Companion to the Bible. E. P. Barrows

into Jerusalem at the head of his disciples. His own precept, "Be ye wise as serpents and harmless as doves," he perfectly exemplified throughout his ministry.

      We cannot but notice once more the union in our Lord's character of the greatest tenderness with unbending severity whenever the cause of truth demanded severity. He opened his ministry at Nazareth by reading from the prophet Isaiah a portraiture of his own character: "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised, to preach the acceptable year of the Lord." Isa. 61:1, 2. The execution of this mission required a tender and forbearing spirit, that would not break the bruised reed or quench the smoking flax; and such was the spirit of his whole ministry. For the penitent, though publicans and sinners, he had only words of kindness. Towards the infirmities and mistakes of his sincere disciples he was wonderfully forbearing. When a strife had arisen among the apostles which of them should be the greatest, instead of denouncing in severe terms their foolish ambition, he called to himself a little child and set him in the midst, and from him gave them a lesson on the duty of humility. Yet this tender and compassionate Jesus of Nazareth, who took little children in his arms and blessed them, who stood and cried, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest," and who wept at the grave of Lazarus—this same Jesus could say to Peter when he would deter Him from the path of duty, "Get thee behind me, Satan!" and could denounce in the presence of all the people the scribes and Pharisees who sat in Moses' seat. In truth, the most severe denunciations of hypocrisy and wickedness contained in the New Testament and the most awful descriptions of the future punishment of the impenitent fell from our Saviour's lips. In his tenderness there was no element of weakness.

      Our Lord's perfect meekness and humility need no human comment. They shine forth with serene brightness through all his words and actions. He described himself as "meek and lowly in heart," and his life was a perpetual illustration of these qualities. "When he was reviled, he reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously." But the point to be particularly noticed is the wonderful harmony of this meek and lowly mind with claims more lofty than were ever conceived of by any man before him—claims everywhere boldly asserted, and which, as we shall see hereafter, implied the possession of a divine nature. It is not that he claimed and exercised power over nature or outward power over men, even power to raise the dead, that fills us with awe and amazement; but that he went within the spirit, and offered inward life, light, strength, peace—in a word, life eternal—to all who would come to him; and that he asserted, in a way as decisive as it was calm, his absolute control over the everlasting destinies of all men. When we read the account of these superhuman claims, we have no feeling that they were incongruous or extravagant. On the contrary, they seem to us altogether legitimate and proper. And yet, as has been often remarked, were any other person to advance a tithe of these pretensions, he would be justly regarded as a madman. The only possible explanation is, that this meek and lowly Jesus made good his claim to be the Son of God by what he was and by what he did.

      Another quality very conspicuous in our Lord's character is his perfect elevation above this world. "Ye are from beneath," said he to the Jews; "I am from above: ye are of this world; I am not of this world." It was not in his origin alone, but in his spirit also that he was from above. As he was from heaven, so was he heavenly in all his affections. His own precept to his disciples, "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven," was the law of his own life. He had no treasures here below but the souls of men; and these are not earthly, but heavenly treasures. Satan plied him in vain with the offer of "all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them." In him "the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life" could find no place for a single moment. He kept the world always and perfectly under his feet. Yet this perfect elevation above the world had in it no tinge of stoicism or asceticism. He made no war upon the genuine passions and affections of human nature, but simply subjected them all to his higher spiritual nature; in other words to the law of God. Except temporarily for meditation and prayer, he never withdrew himself, nor encouraged his disciples to withdraw themselves from the cares and temptations of an active life, under the false idea of thus rising to a state of superhuman communion with God. He did not fast himself systematically, nor enjoin upon his disciples systematic fastings, but left fastings for special emergencies. In a word, he ate and drank like other men. His heavenly mind lay not in the renunciation of God's gifts, but in maintaining his affections constantly raised above the gifts themselves to the divine Giver. It took on a human, and therefore an imitable form.

      And what shall we say of our Lord's spotless purity of heart and life? We cannot eulogize it, for it is above all human praise. But we can refresh the eyes of our understanding by gazing upon it, as upon a glorious sun, until we feel its vivifying and transforming power in our own souls.

      In contemplating the above qualities, it is of the highest importance to notice that, though they exist in such fulness and perfection, they are yet human, and therefore imitable. They are not the virtues of an angel in heaven, or of a king on the throne, or of a philosopher in his school, or of a monk in his cell; but of a man moving among men in the sphere of common life, and filling out common life with all the duties appropriate to it. His example then is available for the imitation of the lowest not less than the highest. It offers itself to all classes of men as a model of all that is good in human nature. We may boldly affirm that such a character as this could never have been conceived of, if it had not actually existed.

      If now we look at our Lord's character as a teacher, we find it equally original and wonderful. Writers on the gospel history have with reason laid great stress on the fact that he stood high above the errors and prejudices, not only of his own age and nation, but of all ages and nations. He saw intuitively and perfectly what God is, what man is, and what are man's relations to God and to his fellow-men; and was therefore able to establish a religion for men, as men, that needs no change for any age, or nation, or condition of life. He has sometimes been called a "Galilean peasant." The phrase sounds unpleasantly in the ears of those who adore him as their divine Lord and Master. Nevertheless it is in an important sense true. He was educated among the common people of Galilee, and had no special human training. It was an age of narrowness and formalism. The scribes and Pharisees, who sat in Moses' seat, had covered up the true meaning and spirit of the Old Testament beneath a mass of human traditions that substituted "mint, and anise, and cummin" for "the weightier matters of the law." Yet in such an age Jesus came forth a perfect teacher of divine truth. He swept away at once the glosses of the Jewish doctors, unfolded to the people the true meaning of the law and the prophets as preparatory to his coming, and gave to the world a religion that meets the wants of all classes and conditions of men in all ages and nations. Considered as the good leaven which Christ cast into the lump of humanity, the gospel has continual progress. But considered as the plan of salvation which he revealed, it cannot have progress, for it is perfect. It needs no amendment or change, that it may be adapted to our age or any other age. As air and water and light meet the wants of all men in all ages, so the gospel, when freed from human additions and received in its original purity, is all that fallen humanity needs. Here is a great fact to be explained. The only reasonable explanation is that given by the Saviour himself. When the Jews marvelled at his teaching, saying, "How knoweth this man letters, having never learned?" he answered, "My doctrine is not mine, but his that sent me." Such a religion as that described in the gospels could not have been conceived of unless it had actually existed; and it could not have existed without God for its author. Gifted men may be in advance of their own age; that is, they may see before others what is the next thing indicated by the present progress of society. But mere men do not rise at once above all the errors and prejudices by which they are surrounded into the region of pure light and truth. All the work that men do is imperfect, and needs emendation by those who come after them. A religion that remains from age to age as perfectly adapted to the wants of all men as it was at the beginning, must be from God, not from man.

      Our Saviour's manner of teaching was also as original as the teaching itself. He saw through the world of nature and mind at a glance, and it stood always ready at hand to furnish him with arguments