THUS

HUS far we have seen only the preparatory steps of Christ's ministry. A year and a half had passed since his baptism, of which period but an imperfect record exists. The time was now come for the full disclosure of his energy. He began to feel in greater measure the impulse of the Divine nature. He had learned, in this last visit to Jerusalem, of John's arrest and imprisonment. The field was open. He left the scowling brotherhood of Judæan Pharisees, who no longer disguised their deadly intentions, and repaired to Galilee, making Capernaum his head-quarters. We must soon follow him in the repeated circuits which he made from there, and note the details of his ministry.

It was the most joyful period of his life. It was a full year of beneficence unobstructed. It is true that he was jealously watched, but he was not forcibly resisted. He was maliciously defamed by the emissaries of the Temple, but he irresistibly charmed the hearts of the common people. Can we doubt that his life was full of exquisite enjoyment? He had not within himself those conflicts which common men have. There was entire harmony of faculties within, and a perfect agreement between his inward and his external life. He bore others' burdens, but had none of his own. His body was in full health; his soul was clear and tranquil; his heart overflowed with an

unending sympathy. He was pursuing the loftiest errand which benevolence can contemplate. No joy known to the human soul compares with that of successful beneficent labor. We cannot doubt that the earlier portions of this year, though full of intense excitement, were also full of deep happiness to him. Wherever he came, he carried men's hearts with him. Whatever town he left, there had been hundreds of hearts in it made happy by his cleansing touch. At times the excitement seemed likely to whirl him away. He was obliged to repress it, to forsake the crowds and hide himself for a while, to withhold his miracles, lest the overflowing enthusiasm should be mistaken by a jealous government for political insurrection, and a cruel end be put to the work of beneficence.

We love to linger in these thoughts. We are glad that Jesus tasted joy as well as sorrow, that there were months of wonderful gladness. At times the cloud of coming suffering may have cast its shadow upon his path; but his daily work was full of light. Could he behold the gladness of household after household and be himself unmoved? Could he heal the sick through wide regions, see the maimed and crippled restored to activity, and not participate in the joy which broke out on every hand? Could he console the sorrowing, instruct the ignorant, recall the wandering, confirm the wavering, and not find his heart full of joyfulness? Besides the wonder and admiration which he excited on every hand, he received from not a few the most cordial affection, and returned a richer love.

It is impossible not to see from the simple language of the Evangelists, that his first circuits in Galilee were triumphal processions. The sentences which generalize the history are few, but they are such as could have sprung only out of joyous memories, and indicate a new and great development of power on his side, and an ebullition of joyful excitement through the whole community. "And Jesus returned in the power of the Spirit into Galilee and there went out a fame of him through all the region round about. And he taught in their synagogues, being glorified of all." (Luke iv. 14, 15.)

To suppose that Jesus had no gladness in the work which diffused so much happiness, that he could see the tides of excitement flowing on every side without sympathy, that he could

touch responsively every tender affection in the human soul and not have a vibration of its joy in himself, is to suppose him less than human. Any worthy conception of a Divine nature must make it far richer in affection and sympathy than men can be. Whatever rejoicing attended his career through Galilee, we may be sure that no one was more happy than he.

On the Sabbath he seems always to have resorted to the synagogue, as did every devout Jew, just as Christians now betake themselves to churches. His fame would not permit him to be only a listener. He was called by the rulers of the synagogue to the place of teacher, and from Sabbath to Sabbath he unfolded to his countrymen the deep spiritual meanings hidden in their Scriptures which had been buried under the Pharisaic traditions. But he did not confine himself to a Scriptural and expository method of instruction. On the Sabbath, and during the weekdays, when fit occasion offered, he seized the events which were taking place before their eyes, and, applying to them the criticism of the highest morality, he made them the texts from which to develop a spiritual faith. More of these discourses founded upon passing events are recorded than of Scriptural expositions. Indeed, while we have many allusions to Scripture, we have no single discourse of Jesus which may be strictly called an expository one. The freshness of this method of teaching, the abandonment of all mere refinements and frivolous niceties, the application of humane good sense and of rational justice to everyday interests, gave to his teaching a power which never accompanied the tedious dialectics of the Jewish doctors. "And they were astonished at his doctrine: for he taught them as one that had authority, and not as the scribes. . . . For his word was with power." (Mark i. 22; Luke iv. 32.)

An occurrence on one of the earliest, if not the very first of the Sabbaths spent in Capernaum, will furnish a good example of the scenes of this great year of his ministry.

While Jesus was speaking in the synagogue, amidst the profound stillness the people were startled by a wild outcry. A poor wretch was there who "had the spirit of an unclean devil." With the pathos of intense fear he cried out, "Let us alone; what have we to do with thee, thou Jesus of Nazareth?" All this might have resulted from the pungent nature of the teach

ing, but not the cry, "I know thee who thou art, the Holy One of God," this was something more than a random speech. We may imagine the shock which such a scene would produce in the midst of a sermon in one of our churches. Jesus, undisturbed and calm, enjoined silence, and with a word of command drove out the evil spirit. Then came the reaction; all men were filled with admiration and spread the news abroad. But Jesus, withdrawing from the tumult, secluded himself during the heat of the day in Peter's house. There he found Peter's mother-in-law prostrated with a fever. At a touch of his hand she was healed, and resumed her household duties before them all, as if she had not been sick. The whole city was alive with excitement.

During the fiery noons of Oriental cities men shut themselves up in their houses; but at evening they pour forth, and the gate of the city is the grand resort. Thither too, upon this same day, repaired Jesus, who was always drawn toward the multitudes. He was evidently expected and eagerly awaited. And now appeared a scene which only the imagination can depict. All the diseases which the violent heats in that climate breed upon the uncleanly habits and the squalid poverty of the masses were represented at the gate by appropriate subjects. Fevers, dropsies, paralyses, were there. The blind, the deaf, and — hovering on the edge afar off-the lepers implored help. The lame came limping, and those too sick to help themselves were borne thither by their friends, until the ample space was like a camp hospital. Jesus commenced among them his merciful work. It was a solemn and joyful scene. Human misery was exhibited here in many forms; but as, one by one, the touch or word of the Master healed it, came the rebound of exultation. Those who were coming, bearing the sick on couches, met returning happy groups of those who had been healed. Many tears of rejoicing fell, as children were given back to despairing mothers. Strange calmness in some natures, and wild exhilaration in others, attested the rapture of deliverance from loathsome disease. Never, in all their memories, had there been such an evening twilight of a Sabbath day. But of all who went home that night in ecstasy of gladness, there was not one whose nature enabled him to feel the deep joy of Him who said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive."

We always long to look into the souls of great men at critical periods, to see how success or defeat affects them. This had been a triumphal Sabbath to Jesus. No opposition seems to have arisen from any quarter. His instructions had been received without cavil, and had awakened an almost idolatrous enthusiasm. His name was on every lip; his praise resounded through the whole neighborhood, and the day had closed by such a luminous display of merciful benefactions as left all his former deeds in the shade. The effect of such success upon his own soul is dimly shown in the record by the intimations of a probably sleepless night, and his going forth long before daylight into a quiet place for prayer. The excitement of beneficence lifted him toward the Divine Spirit. If success had in any wise tempted him to vanity, he found a refuge in communion with God. "And in the morning, rising up a great while before day, he went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed." (Mark i. 35.)

But the tumult of excitement in the city could not easily subside. Early the people began to throng Peter's house to find him again. Peter and his brothers went forth to search for the wanderer. We can without violence imagine that he had selected one of the near slopes of the hills which hedge in the Sea of Galilee on its western limit. There lay the tranquil waters. The last mists were dissolving from its face as the footsteps of the throng drew near. Simon salutes him, saying, "All men seek for thee"; and the people with him press around Jesus with affectionate violence, as if they would carry him back to the city in their arms. They "came unto him, and stayed him, that he should not depart from them." The desire was natural 1; but he had a mission of which they knew not. It was not for him to settle in Capernaum, nor suffer them to appropriate to themselves all his mercies. He replied to their importunity, "I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also."

It is not to be supposed that the Pharisees joined in this general applause. While there were just men among them, the great body were either secretly or openly inimical to Jesus. But they were politic; they did not choose to array themselves against the people in the hour of their enthusiasm. If at first they hesitated, hoping that this man of singular influence might

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