate successor was Linus ;
Linus was succeeded by Anacletus; and Anacletus by Clement,
in the year of Christ 91, which was the tenth of Domitian's
reign.
During his pontificate, the church of Corinth havino- been
disturbed by a spirit of division, St. Clement wrote a large
the lives of the apostles. 551
letter to tlie Corinthians, which, is still extant, and was so
much esteemed by the ancients that they read it publicly in
many churches. The emperor Domitian intended to declare
war against the church of Christ; his design was made known
to Hermas, and he ordered to give a copy of it to Clement,
that he might communicate it to other churches, and exhort
them to provide against the storm. We have no certain ac¬
count of what happened to St. Clement during this persecu¬
tion, but we are very well assured that he lived to the third
year of Trajan. His festival is set down by Bede and all the
Latin Martyrologies on the 23d of November. The Greeks
honor him on the 24th and 25th of the same month. Eufinus
and Pope Zozimus give him the title of martyr; and the Ro¬
man church, in ita canon, places him among the saints who
have sacrificed their lives for Jesus Christ. "We read in an
ancient history, to the authenticity of which, however, there
are some exceptions, that St. Clement was banished by Trajan
to the Chersonesus, beyond the Euxine Sea; besides other
particulars in the history which we shall not mention, as not
being well authenticated.
MARY MAGDALENE.
Mary Magdalene was a native either of Magdala, a town
in Galilee, on the other side of Jordan, or Magdalos, a town
situated at the foot of Mount Carmel, and had her surname
from the place of her birth. Some will have it that she was
the sinner mentioned by St. Luke, chapter vii. 37, etc., but this
opinion is built only on conjecture. The evangelists, Luke
and Mark, tell us that Jesus had cast out of her seven devils,
which some understand in a literal and others in a figurative
sense.
But, however this be, she became a constant attendant on
the blessed Jesus after he had removed her plagues. She fol¬
lowed him to Mount Calvary, continued amidst the Koman
guards at the foot of the cross with the holy Virgin, and saw
552 THE LIVES OF THE APOSTLES.
his precious body laid in the tomb. After which she returned
to Jerusalem to purchase spices to embalm him as soon as the
Sabbath was over.
It was she who carried the welcome tidings to Peter and
John; and to her our blessed Lord himself first appeared
after his resurrection. The apostles did not, however, believe
her report till it was confirmed by others, and they themselves
had seen the Saviour of the world.
We have no further account of Mary Magdalene in the
sacred writings. But Modestus, archbishop of Constantino¬
ple, in the seventh century, tells us that she continued at Jeru-
salem till the death of the holy Virgin, after which she retired
to Ephesus,and resided with St. John till she sealed the faith
she had so long professed with, her blood. She was buried by
the Christians at Ephesus, where her tomb was shown in the
seventh century.
But the emperor, Leo the "Wise, caused her body to be re¬
moved from Ephesus to Constantinople the latter end of the
ninth century, in order to its being interred in the churek
erected to the honor of the apostles.
Thus have we? given the fullest account of'the followers
of the blessed Jesus; the persons who spread the light of the
gospel over the whole world, removed the vail of ignorance
and superstition drawn over the kingdoms of the earth, and
taught us the method of attaining eternal happiness in the
courts of the New Jerusalem.
May we all follow their glorious example 1 May we im¬
itate their faith, their piety, their charity, and their love !
Then shall we pass "through things temporal in such a
manner that we shall finally gain the things eternal, and
through the merits of an all-perfect.Redeemer be admitted
as worthy guests at the marriage supper of the Lamb."
PART IY.
GREAT REFORMERS.
LUTHER.
Martin Luther was bom at Eisleben, in Saxony, in the
year 14S3, on the 10th of November ; and if in the histories
of great men, it is usual to note with accuracy the day of
their nativity, that of Luther has a peculiar claim on the
biographer, bince it has been the especial object of horoseopi-
cal calculations, and has even occasioned some serious differ¬
ences ami mg very profound astrologers. Luther has been the
subject of unqualified admiration and eulogy ; he has been
assailed by the most virulent calumnies; and, if any thing
more "were wanted to prove the personal consideration in
■which he was held by his cotemporaries, it would be sufficient
to add, that he has also been made a mask for their follies.
He was of humble origin. At an early age he entered with
zeal into the order of Augustine Hermits, who were monks
and mendicants. In the schools of the Nominalists he pur-
su< d with aruteness and success the science of sophistry. And
lie was presently raised to the theological chair at "Wittem-
berg; so that his first prejudices were enlisted in the service
of the worst portion of the Roman Catholic church ; his
opening reason was subjected to the most dangerous perver¬
sion ; and a sure and early path was opened to his profi ssional
ambition. Such was not the discipline which could prepare
the mind for any independent exertion; such were not the
circumstances from which an ordinary mind could have
emerged into the clear atmosphere of truth. In dignity a
professor, in theology an Augustinian, in philosophy a Nom¬
inalist, by education a mendicant monk, Luther seemed des-
554
LUTHER.
tined to be a pillar of the Homan Catholic church, and a
patron of all its corruptions.
But he possessed a genius naturally vast and penetrating,
a memory quick and tenacious, patience inexhaustible, and a
fund of learning very considerable for that age ; above all, he
had an erect and daring spirit, fraught with magnanimity
and grandeur, and loving nothing so well as truth ; so that
his understanding was ever prepared to expand with the oc¬
casion, and his principles to change or rise, according to the
increase and elevation of his knowledge. Nature had endowed
him with an ardent soul, a powerful and capacious under¬
standing : education had killed the one and contracted the
other ; and when he came forth into the fields of controversy,
he had many of those trammels still hanging about him, which
patience, and a succession of exertions, and the excitement
of dispute, at length enabled him for the most part to cast
away.
In the year 1517, John Tetzel, a Dominican monk, was
preaching in Germany the indulgences of Pope Leo X.; thatis,
he was publicly selling to all purchasers, remissions of all sins,
past, present, or future, however great their number, how¬
ever enormous their nature. The expressions with which Tet¬
zel recommended his treasure appear to have been marked
with peculiar impudence and indecency.
But the act had in itself nothing novel or uncommon; the
sale of indulgences had long been recognized as the practice
of the Koman Catholic church, and even sometimes censured
by its more pious, or more prudent members. But the crisis
was at length arrived in which the iniquity could no longer
be repeated with impunity. The cup was at length full; and
the hand of Luther was destined to dash it to the ground.
In the schools of Wittemberg the professor publicly censured
in ninety-five propositions, not only the extortion of the indul¬
gence-mongers, but the cooperation of the Pope in seducing
the people from the true faith, and calling them away from
the only road to salvation.
This first act of Luther's evangelical life has been hastily
ascribed by at least three eminent writers of very different
descriptions, (Bossuet, Hume and Yoltaire,) to the narrowest
LUTHER,
555
monastic motive, the jealousy of a rival order* It is asserted
that the Augustinian friars had usually been invested in
Saxony with the profitable commission, and that it only he-
came offensive to Luther when it was transferred to a Domin¬
ican. There is no ground for that assertion. The Domin¬
icans had been for nearly three centuries the peculiar favorites
of the Holy See, and objects of all its partialities ; and it is
particularly remarkable that, after the middle of the fifteenth
century, during a period scandalously fruitful in the abuse in
question, we very rarely meet with the name of any Augus¬
tinian as employed in that service. Moreover, it is almost
equally important to add, that none of the cotemporary ad¬
versaries of Luther ever advanced the charge against him, even
at the moment in which the controversy was carried on with
the most unscrupulous rancor.
The matter in dispute between Luther and Tetzel went in
the first instance no further than this—whether the Pope had
authority to remit the divine chastisements denounced against
offenders in the present and in the future state, or whether his
power only extended to such human punishments as form a
part of ecclesiastical discipline—for the latter prerogative was
not yet contested by Luther. Nevertheless, his office and his
talents drew very general attention to the controversy; the
German people, harassed by the exactions, and disgusted with
the insolence of the papal emissaries, declared themselves
warmly in favor of the Reformer ; while, on the other hand,
the supporters of the abuse were so violent and clamorous,
that the sound of the altercation speedily disturbed the fes¬
tivities of the Vatican.
Leo X., a luxurious, indolent and secular, though literary
pontiff, would have disregarded the broil, and left it, like so
many others, to subside of itself, had not the Emperor Maxi¬
milian assured him of the dangerous impression it had already
made on the German people. Accordingly he commanded
Luther to appear at the approaching diet of Augsburg, and
justify himself before the papal legate. At the same time he
appointed the Cardinal Caietan, a Dominican, and a professed
enemy of Luther, to be arbiter of the dispute. They met in
October, 1518: the legate was imperious; Luther was not
556
LUTHER.
submissive. He solicited reasons, he was answered only with
authority. He left the city in haste, and appealed " to the
Pope better informed"—yet it was still to the Pope that he
appealed—he still recognized his sovereign supremacy. But
in the following month, Leo published an edict, in which he
claimed the power of delivering sinners from all punishments
due to every sort of transgression : and thereupon Luther,
despairing of any reasonable accommodation with the pontiff,
published an appeal from the Pope to a general Council.
The Pope then saw the expediency of conciliatory meas¬
ures, and accordingly dispatched a layman, named Miltitz,
as his legate with commission to compose the difference by
private negotiations with Luther. Miltitz united great dex¬
terity and penetration with a temper naturally moderate and
not inflamed by ecclesiastical prejudices. Luther was still in
the outset of his career. His opinions had not yet made any
great progress towards maturity ; he had not fully ascertained
the foundations on which his principles were built; he had
not proved by any experience the firmness of his own char¬
acter. He yielded, at least, so far as to express his perfect
submission to the commands of the Pope, to exhort his fol¬
lowers to persist in the same obedience, and to promise
silence on the subject of indulgences, provided it were also
imposed upon his adversaries.
It is far too much to say (as some have said) that had
Luther's concession been carried into effect, the Reformation
would have bee a stifled in its birth. The principles of the
Reformation were too firmly seated in reason and in truth,
and too deeply ingrafted in the hearts of the German people,
to remain long suppressed through the infirmity of any indi¬
vidual advocate. But its progress might have been some¬
what retarded had not the violence of its enemies afforded it
seasonable aid. A doctor named Eckius, a zealous satellite
of papacy, invited Luther to a public disputation in the castle
of Pleissenburg. The subject on which they argued was the
supremacy of the Roman pontiff; and it was a substantial
triumph for the Reformer, and no trifling insult to papal des¬
potism, that the appointed arbiters left the question unde¬
cided.
LUTHER.
557
Eckius repaired to Home, and appealed in person to the
offended authority of the Yatican. His remonstrances were
reiterated and inflamed by the furious zeal (if the Dominicans,
with Caietan at their head; and thus Pope Leo, whose calmer
and more indifferent judgment would probably have led him
to accept the submission of Luther, and thus put the ques¬
tion for the moment at rest, was urged into measures of at
least unseasonable vigor. He published a bull on the l.^th
of June, 1,520, in which he solemnly condemned forty-one
heresies extracted from the writings of the Reformer, and con¬
demned these to be publicly burnt. At the same time he
summoned the author, on pain of excommunication, to con¬
fess and retract his pretended errors within the space of sixty
days, and to throw himself upon the mercy of the Yatican.
Open to the influence of mildness and persuasion, the
breast of Luther only swelled more boldly when he was as¬
sailed by menace and insult. He refused the act of humilia¬
tion required of him; more than that, he determined to
anticipate the anathema suspended over him, by at once with¬
drawing himself from the communion of the Church; and
again, having come to that resolution, he fixed upon the man¬
ner best suited to give it efficacy and publicity. "With this
view he caused a pile of woi >d to be erected without the walls
of "Wittemberg, and there, in the presence of a vast multitude
of all ranks and < >rders, he c< >mmitted the bull to the flames;
and with it the Decree, the Decretals, the Clementines, the
Extravagants, the entire c< »de < >f R< >mish jurisprudence. It is
necessary to observe, that he had prefaced this measure by a
renewal of his former appeal to a general Council, so that
the extent of his resistance may be accurately defined ; he •
continued a faithful member of the Catholic church, but he
rejected the despotism of the Pope, he refused obedience to an
unlimited and usurped authority. The bull of excommuni¬
cation immediately followed, (January 6, 1521,) but it fell
without force, and any dangerous effect which it might other¬
wise have produced, was obviated by the provident boldness
of Luther.
Here was the origin of the Reformation. This was the
irreparable breach, which gradually widened to absolute (lis-
558
LUTHEE,
ruption. The Reformer was now compromised, by Ms con¬
duct, by his principles, perhaps even by his passions. He
had crossed the bounds which divided insubordination from
rebellion, and his banners were openly unfurled, and his
legions pressed forward on the march to Rome. Henceforth
the champion of the gospel entered with more than his former
courage on the pursuit of truth ; and having shaken off one
of the greatest and earliest of the prejudices in which he had
been educated, he proceeded with fearless independence to ex¬
amine and dissipate the rest.
Charles V. succeeded Maximilian in the empire in the year
1519; and since Frederic of Saxony persisted in protecting the
person of the Reformer, Leo X. became the more anxious to
arouse the imperial indignation in defense of the injured
majesty of the Church. In 1521 a diet was assembled at
"Worms, and Luther was summoned to plead his cause before
it. A safe-conduct was granted him by the Emperor, and
on the 17th of April he presented himself before the august
aristocracy of Germany. This audience gave occasion to the
most splendid scene in his history. His friends were yet few,
and of no great influence; his enemies were numerous and
powerful, and eager for his destruction. The cause of truth,
the hopes of religious regeneration, appeared to be placed at
that moment in the discretion and constancy of one man.
The faithful trembled; but Luther had then cast off the
incumbrances of early fears and prepossessions, and was pre¬
pared to give a free course to his earnest and unyielding char¬
acter. His manner and expression abounded with respect and
humility; but in the matter of his public apology, he de¬
clined in no one particular from the fullness of his conviction.
Of the numerous opinions which he had by this time adopted
at variance with the injunctions of Rome, there was not one
which in the hour of danger he consented to compromise.
The most violent exertions were made by the papal party to
effect his immediate ruin; and there were some who were not
ashamed to counsel a direct violation of the imperial safe-
conduct. It was designed to reenact the crimes of Constance,
after the interval of a century, on another theater. But the
infamous proposal was soon rejected ; and it was on this oc-
LUTHER.
m
casion that Charles is recorded to have replied, with princely
indignation, that if honor were banished from every other
residence it ought to find refuge in the breasts of kings.
Luther was permitted to retire from the diet; but he had
not proceeded far on his return when he was surprised by a
number of armed men and carried away into captivity. It
was an act of friendly violence. A temporary concealment
was thought necessary for his present security, and he was
hastily conveyed to the soliary castle of Wartenburg. In the
meantime the assembly issued the declaration known in his¬
tory as the u Edict of Worms," in which the Reformer was
denounced as an excommunicated schismatic and heretic; and
all his friends and adherents, all who protected or conversed
with him, were pursued by penalties and censures. The cause
of papacy obtained a momentary, perhaps only a seeming
triumph, for it was not followed by any substantial conse¬
quences ; and while the anathematized Reformer lay in
safety in his secret Patmos, as he used to call it, the Em¬
peror withdrew to other parts of Europe, to prosecute
schemes and interests which then seemed far more import¬
ant than the religious tenets of a German monk.
While Luther was in retirement his disciples at Wittem-
berg, under the guidance of Carloztadt, a man of learning and
piety, proceeded to put into force some of the first principles
of the Reformation. They would have restrained by compul¬
sion the superstition of private masses, and torn away from
the churches the proscribed images. Luther disapproved of
the violence of these measures ; or it may also be, as some
impartial writers have insinuated, that he grudged to any
other than himself the glory of achieving them. Accordingly,
after an exile of ten months, he suddenly came forth from his
place of refuge and appeared at Wittemberg. Had he then
confined his influence to the introduction of a more moderate
policy among the reformers, many plausible arguments might
have been urged in his favor. But he also appears unhappily
to have been animated by a personal animosity against Car¬
loztadt, which was displayed both then and afterwards in
some acts not very far removed from persecution.
The marriage of Luther, and his marriage to a nun, was
560
LUTHER.
the event of Iris life which gave most triumph to his enemies
and perplexity to his friends. It was in perfect conformity
with his masculine and daring mind that having satisfied him¬
self of the nullity of his monastic vows he should take the
boldest method " of displaying to the world how utterly he
rejected them." Others might have acted differently, and
abstained, either from conscientious scruples, or, being satis¬
fied in their own minds, from fear to give offense to then-
weaker brethren, and it would be presumptuous to condemn
either course of action. It is proper to mention that this
marriage did not take place till the year 1525, after Luther
had long formally rejected many of the observances of the
Eoman Catholic church ; and that the nun whom he es¬
poused had quitted her convent and renounced her profession
some time before.
The war of the peasants and the fanaticism of Munster
and his followers, presently afterwards desolated Germany,
and the papal party did not lose that occasion to vilify the
principles of the reformers, and indentify the revolt from a
spiritual despotism with general insurrection and massacre.
It is therefore necessary here to observe that the false enthu¬
siasm of Munster was, perhaps, first detected and denounced
by Luther ; and that the pen of the latter was incessantly
employed in deprecating every act of civil insubordination.
He was the loudest in his condemnation of some acts of spoli¬
ation by laymen who appropriated the monastic revenues, and
at a subsequent period so far did he carry his principles, so
averse was he, not only from the use of offensive violence, but
even from the employment of force in the defense of his cause,
that on some later occasions he exhorted the Elector of Saxony
by no means to oppose the imperial edicts by arms but rather
to consign the persons and principles of the reformers to the
protection of Providence. For he was inspired with a holy
confidence that Christ would not desert his faithful f< >llowers,
but rather find means to accomplish his work without the
agitation of civil disorders or the intervention of the sword.
That confidence evinced the perfect earnestness of his profes¬
sions and his entire devotion to the truth of his principles.
It also proved that he had given himself up to the cause in
LUTHER.
561
which he had engaged, and that he was elevated above the
consideration of personal safety. This was no effeminate en¬
thusiasm, no passionate aspiration after the glory of martyr¬
dom ! It was the working of the Spirit of (fod upon an
ardent nature, impressed with the divine character of the mis¬
sion with which it was entrusted and assured, against all ob¬
stacles, of final and perfect success.
As this is not a history of the Reformation, but only a
sketch of the life of an individual reformer, we shall at once
proceed to an affair strongly, though not very favorably illus¬
trating his character. The subject of the Eucharist com¬
manded, among the various doctrinal differences, perhaps the
greatest attenti< >n ; and in this matter Luther receded but a
short space, and with unusual timidity, from the faith in
which he had been educated. He admitted the real corporeal
presence in the elements, and differed from the Church only
as to the manner of that presence. He rejected the actual
and perfect change of substance, but supposed the flesh to
subsist in or with the bread, as fire subsists in red-hot iron.
Consequently he renounced the term transubstantiation, and
substituted consubstantiation in its place. In the meantime,
Zuinglius, the ref< >rmer < >f Zuric, had examined the same ques¬
tion with greater independence, and had reached the bolder
conclusion, that the breadjand wine are no more than external
signs, intended to revive our recollections and animate our
piety. This opinion was adopted by Carlostadt, CEcolam-
padius and other fathers of the Reformation, and followed by
the Swiss Protestants, and generally by the free cities of the
empire. Those who held it were called Sacramentarians.
Tlie opinion of Luther prevailed in Saxony, and in the north¬
ern provinces of Germany.
The difference was important. It was felt to be so by the
rpf irmers themselves ; and the Lutheran party expressed that
Si-ntiment with too little moderation. The papists or Papa-
lins (Papalini) were alert in perceiving the division, in ex¬
citing the dissension, and in inflaming it, if possible, into
absolute schism; and in this matter it must be admitted that
Luther himself was too much disposed, by his intemperate
vehemence, to further their design. These discords were be-
36
LUTHEB.
coming dangerous, and in 1529, Philip, Landgrave of Hesse,
the most ardent among the protectors of the Reformation,
assembled the leading doctors of either party to a public dis¬
putation at Marburg. The particulars of this conference are
singularly interesting to the theological reader ; but it is here
sufficient to mention, without entering into the doctrinal
merits of the controversy, that whatever was imperious in
assertion and overbearing in authority, and unyielding and
unsparing in polemical altercation, proceeded from the mouth
and party of Luther ! that every approach to humility and
self-distrust, and mutual toleration and common friendship,
came from the side of Zuinglius and the Sacramentarians;
and we are bound to add, that the same uncompromising
spirit which precluded Luther from all cooperation or fellow¬
ship with those whom he thought in error (it was the pre¬
dominant spirit of the church which he had deserted,) continued
on future occasions to interrupt, and even to endanger, the
work of his own hands. But that very spirit was the vice of
a character which endured no moderation or concession in any
matter wherein Christian truth was concerned, but which too
hastily assumed its own infallibility in ascertaining that truth.
Luther would have excommunicated the Sacramentarians;
and he did not perceive how precisely his principle was the
same with that of the Church which had excommunicated
himself.
Luther was not present at the celebrated Diet of Augs¬
burg, held under the superintendence of Charles V. in 1530 ;
but he was in constant correspondence with Melancthon dur¬
ing that fearful period, and in the reproofs which he cast on
the temporizing, though perhaps necessary, negotiations of
the latter, he at least exhibited his own uprightness and im¬
petuosity. The " Confessions" of the Protestants there pub¬
lished, were constructed on the basis of seventeen articles pre¬
viously drawn up by Luther ; and it was not without his
counsels that the faith permanently adopted by the church
which bears his name was finally digested and matured.
From that crisis the history of the Reformation took more of
a political, less of a religious character, and the name of Lu¬
ther is therefore less prominent than in the earlier proceed-
knox. 563
ings. But lie still continued, for sixteen years longer, to
exert his energies in the cause which was peculiarly his own,
and to influence by his advice and authority the new ecclesi¬
astical system. «
He died in the year 1546—the same, as it singularly hap¬
pened, in which the Council of Trent assembled for the self-
reformation and reunion of the Roman Catholic church.
But that attempt—even had it been made with judgment
and sincerity—was then too late. During the twenty-nine
years which composed the public life of Luther, the princi¬
ples of the gospel, having fallen upon hearts already prepared
for their reception, were rooted beyond the possibility of ex¬
tirpation ; and when the great Reformer closed his eyes upon
the scenes of his earthly toils and glory, he might depart in
the peaceful confidence that the objects of his mission were
virtually accomplished, and the work of the Lord placed in
security by the same heaven-directed hand which had raised
it from, the dust.
■V
KNOX.
John Knox was born in East Lothian, in 1505—prob¬
ably at the village of GifFord; but, according to some ac¬
counts, at the small town of Haddington, in the grammar
school of which he received the rudiments of his education.
His parents were of humble rank, but sufficiently removed
from want to support their son at the University of St. An¬
drews, which Knox entered about the year 1524. He passed
with credit through his academical course and took orders at
the age of twenty-five, if not sooner. In his theological read¬
ing, he was led by curiosity to examine the works of ancient
authors quoted by the scholastic divines. These gave him new
views of religion, and led him to the perusal of the Scriptures
themselves. The change in his opinions seems to have com¬
menced about 1535. It led him to recommend to others, as
well as to practice, a more rational^course of study than that
prescribed by the ancient usage of the university. This in-
564
KNOX.
novation brought liim under suspicion of being attached to
the principles of the Reformation, which was making secret
progress in Scotland, and having ventured to censure the cor¬
ruptions which prevailed in the Church, he found it expedi¬
ent to quit St. Andrews, in 1542, and to return to the south
of Scotland, where he openly avowed his adherence to the
Reformed doctrines.
Having cut himself, off from the emoluments of the es¬
tablished church, Knox engaged as tutor in the family of
Douglas, of Languiddric, a gentleman of East Lothian. As
a man of known ability, and as a priest, he was especially
obnoxious to the hierarchy ; and it is said that Archbishop
Beatoun sought his life by private assassination, as well as
openly under color of the law. At Easter, 1547, Knox, with
many other Protestants, took refuge in the castle of St. An¬
drews, which was seized and held after the archbishop's mur¬
der, by the band of conspirators who had done the deed. He
here continued his usual course of instruction to his pupils,
combined with public reading and explanation of the Scrip¬
tures to those who sought his assistance. His talents pointed
him out as a fit person for the ministry ; but he was very re¬
luctant to devote himself to that important charge, and was
only induced to do so after a severe internal struggle, by a
solemn call from the minister and the assembled congregation.
He distinguished himself during his short abode at St. An¬
drews by zeal, boldness and success in preaching. But in the
following J uly the castle surrendered, and by a scandalous
violation of the articles of capitulation the garrison were
made prisoners of war, and subjected to great and unusual
ill-treatment. Knox, with many others, was placed in a
French galley, and compelled to labor like a slave at the oar.
His health was greatly injured by the hardship which he un¬
derwent in that worst of. prisons, but his spirit rode trium¬
phant over suffering. During this period he committed to
writing an abstract cf the doctrines wThich he had preached,
which he found means to convey to his friends in Scotland,
with an earnest exhortation to persevere in the faith through
persecution and trial. He obtained liberty in February, 1549,
but by what means is not precisely known.
KNOX.
565
At that time, under tlie direction of Cranmer, and with,
the zealous concurrence of the young King Edward VI., the
Eeformation in England was advancing with rapid pace.
Knox repaired thither, as to the safest harbor, and in the
dearth of able and earnest preachers which then existed, he
f iund at once a welcome and active employment. Th" North
was appointed to be the scene of his usefulness, and lit1 con¬
tinued to preach there, living chiefly at Berwick and New¬
castle till the end of 1552. He was then summoned to
London to appear Iwifore the Privy council on a frivolous
charge, of which he was honorably acquitted. The king was
anxious to secure his services to the English Church, and
caused the living of All Hallows, in London, and even a
bishopric, to be offered him. But Knox had conscientious
scruples to sr>me points of the English establishment. He
continued, however, to preach, itinerating through the coun¬
try, until after the accession of Mary, the exercise of the Prot¬
estant religion was forbidden by act of Parliament, December
20, 1553. Shortly afterwards he yielded to the importunity
of his friends and consulted his own safety by retiring to
France. Previous to his departure, he solemnized his mar¬
riage with MibS Bowes, a Yorkshire lady of good family, to
whom he had been s< ime time engaged.
Knox ti >< k up his b jard in the first instance at Dieppe, but
he soon went to Geneva, and there made acquaintance with
Calvin, whom he loved and venerated, and followed more
closely than any other of the fathers of the Reformation
in his views both of doctrine and ecclesiastical discipline.
Towards the close of 1554 he was invited by a congregation
of English exiles resident at Frankfort to become one of their
pastors. Internal discords, chiefly concerning the ritual and
matters of ceremonial observance, in which, notwithstanding
the severe and uncomplying temper usually ascribed to him,
no blame seems justly due to Knox, soon forced him to quit
his charge ; and he returned to Geneva, where he spent more
than a year in a learned leisure, peculiarly grateful to him
after the troubled life which he had led go long. But in Au¬
gust, 1555, moved by the favorable aspect of the times, and
by the entreaties of his family, from whom he had now been
566
KNOX.
separated near two years, lie returned to Scotland, and was
surprised and rejoiced at the extraordinary avidity with, which,
his preaching was attended. He visited various districts, both
north and south, and won over two noblemen, who became
eminent supporters of the Reformation, the heir apparent of
the earldom of Argyle, and Lord James Stuart, afterwards
Earl of Murray. But in the middle of these successful labors
he received a call from an English congregation at Geneva to
become their pastor, and he seemed to have felt it a duty to
comply with their request.
It Tjrould have seemed more consonant to his character to
have remained in Scotland, to watch over the seed which he
had sown ; and that his own country had the most pressing
claim upon his services. But the whole tenor of his life war¬
rants the belief that he was actuated by no unworthy or self¬
ish motive ; and in the absence of definite information, some
insight into the nature of his feelings may probably be gained
from a letter addressed to some friends in Edinburgh, in
March, 1557 : "Assure of that, that whenever a greater num¬
ber among you shall call upon me, than now hath bound me
to serve them, by His grace it shall not be the fear of punish¬
ment, neither yet of the death temporal, that shall impede
my coming to you."
He quitted Scotland in July, 1556. During this absence
Knox maintained a frequent correspondence with his brethren
in Scotland, and both by exhortation, and by his advice upon
difficult questions submitted to his judgment, was still of ma¬
terial service in keeping alive their spirit. Two of his works,
composed during this period require mention, his share in the
English translation of the Scriptures, commonly called the
Geneva Bible, and the " Blast of the Trumpet against the
Monstrous Regimen of Women," a treatise expressly directed
against the government of Mary of England, but containing
a bold and unqualified enunciation of the principle that to
admit a woman to sovereignty is contrary to nature, justice,
and the revealed will of God. In January, 1559, at the invi¬
tation of the leading persons of the Protestant congregation,
he again returned to Scotland. Matters at this time were
drawing to a crisis. The Queen Regent, after temporizing
KNOX.
567
while the support of a large and powerful party was essential
to her, had thrown off disguise and openly avowed her deter¬
mination to use force for the suppression of heresy ; while the
leading Protestants avowed as plainly their resolution of pro¬
tecting their preachers ; and becoming more and more sensible
of their own increasing strength, resolved to abolish the Ro¬
man and set up the Reformed method of worship in those
places to which their influence or feudal power extended. 8t.
Andrews was fixed on for the commencement of the experi¬
ment ; and under the protection of the Earl of Argyle, and
Lord James Stuart, Prior of St. Andrews, Knox, who, on his
landing Had been proclaimed a rebel and outlaw, undertook
to preach publicly in the cathedral of that city. The arch¬
bishop sent word that he should be fired upon if he ventured
to appear in the pulpit, and as that prelate was supported by
a stronger force than the retinue of the Protestant noblemen,
they thought it best that he should abstain, at this time, from
thus exposing his life. Knox remained firm to his purpose.
After reminding them that he had first preached the gospel in
that church, of the sufferings of his captivity, and of the con¬
fident hope which he had expressed to many that he should
again perform his high mission in that same church, he besought
them not to stand in the way when Providence had brought
him to the spot. " As to the fear of danger that may come
to me/' he continued, " let no man be solicitous ; for my life
is in the custody of Him whose glory I seek. I desire the hand
nor weapon of no man to defend me. I only crave audience,
which, if it be denied here unto me at this time, I must seek
it where I may have it." The archbishop's proved to be an
empty threat. Knox preached for four successive days, with¬
out interruption, and with such effect that the magistrates
and the inhabitants agreed to set up the reformed worship in
their town ; the monasteries were destroyed, and the churches
stripped of images and pictures. Both parties now rose in
arms. During the contest which ensued, Knox was a chief
agent in conducting the correspondence between Elizabeth
and the Lords of the congregation. The task suited neither
his profession nor his character, and he rejoiced when he was
relieved from it. In July, 1560, a treaty was concluded with
568
KNOX.
the King and Queen of France, by which the administration
of the Queen Regent was terminated ; and in August a par¬
liament was convoked, which abolished the papal jurisdiction,
prohibited the celebration of mass, and rescinded the laws en¬
acted against Protestant worship.
From the persecuted and endangered teacher of a pro¬
scribed religion, Knox had now become, not indeed the head,
but a leader and venerated father of an established church.
He was at once appointed the Protestant minister of Edin¬
burgh, and his influence ceased not to be felt from this time
forward in all things connected with the Church, and in many
particulars of civil policy. Still his anxieties were far from
an end. Many things threatened and impeded the infant
Church. Far from acquiescing in the recent acts of the Par¬
liament, the young King and Queen of France were bent on
putting down the rebellion, as they termed it, in Scotland,
by force of arms. The death of Francis put an end to that
danger ; but another .no less serious was opened by the arrival
of Mary in August, 1561, to assume her paternal sovereignty,
with a fixed determination of reviving the supremacy of the
religion in which she had been brought up, and to which she
was devotedly attached. There were also two subjects upon
which Knox felt peculiarly anxious, and in which he was
thwarted by the lukewarmness, as he considered it, of the
legislature—the establishment of a strict and efficacious sys¬
tem of church discipline, and the entire devotion of the wealth
of the Catholic priesthood to the promotion of education and
the maintenance of the true religion. In both these points he
was thwarted by the indifference or interestedness of the no¬
bility, who had possessed themselves of a large amount of the
lands and tithes formerly enjoyed by monasteries.
It soon became evident that the queen disliked and feared
Knox. She regarded his " Blast against the Eegimen of
Women" as an attack upon her own right to the throne:
and this is not surprising, although Knox always declaggsd
that book to be leveled solely against the late Queen of wjt
gland, and professed his perfect readiness to submit to Mary?
authority in all things lawful, and to waive all discussion or
allusion to the obnoxious tenet. His freedom of speech in
KNOX.
569
the pulpit was another constant source of offense ; and it is
not to be denied that, although the feelings of that age war¬
ranted a greater latitude than would now l>e tolerated in a
teacher of religion, his energetic and severe temper l<jd hiin to
use violent and indiscreet language in speaking of public men
and public things. For Mary herself he prayed in terms
which, however fitting for a minister to employ towards one
of his flock whom he regarded to be in deadly and pernicious
error, a queen could hardly be expected to endure from a sub¬
ject without anger.
Accordingly, he was several times summoned to her pre¬
sence, to apologize or answer for his conduct. The narrations
of these interviews are very interesting; they show the as¬
cendancy which he had gained over the haughty spirit of the
Queen, and at the same time exonerate him from the charge
urged by her apologists, of having treated her with personal
disrespect, and even brutality. He expressed uncourtly opin¬
ions in plain and severe language; further than this he neither
violated the courtesy due from man to woman, nor the respect
due from a subject to a superior.
In addition to the causes of offense already specified, he
had remonstrated, from her first landing, against the tolera¬
tion of the mass in her own chapel. And at a later time he
spoke so freely concerning the probable consequence to the
Reformed church from her marrying a Papist, that in repri¬
manding and remonstrating with him she burst into a passion
of tears. He remained unmoved, protesting that he saw her
majesty's tears with reluctance, but was constrained, since he
had given her no just ground of offense, rather to sustain her
tears than to hurt his conscience and betray the common¬
wealth through his silence. This interview is one of the
tilings upon which Mr. Hume has sought to raise a prejudice
against the reformer in his partial account of this period.
Many of the nobility who aided in the establishment of
the Reformation, gained over either by the fascination of
Mary's beauty and manners, or by the still more cogent ap¬
peal of personal interest, were far from seconding Knox's
efforts or partaking in his apprehensions. The Earl of Mur¬
ray was so far won over to adopt a temporizing and concili-
570
KNOX.
atory policy, that a quarrel ensued in 1563 between him and
Knox which lasted for two years, until quenched, as Knox
expresses it, "by the water of affliction. Maitland of Lething-
ton, once an active reformer, a man of powerful and versatile
talents, who was now made Secretary of State, openly es¬
poused the Queen's wishes. In the summer of 1563, Knox
was involved in a charge of high treason, for having addressed
a circular to the chief Protestant gentlemen, requesting 'them
to attend the trial of two persons accused of having created a
riot at the Queen's chapel. It appears that he held an espe¬
cial commission from the General Assembly to summon such
meetings, when occasion seemed to him to require them.
Upon this charge of treasonably convoking the lieges, he was
brought before the privy council.
Murray and Maitland were earnest to persuade him into
submission and acknowledgment of error. Knox, however,
with, his usual firmness and uprightness, refused positively to
confess a fault when he was conscious of none, and defended
himself with so much power, that by the voice of a majority
of the council he was declared free of all blame.
In March, 1564, more than three years after the death of
his first wife, Knox contracted a second marriage with a
daughter of Lord Ochiltree, a zealous Protestant. Through¬
out that year and the following, he continued to preach as
usual. Meanwhile the Protestant establishment, though con¬
firmed by the Parliament, remained still unrecognized by the
Queen, whose hasty marriage to Lord Henry Darnly, in July,
1565, increased the alarm with which her conduct had already
inspired the Reformers. But early in the following year,
when Mary, in conjunction with her uncles of the house of
Lorraine, had planned the formal reestablishment of Cathol¬
icism, her dissensions with her husband led to the assassi¬
nation of Eizzio, and in rapid succession to the murder of
Darnly, her marriage with Bothwell and the train of events
which ended in her formal deposition and the coronation of
her infant son, James VI. It is denied that Knox was privy
to the assassination of Rizzio, and the tenor of his actions
warrant us in disbelieving that he would have been an accom¬
plice in any deed of blood, but after that event he spoke of
KNOX.
571
it in terms of satisfaction, indiscreet, liable to perversion, and
unbecoming a Christian preacher. The Queen's resentment
for this and other reasons became so warm against him that
it was judged proper for him to retire from Edinburgh. He
preached at the coronation of James YI. After Mary was
made prisoner and confined at Lochleven, he, in common with
most of the ministers and the great body of the people
insisted strongly on the duty of bringing her to trial for the
crimes of murder and adultery, and of inflicting capital pun¬
ishment if her guilt were proved.
During the short regency of Murray, Knox had the satis¬
faction not only of being freed from the personal disquietudes
which had been his portion almost through life, but of seeing
the interests of the Church, if not maintained to the full
extent which he could wish, at least treated with respect,
and advocated, as far as the crooked course of state policy
would permit. The murder of that distinguished nobleman,
January 23, 1570, affected Knox doubly, as the premature
decease of a loved and esteemed friend, and as a public ca¬
lamity to church and state.
In the following October he suffered a slight fit of apo¬
plexy, from which, however, he soon recovered so far as to
resume his Sunday preachings. But the troubled times which
followed on the death of the Eegent Murray denied to him
in Edinburgh that repose which his infirmities demanded,
and in May, 1571, he was reluctantly induced to retire from
liis ministry and again to seek a refuge in St. Andrews.
The following account of his appearance and manner in
the pulpit at this time of his life is given by Melville, then a
student at St. Andrews ; and though the language be obscure
to the English reader, it will be sufficiently intelligible, and
would only be weakened by translation : " Of all the benefits
I haid that year (1571) was the coming of that most notible
profit and apostle of our nation, Mr. Ihone Knox, to St. An¬
drews, who, be the faction of the queen occupeing the castell
and town of Edinburgh, was compellit to remove therefra
with a number of the best, and chusit to come to St. An¬
drews. I heard him teache there the prophecies of Daniel
that simmer and the wintar following. I haid my pen and
572
KNOX.
my little buike and tuk away sic things as I conld compre¬
hend. In the opening up of his text he was moderat the
space of a half houre J but when he enterit to application, he
made me so to grew and tremble, that I could not hald a pen
to wryt. He was very weik. I saw him everie day of his
doctrine, go hulie and fear," with a furring of marticks abut
his neck, a staffe in the ane hand, and gud, godlie Richart
Ballenden, his servand, halding up the uther ofterj" from the
abbey to the parish kirk, and be the same Richart and an¬
other servand, lifted up to the pulpit, whar he behovit to lean
at his first entrie ; bot, er he haid done with his sermone, he
was sa active and vigorous that he was like to ding the pulpit
in blad.8,% and flie out of it." It would appear that Wilkie
had taken the figure of Knox, in his fine picture of the re¬
former preaching before Queen Mary, from this description.
His residence in that city was not one of peace or ease,
for he was troubled by a party favorable to the Queen's inter¬
ests, especially by that Archibald Hamilton who afterwards
apostatized to the Roman Catholic church, and became "his
bitter calumniator; and he was placed in opposition to the
regent Morton with respect to the filling up of vacant bishop¬
rics, and the disposal of church property, which, far from
being applied to the maintenance of religion and the diffusion
of education, was still in great measure monopolized by the
nobility. In August, 1572, his health being rapidly declin¬
ing, he returned to Edinburgh at the earnest request of his
congregation, who longed to hear his voice in the pulpit once
more. He felt death to be nigh at hand, and was, above all
things, anxious to witness the appointment of a zealous and
able successor to the important sation in the ministry which
he filled. This was done to his satisfaction. On Sunday,
November 9, he preached and presided at the installation of
his successor, James Lawson, and he never after quitted his
own house. He sickened on the 11th, and expired November
24, 1572, after a fortnight's illness, in which he displayed
unmixed tranquillity and assured trust in a happy futurity
through the promises of the gospel which he had preached.
* Slowly and cautiously.
f Armpit.
1 Pieces.
KNOX.
573
It is the more necessary to state thin, "because his calumniators
dared to assert that his death was accompanied hy horrid
prodigies, and visible marks of divine reprobation. The same
tales have been related of Luther and Calvin.
On the 26th, he was interred in the church-yard of 8t.
Giles, and his funeral was attended by the Regent Morton,
and by those of the nobility who were in the city, as well as
by a great concourse of people. When his body was laid in
the grave, the Regent emphatically pronounced his eulogium
in the well-known words : u There lies he who never feared
the face of man."
Knox's moral character we may safely pronounce to have
been unblemished, notwithstanding the outrageous charges of
dissolute conversation which have been brought by some
writers against him, calumnies equally leveled against Beza,
Calvin, and other fathers of the Reformation, and which bear
their own refutation in their extravagance. As a preacher he
was energetic and effective, and uncommonly powerful in
awakening the negligent or the hardened conscience. As a
reformer and leader of the Church, he was fitted for the
stormy times and the turbulent people among whom his lot
was cast, by the very qualities which have been made a re¬
proach to him in a more polished age, and by a less zealous
generation. He was possessed of strong natural talents and
a determined will, which shunned neither danger nor labor.
He was of middle age when he began the study of Greek, and
it was still later in life when he acquired the Hebrew language,
tasks of no small difficulty when we consider the harassed and
laborious tenor of his life. No consideration of temporizing
prudence could seduce him into the compromise of an impor¬
tant principle; no thought of personal danger could make
him shrink when called to confront it. His deep sense and
resolute discharge of duty, coupled with a natural fire and
impetuosity of temper, sometimes led him into severity. But
that his disposition was deeply affectionate is proved by his
private correspondence J and that his severity proceeded from
no acerbity of temper, may be inferred from his having em¬
ployed his powerful influence as a mediator for those who had
borne arms against his party, and from his having never used
574
CALVIN.
it to avenge an injury. The best apology for his occasional
harshness, is that contained in the words of his own dying
address to the elders of his church, as quoted by Dr. McCrie:
" I know that many have frequently complained, and do still
loudly complain of my too great severity ; but God knows
that my mind was always void of hatred to the persons of
those against whom I thundered the severest judgments. I
can not deny but that I felt the greatest abhorrence at the
sins in which they indulged, but still I kept this one thing in
view, that, if possible, I might gain them to the Lord. What
influenced me to utter whatever the Lord put into my mouth
so boldly and without respect to persons, was a reverential
fear of my God, who called, and of his grace appointed me,
to be a steward of divine mysteries, and a belief that he will
demand an account of the manner in which I have discharged
the trust committed to me, when I shall at last stand before
his tribunal."
A list of Knox's printed works, nineteen in number, is
given by Dr. McCrie at the end of his notes. They consist
chiefly of short religious pieces, exhortations, and sermons.
In addition to those more important books which we have
already noticed, his "History of the Church of Scotland"
requires mention. The best edition is that printed at Edin¬
burgh in 1732, which contains a life of the author, the
" Regimen of Women," and some other pieces. Dr. McCrie's
admirable Life of Knox will direct the reader to the original
source of the history of this period.
CALVIN.
John Cauvin (afterwards called Calvin), was born of
humble parents, his father following the trade of a cooper, at
Noyon, in Picardy, July 10, 1509. He was intended, in the
first instance, for the profession of the Church, and two bene¬
fices were already set apart for him, when, at a very early
age, from what motive is not exactly known, his destination
CALVIN.
575
was suddenly changed, and lie was sent first to Orleans and
then to Bourges, to learn under distinguished teachers the
science of jurisprudence. He is said to have made great pro¬
ficiency in that study; but nevertheless he found leisure to
cultivate other talents, and made himself acquainted with
Greek, Hebrew and Syriac, during his residence at Bourges.
His natural inclination seems ever to have bent him towards
those pursuits to which his earliest attention was directed;
and though he never attended the schools of theology, nor
had at any time any public master in that science, yet his
thoughts were never far away from it; and the time which
he could spare from his professional labors was employed on
subjects bearing more or less directly upon religion.
Thus it was that he failed not to take part in the discus¬
sions which arose in France during his early years respecting
the principles of the Reformation; and it may be that his
happy escape from theological tuition made him even more
disposed to embrace them. It is certain that his opposition
to the church of Eome became very soon notorious, and made
him, young as he was, an object of jealousy to some of its
powerful adherents. Even the moderate Erasmus viewed his
aspiring talents and determined character with some unde¬
fined apprehension: and he is related (after a conversation
with Calvin at Strasbourg) to have remarked to Bucer, who
had presented, him—" I see in that young man the seeds of a
dangerous pest, which will some day throw great disorder into
the Church." The weak and wavering character of Erasmus
renders it difficult for us to understand what sort of disorder
it was that he anticipated, or what exactly was the Church
on which the apprehended mischief was to fall. In 1535
Calvin published his great work, the " Christian Institute/'
which was intended as a sort of confession of faith of the
French reformers, in answer to the calumnies which con¬
founded them with the frantic Anabaptists of Germany.
In 1536, finding that his person was no longer secure in
France, Calvin determined to retire into Germany, and was
compelled by accident to pass through > Geneva. He found
this city in a state of extreme confusion. The civil govern¬
ment was popular, and in those days tumultous J the eccle-
576
CALVIN.
siastical had been entirely dissolved by the departure of the
bishops and clergy on the triumph of the Reformation, and
only such laws existed as the individual influence of the pas¬
tors was able to impose upon their several flocks. It was a
tempting field for spiritual ambition, and Calvin was readily
persuaded to enter into it. He decided to remain at Geneva,
and forthwith opened a theological school.
In the very year following his arrival, he formed the de¬
sign of introducing into his adopted country a regular system
of ecclesiastical polity. He assembled the people, and not
without much opposition prevailed on them at length to bind
themselves by oath; first, that they would not again, on
any consideration, ever submit to the dominion of Rome;
secondly, that they would render obedience to a certain code
of ecclesiastical laws, which he and his colleagues had drawn
up for them. Some writers do not expressly mention that
this second proposition was accepted by the people—if ac¬
cepted it was immediately violated; and as Calvin and his
clerical coadjutors (who were only two in number) refused
with firmness to administer the holy communion to such as
rejected the condition, the people, not yet prepared to endure
that bondage, banished the spiritual legislators from the city
in April, 1538.
Calvin retired to Strasbourg, where he renewed his intimacy
with Rucer, and became more and more distinguished for his
talents and learning. He was present at the Conferences at
Worms and Ratisbon, where he gained additional reputation.
He founded a French reformed church at Strasbourg, and ob¬
tained a theological chair in that city ; at the same time he
continued in communication with Geneva, and in expressions
of unabated affection for his former adherents. Meanwhile
the disorders which had prevailed in that city were in no
manner alleviated by his exile, and a strong reaction gradu¬
ally took place in his favor, insomuch that, in the year 1541,
there being a vacancy in the ministry, the senate and the as¬
sembly of the people proclaimed with equal vehemence their
wish for the return of Calvin. "We will have Calvin, that
good and learned man, Christ's minister." "This," says
Calvin; Epistle ^4, "when I understood I could not choose
CALVIN.
i
577
"but praise God; nor was I able to judge otherwise, than that
this was the Lord's doings, and that it was marvelous in our
eyes ; and that the stone which the builders refused was now
made the head of the corner."
It was on September 13 that he returned from iis exile
in the pride of spiritual triumph : and ho began without any
loss of time, while the feelings of all classes were yet warm
in his favor, to establish that rigid form of ecclesiastical dis¬
cipline which he may formerly have meditated, but which he
did not fully propound till now. He proposed to institute a
standing court, (the consistory,) consisting of all the minis¬
ters of religion, who were to be perpetual members, and also
of twice the same number of laymen to be chosen annually.
To these he committed the charge of public morality, with
pi iwer to determine all kinds of ecclesiastical causes; with
authority to c( nvene, control and punish, even with excom¬
munication, whomsoever they might think deserving. It was
in vain that many advanced < Ejections to this scheme ; that
thuy urged the despotic character of this court; the certainty
too, that the perpetual judges, though fewer in number would
in fiet predominate over a majority annually elected ; and
that Calvin, through his power over the clergy, would be mas¬
ter of the decisi* »ns of the whole tribunal. He persisted in¬
flexibly ; and since there now remained with the people of
Geneva only the choice of receiving his laws or sending him
once more into exile, they acquiesced reluctantly in the former
determination. On the 20th of November, in the same year
(1541) the Presbytery was established at Geneva.
From this time f» >rward Calvin became, not pontiff only,
but also caliph of Geneva; since the unbounded influence
which he possessed in the Consistory extended to the council,
and no important state affair was transacted without his advice
or approbation. At the same time he enlarged the limits of
his spiritual power, and made it felt in every quarter of Eu¬
rope. In France, most especially, he was regarded personally
as the head of the Reformed church ; he composed a liturgy
for its use; and secured from persecution by his residence
and dignity, he gave laws, by his writings and his emissaries
to the scattered congregations of Reformers. ^ The fruits of
37
CALVIN.
his unwearied industry were everywhere in their hands. His
Institute and his learned expositions of Scripture were sub¬
stantial foundations of spiritual authority ; and he became to
his church what the " Master of the Sentences/' almost what
Augustine himself had been to the church of Rome. And
he did the Reformed church an essential service by procuring
the establishment of the Academy or University of Geneva ;
which was long the principal nursery of Presbyterian minis¬
ters, and which was the chief instrument of communicating
to the citizens of its little state that general mental cul¬
ture and love of literature for which they have been remark¬
able.
The peculiarities of his religious opinions are known to
all our readers ; nor, indeed, at any rate, have we space in
this brief outline of the life of the reformer so to detail his
tenets as to avoid the chance of misconception, either by his
followers or his adversaries. We shall, therefore, proceed to
another subject, respecting which there will be little difference,
either as to the facts themselves or the judgment to be formed
of them—we mean that darkest act of his life, which being, as
far as we learn, unatoned and unrepented, throws so deep a
shadow over all the rest, as almost to make us question his
sincerity in any good principle, or his capability of any righte¬
ous purpose.
A Spaniard named Servetus, born at Yilla Nueva, in Ara-
gon, in the same year with Calvin, had been long engaged in
a correspondence with the latter, which had finally degen¬
erated into angry and abusive controversy. He had been
educated as a physician, and had acquired great credit in his
profession ; when, in an evil hour, he entered the field of theo¬
logical controversy, and professed without fear, and defended
without modification, the Unitarian doctrine, adding to it
some obscure and fanciful notions peculiar, we believe, to his
own imagination. He published, very early in life, " Seven
Books Concerning the Errors of the Trinity," and he con¬
tinued in the same principles until the year 1553, when he
put forth (at Yienne, in Dauphine), a work entitled " The
Restoration of Christianity, etc.," in further confirmation of
hia views.
CALVIN.
579
Now it is very true, that the propagation of these opinions,
by a professed reformer, was, at that crisis, a matter of great
scandal, and perhaps even of some danger to the cause of the
Reformation. It was felt as such by some of the leading re¬
formers. Zuinglius and (Ecolampadius eagerly disclaimed
the error of Servetus. u Our church will be very ill spoken
of," said the latter in a letter to Bucer, " unless our divines
make it their business to cry him down and had they been
contented to proclaim.their dissent from his doctrine, or to
assail it by reasonable argument, they would have done no
more than their duty to their own communion absolutely de¬
manded of them.
But Calvin was not a man who would argue where he
could command, or persuade where he could overthrow. Full
of vehemence and bitterness, inflexible and relentless, he was
prepared to adopt and to justify extreme measures, whereso¬
ever they answered his purpose best. He was animated by
the pride, intolerance, and cruelty of the church of Rome, and
he planted and nourished those evil passions in his little con¬
sistory at Geneva.
Servetus, having escaped from confinement at Yienne, and
flying for refuge to Naples, was driven by evil destiny, or his
own infatuation, to Geneva. Here he strove to conceal him¬
self till he should be enabled to proceed on his journey, but
he was quickly discovered by Calvin, and immediately cast
into prison. This was in the summer of 1553. Presently
followed the formality of his trial; and when we read the nu¬
merous articles of impeachment, and observe the language in
frhich they are couched; when we peruse the humble pe¬
titions which he addressed to the " Syndics and Council,"
praying only that an advocate might be granted him, which
prayer was haughtily refused ; when we perceive the misrep¬
resentations of his doctrine, and the offensive terms of his con¬
demnation, we appear to be carried back again to the halls of
Constance, and to be witnessing the fall of Huss and Jerome
beneath their Roman Catholic oppressors. So true it is (as
Grotius had sufficient reason to say), " that the spirit of Anti¬
christ did appear at Geneva as well as at Rome.
But the magistrates of this republic did not venture
580
CALYIN.
completely to execute tlie will of Calvin, without first con¬
sulting the other Protestant cities of Switzerland, namely,
Zurich, Berne, Basle, and Schaffhausen. The answers re¬
turned by these all indicated very great anxiety for the
extinction of the heresy, without, however, expressly demand¬
ing the blood of the heretic. The people of Zurich were the
most violent, and the answer of their " pastors, readers and
ministers," which is praised and preserved by Calvin, is wor¬
thy of the communion from which they had so lately seceded.
As soon as these communications reached Geneva, Servetus
was immediately condemned to death, on the 26th of Octo¬
ber, 1553, and was executed on the day following.
There is extant a letter written by Calvin to his friend and
brother minister, William Farrel, dated the 26th, which an¬
nounces that the fatal sentence had been passed, and would
bo executed on the morrow. It is only remarkable for the
cold conciseness and heartless indifference of its expressions.
Not a single word indicates any feeling of compassion or re¬
pugnance. And as the work of persecution was carried on
without mercy, and completed without pity, so likewise was
it recollected without remorse ; and the Protestant republican
minister of Christ continued, for some years afterwards, to
insult with abusive epithets the memory of his victim.
Soon after the death of Servetus, Calvin published a vin¬
dication of his proceedings, in which he defended, without
any compromise, the principle on which he had acted. It is
entitled " A Faithful Exposition and Short Refutation of the
Errors of Servetus, wherein it is shown that .Heretics should
be restrained by the Power of the Sword." His friend and
biographer, Beza, also put forth a work on the propriety of
punishing heretics by the civil authority. Thus Calvin not
only indulged his own malevolent humor, but also sought
to establish among the avowed principles of liis own church
the duty of exterminating all who might happen to differ
from it.
lie lived eleven years longer, and expired at GTeneva on
the 27th of May, 1564, having maintained his authority to
the end of his life, without acquiring any of the affection of
those about him. Neither of these circumstances need sur-
CALVIN. 581
prise us, for it was his character to awe, to command, and to
repel. Fearless, inflexible, morose, and imperious, he neither
courted any one, nor yielded to any one, nor conciliated any
one ; yet he was sensible o'f, and seemingly contrite for his
defects of temper, for he writes to Bucer, 441 have not had
harder contests with my vices, which are great and many,
than with my impatience. I have not yet been able to sub¬
due that savage brute." His talents were extremely powerful,
both for literature and for business. His profound and various
learning acquired for him the general respect which it de¬
served. He was active and indefatigable ; he slept little and
was remarkable for his abstemious habits. "With a heart in¬
flated and embittered with spiritual pride, he affected a perfect
simplicity of manner; and professed, and may indeed have
felt a consummate contempt f >r the ordinary objects of human
ambition. Besides this, he was far removed from the beset¬
ting vice of common minds, by which even noble qualities are
so fr -^ui'ntly degraded—avarice. He neither loved m< >ney f< >r
itself, nor grasped at it for its uses; and at his death, the
whole amouift of his property, including his library, did not
exceed, at the lowest statement, one hundred and twenty-five
crowns, at 'the highest, three hundred.
"We may thus readily understand how it was that Calvin
acquired, through the mere force of personal character thrown
into favorable circumstances, power almost uncontrolled over
a state of which he was not so much as a native, and consi¬
derable influence, besides, over the spiritual condition of Eu¬
rope—power and influence of which deep traces still exist,
both in the country which adopted him, and in others where
he was only known by his writings and his doctrines. His
doctrines still divide the Christian world ; but that ecclesias¬
tical principle, which called in the authority of the sword for
their defense, has been long and indignantly disclaimed by all
his followers.
582
MELANCTHON.
MELANCTHON.
Philip was tlie son of a respectable engineer, named
Schwartzerde, that is, Black-earth, a name whiclj. he Grecised
at a very early age, as soon as his literary taste and talents
began to display themselves—assuming, in compliance with
the suggestion of his distinguished kinsman Keuchlin or
Capnio, and according to the fashion of the age, the classical
synonym of Melancthon. He was born at Bretten, a place
near Wittemberg, February -16, 1497. He commenced his
studies at Heidelberg in 1509 ; and after three years was re¬
moved to Tubingen, where he remained till 1518. These cir¬
cumstances are in this instance not undeserving of notice,
because Melancthon gave from his very boyhood abundant
proofs of an active and brilliant genius, and acquired some
juvenile distinctions which have been recorded by grave his¬
torians, and have acquired him a place among the " Enfans
Celebris" of Baillet. During his residence at Tubingen he
gave public lectures on Virgil, Terence, Cicero and Livy,
while he was pursuing with equal ardor his biblical studies ;
and he had leisure besides to furnish assistance to Beuchlin
in his dangerous contests with the monks, and to direct the
operations of a printing-press. The course of learning and
genius, when neither darkened by early prejudice, nor per¬
verted by personal interests, ever points to liberality and vir¬
tue. In the case of Melancthon, this tendency was doubtless
confirmed by the near spectacle of monastic oppression and
even bigotry ; and thus we can not question that he had im¬
bibed, even before his departure from Tubingen, the principles
which enlightened his subsequent career, and which throw
the brightest glory on his memory.
In 1518 (at the age of twenty-one), he was raised to the
professorship of Greek in the University of Wittemberg. The
moment was critical. Luther, who occupied the theological
chair in the same university, had just published his "Ninety-
five Propositions against the Abuse of Indulgences," and was
entering, step by step, into a contest with the Vatican. He
was in possession of great personal authority ; he was older
M E L A IT C T H 0 N.
583
by fourteen years, and was endowed with a far more com¬
manding spirit than his brother professor ; and thus in that
intimacy which local circumstances and similarity of senti¬
ments immediately cemented between those two eminent per¬
sons, the asceadency was naturally assumed by Luther, and
maintained to the end of his life. Melancthon was scarcely
established at "Wittemberg when he addressed to the Reformer
some very flattering expressions of admiration, couched in in¬
different Greek iambics, and in the year following he attended
him to the public disputations which he held with Eckius on
the supremacy of the Pope. Here he first beheld the strife
into which he was destined presently to enter, and learned the
distasteful rudiments of theological controversy.
Two years afterwards, when certain of the opinions of Lu¬
ther were violently attacked by the faculty of Paris, Melanc-
th< >n interposed to defend their author, to repel 6ome vain
charges which were brought against him, and to ridicule tho
pride and ignorance of the doctors of the Sorbonne. About
the same time, he engaged in the more delicate question re¬
specting the celibacy of the clergy, and opposed the popish
practice with much zeal and learning. This was a subject
which he had always nearest his heart, and in the discussions
to which it led, he surpassed even Luther in the earnestness
of his argument; and he at least had no personal interest in
the decision, as he never took orders.
In 1528 it was determined to impose a uniform rule of
doctrine and discipline upon the ministers of the Reformed
churches ; and the office of composing it was assigned to Me¬
lancthon. He published, in eighteen chapters, an " Instruc¬
tion to the Pastors of the Electorate of Saxony," in which he
made the most formal exposition of the doctrinal system of
the Reformers. The work was promulgated with the ap¬
probation of Luther; and the article concerning the bodily
presence in the Eucharist conveyed the opinion of the master
rather than the disciple. Yet were there other points so mod¬
erately treated, and set forth in so mild and compromising a
temper, as sufficiently to mark Melancthon as the author of the
document; and so strong was the impression produced upon
the Roman Catholics themselves, by its character and spirit,
584
MELANCTHON.
that many considered it the composition of a disguised friend;
and Faber even ventured to make personal overtures to the
composer, and to hold forth the advantages that he might
hope to attain by a seasonable return to the bosom of the
apostolic church.
The Diet of Augsburg was summoned soon afterwards,
and it assembled in 1530 for the reconciliation of all differ¬
ences. This being at least the professed object of both par¬
ties, it was desirable that the conference should be conducted
by men of moderation, disposed to soften the subjects of dis¬
sension, and to mitigate, by temper and manner, the bitter¬
ness of controversy. For this delicate office, Luther was
entirely disqualified, whereas the reputation of Melancthon
presented precisely the qualities that seemed to be required ;
the management of the negotiations was accordingly confided
to him, but not without the near superintendence of Luther.
The latter was resident close at hand, he was in perpetual
communication with his disciple, and influenced most of his
proceedings ; and at least, during the earlier period of the
conferences, he not only suggested the matter, but even au¬
thorized the form of the official documents.
It was thus that the " Confession of Augsburg" was com¬
posed ; and we observe on its very surface thus much of the
spirit of conciliation, that of its twenty-eight chapters, twenty-
one were devoted to the exposition of the opinions of the Re¬
formers, while seven only were directed against the tenets of
their adversaries. In the tedious and perplexing negotiations
that followed, some concessions were privately proposed by
Melancthon, which could scarcely have been sanctioned by
Luther, as they were inconsistent with the principles of the
Reformation and the independence of the Reformers. In some
letters written towards the conclusion of the Diet, he ac¬
knowledged in the strongest terms the authority of the Ro¬
man church and all its hierarchy ; he asserted that there was
positively no doctrinal difference between the parties; that
the whole dispute turned on matters of discipline and prac¬
tice, and that if the Pope would grant only a provisional
toleration on the two points of the double communion and
the marriage of the clergy, it would not be difficult to remove
MELANCTHON.
585
all other differences not excepting that respecting the mass.
" Concede," he says to the Pope's legate, uor pretend to con¬
cede those two points, and we will submit to the bishops ;
and if some slight differences shall still remain between the
two parties, they will not occasion any breach of union, be¬
cause there is no difference on any point of faith, and they
will be governed by the same bishops ; and these bishops,
having once recovered their authority, will be able, in process
of time to correct defects which must now of necessity be tol¬
erated." On this occasion, Melancthon took counsel of Eras¬
mus rather than of Luther. It was his object at any rate to
prevent the war with which the Protestants were threatened,
and from which he may have expected their destruction. But
the perfect and almost unconditional submission to the Ro¬
man hierarchy which he proposed as the only alternative
would have accomplished the same purpose much more
certainly ; and Protestant writers have observed that the
bitttrest enemy of the Reformation could have suggested no
more effectual or insidious method of subverting it, than that
which was so warmly pressed upon the Roman Catholics by
Melancthon himself. Luther was indignant when he heard of
these proceedings; he strongly urged Melancthon to break off
the negotiations and to abide by the Confession. Indeed, it
appears that these degrading concessions to avowed enemies
produced, as is ever the case, no other effect than to increase
their pride, and exalt their expectations, and so lead them to
demand still more unworthy conditions and a still more abject
humiliation.
Howbeit the reputation of Melancthon was raised by the
address which he displayed during these deliberations, and
the variety of his talents and the extent of his erudition be¬
came more generally known and more candidly acknowledged.
The modesty of his character, the moderation of his temper,
the urbanity of his manners, his flexible and accommodating
mind, recommended him to the regard of all, and especially
to the patronage of the great. He was considered as the
peace-maker of the age. All who had any hopes of composing
the existing dissensions, and preventing the necessity of abso¬
lute schism, placed their trust in the mildness of his expe-
586
M EL AN C T HO N.
dients. The service which he had endeavored to render to tho
Emperor was sought by the two other powerful monarchs of
that time. Francis I. invited liim to France in 1535, to rec¬
oncile the growing differences of his subjects , and even Hem y
YIII. expressed a desire for his presence and his counsels ; but
the Elector could not be persuaded to consent to his departure
from Saxony.
In 1541 he held a public disputation with Eckius, at
Worms, which lasted three days. The conference was subse¬
quently removed to Ratisbon, and continued with pacific
professions and polemic arguments during the same year, with
no other result than an expressed understanding that both
parties should refer their claims to a general Council, and abide
by its decision.
In the meantime, as the Popes showed great reluctance to
summon any such council, unless it should assemble in Italy,
and deliberate under their immediate superintendence, and as
the Reformers constantly refused to submit to so manifest a
compromise of their claims, it seemed likely that some time
might elapse before the disputants should have any opportu¬
nity of making their appeal. Wherefore, the Emperor, not
brooking this delay, and willing by some provisional measure
to introduce immediate harmony between the parties, pub¬
lished, in 1548, a formulary of temporary concord, under the
name of the Interim. It proclaimed the conditions of peace,
which were to be binding only till the decision of the " gen¬
eral Council." The conditions were extremely advantageous,
as might well have been expected, to the Roman Catholic
claims. Nevertheless, they gave complete satisfaction to nei¬
ther party, and only animated to further arrogance the spirit
of those whom they favored.
The Interim was promulgated at the Diet held at Augs¬
burg, and it was followed by a long succession of conferences,
which were carried on at Leipsig, and in other places, under
the Protestant auspices of Maurice of Saxony. Here was
an excellent field for the talents and character of Melancthon.
All the public documents of the Protestants were composed
by him. All the acuteness of his reason, all the graces of his
style, all the resources of his learning were brought into light
Ji E L A C T H 0 N.
587
and action j and much that he wrote in censure of the In¬
terim, was written with force and truth. But here, as on
former occasions, the effects of his genius were marred by the
very moderation of his principles, and the practical result of
his labors was not beneficial to the cause he intended to serve.
For in this instance, he not only did not conciliate the ene¬
mies to whom he made so large concessions, but he excited
distrust and offense among his friends; and these feelings
were presently exasperated into absolute schism.
On the death of Luther, two ybars before these confer¬
ences, the foremost place among the Reformers had unques¬
tionably devolved upon Melancthon. He had deserved that
eminence by his various endowments and his uninterrupted
exertions ; yet was he not the character most fitted to occupy
it at that crisis. His incurable thirst for universal esteem
and regard ; his perpetual anxiety to soothe his enemies and
soften the bigotry of the hierarchy, frequently seduced him
into unworthy compromises, which lowered his own cause,
without obtaining either advantage or respect from his adver¬
saries. It is not thus that the ferocity of intolerance can be
disarmed. The lust of religious domination can not be satis¬
fied by soothing words, or appeased by any exercise of religious
charity. It is too blind to imagine any motive for the mod¬
eration of an enemy except the consciousness of weakness.
It is too greedy to accept any partial concession, except as a
pledge of still further humiliation, to end in absolute submis¬
sion. It can be successfully opposed only by the same unbend¬
ing resolution which itself displays, tempered by a calmer
judgment, and animated by a more righteous purpose.
The general principle by which the controversial writings
of Melancthon at this time were guided, was this—that there
were certain essentials which admitted of no compromise;
but that the Interim might be received as a rule in respect to
things which were indifferent. Hence arose the necessary
inquiry, what could properly be termed indifferent. It was
the object of Melancthon to extend the number, so as to in¬
clude as many as possible of the points in dispute, and narrow
the field of contention with the Roman Catholics.
In the pursuance of this charitable design he did not fore-
588
MELANCTHON,
see—first, that he would not advance thereby a single step
towards the conciliation of their animosity—next, that he
would sow amongst the Reformers themselves the seeds of
intestine discord ! hut so unhappily it proved ; and the feeble
expedient which was intended to repel the danger from with¬
out, multiplied that danger by introducing schism and dis¬
order within.
Indeed, we can scarcely wonder that it was so ; for we
find that among the matters to be accounted indifferent, and
under that name conceded, Melancthon ventured to place the
doctrine of justification by faith alone ; the necessity of good
works to eternal salvation ; the number of the sacraments;
the jurisdiction claimed by the Pope and the bishops ; ex¬
treme unction ; and the observance of certain religious fes¬
tivals and several superstitious rites and ceremonies. It was
not possible that the more intimate associates of Luther—the
men who had struggled by his side, who wTere devoted to his
person and his memory, who inherited his opinions and his
principles, and who were animated by some portion of his
zeal—should stand by in silence and permit some of the
dearest objects of their own struggles and the vigils of their
master to be offered up to the foe by the irresolute hand of
Melancthon.
Accordingly, a numerous party rose, who disclaimed his
principles and rejected his authority. At their head was
Illyricus Flacius, a fierce polemic, who possessed the intem¬
perance without the genius of Luther. The contest commonly
known as the Adiaphoristic Controversy broke out with great
fury; it presently extended its character so as to embrace
various collateral points: and the Rorri&n Catholics were once
more edified by the welcome spectacle of Protestant dissen¬
sion.
Melancthon held his last fruitless conference with the
Eoman Catholics at Worms, in the year 1557, and he died
three years afterwards, at the age of sixty-three, the same age
that had been attained by Luther. His ashes were deposited
at Wittemberg, in the same church with those of his master.
Some days before his death, while it was manifest that his
end was fast approaching, Melancthon wrote on a scrap of
MELANCTHON.
580
paper some of the reasons which, reconciled him to the pros¬
pect of his departure. Among them were these—that he
should see God and the Son of God ; that ho should compre-
lunl some mysteries which he was unable to penetrate on
earth—such as these : why is it that we are created such as
we are? what was the union of the two natures in Jtisus
Christ ? that he should sin no more ; that he should no longer
he exposed to vexations ; and that he should escape from the,
yoije vf the thtolot/iun.s. "We need no better proof than this
how his peaceable spirit had been tortured during the d< cline
of life by those interminable quarrels, which were entirely re¬
pugnant to his temper, and yet were perpetually forced upon
him, and which even his own lenity had seemingly tended to
augment. And it is even probable that the theologians, from
whose rage it was his especial hope to be delivered, were those
wh j had risen up last against him, and with whom his differ¬
ences were at> n< (thing compared to the points on which they
were agreed—his brother reformers. For, being in this respect
unil irtunate, that his endeavors to conciliate the affections of
all partii s had been requited by the contempt and insults of
all, he was yet m< >re peculiarly unhappy that the blackest
conLumtly and the bitterest insults proceeded from the dis¬
sentients of his own. Thus situated, after forty years of in¬
cessant exertions to reform and at the same time to unite the
Christian world, when he beheld discord multiplied and its
fruits ripening in the very bosom < f the Reformation ; when
he compared his own principles and his own conscience with
the taunts which were cast against him ; when he discovered
how viin had been his mission of conciliation, and how un¬
grateful a task it xvdS to throw oil upon the waters of theo-
1< igical c< introversy; when he reflected how much time and
forbearance he had wasted in this hopeless attempt—he could
scarcely avoid the unwelcome suspicion that his life had been
in some degree spent in vain, and that in one of the (It arcst
objects of his continual endeavors he had altogether failed.
The reason was that the extreme mildness of his own dis-
i position blinded him to the very nature of religious contests,
and inspired him with amiable hopes, which could not pos¬
sibly be realized. He may have been a better man than Lu-
I
590 melancthon.
ther ; he may have even been a wiser \ he had as great acute-
ness ; he had more learning, and a purer and more perspicu¬
ous style ; he had a more charitable temper ; he had a more
| candid mind ; and his love for justice and truth forbade him
to reject, without due consideration, even the argument of an
adversary. He was qualified to preside as a judge in the forum
of theological litigation ; yet he was not fitted for that which
he was called upon to discharge, the office of an advocate.
He saw too much, for he saw both sides of the question ; his
very knowledge, acting upon his natural modesty, made him
diffident. He balanced, he reflected, he doubted ; and he be¬
came, through that very virtue, a tame sectarian, and a feeble
partisan.
But his literary talents were of the highest order, and
were directed, with great success, to almost all the depart¬
ments of learning. He composed abridgments of all the
branches of philosophy, which continued long in use among
the students of Germany, and purified the liberal arts from
the dross that was mixed up with them. And it was thus
that he would have purified religion; and as he had intro¬
duced the one reformation without violence, so he thought to
accomplish the other without schism. But he comprehended
not the character of the Roman Catholic priesthood ; nor
could he conceive the tenacity and the passion with which men,
in other respects reasonable and respectable, will cling to the
interests, the prejudices, the abuses, and the very vices which
are associated with their profession. It was an easy matter
to him to confound the superstitious rites and tenets of Rome
by his profound learning and eloquent arguments ; but it was
another and far different task to deal with the offended feelings
of an implacable hierarchy.
And thus it is, that while we admire his various acquire¬
ments and eminent literary talents, and praise the moderation
of his charitable temper, we remark the wisdom of that Prov¬
idence which intrusted the arduous commencement of the
work of reformation to firmer and ruder hands than his.
Melancthon's printed works are very numerous. The most
complete edition of them is that of Wittemberg, in 1680-3,
in four volumes folio.
PART Y.
KEMAINS OF ANCIENT EASTEKN CITIES.
THE RUINS OF PETRA.
It would be impossible to convey a full account of this
marvelous scene unless a volume were devoted to its details.
We therefore merely glance at its history, and briefly describe
the entrance to the place, with some of its most prominent
ruins.
The name of Petra, Selah, the Rock, is one of the most
descriptive ever applied to any place, as the whole wondrous
scene is one mass of living rock. There are houses of rock,
and a theater of rock, and tombs innumerable of rock, and
stairs, and excavations, and works without number and with¬
out end, all exquisitely chiseled or elaborately dug in the
solid rock. Petra was the ancient capital of Edom, and it is
utterly unlike any other ruin of which history tells or which
modern enterprise has brought to light. The descendants of
Esau are reekoned its founders ; and, as the Edomites are
known from Scripture to have been a powerful and a numer¬
ous people many centuries before our era, their capital may
date far back in the dimness of remote antiquity. In Gen¬
esis, xxxvi., we have an abstract of its history, or a catalogue
of its princes ; and we there learn that the place was governed
first by dukes and princes, then by many successive kings, and
then by dukes again, and all that prior to the foundation of
Israel as a kingdom—" before there reigned any king over
Israel." In the time of Saul, Edom was subdued and became
tributary to the kingdom of Judah. It revolted, but was
again vanquished in the days of David. When the Romans
overran the East, Edom was absorbed, and some of their
592
THE RUINS OF PETRA.
emperors did mucli to adorn it. Under Augustus it was a
flourishing place, the abode of many Romans. Adrian patron¬
ized Petra, and changed its name into Adriane; but soon
after his death it ceases to be mentioned in history. Its sin- j
gular position, " in the clefts of the rock/' sequestered it from j
the eyes of all excepting the wandering Arab ; and the unique
and magnificent capital became a dwelling only for robbers,
for wild beasts and birds, for scorpions and bats. It had once
been a center or a focus of commerce. The roads from the
East to the "West, and from various other quarters, all con¬
verged upon Petra ; and the caravans of those remote times
occasioned an activity of trade, a bustle among the merchants
of all nations there, such as even fancy can scarcely reproduce
amid these stupendous ruins, so deserted now that even the
footfall of the traveler appears to mar the solitude. But as
Petra flourished artificially, by the commerce of the nations,
it fell in their fall. When Nineveh and Babylon were no
more, when Egypt sank low among the nations, and when
Palestine was peeled and trodden down, the great market¬
place of the desert faded with them—its occupation was gone;
and we know concerning it now only that prophecy has there
been marvelously fulfilled : "0 thou that dwellest in the
clefts of the rock, and holdest the height of the hill, though
thou shouldest make thy nest as the eagle, I will bring thee
down from thence, saith the Lord. Also, Edom shall be des¬
olate : every one that goeth by shall be astonished, and shall
hiss at all the plagues thereof. .... The pride of thine
heart hath deceived thee, thou that dwellest in the clefts of
the rock, whose habitation is high I laid the moun¬
tains of Esau and his heritage waste for the dragons of the
wilderness." Never a more explicit prediction—never a more
exact fulfillment. For many centuries the name of Petra was
never heard, till the enterprising traveler, Seitzen, brought it
once more into notice about the commencement of the present
century ; and we need scarcely tarry to tell how changed all this
was from the time when this capital of the Nabatheans was
the focus of all the commodities of the East, when caravans
from the interior of Arabia, from the Persian Gulf, from Ye-
man, spread their cargoes thence to Damascus, to Jerusalem,
the ruins of petra.
593
to Gaza, to Tyre, and other places. It is unprecedented in
all history, that a spot so arid and dreary by nature should
have been forced into such prominence, or become such a
depot of all forms of wealth; yet long before Israel was a
kingdom, and long after that kingdom had withered away,
Potra flourished, as we have seen, while it is now perhaps the
most wondrous monument on the globe.
The Wady Mousa, where these remarkable ruins are
found, is about two days' journey from the Eed Sea ; and bo
vast is the solitude, that we travel for days all round this cap¬
ital without beholding a trace of man, except it be some horde
of Arab robbers prowling for plunder. But it was not always
s j. Eighteen centuries ago, Ed >m could furnish a contingent
of 30,000 men to help to repel the Romans from Jerusalem ;
and the ruins of more than thirty towns can be counted in
the territory of Edom within a circuit of a few miles. It is
amid such scenes that the believer can realize most vividly
the truth of his religi< »n. He who sees the end from the be¬
ginning laid its foundation on the everlasting rock, and it is
waxing stronger and stronger the more the world's history and
condition are explored.
Amid scenes so wonderful, it will be difficult to convey a
very satisfactory account of the ruins without the help of the
pencil or the daguerreotype. The Entrance to Petra is by
a narrow gorge, lined by lofty precipices, formed by the chan¬
nel of a rivulet. This defile is nearly two miles in length. At
some places the overhanging rocks approach so near to each
other that only two horsemen can proceed abreast. Along
this pass, however, merchandise which enriched thousands,
and corrupted thousands more, once flowed into the place.
The ledge-like path is lined with tombs cut from the live rock,
which is at some places not less than from 200 to 300 feet
high; and near the city the pathway is absolutely a street
formed by tombs. In that neighborhood stands a magnificent
temple, the Khuzne, or Treasury, all cut from the solid rock;
and all the details of decoration, though tasteless in them¬
selves, are fresh and sharp, and well defined, except where the
hand of violence has damaged them, as if only a few years had
passed since they were reared. The sight, it may well be sup-
38
THE RUINS OF PETRA.
posed, has roused the genius of poetry. The befitting strain^
in such a place would be a dirge—an anticipation of the cry,
.. « Woe, woe, woe !" and one has sung in words applicable to
the place,
" Across yon cliff a bridge seems hung in air,
"While, mingling life with death, a thousand caves
Yawn far and near,—the ancient dwellers' graves."
But no poetry can really depict the scene. Under the bridge
the pass is only twelve feet wide. " I was perfectly fascina¬
ted with this splendid work of ancient art (the Khuzne) in
this wild spot," wrote one not apt to speak in raptures ; "and
the idea of it was uppermost in my mind during the day and
all the night. In the morning I returned, and beheld it again
with increased admiration. There it stands, as it has stood
for ages, in beauty and loveliness : the generations which ad¬
mired and rejoiced over it of old have passed away ; the wild
Arab, as he wanders by, regards it with stupid indifference or
scorn ; and none are left but strangers from far distant lands
to do it reverence. Its rich roseate tints, as I bade it farewell,
were lighted up and gilded by the mellow beams of the morn¬
ing sun; and I turned away from it at length with an im¬
pression which will be effaced only at death."
When the visitor to Petra emerges from the ravine, which
is the main approach to the place, the city opens before him
in all its loveliness. The site forms a natural amphitheater,
about two miles and a half in circumference, while the lofty
hills stand sentinels all around. The dwellings, the temples,
the tombs, are all fresh and youthful in their aspect; and
though pillars have fallen, the friezes, are there, for they are
parts of the rock. Cornices have given way, yet the entabla¬
tures above them remain. Gazed at, in short, with the eye
of mere wonder, Petra is a mystery in stone. Judged of by
other ruins, it is unique and unmatched. Viewed histori-
cally, it is a mighty monument of fallen grandeur: in the
light of Scripture it proclaims that God is true, and every
man a liar.
"Pillar and arch, defying Time's rude shock,
Gleam on each side, upstarting from the rock;
THE RUINS OF P E T R A.»
595
but the Eternal has done what time has failed to achieve, and
the sin of Petrahas found it out. It is its own grave, its own
monument, and its own epitaph.
In this area one is struck by a strange combination. The
rock is honey-combed, Stanley says, with cavities of all shapes
and sizes ; and through these you advance till the defile once
more opens, and you see—strange and unexpected sight, with
tombs above, below, and in front—a Greek theater hewn out
of the rock, its tiers of seats literally red and purple alter¬
nately—all in the living rock—an amazing monument at once
of folly and of taste. Its diameter at the base is 120 feet.
It has thirty-three rows of seats, rising one above another, in
the side of the cliff behind. Above the seats, in the circle of
the rock, a row of small chambers is excavated, whose occu¬
pants could survey the whole scene below. The theater is es¬
timated by some to contain about 3,000 people, but others
deem that number too small. Such a structure or fabric,
carved entire, we repeat, from the living rock, is surely an
architectural marvel, but here we have a moral wonder as
well. The frivolities of the stage had their zest deepened,
and the fetters of the frivolous were pleasantly riveted by
the magnificence of the adjoining tombs : it was " amusement
in a cemetery, a theater in the midst of sepulchres." But
the surpassing marvels of this city of the dead must be vis¬
ited by us in person, if we would know all its wonders, or
become familiar with all its beauty. Wrapt in the silence
which has long enshrouded the place, the remains of a con¬
vent, with crosses carved within, and called Ed-Dier, are
found among the ruins ; but we need not such a memento to
tell us of a present God. He is here fulfilling his word. He
is here in the glory of his justice ; and, we must add, there
are few spots on all the earth where there is less to remind us
of his mercy.
Before leaving the immediate vicinity of Petra, we may
refer to the ruins which crown the summit of Mount Hor,
which is well known to terminate the view from one of the
principal ruins.
Mount Hor, in Arabia Petraea, is a mass of red sandstone,
and forms part of the mountains of Seir, or Edom. Its form
506
THE BUINS OF PETRA.
is irregularly truncated, and it terminates in three ragged
peaks. On its summit Aaron died when he was 123 years of
age, transferring his priesthood to Eleazar his son, according
to the divine command (Numbers, xx. 22-29). That son and
Aaron's brother, Moses, buried him in a cave of the moun¬
tain ; and from the fact that the first Hebrew high priest died
there, the mountain is still known as Jebel Haran—the Mount
of Aaron. Doubts, indeed, are entertained by some whether
the height which is crowned by the edifice now to be named
be really the Mount Ilor of Scripture ; but this at least may
be said : no eminence in the region has an equal claim to be
the scene of Aaron's death, and we therefore assume that it
was so; nay, that the proof regarding it is as complete as
such a case admits of. •
For part of the way, the traveler can ascend Mount Hor
on horseback; but at a certain point the pathway becomes
steep and difficult, insomuch that he who would mount to the
summit, must at some places clamber upon his hands and
knees. The ascent of this portion requires about an hour.
At some of the more difficult passes rude stairs are cut in the
rock, or steps are roughly laid with stone. The juniper tree,
or rather bush, is found in abundance on the mountain, as
well as some flowers of great beauty. The ascent is guarded
with lynx-eyed care by the Arabs ; and Laborde, Robinson,
and others were not permitted to ascend at all.
Having reached the summit, the alleged tomb of Aaron is
found to be quite paltry in the exterior, and quite as tawdry
within. It is enclosed in a small building, which is supposed
tq be of modern construction, as it contains some pillars em¬
bedded in its walls, while some fragments of granite and slabs
of white marble are lying in its neighborhood. The tomb is
composed of fragments of stone and marble, which must once
have belonged to some other more sumptuous fabric. It is
covered with a pall; and rags and shreds of yarn, ostrich
eggs, with glass beads and paras, have been left there, the
miserable votive offerings of a people miserable themselves in
all repects.
The pilgrim to the summit of Mount Hor finds his way
by some steps to a vault beneath the tomb ; but there is noth-
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM. 597
ing venerable there, and it is difficult to decide whether tho
cave he natural or the work of man's hands. Gazing from tho
summit, the eye wanders over all the scenes of the forty years
of Hebrew pilgrimage ; and when, on the other hand, tho
traveler looks from the Deir of Petra towards Mount llor—
which can be distinctly seen from tho elevated part of the
ruins, he has before him associations and sights, m tun tains
and ruins, such as can not be surpassed in all the world be¬
sides. The changes, indeed, which must have passed over
these scenes since the Hebrew pilgrims in myriads were there,
all marshaled and (shielded by their God, can scarcely be com¬
prehended by the modern pilgrim to such dreary regions.
But the wilderness will yet blossom as the rose ; symptoms
at least of its budding appear, and u one day is with the Lord
as a thousand years."
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM.
#We ought perhaps to search for moral rather than ma¬
terials ruins in u The City of the Great King." It was there
that a nation's conscience grew seared, and there that that na¬
tion made bhipwreck < if a faith first announced from heaven,
and attested by Almighty Power. It was there that the
blood of Christian martyrs, and more, touched the blood of
the holy prophets ; and there that a people's guilt culminated
in the appalling cry, a cry whose echoes are still ringing in
woe in the hearts of myriads—" His blood be on us and on
our children \"
Though Jerusalem be now trodden down of the Gentiles,
and though its former glory be gone, there are fewer remains
of ancient times existing there than in some provincial towns
in Palestine. Controversy has thrown doubts and shadows
around many a spot, and the student of Jerusalem is some¬
times tempted to seek relief from the pain of local disputa¬
tions in a general skepticism. The veiy name of the city is
an arena. Jebus or Jebusi, Jerusalem or Jerushalaim, Salem
598
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM,
or Solyma, Hierosolyma, Jebus-Salem, and still other names,
are applied to the capital of the Holy Land-—not to mention
Jion, or JElia Capitolina in ancient times, and El-Khuds, or
Beit-el-Makhuddis among Mohammedans. We may safely
discard all these, however, and abide by the name by which
the place is best known—a place which has been historical for
eight-and-thirty centuries, and which was at least 1168 years
of age when Rome was only a collection of huts.
Though the visible ruins of Jerusalem may not be so nu¬
merous as we might at first sight suppose, yet a thousand spots
are invested with sacredness to the uttermost. Let us take our
stand, in thought, on a summit of Olivet, from 918 to 1310
yards from St. Stephen's Gate, according to the footpath we
select for our ascent, and from that gentle elevation we see, on
the south, the Mount of Corruption, where Solomon sinned ;
Beth-haccerem, where the bones of the truculent Herod were
buried ; and then beyond these, undulation swelling upon
undulation, forming the hill country of Judea. On the east
one beholds the mountains of Moab and Ammon, with the
ruins of Kir-Moab. Pisgah is seen, though we can not abso¬
lutely decide which summit in the range forms that mount.
Then nearer at hand is thfe Dead Sea, with all its dark asso-
• #
ciations ; and the Jordan with more numerous associations
still. To the north is Mizpah, Gibeon, the valley of Ajalon,
Michmash, Eamah, and Anathoth. But venerable as these
names may be, there is something more venerable still at your
feet—it is Jerusalem. There was Golgotha, although it is
now unknown; near these walls was Gethsemane; within
them were a thousand spots which the Redeemer's presence
hallowed : and with such associations pressing on the mind,
one cares not, for a while, to think of aught besides. Geth¬
semane alone, for the time, absorbs all that the heart can
feel.
It may tend to show with what pains all that relates to
Jerusalem and its various localities has been explored, if we
submit the following measurements. In order to fix the dis¬
tance traveled by the Great Sufferer, and the places between
the upper Eoom and Golgotha, visited by Him just previous
to his crucifixion, Dr. Barclay has said that—
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM.
599
From Zion, where the Upper Room was, to Gcthsemane,
was from,
850 to 900 yards.
From Gethsemaue to the house of Annas,
Thence to the High Priest's palace
Thence to the Council House
Thence to the Pnetorium (iu Antonia)...
Thence to Herod's palace...
Thence back to the Prsetorium.
Thence to Golgotha.
2300 to 2400 11
1400 t<> 2100 "
200 to 400 "
350 to 400 11
950 to 1000 «
950 to 1000 "
600 to 600
Or from 7500 to 8800 yarda.
But some of the places here referred to are only conjectur-
ally known, and we can only in general terms refer to the-an¬
tiquities of the place. It is well known, then, that a large
portion of modern Jerusalem is built over the ruins or debris
of the ancient city. In digging for foundations, or in other
excavations, many feet of rubbish, in some cases forty or fifty,
have to be cleared ere a firm foundation can be obtained.
The Tyropaeon has been to a great extent filled up with ruins
and the accumulated rubbish of ages, and in some places such
accumulations have turned a wady into a plain. But instead
of dwelling vaguely upon such topics, we proceed to enumer¬
ate some of the more remarkable ruins recorded in history or
still known to exist.
1. "Josephus tells of a gallery, or xystus—a covered col¬
onnade, which stood in the Valley of the Tyropaeon, at the
base of the north-east cliff of Mount Zion, and just below the
royal palace. It was built abaut 175 B.C. The colonnade, it
is conjectured, surrounded a quadrangular area in that region
of the old city, adorned with fountains and reservoirs. It is
believed to have been built as a gymnasium by the infamous
high priest, Jason, who purchased the privilege of erecting it
at the price of 150 talents. It was long appropriated to ath¬
letic exercises, in imitation of the heathen nations, but be¬
came at last the great gathering-place—the Forum of Jeru-
salem. The people were assembled there when that Herod
who was ee almost persuaded to be a Christian" addressed
them, while his half-sister, the noted Bernice, stood near.
Here, also, the Jews were convened when Titus their con¬
queror harangued them from the cloisters of the temple. It is
600
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM.
conjectured that Peter's congregation on the day of Pentecost
also met there. But whatever truth there may be in these
conjectures regarding the colonnade, it is an undistinguished
ruin now, buried deep under the debris of that city which has
seen fire and sword, pillage and bloodshed, again and again,
and again do their work within its walls, till, it is said, on one
occasion 600,000 dead were carried out by the gates.
"Jerusalem I Jerusalem! thy cross thou bearest now;
An iron yoke is on thy neck, and blood is on thy brow:
The golden crown, the crown of truth, thou didst reject as dross,
And now thy cross is on thee laid—the Crescent is thy Cross /"
But, 2. One of the most remarkable of all the ruins of Je-
rusalem is found in the substructions of what men begin to
call the Tyropaeon Bridge. The King's Palace stood of old
on Mount Zion, which was separated from Moriah, the Tem¬
ple Mount, by the Tyropason Valley, and the monarch*could
not pass from the one to the other except by a circuitous de¬
scent and ascent. But to remedy that inconvenience, the
founder of Tadmor in the "Wilderness, the builder of the tem¬
ple, and of other magnificent structures, caused a bridge to
be built across the valley, connecting Zion on the west with
Moriah on the east. This, it is believed, is one of the won¬
ders which astonished the Queen of Sheba (1 Kings, x. 5) ;
but, on the other hand, some dispute the existence of the
structure in Solomon's day. Owing to the piles of rubbish
long collected at the base of Zion, no remains of the bridge
are visible there ; but on the eastern side considerable portions
exist. The valley is here about 118 yards wide, and that must
have been about the length of the structure. Its breadth was
51£ feet, its length at least 350, and the remains enable us to
ascertain with perfect accuracy the span of each of the arches,
or 41 feet, supposing them to have been equal. Some of the
blocks which remain as the spring of a broken arch are 5f feet
thick, and vary from 21 feet to 25 in length.
The discovery of these remains, which we owe to Dr. Rob¬
inson, has led to much discussion, for some deny that the
arch was in use so early as the days of Solomon. But its dis¬
covery in Chaldea and Assyria refutes that objection. The
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM. 601
arch is found, moreover, under Solomon's Pools, near Jeru¬
salem ; so that we can now cherish the hope that in examin¬
ing these long-concealed remains upon Mount Moriah, we are
in contact with a relic of Solomon's time, a portion alike of
his Palace and of his Temple.
The bridge now mentioned was at the north-west corner
of the Temple ; but another structure, called the Bridge of
the Red Heifer, is believed to have stood on the east side,
spanning the Valley of Jehoshaphat, and connecting the
Temple Mount with the Mount of Olives. According to the
Mishna, says Dr. Barclay, the red heifer was conducted
through the eastern gate of the Temple, across the Kedron,
to be burned on the Mount of Olives. By the same path, it
is said, the scape-goat was led away to the wilderness, and
though some allege that a temporary structure was raised
every year for these purposes, others explicitly and circum¬
stantially say, " They built at no small cost a foot causeway,
upheld with arches, from the Mount of the Temple to the
Mount of Olives, upon which they led away the red heifer to
be burned. It was double-arched, arches upon arches—one
arch upon two arches, so that the foot of one arch stood upon
two arches that were there underneath it."
3. We might now advert to some ruins which are found
in one of the streets of Jerusalem, supposed to be the remains
of " Millo in the city of David." The walls there are six feet
thick ; arches are also traced, and other tokens of strong un¬
derground work, now utterly defaced. Or we might mention
the remains discovered at the Damascus Gate, and connected
with it, supposed to belong to the times of Solomon, and said
to be the best specimens of ancient Jewish mural structures
which the battering-ram and the tooth of time have spared.
But we pass from these to speak of the Tower of Hippicus—
the best preserved of all the ruins in Jerusalem. It stands
near the Jaffa Gate, and is now generally known as the Tower
of David. Time, the elements and man have reduced it to
the height of only about 40 feet. It is entirely solid, at least
no hollow has been detected in the pile, which has bid de¬
fiance alike to the battering-ram, to cannon-balls, to prying
curiosity and the wasting elements, for nineteen centuries.
602 THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM.
It is 70 feet on one side, by 56 on the other ; but the stones
which compose it are much smaller than those of the temple
wall, and altogether it is obvious that Hippicus is less ancient
than many other structures in the city. The Crusaders have
added some 15 or 20 feet to the original 40, and Josephus
says " that over the solid building .... there was a reservoir
20 cubits deep ; over which there was a house of two storys,
whose height was 25 cubits, and turrets all round of 3 cubits
high ; so that the entire height was 80 cubits."
4. But few of the remains of ancient Jerusalem can be
more interesting than its Tombs, and some of these we now
proceed to describe. It is well known that at several places
in the environs of the city the rocks are honey-combed with
cave-sepulchres. At some other spots, as in the Valley of Je-
hoshaphat, the grave-stones appear to pave the ground. But
a Jewish tomb of some mark has been thus described. It is
found at El Messahney, and is hewn in the solid rock, the
facade being dressed so as to imitate the beveled stones of the
ancient temple wall. Though time here has done its work,
much of the pile continues fresh and sharp in its decorations,
as if it were only a thing of yesterday. Some would carry
the date of this tomb back to the time of King Saul, and
though it now forms the winter abode of a goat-herd and also
the fold of his flock, it bears the marks of having formed the
resting-place of some distinguished person. It contains seven¬
teen niches. The style is Roman Doric, and the conjecture
which ascribes it to the age of Saul can not therefore be cor¬
rect.
The Tombs of the Judges, so called, form another remark¬
able group of rock-hewn sepulchres. The doorway is sur¬
mounted by a sculptured Grecian pediment, and leads into
the main room, which contains thirteen recesses. Another
doorway conducts from that to a second apartment, contain¬
ing nine repositories. By a stair there is a descent into a
lower room, which contains ten <y twelve receptacles. About
sixty niches are found in these catacombs, but tradition, ex¬
aggerating as usual, first makes them seventy-two, and then
calls the ruin the resting-place of the Sanhedrim.
The Tomb of Helena, Queen of Adiabene, who became a
the ruins of jerusalem.
603
convert to Judaism about a.d. 44, has given rise to much
antiquarian controversy. "Without discussing any question¬
able points, we refer to that tomb which appears to possess
the best claim to the honor of once containing the dust of the
queen. There are loose rocks and rubbish on the spot, indi¬
cating a structure above ground, as some suppose this monu¬
ment to have been. In the sepulchre there are three niches
much superior to the rest, supposed to have belonged to the
queen and others of equal rank. These, however, and all
similar structures, must give place to the Tombs of the Kings,
the Kubr-el-Moluk, or Kubr-es-Sultan—a costly and impos¬
ing structure, which has given rise to not a few discussions.
These we omit and only describe the remains of the cemetery.
It is situated just a mile to the north of the Damascus Gate.
On the west side of a low court, about 90 feet square, and
more than 20 feet deep, the catacombs are entered through a
splendid though dilapidated portico, and hall 131 feet high,
and 28} feet wide. From this apartment a door less than
3 feet high opens into an anteroom about 19 feet square.
Another door leads from that apartment into another cham¬
ber which is 13j feet square, where there are about twelve
niches for the dead. In a story still lower there is a room
10 feet by 12 ; and several other chambers of a similar con¬
struction, all furnished with recesses for entombment, are
described as existing in these royal vaults. In one of them
sarcophagi have been found, which are now for the most part
reduced to fragments. Large pieces of richly paneled stone
doors are also found scattered about the rooms. These doors
swung on mortise-and-tenon hinges of stone, and the jambs
of the interior door-ways have such an inclination that the
ponderous doors closed from the force of gravity. The outer
door was closed by a unique contrivance, which, however, it
is difficult to explain without a drawing. The niches here
are about thirty in number.
The portal of this subterranean abode was ornamented
by pillars and pilasters. Ae perpendicular surface of the
rock above the portal was richly adorned with classic mould¬
ings, clusters of grapes, and wreaths of flowers ; and so diffi¬
cult is it to assign the style to any recognized standard, that
fr
604 THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM.
some have invented a name and given it the designation of
Romanized Hebro-Grrecian. The whole range of these mar¬
velous catacombs, let it be remembered, was chiseled from the
solid rock ; and with that in view, we may readily concede to
such vast excavations the rank of one of the greatest wonders
of Jerusalem.
But what were they ? Not the tombs of the kings of Ju-
dah ; these were on Mount Zion. Not of the Maccabees;
they were buried at Modin. Perhaps the tomb of Helena,
already mentioned, say some. Perhaps the resting-place of
some of Herod's line, say others. But we must wait for fur¬
ther discoveries, should any ever be made, before we can finally
decide, and meanwhile we only remark that the decorations of
these catacombs are all of a joyous kind. No souvenirs of
death are there, but roses and garlands, as if the associations
of the dead were rather with festoons and flowers than with
the cypress or a skeleton. If they were believers yi Him who
is the Life, they were right. Their " place of peace" should
not ba transmuted into woe.
The Tombs of the Prophets, called also of the Apostles,
form another labyrinth of sepulchres, excavated on the slope
of Olivet. They extend about twenty-eight yards from north
to south, and thirty to forty from east to west. About thirty
niches are still accessible, but many of the passages are so
choked with rubbish that the whole space can not be explored.
They have been regarded as in some way connected with the
idolatrous worship of Baal, while others surmise that they
may have belonged to the school of the prophets.
Besides these, Jehoshaphathas a tomb assigned to him by
tradition in the glen of the Kedron. So has some Zechariah;
so has St. James, and so has the rebel Absalom. Of these,
we mention first the alleged tomb of Zechariah. It is a mon¬
olith cut from the rock, from which it is separated on three
sides by a passage several yards wide. Its appearance is that
of a four-sided pyramid, mounted on a cube about twenty
feet high. At least a fourth part of the lower portion is
buried in rubbish; but the Ionic capitals which crown the
pillars and pilasters give a certain pleasing air to the pile.
As no entrance has been detected, this monolith is supposed
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM. 605
to be solid; and though the architecture is not imposing, the
effect is said to he highly impressive. Strange that the his¬
tory or special design of such a work should he utterly un¬
known.
Like the tomh jugfc described, Absalom's Pillar, called
also Tantour Pharoun, is monolithic, being cut from the rock
which skirts Mount Olivet in the same way as the former
monument. About a fourth part of the pile is buried in rub¬
bish, but its height may be about fifty feet, and its breadth
twenty-three or twenty-four. Some of the ornaments are Doric,
whili* the capitals of the pillars are Ionic. The interior ap¬
pears never to have been finished, and it is well known that
neither Christian or Moslem ever passes this structure without
casting a stone to indicate the indignation felt against the
rebel son. We need not reason against the genuineness of
this ruin. Nothing but all-devouring tradition could assign
such a pile to such an age as that of Absalom, and the di/E'r-
ent names attached to the cenotaph at different times are suf¬
ficient to provoke our suspicions. Hezekiah, Uzziah, Isaiah,
Jehoshaphat, Simon the Just, and others have had their
names associated with it.
It were tedious even to catalogue the traditional tombs of
this valley; but one remark may illustrate how little faith
can be placed in the traditions which assign their modern
names. In 2 Chronicles, xxi. 1, we read " that king Jehosha¬
phat was buried with his fathers in the city of David but
a legend, on the other hand, insists we shall believe that he
was buried in the valley which bears his name. It even leads
us to his very tomb. But that and the titles given to perhaps
all the rest of the ruins which line the valley, sober truth
compels us to discard.
Among the ruins of Jerusalem we may also place the
fountains and reservoirs, though at first sight the collocation
may appear incongruous. The fountains under the Temple,
the aqueducts, the lower pool of Gihon—which, when full,
presented an area of nearly four acres of water—as well as
others, are all associated with remains of ancient architecture
which proclaim the elaborate pains with which the city was
supplied with water. Here, however, the first place is due to
606 THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM.
the Pool of Siloam, which, next to Olivet, may be regarded
as the most popular and most veritable remnant of former
times. It is now known to be not an independent spring, but
only the outflow of one further up ihe valley, called the Vir¬
gin's Fount, through a channel cut in the rock under the hill
Ophel, and traced by Dr. Eobinson with some danger. The
present pool and its surrounding ruins, consisting mainly of
six pillars of Jerusalem marble, the remains of a basilica over
the pool, are no doubt the representatives of the place as it
existed in the days of Isaiah, Nehemiah, and the Saviour.
There is reason to believe, however, that it is much reduced
in size, though still fifty feet long and fourteen and a half
feet wide at one end, and seventeen at the other. It is a
placid sheet of water, fed by some intermittent fountain; and
around it many plants, nourished by the water, give verdure
and beauty to the spot. Both the past and the present, both
Isaiah's allusion to the waters " which go softly," and the
Saviour's injunction to the blind man to wash in Siloam and
receive his sight, as well as the goodly green which beautifies
the spot—combine to render it one of the fairest near Jeru-
salem.
The pool of Bethesda, unhappily another scene of contro¬
versy, is also another spot which the power of Jesus made
illustrious. But where was it ? Some describe it as existing;
near the site where the Castle of Antonia is known to have
stood; and there to this day, not far from St. Stephen's
Gate, a tank 360 feet in length, 130 feet wide, and seventy-
five feet deep, is found, with some ruins which appear to be
the remains of the porches mentioned by John (v. 2). Others,
however, utterly discard this idea, and deem that tank or
trench a portion of the moat which surrounded the castle.
Some, again, regard Siloam as the true Bethesda; while
another opinion makes the Fountain of the Virgin, with
which Siloam is connected, the scene of Christ's miracle on
the poor paralytic. Others still give the honor to a little
tank called Birket-el-Hejjeh, outside the city walls, to the
north of St. Stephen's Gate. But the most recent investiga¬
tions would lead to the conclusion that the remains of Beth¬
esda, as well as the pool itself, are covered over with ruins in
THE RUINS OF JERUSALEM.
607
a space immediately east from the Temple. We must be
content, then, for the present to remain as ignorant of the
site of the real Bethesda as we are of the nature of that
power which the angel imparted to its waters to render them
healing, eighteen centuries ago (John, v. 2-9).
It were tedious to plunge into the discussions raised by
topographers regarding the walls and gates of Jerusalem.
The four modern gates—the Jaffa or Bethlehem on the west,
the Damascus on the north, St. Stephen's on the eaRt, and
the Zion or David's Gate on the south—are respectable in
point of architecture. But the only gate that we need specify
is the Golden Gate—the Bab-ed-Dahareyeh of the Arabs, the
Porta Aurea of the Crusaders, and others. It is a work ap¬
parently of Roman times, and stands on the east side of the
city, but has been shut up for many generations; and one
reason at least is manifest—the Bedawin on that side of the
city might be too near or too offensive to admit of a gate fifty-
five feet wide being often opened. The interior recess occa¬
sioned by the wall which closes up the gate is used by the
Moslem as a place of prayer; and many traditions are con¬
nected with the gate. Some say that by it the Saviour rode
in triumph into the city ; the Emperor Heraclius is reported
to have done the same when he brought back the fabled Holy
Cross, which he had recovered from the Persians ; and finally,
some allege that this gate was shut by Omar himself, and will
never be re-opened till the Saviour return. At no great dis¬
tance, part of an ancient pillar projecting from the wall
above the Yalley of Jehoshaphat is regarded by Moslems as
the seat on which Mohammed is to judge the world. Some
fragments of other gates, and vast stones in various parts of
the Temple wall, are mentioned among the ruins of Jerusa¬
lem, but on these we need not dwell.
The "Wailing Place of the Jews, however, is a portion of
the ruins to which the attention of travelers is always turned.
It occupies a space of about forty yards in length. The
stones in the wall, like others in the vicinity, are dressed in
the form supposed to be peculiar to the buildings of ancient
Jerusalem ; and there, within the precincts of what was their
Temple, the Jews assemble to mourn, and wail, and pray.
608 THE BUINS OF JERUSALEM.
Though fancy-pictures of the scene be presented by some, it
is unquestionably one of the saddest spectacles in this city of
sad memories, to behold the children of Abraham thus brought
low, the victims of oppression, if we should not rather say of
their own unbelief.
We have already said that the ruins of ancient Jerusalem
are for the most part buried under the present city ; and of
these we can, of course, only get casual glimpses. Yet in
some respects the under-ground world of Jerusalem has mar¬
vels as well as that portion which sees the sun. Under the
hill Bezetha, for example, Dr. • Barclay traced a series of
chambers, scooped in some degree by nature, but more by art,
in the rock. There he found many meandering passages lead¬
ing to immense halls, as white, he says, as the driven snow,
and supported by colossal pillars of irregular shape, sustain¬
ing the roofs of the various grottoes. It is a quarry, and the
pillars have been left to prevent the sinking of the city.
There are marks of the cross there, indicating that the place
was known to Christians ; but the jackal and other wild an¬
imals now reign undisturbed in the cave. Clambering over
huge blocks of stone and piles of chippings, indicates too
painfully to explorers that they are in a vast quarry; and
Dr. Barclay says, " This, without doubt, is the very mag¬
azine from which much of the Temple rock was hewn—
the pit from which was taken the material for the silent
growth of the Temple." He even fears that when the roof
gives way, as it is slowly doing, much of the city may be laid
in ruins. At the extreme end of the last chamber blocks of
stones were found half quarried, and still attached by one side
to the rock, where the marks of the tools were as fresh and
distinct as if the workmen had but yesterday left the work.
The length of these excavations was reckoned rather more
than a quarter of a mile, and the greatest breadth less than a
furlong. Dr. Robinson is of opinion that this vast cave car¬
ries us back to the times of Solomon ; so that, bit by bit, the
Jerusalem of our day becomes united to the Jerusalem of two
or three thousand years ago ; though matiy years must elapse
ere that can be thoroughly accomplished, unless some of the
eastern political complications, more speedily than men sup-
THE RUINS OF TYRE.
609
pose, hasten on the grand consummation towards which all
things are majestically tending.
And we thus close our glance at the ruins of Jerusalem.
Well may we resort to her own Place of "Wailing, and there
exclaim—
" Reft of thy sons), amid thy foes forlorn,
Mourn, widowed Queen! forgotten Zion, mourn !
******
* No prophet bards thy glittering courts among
"Wake the fall lyre and swell the tide of song;
But lawless Force and meager Want are there,
And the quick-darting eye of restless Fear;
While cold Oblivion, 'mid the ruins laid,
Folds his dark wing beneath the ivy shade."
The ruins of Baalbec are in many respects a mystery;
Palmyra, atjeast in vastness, surpasses even Baalbec; Athens,
Pffistum, Rome, and other scenes of decay, appeal to our
pity and touch our hearts ; but for Jerusalem—the city of
the Great King, the joy of the whole earth, for many gener¬
ations the focal point of heavenly light—we can only, like
her own captives of old, hang the harp upon the willows and
weep. Wherever we turn, the eye seems to rest on desola¬
tion. It is a city clothed with a pall; and yet our affections
cling to it as to the most sacred spot on earth. It has long
been wasted by the self-imprecated curse. When will the
blessing come ? Will Jerusalem soon, or at all, be made a
praise in the whole earth ?
THE RUINS OF TYRE.
That was a fearful display of the atrocity of despotic
power, when Mohammed Ali, Pasha of Egypt, swept 250,000
men, women and children, from the Delta, to dig the Mah-
moudieh Canal. He allowed them provisions only for a
month ; their implements of labor were few ; yet, under pam
of death by starvation, the canal must be dug in that brief
39 __
610 the ruins or tyre.
period ! The men worked with the energy of despair j chil¬
dren bore away the earth in tiny handfuls ; nursing mothers
laid aside their children and toiled, for had they halted to
nourish them the scourge would have mingled their blood
with nature's aliment. The work was not finished in the
time allotted by the despot; famine soon appeared, and five-
and-twenty thousand are said to have found a grave on the
banks of that canal which conducts the waters of the Nile to
Alexandria.
Five-and-twenty thousand ! Yet what is even that holo¬
caust to despotism compared with the myriads immolated in
battles and sieges ? We are now to glance at the ruins of a
place famous of old for its sieges and its slaughters, in one
case amounting to 50,000, either butchered or sold as slaves.
Tyre, now Sur, a Rock, was founded by a colony from
Sidon, and is hence called " the daughter of Sffron," though
it rose to be itself the planter of colonies like Carthage and
Cadiz. Its foundation took place about 240 years before the
building of Solomon's temple. It is commonly supposed that
the original city stood upon the mainland; and it was already
a stronghold when Canaan was divided among the tribes,
(Joshua, xix.) It had become more noted still in the daya
of David ; and when Solomon reigned at Jerusalem the
Tyrians inhabited the island—the rock. In the year 720;
b. c., the chief city was on the island, while the portion od
the mainland already bore the name of Old Tyre. Shalman-
eser, King of Assyria, besieged or blockaded the island fof
five years, but without success. Nebuchadnezzar, the Bona--
parte of antiquity, afterwards besieged it for thirteen years ;
and then came the memorable siege under Alexander the
Great, about 322, b. c. He took the island after seven months
of labor and struggle, and succeeded only by bringing wood
from Lebanon, for constructing a mole or causeway from the
mainland to the walls of the island city. For that purpose
Old Tyre was razed for the sake of its stones. The place was
subsequently besieged and taken by Antigonus after a period
of fourteen months spent in that undertaking. Eventually
Tyre passed into the hands of the Romans. It was under
their dominion in the days of the Bedeemer's sojourn here,
THE RUINS OF TYRE.
611
and we know that lie and. his followers sometimes frequented
" the coasts of Tyre." It afterwards became the seat of a
Christian bishopric, and in the fourth century it is described
as trading " with all the world." But in common with the '
rest of Phoenicia and the East, it felt the desolating force of
the Moslem and Mameluke power, and was ravaged again and
again during the wars of the Crusades.
The Crusaders had held Jerusalem for five-and-twenty
years ere they could lay siege to Tyre. It was then strongly
fortified, at some places with double walls, nay, even with
treble defenses, some of which are said to have been 150 feet
high, so important was the occupation of the place. But in
June, 1125, Tyre was delivered up to the Crusaders, and for
more than a century and a half it remained in their posses¬
sion ; strictly guarded for its safety, but energetic as before
in its trading. After the battle of Hattin, which laid Pales¬
tine at the feet of Saladin, Tyre was besieged by that empe¬
ror ; but he was forced to raise the siege in 1188. The Sultan
Bibars, under various politic pretexts, gradually hemmed in
the power of Tyre, and in the year 1291, after the Sultan of
Egypt and Damascus had taken Ptolemais, the Frank inhab¬
itants of Tyre embarked on board their ships, and abandoned
their stronghold to the Saracens.
Not long subsequent to these events Tyre is described as
fortified by quadruple walls, which on the land side were con¬
nected with a citadel which had seven towers, and was then
deemed impregnable. But it soon became a rum, and sank
deeper and deeper in its desolation. It is described in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as only a heap of rubbish,
consisting of broken arches, tottering walls and fallen towers,
with a few miserable inhabitants occupying the vaults among
the ruins. Attempts were made to restore it to some of its
former importance, but Maundrell saw " not so much as one
entire house left," while only a few poor fishermen found a
harbor among its cells. About the year 1740 considerable
quantities of grain were exported from Tyre, yet only a hand¬
ful of inhabitants could be found there. In 1751, Hasselquist
described Tyre " as a miserable village, having scarcely more
than ten inhabitants . . . who lived by fishing." In 1766 a
612
THE EUINS Or TYRE.
partial revival began. Twenty years thereafter, Volney spoke
of Tyre as consisting of wretched huts, covering a third part
of the peninsula—that is the rock joined to the mainland by
the mole; and its trade has continued in some measure to
revive. After all, however, its glory has departed, and even
Tyre, with all its wealth, its commerce and its world-wide
influence, is now rather a thing of the past than the present.
The actual Sur is a small sea-port, and those who have
seen it say that it hardly deserves the name of city. The
houses are, for the most part, mere hovels ; the streets are
narrow and filthy ; the population is computed at 3000 souls ;
but the presence of palm-trees and other eastern plants im¬
parts a pleasing aspect to the scene. Yet the effects of earth¬
quakes and that untidiness which is so common in cities of
the East, render the place offensive and poor in its appear¬
ance. " Here was the little isle, once covered by her palaces,"
Dr. Eobinson says of Tyre, " and surrounded by her fleets,
where her builders perfected her beauty in the midst of the
seas, where her merchants were princes, and her traffickers the
honorable of the earth ; but alas ! thy riches and thy fairs,
thy merchandise, thy mariners and thy pilots, thy calkers,
and the occupiers of thy merchandise, and all thy men of war
that were in thee, and all thy company, where are they ?
Tyre has indeed become like the top of a rock, a place to
spread nets upon. The sole remaining tokens of her more
ancient splendor lie strewed beneath the waves in the midst
of the sea, and the hovels which now nestle upon a portion
of her site present no contradiction of the dread decree,' Thou
shalt be built no more.'"
Meager as this account may seem, it is nearly all that we
can say of Tyre, until we apply to the Scriptures of truth for
information. The ruins of the ancient city—that is, Tyre
before the Christian era—have now been swept all but utterly
away. The modern city is placed upon the eastern part of
the island, and a broad strip of land under tillage lies between
the houses and the western shore. " That shore is strewed,
through all its length, along the edge of the water and in it,
with columns of red and gray granite of various sizes—the
only remaining monuments of the splendor of ancient Tyre.
THE RUINS OF TYKE.
613
At the north-west point, forty or fifty such, columns are
thrown together in one heap beneath the waves," as if some
magnificent fane had once stood there. "When we look, then,
for the ruins of Tyre, we need for the most part to dive below
the waves of the Mediterranean. That is the grave of the
ancient mistress of the seas—the prototype of Britain in mar¬
itime adventure and power—must we add, of eventual decline
and fall ?
Yet Van de Yelde has given us some account of remains
which he saw, and which should not be passed over. The sea,
he states, has swallowed up a large part of the magnificence
of Tyre, yet vestiges of its sumptuous temples and towers lie
buried under ground, especially on the south side of the city.
Excavations have there been made, and rich fragments of col¬
umns, of statues, and other relics, have been disinterred. They
well recall the magnificence of u the crowning city for the
ground for many feet under the present surface is a complete
muss of building stones, pillars, shafts, and marble, porphyry,
and granite rubbish. Even fragments of the rare and costly
verde antique lie scattered around, and Yan de Yelde felt as¬
sured that enough could be discovered to reward the researches
of any who would undertake the task.
Tyre has been compared to Alexandria in ancient times,
and to London in our day. For about a thousand years that
Eock was so ascendant that no production of the East passed
to the West, or of the West to the East, but by means of the
merchants of Tyre. Her ships alone crossed the Bed Sea and
the Mediterranean. Spain, Britain, and even the coasts of
Malabar, saw her fleets. The Tyrian bravery was equal to
its enterprise, and though now lower than the dust—even
sunk in the sea—the daughter of Sidon has so stamped her
character on the past, that not even Nebuchadnezzar and
Alexander, her conquerors, have left more indelible traces of
their power than Tyre has done of hers. The Christian clings,
however, to such facts as the Redeemer's visit to the region
and the'incidents connected therewith, as shedding a halo
round the place more sacred and perennial than all that its
heaped-up gold could have purchased.
We have heard much of the Tyrian dye or purple, and the
€14
the ruins OF tybe.
Tynan traffic, and Ezekiel (chapter xxvii.) may enable us to
understand the extent of the latter. First, then, Hermon and
Lebanon supplied timber for building, cedar or fir ; Bashan
furnished oaks ; Greece conveyed ivory ; Egypt gave fine
linen ; Peloponnesus furnished blue and purple cloths for
awnings ; Sidon and Arad contributed mariners ; and Tyre
itself gave pilots and captains. Persia and Africa sent mer¬
cenary troops. Tarshish yielded iron, tin, lead, and silver—
the tin pointing, as some suppose, to Britain. Further,
slaves and brass ware came from Greece. Armenia furnished
horses, mules and horsemen. The Gulf of Persia sent ebony,
ivory, and rich cloths ; while Syria contributed emeralds,
coral, agates, and other productions; Judah furnished wheat,
honey, oil, and balsam ; Damascus sent various manufactures
and productions ; and the tribe of Dan supplied iron, cassia,
cinnamon, and other articles of commerce. Lambs, rams, and
goats, came from Arabia Petrsea and Hedjaz. Sabea yielded
spices, and India furnished gold and precious stones ; while
Mesopotamia and the adjacent countries brought many ex¬
quisite products, such as blue cloth and broidered work, and
rich apparel in chests of cedar wood. Such is a mere glimpse
of the merchandise of Tyre, or " the multitude of wares of
her making," as a prophet describes it; but glimpse as it is,
we see enough to warrant the words that that city was indeed
the mart of the world, as the world was then known.
It is, however, in regard to the fulfillment of prophecy
concerning it that Tyre is perhaps most frequently referred
to, and we give, in conclusion, a few specimens of these.
Ezekiel, then, recorded a sentence of condemnation against
Tyre (xxvi. 13) ; and before a generation passed away Neb¬
uchadnezzar verified the prediction, by making a fort, and
casting up a mount, and lifting up a buckler against the city.
Isaiah (xxiii. 15) uttered another prediction against Tyre ;
and that also was in due time fulfilled, though she had
" heaped up silver as the dust, and fine gold as the mire of
the streets." Again, Ezekiel (xxvi. 12) had explicitly fore¬
told that men " would lay her stones and her timber and her
dust in the midst of the water and it was precisely by do¬
ing bo with the materials of Tyre on the mainland that Alex-
THE RUINS OF TYRE.
615
ander constructed the mole which led him to Insular Tyre—
a mole which continues to this day. And, to name no more,
Ezekiel prophesied further (xxvi, 21), Tyre "shall be ni
more j though thou be sought for yet shalt thou never be
found again, saith the Lord Godand so completely has
that been verified, that the site of Tyre on the mainland is
still disputed or unknown, while Tyre on the rock must be
sought in a few granite columns scattered on the sea-beach or
sunk beneath the waves of the Mediterranean; so mighty is
the word of God, so unfailing his truth, and so inevitable
the decree which links iniquity with woe, pride with a fall,
and the oblivion of our God with the forsaking of our mercies.
Finally: in wandering amid the ruins of these memorable
sites, one often longs to know how far the light of heavenly
truth has yet penetrated the darkness, and regarding Tyre we
can add a single sentence which bids us hope for it and other
places. One Christian friend addressing another, says, " There
is an interesting movement at Tyre (1854). Several have de¬
clared for the gospel, and are urging us to give them a good
schoolmaster who can also instruct adults in the way of truth.
I hope we shall be able to do so soon. Sidon was the mother
of Tyre, and now the new-born Protestants of Sidon are teach¬
ing their relatives of Tyre the truth as it is in Jesus." He
who sometimes of old visited the coasts of Tyre and Sidon
will yet see of the travail of His soul in those regions, not in
costly cathedrals such as that in which the Emperor Fred¬
eric Barbarossa was so pompously interred at Tyre after he
was drowned in the river Cydnus, but in lowly hearts, in re¬
newed souls—in men who live for heaven. An infidel has
written regarding this region that " a mournful and solitary
silence now prevails along the shore which once resounded with
the world's debate —but that shore will yet resound with
far other voices.
It would be pleasant to dwell on the associations linked
with Zarephath (now Surafend) and Elijah in this district, or
even to refer to the tradition which connects the Saviour's
miracle on the daughter of the woman of Canaan with Bas-el-
Ain, at no great distance south from Tyre ; but we can not
linger here, though all around seems consecrated and solemn.
616 THE RUINS OF BAALBEK.
THE RUINS OF BA'ALBEK.
At the distance of two days' journey from Damascus, more
or less according to the route pursued, we find one of the mar¬
vels of all time—the town of Ba'albek, with its stupendous
ruins. We submit first a brief history of the place, and then
advert to the temples.
Ba'albek and Heliopolis appear to the most exact inquir¬
ers to be perfectly identified. Its name, " The City of the
Sun," indicates at once who was the chief god there. He was
the Jupiter of Syria, or at least of this portion of it; but it is
a remarkable fact, that, except what may be collected from
collateral references, we have no historical notice of this mar¬
velous place earlier than the fourth century. There can be
little doubt that long prior to that period some distinguished
buildings stood here : the ancient substructions—somewhat
like the most ancient of the ruins in Jerusalem—sufficiently
attest that fact; but we must be content with inference and
conjecture. Whether is Banias or Ba'albek the Baal-gad of
Scripture ? Or, is Ba'albek rather the Baalath which Solo¬
mon built along with Tadmor P Or again, is it the Baal-
hamon of Solomon (Canticles, viii. 11), where he had his
vineyards and retreats ? Or, once more, is it " The plain of
Aven,"—Bikath-aven, mentioned by Amos (i. 5) ? All the'se
have their advocates, and the last seems to be countenanced
by the fact that Ba'albek has always been the capital of the
magnificent plain of Coele-syria, now called Buka'a in Arabic ;
by Amos, Bikath, in Hebrew ; each meaning a plain or level
among hills.
But we may hasten away from the regions of conjecture
to such certainty as we can obtain. During the second and
third centuries our knowledge of Heliopolis is derived from
medals, which date from the Emperor Nerva to Gallienus.
In the seventh century John Malala wrote that "iElius An¬
toninus Pius erected at Heliopolis, in Phoenicia of Lebanon,
a great temple to Jupiter—one of the wonders of the world."
Now, if this record may be credited, written so long after the
event to which it refers, it is sufficiently definite ; and various
THE RUINS OF BA'ALBEK. 617
considerations appear to confirm it. The style of architecture
agrees with that of the period of the Antonines ; some of the
inscriptions found at Ba'albek point in the same direction ;
and these things, together with later coins, leave little doubt
that we know about the period when these structures began
to be reared. They most probably supplanted former tem¬
ples. Baal, as the Sun—or perhaps a whole Pantheon of
gods—was worshiped there ; and when we read that Venus
was also adored by rites the moat disgusting that ever ripened
men for woe, we may have no difficulty in explaining the pres¬
ent desolation of the place.
When Constantine assumed the Christian name, the wor¬
ship of Venus ceased, and a Christian church was founded.
But Julian the Apostate restored the old paganism and its
abominations for a season ; and Heliopolis became prominent
in the atrocities of those times. Sueh was the hatred of its
people to the followers of Christ, that in at least one case they
feasted on the liver of one of their victims. But these enor¬
mities could not last. Other emperors arose who favored
Christianity ; and Christian ministers officiated at Ba'albek
till about the year 636, when the place passed into the hands
of the victorious Mohammedans. The great temple £ow be¬
came a fortress. It continued an object of strife among rival
factions, and was alternately the property of one royal master
and then of another. In 1139,1157, and 1170, it was shaken
by earthquakes, while the Crusaders ravaged the adjoining
country. In 1400, Ba'albek became the property of Tamer¬
lane ; and until about 1550 no further notice of the place is
known. The temple was then a fortress, as it had been for
centuries; but in the eighteenth century it became famous
I again. In 1784, Volney gave one of the best accounts of
I Ba'albek ; but prior to his visit, an earthquake, in 1759, hud
overthrown three out of nine majestic columns remaining till
that date. Arabic cupidity and Turkish plunderers have
helped further to demolish and deface ; but, in spite of all,
Ba'albek still continues a wonder. "Diana's marvel" at
Ephesus was a mere shrine to this, or like a mere side chapel
to some gorgeous fane.
We have been thus particular in outlining the history of
618
THE EUINS OF BA'ALBEK.
Ba'albek because few are at all acquainted with its wonders ;
and next proceed to as brief an account of these majestic re¬
mains.
The walls and towers of ancient Ba'albek are now in ruins,
and the modern village is miserable enough : it contains per¬
haps about 100 families with 400 or 500 souls. Standing in
the region where the Orontes or the Aasy, the Leontes or the
Litani, and the Jordan, take their rise, the native beauty of
the place may be assumed. Its height above the sea is 3769
feet; but in a region like that of Syria, under the shelter at
once of the Lebanon and the Anti-Lebanon range, the climate
is more than temperate. Here, however, every thing must
give place to the temples, the greater and the less. The former
was 1000 feet in length from east to west, and is raised by an
artificial platform about 25 feet above the adjacent country.
The six remaining columns of the peristyle constitute, by
universal consent, the crowning glory of the place ; what then
must the whole have been, when the wondrous fane was en¬
tire, gleaming in a Syrian sun, and looking forth upon the
Buka'a, Mount Lebanon, and a thousand other glories ? The
material is everywhere the compact limestone of the country.
The portico of the Great Temple was 180 feet long, and about
37 deep. It had twelve columns in front, of which only the
pedestals remain. Their diameter was 4 feet 3 inches. There
was a pavilion at each end of the portico, and a single stone
in one of these measured 24 feet 5 inches long. The pilasters,
cornices, and other decorations, are all dwelt on with very
special care by every visitor. The first court is a hexagon 200
feet by about 250. The great quadrangle in front of the tem¬
ple proper is about 440 feet by 370 ; and the divisions of
this vast area, with its decorations of Syenite granite, are
all carefully noted. We can only allude to what is said
of the pillars, the friezes, the sphinxes, and other decora¬
tions.
Fronting this quadrangle was the peristyle, 290 feet long
by 160 broad. Nineteen Corinthian columns stood on each
side, and at each end ten (counting the corner pillars), mak¬
ing fifty-four in all. At the base, their diameter was seven
feet, and five at the top. The shafts were sixty-two feet high;
THE RtFINS OF BA'ALBEE.
619
the entablature was about fourteen more: the "whole seventy-
six. Eacli shaft consisted of three stones strongly cramped
together with iron; for the sake of which the Arabs have
laboriously undermined the pillars. This peristyle, elevated
altogether about fifty feet above the surrounding country,
though only six of its columns now remain, is one of the ar¬
chitectural wonders of the world. There are some beveled
stones in the substructions which remind us of the architec¬
ture of Jerusalem, of perhaps the time of Solomon.
Of these substructions, the western wall is amazing.* One
stone is sixty-four feet long, another sixty-three feet, eight
inches, and a third sixty-three feet. Their height is about
thirteen feet, their breadth about the same. They are placed
about twenty feet above the ground, and there are seven others
of like dimensions. The three large stones gave rise to one of
the ahcient names of this temple—the Trilithon. We can
not trace the vaults and alleys of the substruction, forming as
they do an underground world.
But there is a second temple. Its length is 225 feet, its
breadth about 120. It is surrounded by a magnificent per¬
istyle of fifteen columns on each side, and eight at each end.
Some of the columns are six feet three inches in diameter at
the base, and five feet eight higher up. They are forty-five
feet high, including the Corinthian capitals. The entablature
I is seven feet high, and the cornice is elaborately wrought.
But only four of the column^ remain in their place on the
south side, six on the west, and nine on the north. The rest
are scattered in fragments or demolished by Yandal hands.
The portal of this temple is called the gem of the whole ;
and an artist has said, " This is perhaps the most elaborate
work, as well as the most exquisite in its details, of any thing
of its kind in the world. The pencil can convey but a faint
.idea of its beauty. One scroll alone of acanthus leaves, with
groups of children and panthers intertwined, might form a
work of itself." The carved ornaments, the crested eagles,
the garlands, and other decorations, all crowd upon us for a
notice ; but we can only name them, and add that the earth¬
quake of 1759 shivered much of their beauty to pieces. The
size of some of the columns may be inferred from the fact that
620 THE RUINS OF BA'ALBEK.
they enclose and conceal a spiral staircase, leading to tlie top
of the fabric. «
"What an entrance!" a traveler exclaims on the spot.
" Here are accumulated vast heaps of mighty ruins; immense
shafts of broken columns ; gigantic architraves, cornices, and
ceilings, all exquisitely sculptured—all now trodden under
foot, and forming perhaps the most imposing and impressive
avenue in the world." The symmetry and grace give an airy
lightness to the whole, yet the first impression is described
as actually overwhelming. These structures, when compared
with those of Athens, are said to equal them in lightness, but
surpass them in massiveness ; with those of Thebes, they are
as massive, but far more graceful; and though some might
desire a simpler and severer style than that which reigns at
Ba'albek, it is to be confessed that in many respects they are
unmatched in the world.
There is a third temple in the vicinity, which is circular, •
very small, and composite in its character. It is surrounded
by eight columns on the outside, and has two tiers of pillars,
the lower Ionic, the upper Corinthian, in the interior. But
though beautiful exceedingly, every thing seems tame or di¬
minutive beside the magnificent peristyle of the Trilithon.
"Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted holy, ground;
No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould,
But one vast realm of wonder spreads around,
And all the Muse's tale seems truly told."
One object of interest more deserves to be named—the
quarries whence materials for these colossal piles were ob¬
tained. They are situated a furlong or two south from the
town, and display at a glance the ancient mode of quarrying.
The stones were commonly hewn from the face of the rock in
an upright position, by cutting away a space of a few inches
all round; and many stones still remain in that position, at¬
tached to their native rock only at the bottom of the column.
One stone remains in those quarries which attracts all eyes by
its prodigious and apparently incredible magnitude. Its length
is eighty-four feet four inches ; its breadth, seventeen feet
two inches ; and its height, fourteen feet seven inches. Trav¬
elers are at a loss to say for what this mass was designed.
the ruins of palmyra.
621
THE RUINS OF PALMYRA.
A city which owed its origin to Solomon, and waned to
its extinction after the reign of the heroic and intrepid Zeno-
hia, deserves and will repay our study. We submit, first, a
brief historical account of the place, and then glance at the
marvelous ruins which are there.
In 1 Kings, ix. 18, and elsewhere in Scripture, we read
that Solomon built u Tadmor in the wilderness." The name
means Place of Palms. That wise and wide-viewed man saw
that the position was favorable as a commercial center, for at
that period the wealth and productions of the East passed
through Tadmor or Palmyra, to gratify, enrich and corrupt
the western nations. Near it there are copious streams—
themselves a treasure in the East. The place was about mid¬
way between the Euphrates and Syria, and the wealth of India
and the stores of Mesopotamia hence found an exchange, or
an entrepot at Tadmor. For nearly a thousand years, how¬
ever, the place is not mentioned in history ; and when it be¬
came known again, about the commencement of our era, it
was a city cf importance, of some architectural beauty, and
of magnitude enough at least to attract the cupidity of impe¬
rial Borne.
About a. d., 130, it submitted to the Emperor Adrian,
who made it a Roman colony, and adorned it with some of
the stately colonnades which still amaze and awe every visitor,
even in their decay. Prior to that time, however, the Palmy-
renes themselves had erected some magnificent structures, as
if they would make the grandeur of their city compensate for
the sterility of its environment. But from the time of Adrian,
who died a. d., 138, Tadmor rapidly grew in wealth and
bcaufy. It was self-governed, and raised to the rank of a (
capital; and for nearly a hundred and fifty years its opulence
increased, while its pride became proportionally inflated. But
this is not the place to detail the ambitious projects, the mar¬
tial achievements, or the massacres of the Palmyrenes ; and
we proceed at once to the times of Zenobia—a woman of ex¬
traordinary sagacity, virtue and power. As.the widow of
622 the ruins of palmtea.
Odenathus, the associate of Gallienus in the empire of Rome,
she was more than royal; and when her husband was mur¬
dered by a nephew, she assumed the title of " Queen of the
East." By conquest, she added Egypt, Mesopotamia and
Asia Minor to her empire ; but having incurred the displeas¬
ure of Eome, Aurelian marched against Zenobia, a. d., 270,
defeated her in several battles, laid siege to Palmyra, and took
it after a protracted and bloody struggle. The queen was
captured on the banks of the Euphrates, and led to grace the
emperor's triumph at Eome, a. d. 272, where she appeared
bound to his chariot by chains made of her own gold. Her
subjects rose and massacred the garrison left in Palmyra by
the emperor; but, in revenge, the city was pillaged and in
great measure destroyed. The Temple of the Sun was rebuilt,
but the place never recovered its former glory, though succes¬
sive emperors attempted to arrest its decline. Palmyra became
the seat of a bishop. The Saracens took early possession of it;
a large colony of Jews made it their home : but it gradually
dwindled down to a village, and in our day a few miserable
huts, clinging like parasitic insects to the noble ruins of Pal¬
myra, are all that remain of the city of Solomon and Zenobia,
of Adrian, of Aurelian, of Diocletian and Constantius. Cara¬
vans halt there, and the Bedawin prowl around it for plun¬
der ; but Palmyra is a city of the dead rather than of the liv¬
ing—a grave for ambition—an antidote, one would think, to
pride.
But we are to speak of the ruins themselves, situated in
the great desert, about four days' journey east from Damascus,
On approaching the place from the west, numbers of tower¬
like tombs are seen in the valley and along the slopes of the
neighboring hills; but all else fades into insignificance when
Tadmor in the desert first flashes on the view. The remains
stretch from the base of the adjoining mountains to the^Cem-
ple of the Sun, all as white as marble, and unshaded by a
single tree or twig. The ruin is unutterable—columns and
colonnades, porticoes and temples, mouldering capitals, shiv¬
ered shafts, triumphal'arches, and monuments of the illus¬
trious forgotten—all, all in architecture that can indicate
man's mingled littleness and greatness, there meet the eye of
THE BUIN8 OF PA1MYRA.
623
the visitor, while at the same time all is still and lifeless as
the limestone of the pillars.
Among the ruins, the temple of the Sun is generally the
first that is visited, as it is the most gigantic; hut we give an
account of another portion, which must nearly suffice for the
whole. At the north-west angle of the walls of Palmyra
stood a peripteral temple. The doorway was surrounded "by
a broad "border of festooning vine branches and grapes, qjl
exquisitely sculptured in alto-relievo. A Corinthian capital,
with a monolithic shaft, is all that remains of the front row
of the portico. But the delicate workmanship and decora¬
tions of that capital, the rich scroll-work of the frieze, and
the other beauties of these lovely fragments, all proclaim
how exquisite the structure in its entireness was. The ori¬
ginal plan of the temple was this: it had a portico of four
columns in front, with a portico on each side of twenty col¬
umns. Near that fabric ia a smaller temple, where fragments
of fluted columns are still standing; and at a little distance
to the south-east, a mausoleum, with a portico still nearly
perfect, formed by six columns, all monoliths, and exquisitely
proportioned, enhances the beauty of the spot.
But we feel that words can give no adequate idea of this
scene. It is a chaos of ruins—of rifled sarcophagi, of subter¬
ranean tombs, of shattered columns; a blending of modern
Vandalism and ancient art—a forest in stone—a tomb worthy
indeed to contain the dust of an empire rather than to en¬
circle or shade the miserable huts of the modern Palmyrenes.
The decorations, criticised in detail, are inferior to those at
Ba'albek, and can not rival those of Athens or Bome ; but
viewed in their grandeur and their mass, even the ruthless
bunds of the Bedawin who demolish columns for the sake of
the iron clamps, the waste of centuries, and the devastations
of war, have not been able to efface the beauty of this won¬
drous scene. While we gaze upon such magnificent sights as
those of Tadmor, or of Ba'albek, the mind feels over-informed.
The blending of beauty and decay flashes upon us the truth
of a hundred texts, and no adequate vent is found for the
emotions which arise:
624
THE RUINS OF PALMYRA.
" 0 think who once were blooming there,
The incense vase with odor flowing,
The silver lamp its softness throwing
O'er cheeks as beautiful and bright
As roses bathed in summer light
—all gone !—all a dream !—all a mirage, a mockery of man,
if earth were all!
. Of the great colonnade of Palmyra we can only say that it
consisted of four rows of columns, forming a central and two
side avenues, about 4000 feet in length : and who can tell the
more than magical effect of one thousand five hundred columns
all gleaming in the brilliance of an eastern sun ? Only about
a hundred and fifty columns, each 57 feet high, now remain ;
but even these daguerreotype themselves, by their imposing
loveliness, in the minds of all who resort to the scene.
Yet the Temple of the Sun, already mentioned, outrivals
even this colonnade. It occupies a square of 740 feet on each
side, and the height of the edifice is about 70 feet. A double
colonnade lined the interior on three sides, and the shrine, the
cell, and other parts of the temple, were all decorated with an
art and a beauty such as prompt the thought, How much men
have done to honor their false gods, how little to glorify the
true ! The Ionic and Corinthian decorations which are there
—the pillars and pilasters—the sculptured eagles, flowers, fes¬
toons, and endless ornaments—all proclaim what Palmyra
once was ; and though its ruin was no doubt a stage in the
world's development, one marvels here at the sad law to which
fallen man is subject—to work out all good by suffering, sor¬
row, and decay.
Such is a mere glimpse at Tadmor. We have shunned all
reference to technical names, and made our narrative popular;
and in closing our attempted description we can only say, Go
and see. Then only can the past glory and the present mag¬
nificent dilapidation of Palmyra be understood.
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3B10HSTS «HF 1Efl®SU:ai)lE ET®W ©iUI^lgi©
XL CHRONICLES, CHAP Vill VIV
the ruins op babylon. 625
THE RUINS OF BABYLON.
The eye can nearly take fti at one glance all that now re¬
mains of this proud capital—this boastful Queen of Cities.
The accounts which have reached us of its magnificence and
its extent, its walls, its riches, and its decorations, appear the
creations of Oriental fancy rather than the sober facts of his¬
tory ; and yet these accounts ar^so circumstantial and so well
authenticated, that at least in their great leading features they
may be received as true. Its walls are variously estimated at
from 300 to 75 feet in height, at different periods ; and from
75 to 32 feet broad. The circuit of the city, which was a square,,
is by some alleged to have been 34 miles, by others about 60.
The Temple of Belus, or Baal, was half a mile in circumfer¬
ence, and the eighth of a mile in height. The hanging gar¬
dens, constructed by one of the monarchs to gratify a queen
whom he had married from a mountain land, rivaled the bul¬
warks of nature. In tier above tier, resting upon arch above
arch, they rose as high as the walls, and bore the floral beau¬
ties of many lands. The hundred brazen gates, which de¬
fended the city from an attack on the sidfe of the Euphrates
"which washed it, gave both beauty and strength to the place.
An artificial lake in the neighborhood, 40 miles square, and
resembling an inland sea, rendered the proud capital prouder
stilL Its bridges and its palaces, all enhanced its beauty—-in
a word, we are safe in pronouncing the colossal city a marvel.
Constantinople, Naples, Venice, or other sea-side cities of
modern times, would have been but a suburb to Babylon.
"Her daughters had their dowers
Prom spoils of nations; and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed; and of her feasts
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increas'd."
One main source of all this wealth and grandeur was the
Euphrates. Its waters, distributed by art and science—by
canals and hydraulic machines—over the vast plains, occa¬
sioned a fertility such as few lands can boast; while its pro-
40
626
THE RUINS OF BABYLON.
ductions—vegetable and live—rendered the territory of Baby¬
lon the store-house of the nations.- And its power abroad was
in proportion to its abundance at home. Again and again
did its Nebuchadnezzars and other potentates penetrate to dis¬
tant lands. More than once they pillaged Jerusalem, and
made its people captives ; and though that victory proved the
ruin of Babylon, wh,en Belshazzar used the sacred vessels of
the temple to pander to his pride or his passion, it was a tro¬
phy, to have laid a heaven-defended city in the dust. In short,
Babylon was the hammer of the whole earth. It demolished
cities : it changed dynasties : it made and unmade : it arro¬
gated the prerogatives of a Supreme.
But all this glory was to perish in a night. It did not
wane like the moon—it fell like lightning from heaven ; but
we need not detail the circumstances. It is well known that
Cyrus laid siege to Babylon, and led many confederated chiefs
against it; but it long baffled and laughed to scorn the power
of all assailants. Secure behind its impregnable walls, and
doubly guarded, it was thought, by the river, the city lived
in wantonness though beleaguered by the foe. Revelry and
wild luxury reigned. The prodigious granaries, the stores
that seemed exhaustless, men's high hopes, and their spirit of
jubilant defiance—all taught Babylon to set its besiegers at
nought. But it was the purpose of God that it should fall,
! and who then shall hold it up ? Cyrus turned the Euphrates
into other channels above the city ; he marched his forces in¬
to the heart of it along the bed of the river ; his detachments
met in the center ; and a large portion of the place was in the
hands of the enemy while the last king of Babylon was deep
in his carouse, perpetrating sacrilege, and making the God of
Israel " serve with his sins."
After the times of Cyrus the place was conquered again
and again, by Darius, by Alexander the Great, by Antigonus,
by Demetrius, by Antiochus the Great, and by the Parthians.
Xerxes, when ingloriously retreating from Greece, rifled Baby¬
lon and the temple of Belus, when the golden statue, forty
feet in height, and other treasures, are said to have yielded to
him £20,000,000 sterling. Some of her conquerors attempted
to restore the proud city: among the rest, Alexander, who
THE RUINS OF BABYLON.
627
would have made it the capital of an universal empire. But,
according to the prophecy, " We would have healed Babylon,
but she is not healedand the building of Seleucia com¬
pleted the ruin of the place. Her buildings became quarries
for other cities, like Ctesiphon, Kufa, Korbulla, Hillah, Bagh¬
dad—themselves nearly all ruins now. Her idols were carried
off, and they are said to have weighed 400,000 pounds in gold.
The Forum and fairest parts of the city were fired ; the peo¬
ple were deported to Seleucia, at the distance of about forty
miles; and the power which had shattered kingdoms, which
had beaten down Jerusalem, slain its princes, and both bound
and blinded its kings, was itself at last laid in the dust. The
slaughter of the rulers of Israel was avenged when Darius im¬
paled 3000 of the nobility of Babylon. " The golden city"
thus became a heap; and heaps it still remains.
Birs Nimroud is nearly all that is now found of Babylon
the great. A full description of that mound would suffice to
show how completely the proud city has been demolished—
how its mighty men " could not find their hands," and how
"an end has come upon itbut a mere enumeration of the
phrases employed by the prophets to describe it will show
how utter is the ruin—how thoroughly " the besom of de¬
struction" has done its work. Babylon, then, is fallen. It
has become heaps. It is brought down to the grave. Wild
beasts of the desert lie there. It is a possession for the bit¬
tern, and a dwelling-place for dragons. Pools of water are
there. In a word, Babylon at this moment is the reality of
which Isaiah 2500 years ago presented the word-picture. The
whole face of the country is covered with lines of ruin, with
green mounds of rubbish and traces of once extensive build¬
ings. The temple of Belus and two royal palaces are sup¬
posed to be known; and one pile covers a space of 700 yards
square. But lions, hyenas, jackals, and other noxious animals,
now prowl where the proudest of princes once abode and the
loudest of revelers abounded.
But, as we have said, the Birs Nimroud, on the western
bank of the Euphrates, represented in our engraving, is the
chief ruin of the scene. It is supposed by some to be the re¬
mains of the Temple of Belus or Baal. It is 2082 feet in cir-
628 T.HE RUINS OF BABYLON".
cuit, and now resembles a hill with a castle on the summit.
I From top to base, it is a huge and formless mass of ruins ;
| j and though originally constructed of seven or eight successive
! towers, rising from each other to the height of about a fur-
1 long, it is now a confused heap of about the third of that
height. The bricks of which that pile was constructed are
cemented into a conglomerate, which renders the whole well
nigh like stone ; and yet the mass is dislocated, chaotic, and
utterly ruinous—as perfect a monument of desolation as
Sodom and Gomorrah themselves could beafter the fire and
brimstone fell. The Mujelibe, 140 feet high, and Kasr, two
ruins on the eastern bank, are huge, but they become petty
mounds beside the Birs Nimroud ; and occupying, as it is
supposed by some to do, the site of the Tower of Babel, it
tells in many ways of Jehovah's indignation against the pride
of man. The Turks digging for hidden treasures, the Arabs
for building materials, and the curious for antiquities, have
so completely defaced the whole, that confusion now reigns
where vice, luxury, and gross ungodliness long held their pol¬
luted court and highest carnival.
With all these tokens of decay, these dilapidated trophies
of Jehovah's truth and power before them—with the Birs
l Nimroud on the western bank, the Mujelibe and the Kasr on
the east, in view—traveler after traveler confesses " the over¬
powering sensation of reverential awe that possesses the mind
when contemplating the extent and the magnitude of these
ruins." The gray osiers, still growing on the banks of the
river, descendants of those on which the Hebrew captives hung
their harps of old, deepen the dreariness of the scene, like flags
of distress on a sinking vessel; while the majestic reed-lined
stream, wandering solitary amid the maze, seems to murmur
something about the time when these mounds were palaces,
these lines of rubbish streets, and this dreary solitude the
abode of gay and thoughtless and idolatrous crowds.
But we may pause. Read Isaiah—read Jeremiah—and
find there a very hand-book to the ruins of Babylon. There
are two modes of learning how complete is its overthrow ;
first, by visiting the place ; secondly, by studying the proph¬
ecies which predict its long and utter desolation.
THE RUINS OF BABYLON. 629
In digging among the debris of Babylon, some inscriptions,
in cuneiform, characters, have been discovered. In one of the
palatial ruins a lion of colossal form and of rude workman¬
ship was found; and cylinders stamped with groups of figures,
some of them obviously worshiping, have also been dug up.
But these only help to render the traces of ruin more c< >m-
plete; and the meditative mind, amid such mouldered and
mouldering piles, reads more plainly than ever a sentiment
which is true alike of individuals, of cities, and of empires—
" Be sure your sins will find you out."
We have referred to the commonly received opinion re¬
garding the Birs Nimroud; but it were wrong not to observe
that more recent and mi >re accurate investigations have led to
other conclusions. In the year 1854, some excavations, con¬
ducted under the directions of Sir Henry Eawlinson, have to
a considerable extent modified previous opinions. He ascer¬
tained, as had bjen conjectured, that the structure consisted
of several different stages, or terraces, and found that there
were six. Each terrace was about twenty feet high, and forty-
two feet narrower than the one immediately below it. * They
were so constructed as ti form together an oblique pyramid;
and upon the sixth story, according to Bawlinson, stands a
vitrefied mas®;, which has given rise to much discussion, but
which is now supposed to have been the sanctum of a temple.
Built into some of the corners were gtamped cylinders of
Nebuchadnezzar's times, giving to the fabric the name of
" The Stages of the Seven Spheres of Borsippa." Each story
was dedicated to a planet, and stained with the color peculiarly
attributed to it by Sabean astronomers, and handed down from
the Chaldeans. The lowest tier was black, for Saturn; the
second orange, for Jupiter j the third red, for Mars ; the
fourth yellow, for the Sun ; the fifth green, for Yenus ; the
sixth blue, for Mercury; and the temple on the summit is
conjectured by some to have been white, for the Moon. This
structure, though not the temple of Belus, if these statements
be correct, is understood to have been built upon the same
plan as that celebrated erection, insomuch that when we
look upon the existing edifice, we regard a fac-simile of the
one that is now destroyed."
630
THE RUINS OF BABYLON.
But whether the former or the more recent solution of the
questions connected with this pile be preferred, the following
translation of the inscribed cylinders of Nebuchadnezzar,
which has been discovered there is full of interest, and proves
him to have been as zealous a builder as the Bible describes.
The translation says :
" I am Nabu-kuduri-uzur, king of Babylon, the estab¬
lished governor ; he who pays homage to Merodach, adorer
of the.gods, glorifier of Nabu, the supreme chief; he who
cultivates worship in honor of the great gods ; the subduer
of the disobedient man, repairer of the temples of Bit-Shag-
geth and Bit-Tyida, the eldest son of Nabupaluzur, king of
Babylon. Behold now, Merodach, my great lord, has estab¬
lished men of strength, and has urged me to repair his build¬
ings. Nabu, the guardian over the heavens and the earth, has
committed to my hands the scepter of royalty; therefore,
Bit-Shaggeth, the palace of the heavens and the earth, for
Merodach, the supreme chief of the gods, and Bit-Kua, the
shrine of his divinity, and adorned with shining gold, I have
appointed them. Bit-Tyida, also, I have firmly built with
silver and gold, and a facing of stone; with wood of fir, and
plane, and pine I have completed it. The building named
the Planisphere, which was the wonder of Babylon, I have
made and finished; with bricks enriched with lapis lazuli I
have exalted its head. Behold now the building named the
Stages of the Seven Spheres, which was the wonder of Bor-
sippa, had been built by a former king. He had completed
forty-two cubits [of height] ; but he did not finish its head.
From the lapse of time it had become ruined. They had not
taken care of the exits of the waters, so the rain and wet had
penetrated into the brickwork. The casing of burnt brick
had bulged out, and the terraces of crude brick lay scattered
in heaps. Then Merodach, my great lord, inclined my heart
to repair the building. I did not change its site, nor did I
destroy its foundation platform ; but in a fortunate month,
and upon an auspicious day, I undertook the building of the
crude brick terraces, and the burnt brick casing of the temple.
I strengthened its foundation, and I placed a titular record
on the part I had rebuilt. I set my hand to build it up, and
THE RUINS OF BABYLON. 631
to exalt its summit. As it had been in ancient times, so X
built up its structure: as it bad been in former days, thus I
exalted its head. Nabu, the strengthener of his children, he
who ministers to the gods, and Merodach, the supporter of
sovereignty, may they cause this my work to be established
for ever; may it last through Ahe seven ages; and may the
stability of my throne, and the antiquity of my empire, se¬
cure against strangers, and triumphant over many foes, con¬
tinue to the end of time. Under the guardianship of the
regent, who presides over the spheres of heaven and the earth,
may the length of my days pass on in due course. I invoke
Merodach, the king of the heavens and the earth, that this
my work may be preserved for me, under thy care, in honor
and respect. May Nabu-kuduri-uzur, the royal architect,
remain under thy protection.'" Such a document, trans¬
mitted to our day from such a source, is surely a marvel.
While adverting to the ruins in Babylon, or its environs,
we shruld not emit to notice the Tomb of Ezekiel, so called,
which stands due south from Birs Nimroud. A road runs
tii ng the raised bank of a marhh in the vicinity of Babylon,
anl at the distance of about twelve miles stands the little
town of Keffil, burrounded by a high wall, and, except at the
time of the annual pilgrim festival, a dreary and sad abode.
Among the buildings which overtop the city wall, the Tomb
of Ezekiel is one. It has the appearance of an elongated
cone, tapering to the top by a succession of divisions or steps,
cut and embellished in a peculiar manner. Mr. Loftus is
rather of opinion that the tradition which assigns that tomb
to the Prophet is not unworthy of belief. It is honored, and
has for centuries been so, alike by Moslems and Jews. Ben¬
jamin of Tudela, a Jewish traveler in the twelfth century,
tells us that it was erected by Jeconiah, king of Judah ; and
though this information may be deemed apocryphal, this much
is certain: the spot and the scene are lonely and deserted
enough to be the last resting-place of a prophet in exile, and
SUch"a prophet as Ezekiel. The interior of the pile is tawdry,
or worse, but is said to contain an ancient Hebrew copy of
the Pentateuch, built into the wall. An ever-burning lamp
sheds the dimmest possible light upon the chamber where the
632 the ruins of nineveh.
tomb of the prophet is shown; but with all this show of
honor, it appears as if the place were hastening to decay, and
many of the abominations of the East are found in and
around the pile.
Nor would it be out of place to refer to the ruins of Kufa,
at no great distance, a place signalized at least by Moslem
traditions. The city is said to have extended in former times
over a space of forty-five miles, although all that remains is
now the fragment of a wall with some mounds, which tell of
entombed buildings. There, it is believed, the angel Gabriel
once alighted upon earth and prayed; there the waters of the
deluge first broke forth from the ground; there Noah em¬
barked in his ark; nay, thither the serpent, after the temp¬
tation, was banished ! but, like a thousand other scenes all
around, Kufa, once a vast, if not a magnificent place, is now
dreary, " without form, and void." There may be scenes in
that region, as travelers tell, to which not fewer than 80,000
Moslem pilgrims annually resort; or places of interment con¬
secrated by the blood of the martyred Khalif Ali, to which
from 5,000 to 8,000 corpses are annually conveyed from a
distance to be entombed ; but all that only makes these dreary
scenes more dreary still: they are morally, as well as physi¬
cally, a waste ; and if it be true that the Holy Land, like the
book which John beheld in Patmos, is written within and
without with the doings of God, not less signal, or not less
speaking, are the ruins, the decay, and the desolation of Baby¬
lonia.
THE RUINS OF NINEYEH.
What Babylon was to the Euphrates, that was Nineveh
to the Tigris. Its origin dates from the remotest antiquity ;
and though antiquarians have argued and speculated deeply
on the subject, they have fixed nothing more than was told
us thousands of years ago—namely, " that out of that land"
(Shinar, where Babel was built) " went Asshur, and builded
THE BUINS OP NINEVEH.
633
Nineveh." (Genesis, x. 11). The name means " the town or
dwelling of Ninus," Nin-Navah ; and the original city stood
on the eastern bank of the Tigris, opposite to the present
town of Mosul. It is believed by some that what is now
called Neby Younas, or the Tomb of Jonah, occupies the site
of about lie center of the city. After the first reference to
Nineveh, its name does not occur again for many centuries ;
but in the days of Jeroboam, or 825 years before Christ, it
appears again; and Jonah, it is well known, refused for a
time to preach repentance to 44 that great city." So great,
indeed, had it become, that in the height of its walls and the
extent of its area, it was more than a match for Babylon
I itself. One ancient author says that Nineveh, was 480 stadia
in circumference; while its lofty walls, together with the
river, rendered the place impregnable. We need not wonder,
therefore, though Jonah, as long as he consulted with flesh
and blood, shrank from the thought of delivering an unwel¬
come message to such a place. Its population was such that
there were 120,000 children among them; and its inhabitants
are consequently reckoned by millions. The mounds and
other remains at Nimroud, Konyunjek, Khorsabad, and else¬
where, if they be what some suppose, so many portions of the
original city, would indicate a circumference of about sixty
miles ; so that the prophet's dread had a natural cause. But
the habits of the people were more formidable than even the
magnitude of the place. Prodigious wealth had led to abound¬
ing immorality ^ luxury and corruption reigned paramount;
cruelty of the most atrocious kind characterized its rulers;
and the disinterred remains of Nineveh attest all that the
Scriptures tell of the fierceness and the crime of that metrop¬
olis.
Soon after Jonah, another prophet, Nahum, arose; and
he lets us see farther and further into the state of Nineveh.
Her inhabitants, nay, her very princes, were numerous as the
locusts; her wealth was endless (" there is none end of it") ;
! her idolatry made her " vile she was by preeminence " the
bloody city"—and her sculptures prove the truth of the title.
At length, however, the cup of her iniquity was full. The
j king, .Sennacherib, invaded Judea—
634 THE RUINS OF NINEVEH.
" The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold
but soon thereafter " Nineveh was made a desolation, and dry
like a wilderness." Jehovah "dug her grave, for she was
vile." Ezekiel described its glory, its opulence, and wide
commercial influence ; but all was godless, and it faded away
—about 625 years before Christ " that great city" became a
ruin. There was a fort there in the time of the Roman con¬
quests in the East; but, till very recent times, huge mounds
and dim traditions were all that remained of Nineveh. The
town of Mosul, its modern substitute, though on the opposite
bank of the Tigris, is a commercial city of some importance
as an entrepot between the East and the West. It is, how¬
ever, a humble representative of Ninus, of Semiramis and
Sardanapalus.
But in recent times the excavations by Botta and Layard
at Nineveh have invested the place with an extraordinary
interest. We can not describe these operations here at length,
and give only some hints as to their results. The British
Museum and other depositories in England now contain many
Ninevite remains, and thousands in this land are as familiar
with the progress in art, the wars, the customs, and even
some of the domestic habits of the ancient city, as with those
of Greece or of Borne. The cylinders and inscriptions found
in a disinterred palace, and deciphered by Sir Henry Rawlin-
son with such admirable skill, singularly confirm the Scrip¬
tures, and supply some historical blanks heretofore perplexing,
silencing the skeptic, and establishing the truth. The deities
of Assyria, the architectural decorations, the sphinxes, the
winged bulls and lions, and a hundred other things—all tell
that that land and its capital were precisely what the Bible
describes. The lists of its kings; its obelisk inscriptions,
detailing its divinities and wars ; its personal ornaments, in
the form of ear-drops, bracelets and armlets; its crowns,
shields, swords, bowls and caldrons; its ornaments in ivory
and mother-of-pearl, beautifully and elaborately embossed—
all tend at once to excite and to gratify curiosity. The hunt¬
ing scenes sculptured on the walls, personal encounters with
lions, warriors engaged in battle or in assaulting cities, and
THE KUINS OF NINEVEH. C35
other views—all help to carry us back over a mighty gulf
of three thousand years, and enable us not merely to study
the public and official life of the ancient Assyrians, but in
some degree their home habits and their personal deportment.
^ But we can only glance at these things, and proceed to a
brief account of
THE EXCAVATION OF THE GREAT WINGED BULL.
In the course of their labors, Mr. Layard's Arab workmen
discovered this colossal figure in one of the trenches during
his absence. On hastening to the spot, he beheld a human
head of prodigious magnitude and great beauty, sculptured in
the alabaster of the country. The body was still buried in
the earth, but the part which appeared was in admirable pres¬
ervation. The expression was calm, yet majestic; and the
feature* displayed such a freedom and knowledge of art as
few expected to witness in the production of a period so re¬
mote. The Arabs, from their sheik to the humblest laborer,
ascribed it to the u infidel giants," to whom they had been
taught to ascribe whatever could not otherwise be explained.
After the discovery, the mind of Mr. Layard was natur¬
ally turned to the best mode of transporting such a prize to
Britain ; and after great exertions and many devices, he suc¬
ceeded in conveying it on board a raft on the Tigris. To bring
the bull down from the spot where it was discovered to the
level of the plain below, a trench nearly 200 feet long and 15
wide was cut, and in some places 20 deep. About fifty Arabs
and Nestorians were employed in the work. Bopes, hawsers,
and every available means were employed in lowering the co¬
lossus. The steamers on the Euphrates expedition furnished
some of their apparatus. The sculptures were wrapped in
mats and felt, to preserve them from being chipped. As soon
as the operations allowed, rollers were placed under the mass,
and by coiling one end of some ropes round some parts of the
mound cut for that purpose, and the other end round the bull,
and slipping these ropes as the huge bulk slowly descended, it
gradually reach the desired level in safety. The sheik was
present, attended by a body of horsemen. The different
636
THE RUINS OF NINEVEH.
classes of workmen were skillfully distributed, so as to prevent
all accidents; and Mr. Layard, on the top of a high, bank,
directed the whole. During the operation the ropes broke ;
but by that time the bull was so low that no injury was in¬
flicted ; and the whole undertaking, accompanied as it was
by the drums and shrill* pipes of the Kurdish musicians, the
war-cry of the Arabs, and their savage aspect, as they toiled
nearly naked at their exciting task, was one of a trying, yet,
in the end, most triumphant nature. When the discovery
was made that the bull was not injured by the fall, the Arabs
".darted out of the trenches, and seizing the women who were
looking on, formed a large circle, and yelling their war-cry,
with redoubled energy commenced a most mad dance. The
musicians exerted themselves to the utmost, but their music
was drowned by the cries of the dancers. Even the sheik shared
in the excitement, and throwing his cloak to one of his at¬
tendants, insisted upon leading off the debkhe. . . ^. Night
fell on these operations ; and, in retiring to their homes, the
Arabs, with the musicians at their head, marched towards
the village singing their war songs, and occasionally raising a
wild yell, throwing their lances into the air, and flourishing
their swords and shields over their heads." The whole oper¬
ations, by night and day, were accompanied with scenes of
true Oriental excitement and rejoicing, sometimes threatening
to end in bloodshed ; and it is not difficult to sympathize with
the enterprising explorer when, after a hundred impediments
surmounted, and three hundred men employed to drag the
car, the trophy of his indefatigable zeal was fairly embarked
on the Tigris (along with the figure of a lion), on its way to
Baghdac^and Great Britain.
Here again, then, the present and the past are seen to
touch in a wondrous way, and on a marvelous arena. The taste
of these remains is often exquisite. Progress in art was ma¬
ture, and men who were paragons of ferocity, or whose pas¬
time was bloodshed, were aesthetically accomplished; they
rivaled in some respects the progress of modern time. How
great man may become without the knowledge of the true
God—and yet how puny, or how perishing amid it all!
It is not a little remarkable that whatever country we
THE RXJINS OF NINEVEH. 637
visit, this earth is strewed with ruins. Central America con¬
tains some marvelous and mysterious piles. The shores of
the Pacific are studded with the tombs of cities. The Eu¬
phrates and the Tigris—in Babylon, Nineveh, and Susiana—
see the graves of whole peoples, and the Crimea, we know, is
a land of ruins. Greece and Italy are the same. Further,
the London of to-day stands over the London of 2000 years
ago. Even some provincial towns are founded on the debris
of their predecessors as much as the modern Jerusalem, or the
huts of Samaria; and a hundred bther places are formed of
the remains of former grandeur. Even the apparently inae-
cessible recesses of Mount Lebanon are full of ruins. The
flanks and very summit of Mount Hermon are the same—
everywhere ruins, decay, and death. Now, have not these
things t< ungues, if we had ears to hear ? Is it not true that
the whole creation groaneth and travaileth together in pain ?
Surely
"There is a tnngue in every leaf
A voice in every rill;
A voice that speaketh everywhere,
In fli>cd and fire, through earth and air,
A tongue thut ne'er is still."
Yet while we- marvel at these ruins or these works, so
stupendous when measured by man's power, what are they
when compared with God's P Placed side by side with his
Alps, his Andes, or Himalayas, what are even the palaces of
Perbepolis, or the piles of Babylon, or the mounds of Warka,
or the excavations of Petra ? The small dust in the balance f
nameless, puny things ! Here, as ever, it is ours to place in
the first rank the work of God's hands ; and thus it is that
we may be helped to glorify him when we understand his
ways, or when we can not scan, to be silent and adore.
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and Canada the following publications, which are sold only by subscription.
THE ILLUSTRATED LIFE OF WASHINGTON,
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f From the Nashville Patriot.]
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JUST PUBLISHED.
SACRED BIOGRAPHY AND HISTORY;
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ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES:
CONTAINING
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LIVES OF THE PATRIARCHS, KINGS AND PROPHETS,
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TO WHICH ARE ADDED
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LUTHER. MELANCTHON, CALVIISr, Etc.,
WITH INTERESTING SKETCHES OP THE RUINS OP CELEBRATED
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IN THE SACRED "WRITINGS.
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AUTHOR OF "THE AMERICAN IN OHINA," "BRANDON; OR A
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ILLUSTRATED WITH NUMEROUS AND BEAUTIFUL STEEL ENGRAVINGS.
IN ONE VOLUME OF OVER 600 PAGES.
THE GALLERY OF THE BIBLE:
ILLUSTRATING, IN POETRY AND PROSE,
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IN THE LIVES OF THE
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INCLUDING
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ILLUSTRATED "WITH
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