that the wondrous event on Calvary must have been present to his mind?

But what do these three elements imply? And, first of all, the water-does it imply baptism? Doubtless it has a remote reference even to that ordinance. But water chiefly symbolizes to the evangelist, in accordance with the figurative language throughout the Holy Scriptures, the moral purifying power of the word of Christ-yea, the atmosphere of his kingdom. Wherever the Gospel penetrates, it changes the moral aspect of nations, apart from regeneration and conversion, in the more limited and specific sense of these words. Decorum and mental culture expel barbarism. Discipline and order take the place of a licentious service of sin. Animal carnality finds at least its bound, in the rising apprehension of a superior ideality of human life. The consciences of the children of men become more sensitive and refined; and modesty, as the keeper of good manners, erects among them its throne. Even as justice establishes its claims in legislation and civil institutions, so does also love. Men become conscious of the obligation for mutual assistance and kind offices. Attention to the poor and the sick erects its hospitals, and opens to the destitute its places of refuge. There is nothing which is not cemented, ennobled, and transfigured, as soon as affected by the gentle breath of the Christian religion. Compare even the most degraded of the nations of Christendom with any of the heathen, and even with the Mohammedan, and say, if in comparison with these, they may not, in a general sense of the word, be termed regenerated? It is in these effects that the water-power of Christ and his Gospel manifests itself. It was these results, especially, which the Almighty had in view when he promised by the prophet Ezekiel, chap. xxxvi. 25, saying, "Then will I sprinkle clean water upon yon, and ye shall be clean. From all your filthiness and from all your idols will I cleanse you." The apostle doubtless refers to the same effects in Heb. x. 22, when he speaks of "having our bodies washed with pure water." And, in the same manner, John the Baptist, when he said, "I baptize you with water," while referring, at the same time, to another baptism—that "with the Spirit and with fire," which he alone could accomplish who should come after him.

Suffice it to say that by means of his word, and the planting of his Church, a moral purification, ennobling and transforming the human race, emanates from Christ, and to these results, the water which flowed from Jesus's opened side, symbolically points.

But water alone would not have saved us. We are deeply involved in guilt in the sight of God; and though we might cease, from this time, to accumulate fresh guilt, yet our former offenses would not, on that account, be undone and blotted out. Besides, notwithstanding all the cleansing and ennobling of our lives by the Word-when measured according to the model of the divine requirements-we remain poor sinners as before, and exposed to the curse. We therefore need, besides a moral reformation, and more urgently than that, a deliverance from the sentence of condemnation which impended over us, and a being replaced in a state of grace. For this necessity-the most urgent of all-that which is requisite is supplied by the blood we see streaming, along with the water, from the wounded side of Jesus. It points out the ransom paid for our guilt, once for all before God; as well as the atoning sacrifice, by means of which the reconciliation of divine justice with God's love to sinners is brought about, and our acceptance without any infringement of the former rendered possible. The blood flowed separately from the water; justification must not be mingled with, much less exchanged for, personal amendment. That which again recommends us to the love of God is solely the merits of Christ, and by no means the piece-work of our own virtue. Certainly, union by faith and life with Christ is requisite on our parts, but in Christ's righteousness, and in that alone, do we receive the absolution from deserved punishment; even as, for its sake alone, we are reinstated in the priviliges of divine adoption. Conversion makes us capable of blessedness; but the blood of the Lamb alone renders us worthy of it.

But we know that water and blood by no means exhaust the exhibition of the saving efficacy of Christ's merits. There are three, says the apostle, that testify for him and of him on earth -the water (the moral power of the Word), the blood (the

atoning and peace-bringing effect of his vicarious sufferings), and the Holy Spirit, who not merely amends, but renews; not only prunes away the twigs from the tree of sin, but roots it up, and plants in its place the scion of an essentially new being and life. He who passes through the world adorned with the threefold seals of such powerful credentials, can not be otherwise than from above, and must be the Redeemer and Messiah ordained of God. John regards it as scarcely possible that any one can mistake this, and vehemently urges us to swear fealty to him along with himself, while most impressively and affectingly exclaiming, "He that saw it bare record, and his record is true; and he knoweth that he saith true, that ye might believe."

Let us, then, also believe, dear readers, that we may likewise experience the Lord of Glory as Him who cometh with water, blood, and the Holy Spirit-that is, cleansing, reconciling, and regenerating. Let us give ourselves wholly and without reserve to Him, after he has thus given himself up to death for us, and say with the poet,

"Let the water and the blood,

From thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin the double cure,

Cleanse us from its guilt and power."

LIII.

THE INTERMENT.

AFTER all the heart-affecting and appalling scenes we have been witnessing, how beneficial to our spirits is the solemn stillness that now reigns on Calvary! It is the preparation for the Sabbath, and to us it seems just as if we heard the gentle sound of the Sabbath-bells reaching us from a distance. The Gospel narrative which details to us the circumstances attending our Lord's being taken down from the cross-his being laid in the grave— and the watch which was set over it-produce in us a tranquil

and peaceful feeling. It is our last meditation on the history of our Saviour's passion. May the peace of God, which passeth understanding, be the precious fruit that we shall derive from it!

The crowd have vacated the summit of Calvary. The Roman guard, however, remains. Whether John was also there, we are not informed. Profound silence reigns around. The bodies of the two malefactors are taken down from their crosses, and their graves are being dug. The crucified Redeemer, with his head crowned with thorns, and reclining upon his breast, still hangs solitarily between heaven and earth. You inquire what will next occur to his lifeless corpse? We need not be anxious, my readers. His heavenly Father has already made every arrangement. The grave-diggers are ordered, and the vault prepared. Who is to inter him? According to the law, it was the duty of the executioners to bury him on the place of execution. But God ordered it otherwise. After the great High Priest's atoning sacrifice had been offered up, he was not to be subjected to any further ignominy. This would have been contrary to the order of the divine statutes. If he had brought his cause to a successful and triumphant termination, honor and glory alone were henceforth his due. Such was also the judgment of Almighty God. A funeral was to be given to his Son, in the circumstances attending which, even the blindest might perceive the overruling hand of Eternal Love. Two honorable men -honorable not only in the eyes of men, but also before God-are intrusted with the interment of Immanuel's corpse; and a company of tried female disciples, to whom it will be a consolation to be permitted to bathe the sacred body with their grateful tears, are to be joined with them.

Let us not anticipate the narrative. We leave Mount Calvary for a few moments, and take our stand in the city of Jerusalem. Who is it that is walking so hastily up the street that leads to the palace of the Roman governor? The man seems to be the bearer of some important commission. His countenance expresses it, and his haste betrays it. Who is he? Jerusalem knows him, and numbers him among her principal and most estimable citizens. It is Joseph, surnamed of Arimathea, his birthplace, which lay on the mountains of

Ephraim a man honored with the universal confidence of his tribe, and at the same time a member of the highest Jewish court of justice-the Sanhedrim. As such, he had been personally present at the whole of the proceedings against Jesus; and in the course of them had acquired a vital conviction, not only of the perfect innocence of the accused, but also of something more. He had not consented to the counsel and deed" of his associates, but yet he had not had the courage to enter a strong and decided protest against it. The sentence pronounced upon the Just One had excited his abhorrence; but a lamentable fear of man had prevented him from doing more than withholding his consent. Christ was led away to execution, and Joseph, in spirit, with him, so far as he was severely judged and condemned by his own conscience. The bloody execution took place. We know not whether Joseph beheld it from a distance, or learned its details from another. Be it as it may, before he was aware, and while under the influence of a powerful presentiment that the affair would terminate differently, the startling announcement reached his ear, that the Man of Nazareth had just given up the ghost on the cross. What was still wanting of an appalling nature in this intelligence, was fully made up by the terrific phenomenon of the earthquake, which occurred at the same moment. We then see him sitting solitarily in his chamber at Jerusalem, and hear him say in broken sentences, "He is therefore dead! They have slain him whom they ought to have bound to the earth by a thousand ties of love. Woe to the murderers! They have extinguished, in his own blood, the fairest star that ever shone from heaven upon the world. They knew not what they did, but I knew. Why did I not appear in his behalf? Why did I not confess myself to be his disciple? Without him, the world is a waste, and life worthless to me. But human favor was my idol,

and of more value to me than the honor which cometh from God. For the most trifling price I have denied the Lord of Glory. He is now dead, and his ear will no longer hear the confession of my repentance, nor is his mouth able to speak a word of forgiveness to me. But is he really dead, and will