Sayfadaki görseller
PDF
ePub

SERMON XX.

PALM SUNDAY.

On the Agony of Christ.

Then he saith to them, my soul is sorrowful even unto death stay here and watch with me. Mat. xxvi. 38.

In the great work of our redemption by a crucified Saviour, no part is more mysterious than the true nature and extent of his sufferings. What it is for a man to be treated ignominiously, to be the scorn and derision of men, and then to undergo the pains of scourging and crucifixion, is easy to apprehend; and when we reflect on the sufferings of our Saviour, we are apt to think of him as we would of ourselves under the same circumstances. It is very natural for the thoughts of men to stop here, because these are the things that fall within our sphere of suffering, and for which our nature has the greatest abhorrence: the sense of these things touches us most feelingly, and it is no won der we are not so much affected with what we have no capacities either to know or feel. It is impossible for us sufficiently to comprehend the extent of the sufferings of Christ; but, since the

Holy Scriptures encourage us to a contemplation of them, I shall endeavour to enlarge your minds upon this subject, that you may be sensible, that as he suffered all that man could suffer under the like treatment, so likewise he suffered beyond this, both in nature and degree, what no mere man could suffer, and that his sufferings were greater than we are able to comprehend or imagine. And may he grant that the contemplation of his sufferings may excite in us such sentiments as the faith of them requires!

The pains of the body of our Redeemer were all that man could feel or undergo in the like condition; for as he received a human body, so he made himself liable, and yielded to all its natural infirmities. The strokes of the scourges, the piercing of the nails through his hands and feet, caused most acute and pungent pains: thus far he suffered in his body all that the thieves underwent who were crucified with him; and it is an argument of infinite love that he endured it. But, if we consider farther, we shall find that there was something in our Saviour's sufferings peculiar to himself. He had no sin in him either original or actual, and was at the time of his death in a state of perfect innocence; so that though he had a feeling of our infirmities, yet he had not those infirmities that were the natural result of moral corruptions. He had that same excellent frame of body, that put it in the power of our first parents to live without sin, and would have rendered them immortal; and, if so, we may easily imagine, how much greater pain and torture it must be for a soul and body, thus united, to be torn asunder, than for a soul to leave a body, to which it does by nature, even at the best, sit very loose, and is daily rendered much more so by frequent contracted infirmi ties; insomuch, that at the approach of death they

are often linked but by a thread, and the soul is disengaged with very little reluctance from the body. In the best of men, the infirmities of the body make the soul part with it with pleasure, and it often rejoices to throw it off, as a clog and weight that sinks it into sin: but his spotless soul was torn from a body pure and unsullied, that never had the least reluctance to a virtue, but ever continued in a sweet compliance with all the glori ous operations of the mind.

The other part of our Saviour's sufferings which we can best conceive, is that great sense of shame which attended the whole series of them. As Christ took upon him human nature, so he likewise submitted himself to all those impres sions it was liable to receive, either from outward objects, or from sad and perplexing reflections within. "For we have not (says the apostle) a high priest who cannot have compassion on our infirmities, but one tempted in all things like as we are, yet without sin."* He had a quick sense of disgrace, and felt the weight of lying under the imputation of guilt. Ignominy and shame in the mind is what pain is to the body; but that affects us in our immortal part, and is therefore the more grievous and intolerable. Those who have had the trial, know what it is to be thought guilty of those sins of which they have the greatest abhorrence. The wounds of calumny sink deep, and no one is sufficiently sensible of the smart but he who feels it. Racks and tortures are better borne; for pains in the body can be overcome by the resolution of the mind, and the anguish of them is abated by a serenity and a consciousness of innocence: but when our reputation is struck at, we are bereaved of our last refuge in this life,

[blocks in formation]

and can look no where but to another world for comfort. The more innocent a man is, the more sensibly he is touched with an imputation of guilt; he takes it to heart, he mourns by himself, and his soul refuses comfort. It is true, he at last finds consolation in appeals to God, and another world, but till then he labours under the sorest affliction that can befal a good man. Thus it was with our blessed Saviour, who, though he had no sin, yet was condemned under the odious character of a sinner and malefactor; he was made the scorn and derision of the people, and felt all the grief and sorrow of heart, which any innocent man would have felt under the like ignominious and barbarous treatment; and not only so, but there were some things peculiar in this part of his sufferings, and which has not been the case of any other person.

The greater abhorrence an innocent person has to a vice, the more pungent is the sense of being thought guilty of it. As the most delicate complexion is aptest to feel pain, so a mind in the most perfect state of innocence is aptest to feel sorrow at the imputation of guilt. Our Saviour had no sin, yet laboured under the foulest aspersions. Though the Redeemer of the world, he appeared as a person guilty of rebellion, sedition, and blasphemy; and this was not only currently reported, but was confirmed by the formality of a public judicature: he was apprehended as a malefactor, condemned, and executed. Other instances of execution were ever apt to raise some pity in men's minds; and, among the most barbarous, it was ever esteemed cruel and inhuman to mock at and deride a person going to suffer the most ignominious torments: yet in spite of nature they made sport of him, set him up as a mock king, with a crown of thorns upon

his head, with a reed for his sceptre; mocked him by bowing their knees before him, buffeting, him, striking him, and then bidding him, as he was a prophet, guess who smote him: they spate in his face, and whilst he hung upon the cross, they shook their heads at him in derision, calling to him to come down, and then they would believe him.

The next part of our Saviour's agony, was that unsupportable burden of our sins, under which he laboured, and which was the cause of all the rest, and therefore the scriptures are most pathetic in expressing the grievousness of this part of his agony; and, indeed, though we are utterly unable to conceive the weight and extent of it, yet it is very obvious and natural to imagine, that it must be exceedingly great, and must far transcend the limits of our narrow capacities, if we consider first, the natural vileness and deformity of sin, which is so loathsome and abominable to the nature of God, that the least degree of it was sufficient to have separated us eternally from his presence. It is impossible for us to imagine what the opposition and contradiction of it is to the divine nature, till the day of judgment, when God shall banish it from his presence for ever. Christ alone could see all this perfectly; he alone could be truly sensible what an injury sin is to the purity of God, how near it strikes at the Majesty of Heaven, and what that foul ingratitude is, which makes such returns to infinite mercy and love.

And this must have raised an unspeakable abhorrence and detestation of it in his righteous and unspotted soul, which must have been at that time racked between his zeal for the glory of God on the one hand, and the weight of those sins he took upon himself on the other: and this

« ÖncekiDevam »