*

beyond the Jordan, banished by the persecutions of those he came to save but from thence he saw all that passed at Bethany-he counted the sighs of Lazarus, and the tears of his sisters-he saw him whom he loved sink into his grave-he saw that the trial was severe, perhaps too severe for their faith-he desired not that they should be tempted above that they are able to bear." His compassionate heart urged him to go to their relief, and he says to his disciples, "Let us go into Judea again." Dearly beloved, if God sends you affliction in order to bring you to him, and render you meet for salvation—if when you offer him up your prayers it seems as if they were not heard-if he made you wait two days, two weeks, or even two years, let not your heart fail you, but learn to understand the ways of his grace; learn to believe and to hope, and ere long he will pronounce this word of mercy : "Let us go into Judea," let us return to that house of mourning, to that oppressed spirit which is ready to sink under this trial, that heart which is broken by pain and sorrow.

Now, I hear you raise an objection, which brings us more immediately to the subject of this day's discourse; scarcely had Jesus spoken these words, “let us go into Judea again,”—when a cry is raised, "Master, the Jews of late sought to stone thee, and goest thou thither again?" It was his Disciples who spoke-they recollected, in trembling, that at the last

* 1 Cor. x. 18,

feast the Jews had taken up stones to stone their master-the fear they felt for him and for themselves was their motive for thus speaking; they lost sight of other things, they forgot the family of Bethany in their affliction; they forgot, or they had never understood the true object of their master's mission, which was to die for the salvation of his people. Fear and self-preservation prompted them to say, "Master, goest thou thither again?"

Alas! we must not blame them, they only felt what we probably should feel in their case-there is within us a fund of cowardice, and selfishness, which makes all things vanish before our own interesis, and causes us to shudder at sacrifices and pain. So the Disciples trembled at the recollection of the stones which the Jews had taken up to stone their master. A voice speaks within us, the echo of what the Disciples felt, and says-What! will you return to do this good work, which will expose you to such hardships? At the risk of your own safety will you fulfil thus rigorously the will of God? Will you follow Jesus, though you must sacrifice your inclinations, pleasures, perhaps the idol of your heart, the world, and even yourself? Will you take up your cross daily in order to walk in that strait and thorny path?

Such are the cowardly insinuations of our carnal and unbelieving hearts. Will Jesus listen to the voice of his disciples? Will he not go into Judea? Ah! if

Jesus had shrunk from the prospect of pain or death, he would not have quitted the regions of glory, to descend into this abyss of misery. Had not his prophetic eye beheld Mount Golgothe from afar? It was not only returning to Bethany, to accomplish for his friends a work of power and love, to raise Lazarus from the grave, and restoring him to his affectionate sisters banish grief from their hearts and fill them with gratitude and joy, but in so doing he had before him a far more noble and exalted object, and also a trial infinitely sad and awful. The week of suffering was at hand, the last Passover drew near-the victim of atonement, slain before the foundation of the world, the hope and expectation of ages, approached his great sacrifice. He saw before him a sinful world, that he wished to save-a fallen race, that he desired to restore to their original destination. He saw eternal justice ready to strike the guilty: he wished to satisfy its claims he saw a curse ready to fall on the wicked: he wished to take it on his own guiltless head. saw everlasting burnings: he wished to quench their flames. He saw eternal happiness: he wished to gain it for us. He saw in God infinite love: he wished us to be blessed with its possession. This is the end that Jesus contemplated at the close of his career; his ardent love made him impatient for its fulfilment, though he knew it could only be attained by ignominy and suffering. When he said, "Let us go into Judca again" he knew that he was advancing to his death. He had already predicted to his Disciples all that

F

He

should befal him-they had a fearful foresight of the future. Jesus did not wish to sadden and discourage them too much by further explanations. With calm resolution he boldly faces his object, the redemption of a sinful world. He foresaw the most cruel upbraidings and tortures, ending in an ignominious deathhe foresaw a conflict which could not cease until he had yielded up his last breath in agony, and until the last drop of his blood was shed-he saw near him the Disciple whom he knew would betray him; he saw at a distance an infuriated mob whom he still wished to save; he heard their bitter cries, "Crucify him, Crucify him;" he saw the Calvary he was soon to ascend, laden with the instrument of his punishment and of our salvation-he saw the shameful flight of all whom he had loved; he saw the gloomy hours of his lingering agony-he saw death and the grave. He could have delayed this bitter cup; he might go into Galilee or Samaria, either was ready to receive him, and shelter him from the fury of his enemies→→ but no, with the courage of a hero marching to victory, he said, "Let us go into Judea again;" and he returned there. When I reflect that the object of Jesus was to save a guilty race, the very people who were putting him to death, and that his generous heart, filled with a love (incomprehensible to us) is eager to finish the work of their salvation; then, I throw myself at the feet of this Redeemer, and say, this is true courage and devotion-this is a heroism before which all the heroism of man fades to nothing-seems

contemptible and mean, and is lost in the impurity of this corrupt world.

O! ye immortal souls! ye sinners called to glory! If we call ourselves the disciples of Christ, shall we not try to tread in the paths of our Chief? Shall we for ever find on our lips the miserable excuses of the Disciples? Will not the example of so much love rouse us from our cold self-love, and indifferent torpor ? Why should we shrink from trials through which a Saviour God has passed before us? Why, when the Almighty hath spoken to us, should we waver at the sight of a painful sacrifice? Let us remember, that he who bought us with a price, and to whom we belong, requires an undivided heart; and that if we love father or mother, or brother or sister, more than him, we are not worthy of him.— His supreme will should find our hearts filled with submission, and ready to cry, "It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good." We must likewise remember that we are not to pass through our ordeal alone-he who went before us does not leave us to our own strength, or rather to our own weakness, but he will guide and support us, and ensure us the victory. A steady confidence in his power and love should be like a fast anchor to our souls, then, whatever storms and winds may arise, we may be shaken, but never destroyed.

But should the heroic example of our master appear too much above us; should his sublime standard dis

1 Sam. iii. 18.