in the coarse and imperfect mould from which is produced our degenerate frame; but in the refined and perfect mould from which was produced the exalted manhood of him, into whom God breathed the breath of life. Sin had not impaired the delicate and sensitive perceptions of his nature, had not chilled the fountain of its feelings, nor contracted the channels through which the warm current of the affections flow. No letter of the law of love was wanting, or obscurely written upon the fleshly table of his heart; no expression of its exercise can be required, which was not found in his life; no illustration of its power can equal, can compare, with that which he displayed in his death. Humanity constituted like his, was prompt to feel the woes of others. The sympathetic strings were constantly attuned and tremulously sensitive. They vibrated at every sigh of the sorrowful spirit, and responded, full and deep, to every sound of human woe. There was, indeed, something approaching to identity of feeling with every subject of disease and sorrow which his eye beheld. He took the infirmities, and bare the sicknesses of those who were brought before him to be healed, by sympathy with the sufferers in his humanity, before he exerted the power of his divinity for their relief.

That this was the sense in which the disciples applied to him the passage from Isaiah's prophecies, is evident, from the connexion in which it stands, with what must have been one of the most interesting and

impressive scenes of the Saviour's life. He had taught in the synagogue of Capernaum, and, in the presence of the congregation, had released from his unhappy bondage a man who had been oppressed by the devil. He had retired from the synagogue to the house of Peter, and there had restored Peter's wife's mother from a fever. The fame of the miracles spreads abroad, and so soon as the sun was sitting, and, according to their notions of the sanctity of the sabbath, it was lawful for them to carry the sick from their dwellings, "all they that had any sick with divers diseases, brought them unto him."* So deep and general was the interest which had been excited by the miracles which had been performed in the earlier part of the day; so sanguine the anticipations that were indulged of the result of bringing all the sick which the place contained to him; and so universal the desire to see what he would do for them, “that all the city was gathered together at the door."+ Nor were the expectations which had been formed disappointed. "He laid his hands upon every one of the sick, and healed them."

The number of the sick, their cases respectively, the circumstances connected with any of them, are not related; and therefore, our impressions of this most extraordinary scene are exceedingly vague and inadequate. Perhaps a more legitimate or interesting

*Luke iv. 40.

† Mark i. 33.

subject for the pencil, is no where to be found in the Saviour's history, than is presented in this passage. But he must be a master in his art, whose imagination, feeling, judgment, and taste, could supply all which is comprehended in the two verses of the Evangelist; "When the even was come, they brought unto him many that were possessed with devils: and he cast out the spirits with his word, and healed all that were sick that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying, Himself took our infirmities and bare our sicknesses.”* Minds of ordinary power must be content to receive their illustration of the manner in which the Redeemer, by the tenderness his sympathy, identified his feelings with those of the distressed, from individual cases, in the relation of which some of the circumstances are supplied. And what can be required more perfect, than is to be found in the simple recital of the compassion which he exercised towards the widow of Nain, and the tears which he shed at the grave of Lazarus ! There must be something very deficient in the heart of that individual, who can surrender himself to the guidance of the disciple whom Jesus loved, and approach the grave of Lazarus, without being disposed to weep also.

As the constitution of our Redeemer's humanity rendered him more susceptible than we can be, to the suf

* Matt. viii. 16, 17.

ferings of others; so it gave a pungency proportionably great, to the sorrows which were peculiarly his own. The fortitude of superior minds under unmerited reproach, does not result from hardihood of feeling; that is the unenvied privilege of the leader of the mob, who addresses himself to the worst passions of our nature, because they are the most easily excited; whose work is defamation, and who has no character of his own to lose. In a virtuous mind, fortitude under calumny and injustice is the result of principle, struggling against feelings, which are acute and sensitive, and deeply seated in the soul. The struggle is always painful, and, if in public, the consciousness of rectitude supports, and the brow is consequently tranquil, and the countenance serene; yet in secrecy, the power of feeling prevails, and the eye poureth forth tears unto God. The struggle is sometimes too vio. lent for the fragile frame in which it takes place, and the most redeeming specimens of our fallen nature are shattered and broken by its force. Those who know what this struggle means, may be soothed by the assurance, that in it the Redeemer can sympathize, because, through the severest conflict he himself has gone. They will see the reason why such sombre hues were thrown upon the path which he trod, and which gradually deepened in their shade, till they closed in total darkness around the mount on which he bowed his head and died. They will see why the prophet, sketching the more prominent features of

his character, describes him as "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." They will see why the prayers and supplications of his more retired devotions were offered up "with strong crying and tears."

If, in proportion as one has suffered himself, he knows how to soothe and succour others who are in distress; then, to no one can we turn for sympathy and succour with such confidence, as to him who is, above all others, "a brother born for adversity." No where can there be found a history to compare with his. Innocence, purity, benevolence, gentleness, kindness, in their perfect combination, and constant exercise, daily encountering rudeness, privation, suspicion, reproach, calumny, malignity, treachery; and, at length, trampled to the dust by infuriated cruelty, and ignominious scorn. Never was there a heart like his, to feel; and, therefore, never could there be a tongue like his, to comfort and console. Pungent, diversified, and accumulated, though his own sorrows were; by them he would not allow himself to be absorbed, nor diverted from his course of mercy. They rather formed part of his qualification for his work, and furnished motives for its diligent discharge. He went about doing good, preaching the Gospel to the poor, and healing all manner of sickness, and all manner of disease among the people. Nor, when the last and bitterest cup of suffering was just about to be presented to his tremulous lips, could he be unmindful of those who had been with him in his previous temptations. His last discourse to them,