XXXVII.

THE CLOSE OF THE PROCEEDINGS.

THE judicial procedure against the Lord of Glory hastens to its close. Events crowd upon, and even overthrow each other. The great and decisive moment is at hand, and the occurrences which take place, claim our sympathy in an increasing degree. 'Crucify him!" was the people's answer to the pathetic appeal of the more than half-vanquished governor, that the life of the Lord Jesus might be spared. This response completely dispossessed Pilate of his last and imaginary safe position. Behold him, now a mere object of compassion and pity, helpless, and wholly at a loss, inwardly torn and tortured by the scourge of his better-self; without faith, though not free from superstition, and therefore the football of human and infernal powers, which exert their influence over him. He again affirms the innocence of the accused, but instead of terminating the proceedings by the liberation of Jesus, as he ought to have done, he demeans himself so far as to give the cowardly advice to the Jews to take him and crucify him without his authority: really, our compassion for the weak-minded and unprincipled man begins greatly to diminish, and with respect to him, we are tempted to soften our reprobation of the people thus misled and strengthened in their delusion by Pilate's weakness, and to transfer it entirely to him. Can we feel surprised that the people become more bold, the more they see the judge vacillate and give way? "We have a law," they cry out very determinedly, and by our law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God." The people are not satisfied with simply putting Jesus to death, but in order to avoid the appearance of revolt, they desire that Jesus should be executed under all the forms of public justice.

The new accusation here brought by the Jews against Jesus, that he made himself the Son of God, is very deserving of

notice. By this, they in fact assert that Jesus, in the proceedings against him, had assumed this high and honorable title. That they therefore consider him guilty of a capital crime, may serve us as a criterion of the extent and sublimity which they attached to that appropriation. How could it have occurred to them to regard the latter as any thing impious, had they taken it for granted, that Jesus had declared himself to be a Son of God in no higher sense than that in which all men, and especially the pious and such as keep the law, might so call themselves? But it was quite clear to them, that by the title of Son of God, Jesus intended to place himself high above every creature, and even on an equality with the all-sufficient God himself. And if our Lord had intended less than this, it was his sacred duty, on this occasion, to reject the assertion of his accusers as false, or to rectify it as a great mistake. However, he neither does the one nor the other, but observes silence, and by it, openly confirms the accusation brought against him as well-founded.

"We have a law," cried the people; and such they had, indeed —a positive law, revealed from heaven, and contained in the written word of God. A law, clearer than the sun, deeper than the sea, and as the pure reflection of the holiness of God, and the perfect expression of his unchangeable will, valid for the whole world-for time and for eternity; and know, that until God shall become less holy than he is, and not till then, will the requirements of that law be lessened and mitigated. When the justice of God once begins to decline, and his truth to vacillate, then, and not till then, will the trangressing his law be of less moment, and the curse of the law be less feared. But as long as there is in God no shadow of a change, his law retains its majesty and implacable severity; and as long as justice and judgment are the habitation of his throne, he that continueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law, is rejected of God and under the curse. Hence the law of which we speak, can not be a favored or welcome guest upon earth. As long as we live without union to Christ, we should rejoice if the law did not exist. For what does it effect, but show us in a clear light, our estrangement from God, and by means of its threatenings, cause a hell in our consciences? How many

thousands has it robbed of their peace and all the enjoyment of life, and imprisoned them, for the rest of their days, in the gloomy dungeons of terror and despondency! Where is the wonder, then, if they execrate the law, and are always endeavoring to unnerve and make it void. For if the law was not in the world, sin would be no longer sin, and men would imagine they could reach heaven as they listed. But to wish that there were no law, would be to desire that God should cease to exist. For if there is a God in heaven, he has a right over his creatures, and the will of God, as the personal abstract of every virtue, can not be less holy than the law of the Scriptures, which requires a perfection, even as the Father in

heaven is perfect."

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The Jews of that day had still a consciousness of the existence of a divine law. The world in the present day has long ago lost this consciousness, and has swept away the positive command, by a reckless, arbitrary, self-chosen, and shallow morality. This substitute, which capitulates to our corrupt nature, does not hurl a curse, but unavoidably brings one after it. It is rebellion against the law to endeavor to weaken and neutralize it; and, believe me, in due time it will avenge itself on all such, and dreadfully vindicate its honor.

"We have a law, and by our law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God." Very true, presupposing that he had spoken falsely in the great things he asserted of himself. The charge of a treasonable blasphemy would then have lain upon him. Such, however, was not the case, for he was really what he gave himself out to be. But let us remember, that he was now appearing in our stead; and in this position the people's sentence proves correct. You know, however, that he died, the just for the unjust, and thus he became the end of the law to all them that believe. We died with him, without personally feeling the suffering of death. In him we emptied the bitter cup, which was destined for us on account of our sins. Henceforward the law no longer stands in our way, but only ministers to us in offices of love. Henceforth it may only say to us, "Behold the righteousness reflected in my demands, and know that it is now yours in Christ Jesus. As personally holy

as I require men to be, you shall eventually be presented before God." The law is also appointed to us, who delight in the law of God after the inward man, to live so as entirely to please him, who hath bought us with his blood; to unfold to us, in every case, what is pleasing to the Lord, and wherewith we may infallibly serve him; and in addition to this, to show us its threatenings and its curses, as a conquered general shows to his victors, the ordnance, which, during the conflict, were dismounted by their superior fire. It is to such performances that the law is now enjoined. It is our friend, though occasionally disguised under a gloomy mask, and makes again the sound of its lifted rod to be heard by us. This it does, only to drive us back to the wounds of Jesus, or still deeper into them. But having again reached this city of refuge, it greets us in its true and wholly reconciled form. It has forever forsaken its hostile and menacing position with regard to us. "Christ is the end of the law;" and whoever is conscious of being a sinner in the sight of God, let him read these words to his complete satisfaction. In them lies the spring of my peace, as well as the dying song, with which I hope, at length, gently and blissfully to fall asleep.

"He made himself the Son of God," cried the assembled crowd. "When Pilate heard that saying," we are informed, “he was the more afraid." We well understand the reason. The words were in unison with his deepest presentiment. He had long felt, while the Holy One was before him, as if transported into a supernatural region. The remembrance of his childish dreams of heavenly beings, who appeared as dispensing benefits to mankind, of sons of God, who favored the earth with their visits, awoke again in his soul, accompanied by more serious and gloomy thoughts; and although it did not occur to him to conceive of such a messenger from Olympus in the person of the Nazarene, yet the reality of a superior world impressed itself so strongly upon him, that, with his enlightened understanding, he felt himself greatly perplexed. Jesus had therefore declared himself to be the Son of God. This seemed to the governor to be something highly remarkable and significant. All that he had seen of the man with his own eyes seemed only to confirm

Pilate,

this assertion respecting him. "The Son of God!" had he been willing to have given vent to the feeling, which in single moments overpowered him, would have almost called him so; and what was there in the wondrous man to render it incredible that he should be of other descent and superior in nature to other men? Pilate is deeply affected. His mind feels a degree of mysterious apprehension of which it had never before been the subject. He is anxious to inquire more particularly who the Nazarene is, and for this purpose retires with him again into the interior of the palace.

Here a memorable conversation takes place between them. Pilate begins it with an inquiry, which includes within it nothing less than the vital question of the whole of the Christian religion. "Whence art thou?" says he. You perceive that we have rightly judged of what had occurred within him. His inquiry does not refer to the city or town, but rather to the world, from whence Jesus proceeded. He wishes to know whether he is a son of earth, or has come from some other sphere of the universe. This of itself has become a problem to Pilate. How clearly, therefore, must the stamp of eternity have shone upon our Lord's forehead, even in his menial form!

"Whence art thou?" We perceive from the emphasis laid upon this question, that if the Lord had replied, "I am from heaven," the governor would not have started back amazed, but would only have said, "Then my presentiment has not deceived me, for it has already seemed to me as if thou wert only a stranger and a pilgrim upon earth." But the Lord gives him no such answer, and even thinks fit to leave him without any information. We must not regard this as strange; for what benefitwould Pilate have derived, if the great mystery had then been revealed to him, that "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God, and the Word became flesh ?" The heart of the heathen governor was not prepared for it, and his inquiry concerning the descent of Jesus, strictly regarded, must have proceeded more from vain curiosity than from a desire for salvation and a need of help. Besides this, such a disclosure respecting Christ's true person and nature could only have increased Pilate's responsibility, and have ag