fortitude, he answered not a word. Nay, when he underwent the severest of his bodily sufferings upon the cross, he endured them with a tranquillity, a firmness and magnanimity, which display a mind truly great and undaunted. How, therefore, on some other occasions, his spirit was overwhelmed, is a subject worthy of our inquiry at all times. More particularly on this day, when we have assembled together to renew the memorial of his death upon the cross, and to recal the remembrance of all his sufferings.

In further discoursing upon this subject, I shall, in the first place, set before you the account which is given of his sufferings; and, secondly, endeavour to assign the causes of them.«

In the first place, I am to set before you the account which is given of his sufferings.

That night in which he was betrayed, the Saviour of the world went into the garden of Gethsemane, and ascended the mountain of Olives, as he was wont to do. This had been his'accustomed retreat from the world; here was the hallowed ground to which he retired for prayer and contemplation; here he had of ten spent the night in intercourse with heaven. He was accompanied by Peter, James, and Jolin, the very same disciples who had been the witnesses of his glorious transfiguration, when Moses and Elias had ap peared to him, and a voice had come from the overshadowing cloud, "his is my beloved Son, in whom "I am well pleased." What a different scene now presented itself! the rays of glory shone no more; the Divine presence was withdrawn ; the voice from heaven ceased that time was now come, which is 50 emphatically called the hour and power of darkness. He had lately partaken of the passover with his disciples; that passover which with so much earnestness, he had desired to eat; he had instituted the holy sacrament of the supper; he had delivered those divine discourses recorded in the Gospel of John; he had warned them against deserting him in the hour of temptation; he had selected three of them to attend

him in his sorrows: nevertheless, even these three thus favoured, thus honoured, thus warned, forgat all that had been said and done, and unconcerned sunk into sleep. He was left alone to endure the bitterness of that hour.

The severity of his sufferings in the garden, the anguish and the horror which then overwhelmed him, appear from the strong colours in which they are drawn by the sacred writers. They speak of his sorrow, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto "death." They speak of his agony, that is, the most inexpressible torment of mind:" And being in an agony." They speak of his fears:He was heard "in in that he feared." They speak of his cries; and his tears: "He offered up prayers and supplications with "strong crying and tears.' They speak of the prodigious effects his agony had upon his body: "His

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sweat was as it were great drops of blood." They speak of the desire he had to withdraw from his sufferings for a time: "Father, if it be possible, let this "cup pass from me."

They who are acquainted with the style of the Holy Evangelists, know how remarkable they are for simplicity of narrative. They make use of no oratorial arts to interest the passions of their readers, they affect no threatenings or embellishments of eloquence, but place the plain action before our view, devoid of all ornament whatever. Historians contemporary to the events which they record, and who' beheld the actions which they describe, usually give free vent to their passions in relating the occurrences of their history, and enter with the zeal of parties upon the various subjects which engage their attention. The sacred writers, on the other hand, lay aside every thing that looks like passion or party zeal; they relate events, not like men who were interested in the facts which they describe; not like men who had acted a part in the history they write, not even with the ordinary emotion of spectators, but with all the simplicity, and conciseness, and brevity, of an

evidence in a court of justice. The torments which our Saviour endured in the garden therefore must have been great and amazing, when the sacred writers clothe them with all the circumstances of terror, and paint them in all the colours of distress, What shall we say, then, to account for this dejection which our Lord felt, and for this desire which he expressed to be saved from his sufferings? In the ordinary course of human affairs, an innocent man of common fortitude, resigns himself with acquiescence to his fate; his integrity supports him; a good cause and a good conscience carry him onwards through life and death, undaunted and undismayed. Hence, many illustrious and virtuous men in the heathen world, supported by the native fortitude of the human mind, poured contempt upon all the forms of death, and departed with magnanimity, and with glory. If a man who had only innocence to support him, might thus acquiesce in his doom, one whose sufferings were to be publicly useful; whose death was to be glorious to himself, and beneficial to the world, might rejoice in the midst of his sufferings, and exult in the prospect of death. In the early times of the Christian Church, the first disciples followed their Lord in a path that was marked with blood; persons of all ranks, of all ages, and of both sexes, braved the rage of the enemy, the sword of the persecutor, the fire of the tormentor, became candidates for the crown of martyrdom, and with triumph embraced that very form of death at which our Lord, to appearance, now trembled and stood aghast.

This leads us to the second thing proposed, which was to account for these appearances; to assign the causes of our Lord's peculiar sufferings. In general, then, there was circumstances in the passion of our Lord, of a singular kind, fully adequate to produce the effects here mentioned. What these were, will appear when we consider, that our Lord died in a state where he was abandoned by his friends, and by nankind; that he died in a state of ignominy; and

that he died in a state, where, after suffering an agony of spirit, he was at last forsaken by his Father in heaven. While the two former of these can hardly be paralleled in all their circumstances, the last is entirely peculiar to our Lord, and constitutes the chief branch of his sufferings.

First, He died in a state where he was abandoned by his friends and by mankind. From the beginning he found the world against him. He came unto his own, and his own received him not. He was to be made perfect through sufferings, and many were the distresses which wrung his heart, before the decease which he accomplished at Jerusalem. This was the severest of all, from the manifold terrors that were now combined together. He had not only to carry his own cross, to have his head crowned with thorns, to be derided and buffeted, to be extended upon the accursed tree, to suffer the scourge, the nails, and the spear. All this he was superior to; but to be abandoned by his friends, and by all mankind, at the very time he was suffering for their sakes, was the peculiar and forlorn fate of the Saviour of the world.

The presence of our friends, in the hour of trial, gives a secret strength to the mind; it is a melancholy pleasure to die among those with whom we lived. But this consolation our Saviour had not. He had chosen twelve friends to be the partners of his life, and the companions of his death. One of these betrayed him, another denied him; all forsook him and fled.

It is some relief to the unhappy sufferer, to have the passions of the spectators on his side; from their sympathy he derives courage, and the pain that is felt by many, is alleviated to the one who suffers. But the high and the low, the Jew and the Heathen, entered into the conspiracy against Christ. priests and elders accused him.. The High Priest cried out, "He is guilty of death." Pilate, his judge, though conscious of his innocence, though he washed his hands from the guilt of his death, or

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dered him to be scourged, and allowed him to be crucified. The people, with a frantic ardour sought his death. That very people, who, a few days before, upon his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, had strewed the way with palm branches, and cried out, "Hosanna to the Son of David," that very people, such is the giddiness of the multitude, now cried out, Crucify him, 'crucify him." Thus, in his sorrows he stood by himself, a wretched individual without a friend. When the Shepherd was smitten, the sheep were scattered abroad. He trode the winepress alone. Of the people there were none with him. When he died for all, he was pitied by none.

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In the second place, he died in a state of ignominy. The death of the cross was not only painful and tormenting, but ignominious also, and accursed. death that was never inflicted upon free men, but reserved for slaves and malefactors, for the basest and the vilest of the human kind. There is implanted in the mind of man a strong abhorrence of shame and disgrace. The sense of ignominy is more pungent in a noble nature, than the feeling of pain. To want the appearance of innocence, while, at the same time, we preserve the reality; to lie under the imputation of heinous crimes, to die the death of a criminal, and leave the world with an indelible stain upon our name and memory, is one of the sorest trials that virtue can meet with upon earth. Yet even this our Lord had to suffer. He had to endure the cross, and submit to the shame. It was foretold by the prophet, that he should be "numbered among transgressors. And although he was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners, yet he was impeached of the highest crimes: Not only as a violater of the Divine law, in breaking the Sabbath, and frequenting the company of sinners, but also as an impostor, deluding the people; as a blasphemer, assuming to himself the prerogatives of God; and as a seditious person perverting the nation, usurping royal authority, and forbidding to give tribute to Cæsar. "If he had