1. It might be as well objected, that, as the God-man, Jesus could not hunger and thirst, could not become weary, nor fall asleep, could not be sore amazed and very heavy, could not suffer and die.

2. If Jesus could not possibly sin, his will was not free. His obedience then was not voluntary obedience, and, consequently, was not virtue. He was, moreover, not constituted like to his brethren in all things except actual sin and sinful nature, nor like to the first man in his primeval integrity. His holy life could then be no example for us, and could afford no encouragement to us to imitate him; neither could the apostle urge upon us, as he does in the epistle to the Hebrews, that 66 we have not a high priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, though without sin ;"* for what would his temptations amount to, if there was absolutely no possibility that he should sin?

3. Though, in the person of Jesus, God was manifested in the flesh, his union with the Godhead was not such as to change his humanity. The received definition of this union forbids us to mix and confound the two natures. If Jesus is like unto his brethren in all things, sin excepted, he is as really and perfectly a man as he would be if there were no such union; and as such he shares with us all the infirmities which are essential to human nature. Neither must it be supposed, that, by virtue of this union, the human nature was throughout the mere instrument of the divine, and that all the agency of Jesus was the agency of the indwelling Deity; so that Jesus did nothing whatever, and could do nothing, except as the Deity wrought in him. In his prayer he distinguishes his own will from the will of God, and expresses an apprehension that what he wished and prayed for, in that instance, might not be what God was willing to do: and so, indeed, the fact proved to be, for the cup was not removed; and the apostle says: "Though he was a Son, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered." The Godhead could act, and did act without the intervention of the man Jesus, and the man Jesus could act, and did act, without the intervention of the Godhead. It was the Deity that spoke in him when he taught, and that wrought in him when he performed miracles; for this he expressly and repeatedly declared;

Heb. 4: 15.

of a

in all such cases as did not transcend the natural powers highly gifted and most holy man, he was left to himself, and acted or suffered as a man. The main design of the union of the Godhead with him seems to have been to confer dignity upon his person. It did confer upon him an infinite dignity, and thus imparted to all that he did and to all that he suffered, an infinite importance and value. But this design did not interfere with his free agency. He was constituted, with regard to his moral power, like the first man, and was fitted to take his place as the second Adam, and to repair the ruin which the first had introduced: as the first fell in his trial by transgression, so the second overcame by obedience. Like Ådam, Jesus was subjected to a trial; like him, he was assailed in that trial by a temptation: the former was tempted to eat the forbidden fruit; the latter to refuse submission to the death of the cross.

The great trial of Jesus took place in Gethsemane, where the cup was placed before him, and his final decision was to be made either to drink it or not drink it. It was here that the temptation assailed him to spare himself, and to desire that God would spare him. All the circumstances were made favorable to this temptation, in order that it might exert upon him its utmost power: a cloud and darkness came over him; his view lost its wonted clearness; the will of the Father was obscured; the horrors of the cross rose up before him in their most appalling forms; his consciousness of the possibility of sinning awoke; the fear, that he might be overcome by such terrible suffering, and might sink forever, started up in his mind, and filled his soul with dismay and terror, and with a sorrow that could not be borne. It was nature in Jesus that, in these circumstances, shrunk back from such a scene of wo, and raised up the desire to be saved from such a death; and in the strength of these feelings was the power of the temptation to refuse the appointed cup.

The deportment of Jesus under this heavy trial was inexpressibly dignified, and set forth, in a clear and beautiful light, the great principle of piety and virtue that held possession of his mind. There was no stoical pride, that hardens itself against nature, and refuses to bend before God or man, by confessing that it is in pain. While he claimed to be the Son of God, he gave free vent to the feelings of nature in a tender complaint of the deep sorrow of his soul, and in pouring out his anguish in tearful and repeated prayer. But he did not, according to

the custom of that age, rend his garments, and cast dust upon his head; he did not beat his breast, and utter incoherent outcries. There was a calmness in the midst of his terror; all that he said was collected and rational, deeply imbued with filial reverence toward his heavenly Father, and with kindness toward his disciples; and in all his prayer, in his utmost distress he desired only to be heard, if it were the Father's will: "Not as I will, but as thou wilt."

The first principle of Jesus was, that the will of the Father must be done. "I came down from heaven, not to do mine own will, but the will of him that sent me."* This principle, was the main spring of all his acting, directing every thought every desire and every volition. To do his heavenly Father's will was his meat and his drink :† when weary and hungry, if an opportunity of this kind came in his way, he forgot the demands of nature, and declined the meat which was offered to him. Nothing appeared to him beautiful, nothing valuable, or worthy to be desired, if he saw not in it a conformity to the will of God; and nothing, therefore, appeared to him as presenting any motive at all to deviate from that will.

This principle was now assailed, and its strength in the mind of Jesus put to a severe trial, by the sufferings which he was required to undergo. He was required to lay down his life for the salvation of sinful men, who deserved to die; to submit, like a criminal, to a public execution, under the sentence of the civil judge; to die by crucifixion-the most torturing and most ignominious punishment to which criminals could be adjudged; a punishment to which only the vilest criminals were condemned-to endure at the same time all the scorn and insult which ingenious malice could invent, or brutal wantonness inflict; to suffer every species of maltreatment that could increase the pains of death, and the weight of that reproach by which his heart was to be broken.

Death in its mildest form is abhorrent to nature; reproach and disgrace are more painful to the virtuous mind than death. But such a death as that which was appointed for Jesus might well fill the mind with chilling horror, and call up a strong desire to be spared. This natural desire Jesus felt. It was strengthened by the fear which arose, that he might be driven by the extremity of suffering, into an act of transgression, and † John 5: 20.

John 6: 38.

might thus fall, and the world with him, beyond the reach of hope. It was still increased by the thought, that it might be possible that the Father should accomplish his purpose without such a sacrifice, and might therefore save him from so great an anguish. It was farther encouraged by the obscurity and doubt in which the question seemed now to be, whether the Father really demanded this sacrifice from him. And it was raised to its greatest power, by the thickening of the darkness in which he was enveloped, and the growing distress that

overwhelmed hi'n.

Here was a conflict between the principle of self-love, or, what is the same, the desire of happiness, and the principle that the will of God must be done. Jesus cherished his selflove as an original principle of all intelligent natures, which is always virtuous when it is subordinate to the love of God. But it did not even occur to him, that he might cherish it a moment in any case, where it would not be in accordance with the Father's will. In his greatest agony, his prayer was still: "Nevertheless, not my will, but thine be done." The first parents of our race transgressed, when their temptation was immeasurably less than this of Jesus, and, by their disobedience, brought sin and death upon the world. But so perfectly did the principle, that the Father's will must be done, possess the mind of Jesus, and so invincible was its power, that even these temptations could not shake it. Neither the tortures of the cross nor its dreaded ignominy, nor all the aggravating circumstances of it, nor even the apprehension that he might sink under the weight of his sufferings, appeared to him to furnish a motive to disobey. If it seemed that in obeying he must sink into hopeless ruin, he saw that in voluntary disobedience there would be a worse ruin, while the Father would be dishonored by it. His purpose was, that, if he perished, he would perish in honoring the Father by obedience. The conflict was awful: every muscle shook; every nerve trembled; the blood, perhaps, quitting its wonted channels, mingled with the copious, clammy sweat at every pore; but Jesus stood firm in his purpose, unmoved like the rock amidst the furiously dashing waves, in all the wildness of the storm, still saying, in his deepest anguish: "Father, not as I will, but as thou wilt."

It was now that an angel appeared from heaven, strengthening him. Here it must be admitted to be evident, that Jesus was not supported in his trial by his divinity. He was tried

as a man; not as the God-man. When nature was exhausted by the fierceness of the conflict, relief was brought from heaven by the ministry of an angel; not by the internal manifestations of the indwelling Deity. The angel, doubtless, brought the Father's answer to his prayer, and strengthened him by the message which he delivered. The message was consolatory: it at once lighted up his mind and dissipated his perplexity and terror. The cup was not removed, but he was heard so as to be delivered from his fear. The dark cloud had now passed over, the mind of Jesus recovered its wonted clearness, the Father's will was plain, and the distressing fear was no more. Now Jesus ceased to pray; he rose from his last prayer, calın and resigned, and went forth, in obedience to the Father's will, and drank the cup; and from this time, he suffered whatever men chose to inflict, like the lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like the sheep that is dumb before its shearer, and openeth not its mouth. Had not the agony in the garden preceded, and had not Jesus afterwards, when another cloud was upon him, given vent to his feelings in the heart-rending cry: "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me," we might suspect that he was not like other men, and that he felt no pain; but in those hours of darkness he showed that his nature was human; and his silent submission now could only be the effect of his exalted virtue, which submitted without complaint or reluctance, when he saw with clearness that such was the Father's will.

This voluntary submission to the death of the cross, in obedience to the will of his heavenly Father, is that illustrious act of obedience by which the Son of God has saved us. Of this act the apostle speaks in his epistle to the Philippians, where he says: "And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him,” etc.* This is the act of obedience, which the same apostle opposes to the disobedience of Adam, in his epistle to the Romans: "As by the offence of one, judgment came upon all men to condemnation; even so by the righteousness of one, the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life. For as by one man's disobedience, many were made sinners; so by the obedience of one, shall many be made righteous."+ By this great † Ch. 5: 18, 19.

* Ch. 2: 8.