us! There is only one way of escaping the horrors of future judgment, and that is, the believing apprehension of all that our Surety has accomplished in our stead. May God strengthen our faith for this purpose more and more, and enable each of us from the heart to exclaim, in the words of the apostle, "Thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!”

XX.

THE FALL OF PETER.

In addition to all his other sufferings, our blessed Lord had also to endure that of being denied by one of the little company of his confidential disciples, on whose fidelity he ought to have been able to reckon under all circumstances. His heart was not to be a stranger to any grief or pain, in order that he might be to us in all things a compassionate High Priest. But how would the Scriptures have been fulfilled, had he not also experienced the fate of his living prototypes-Joseph, delivered up by his brethren, and David forsaken in the season of his calamities or how verified the prophetic language of the Psalmist, "Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and my acquaintance into darkness?" At the same time it was to be made manifest, for our consolation, that "he had received gifts even for the rebellious;" and where is this more evident than in the grievous event which we are about to contemplate?

Let us join ourselves in spirit to Simon Peter. If any one was ever ardently attached to the Saviour, it was he; but he was only partially conscious of what it was that he loved in Jesus. The mystery in his vicarious character, and the consequent necessity for the offering up of himself as a sacrifice for the sins of the world, was still concealed from him. He had only a kind of general perception that his salvation in some way depended upon fellowship with Jesus, and that without him he would infallibly perish. In Peter, as in many churches

where the Gospel is not preached in all its fullness, faith and love preceded religious knowledge and discernment. More the subject of feeling than of a divinely enlightened understanding, which regulates the whole life, Peter reminds us of that class of our brethren, of whom we are wont to say that though they possess the burning heart, yet they are still in want of the light of the Holy Spirit. The new life is implanted in its germ, and the ability to develop itself to the aim of its heavenly calling exists: but the development itself is still far behind, and much remains for the Holy Spirit to enlarge and complete.

The cause of Peter's ignorance of the chief intention of Christ's coming into the world, was his deficiency in the knowledge of himself. He knew, indeed, that as a poor sinner, he stood in need of mercy: but he had no idea of the boundless extent of man's moral depravity and inability. Over this a vail was thrown by the sparkling and deceptive brilliancy of his sentimental state. He felt himself animated by such an ardent love and enthusiasm for Jesus, that the smallest suspicion, in this respect, wounded him deeply. Alas! he did not yet know how much the noblest human feelings depend upon the change of circumstances, situations, and seasons. The declaration of Jeremiah, that "the heart of man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked," was not obvious to his understanding. He was ignorant that one who could be enthusiastic for Jesus transfigured on Mount Tabor, possessed no pledge, from this feeling, that he would be equally zealous for Jesus ignominiously crucified on Mount Calvary. Just as little did he imagine that what pervaded his mind under the sound of his Master's affectionate parting address, in the solemn stillness of the midnight hour, by no means necessarily enabled him still to cleave to him when arrested and disgracefully dragged before a judicial

tribunal.

We read of Gideon, that the Lord said to him, "Go in this thy might;" and to this day, it is only the Lord's gracious inspiration which produces true heroism. But of this Peter was ignorant. Instead of despairing of all his own courage and leaning solely on the strength of the Lord, he trusted to his own valor, which he lamentably over-estimated; and instead of ap

plying for spiritual weapons to him who said, "Without me, ye can do nothing:" the simple disciple, in the armor of his own feeling of affection for his Master, thought himself sufficiently able to cope with Satan and his crafty devices.

Peter was like the man in the Gospel, who went to war without first sitting down and counting the cost. He might have already perceived that he was acting foolishly, when after his rash assault on the servant of the high priest and the Lord's subsequent resignation of himself to the hands of his enemies, his zeal was instantly extinguished, so that he was cowardly enough to take to a disgraceful flight with the rest. True, he again bethought himself after a time; but that which induced him to follow his captive Lord at a distance, was, in reality, more the spur of a despicable pride, than the noble impulse of a "love strong as death." He had spoken so openly and loudly of never denying his Master, and even of going to death with him; and what would be thought of him if he were now to break his vows and vanish from the field? No, he was resolved never to be regarded as a coward. Where his Master is, there he must be. Like a vessel steering against the wind, he follows in due distance the march of the armed band. He goes forward with feeble knees and inward reluctance. What would he give if some unavoidable and obvious hinderance were to block up his way and prevent his further advance! In fact, such a wished-for obstacle seems to present itself, in the gates being closed as soon as the band, with their captive, have entered into the court-yard of the high priest's palace. Peter would now have felt himself excused, had he gone away, since however willing he might be, he could proceed no further. If we mistake not, he is already preparing to depart; but just as if every thing conspired to promote his fall, it happened accidentally, as people say, that before the entrance, he meets with a friend and fellow-believer, who was known to the high priest; and who, being on amicable terms with him, went freely in and out of his house. The latter addresses a few words to the door-keeper, and Peter, whether willingly or unwillingly, is admitted.

We are not informed who the disciple was that procured his admission. If, as many suppose, it was the Evangelist John

himself, to whom we owe the mention of this unimportant event, it is pleasing and truly affecting to see him taking, in this statement, part of the blame from his friend Peter, and putting it upon himself. But whoever he may have been, the question still urges itself upon us, why God in his providence did not so order it that Peter should arrive only a few minutes earlier at the gate of the court-yard; since that eventful meeting would have then been avoided, and the whole of the subsequent mischief prevented? The answer is easy. Although it remains a truth that God tempts no one, much less causes him to stumble and fall: yet he not unfrequently visits with severe trials those whom he loves, and even does not prevent their falling, when they do not attend to his word and disbelieve his warnings; thus refusing to be healed of their presumptuous reliance on their own ability in any other way than by bitter experience. Even Peter's fall, which, as regards its guilt, must be placed solely to his own account, and is fully explained by the selfdependence of the disciple, was intended by God as a medicine for his soul, which aimed at its thorough healing of its foolish and blind self-confidence. The Lord Jesus had already clearly hinted at this, and also at the salutary results of his lamentable fall, when he addressed to Peter the encouraging words, "When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren."

Simon passes with tottering steps over the threshold of the opened gate, and thus sets foot on the scene of his trial. O that he had now cast himself down in prayer before God! But instead of this, he still depends upon himself, and upon the chance of accidents and circumstances. Satan and the world already stand armed against him on the field. He had no need to fear them, if he had only put on the breastplate of faith. We can now do nothing but tremble for the poor man, and should be compelled to give him up for lost, were we not aware of the admirable protection afforded him, but of which he is unconscious. The solemnity with which the Lord, on the way to Gethsemane, foretold what awaited him, hangs in his memory, though silent for a while-like a bell which, at the proper time, will give the signal for his restoration. The cock, the divinely appointed alarmist, already stands at his post, and his crowing

will not fail of its due effect. The Saviour's intercession, that Peter's faith might not fail, hovers, like a protecting shield, over his head; and he who never quenches the smoking flax, nor breaks the bruised reed, continues near the endangered disciple, and in the hour of distress will afford him seasonable aid.

Let us now consider the melancholy event which took place in the court-yard of the high priest. At the moment when Simon is admitted, at the intercession of his friend, the damsel that kept the door, holding up her lantern to his face, regarded him with a look as if she knew him, but is not quite sure of it. Peter, seeing this, turns away his face, and hastens as quickly as possible past the woman, lest she should recognize him. In the center of the court-yard the soldiers had kindled a fire, to protect themselves against the raw, cold, morning air, and, crowding round it, pass the time in talking and joking; while inside the house the proceedings against Jesus are going on.

Peter, who feels uncomfortable enough in such an atmosphere, approaches the noisy group, and with a careless mien, as if only anxious to warm himself, takes his place among them. In fact, his denial had now commenced, for his intention was evidently to appear to the mercenaries as if he belonged to their party, and shared their sentiments with regard to the Nazarene. Not a little pleased at having thus attained a twofold objectthe safety of his person, and the being able to say that he had manifested his courage in thus mingling with the adversaries, and fulfilling his promise not to forsake his Master-the pitiable hero sits there and expects that he will be able to witness the future course of events without danger to himself. On a sudden, a painful stop is put to these calculations. The porteress, who wished to assure herself whether or not she had mistaken the stranger whom she had admitted, steals thither unobserved, and mingling among the soldiery, discovers, by the light of the flickering flame, the lurking guest; and looking over his shoulder in his face, she asks him, with a triumphant and malicious leer, "Wast thou not also with Jesus of Nazareth? Art thou not one of his disciples ?"

Who can describe Peter's confusion at this question? At the moment when he thought himself so safe, to be so suddenly