And Peter, who

It was at the

And why did

tiality, which he discovered, to John, the beloved disciple, when we cannot find that it awakened any jealousy in the breasts of the ambitious fraternity; but, on the contrary, this young pupil in the school of Jesus could lean on the breast of his Master without offence! denied him, could be melted into contrition by a passing look! Once, we are told, that Jesus wept. grave of a friend whom he had long loyed. he weep? Not for the loss of Lazarus; for he knew, that, with a word, he could restore him to life, and present him to his mourning sisters. But he was melted by the signs of sorrow, which they and the attending mourners discovered. He could not resist the contagion of sympathy. Mary and Martha, the disciples and the Jews, were weeping around him, and the Son of God was moved also. It is, indeed, unexampled in the history of human character, to find such industrious and active benevolence, and such consciousness of one's own powers, mingled with a passive tenderness of nature susceptible to all the emotions of sor

row.

The social character of our Savior, in his intercourse with the generation among whom he lived, deserves next to be considered. Such was our Savior's mode of life that he was obliged to be much in company. Not having "where to lay his head," he was frequently found at the tables of the rich, and in the houses of his friends.

The wonderful familiarity, to which he admitted those who approached him, and the readiness, with which he administered to the wants which were made known to him, are also striking traits in the social character of Jesus. The sense of his own superiority seems never, for a moment, to have obstructed the activity and the cheerfulness of his

benevolence. He preserved the utmost frankness with the utmost civility and condescension. It was his delight, to raise the humble, to encourage the timid, to place those, whom the proud despised, in the light of his favor, and to anticipate the requests of those who were fearful lest they should trouble him.

It appears to have been one principal aim in the public character of Jesus, to do the greatest good in the most private and unobtrusive manner. He neither strove, nor cried, nor was his voice heard in the street. Acting always upon the great principle, that mercy was better than sacrifice, he did not scruple to violate the superstitious rigors with which the scribes had corrupted the sabbatical rest; and he avoided encouraging any of those vexatious restrictions which the Jewish hierarchy had added to the original severity of the Mosaic institutions. It appears to have been his object, to reform the Jewish nation without abolishing the moral law; and we cannot conclude, from anything that is recorded of our Savior, that it will be necessary for the Jewish nation, upon embracing Christianity, to relinquish the service of the synagogue, or the moral institutions of their great lawgiver.

Lastly; our Savior has left us a pattern of conduct in extreme suffering. The prospect of his death was evidently terrible to him. His prayers betray the agony of his mind. If he had possessed any tincture of enthusiasm, or of the infatuated courage with which other martyrs have gone to the stake, we should have seen none of those symptoms of excessive sensibility, which the evangelists, without disguise, ascribe to him. Yet, with such impressions of his sufferings, he attains, at last, a state of perfect acquiescence, deep resignation, and greatness in submission.

He dies without extravagance either of hope or fear. He cries out, from the cross, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit ;' and, having said thus, he gave up the ghost."

I have selected these parts of our Savior's character with a sparing hand, and with the single view of illustrating what I have called the practicableness of his example. Every one of these qualities is not only attainable by us, but of great practical importance. His unsuspected purity of life; his unwearied and benevolent activity; his equanimity, coolness, and prudence, mingled with a fortitude which nothing could crush, and a boldness which disdained to equivocate with the wicked; his contempt for mere applause, and superiority to personal convenience; his unequalled affection for his disciples, and, to crown all, a superintending piety, which always led him to the most complete acquiescence in the will of God; these are not the qualities of enthusiasm. They do not depend either upon the supernatural character or the miraculous power of Christ; neither are they peculiar to him in his character of a teacher; but they are qualities without which no man's virtue can be sound, no man's character perfect in practice or in principle. They are qualities indispensable to man in society; they are not the excellences of a recluse, who shuns the world to keep himself pure; they are not the virtues of supererogation, like the practices of monks and ascetics; but they are the essential constituents of a substantially good character, proper for the world, as well as inseparable from greatness and elevation of mind. No man can rise from the study of this character and say, "It is very sublime and perfect; but what is that to me? The subject of it moves in a

sphere which I can never reach; he is a wonderful character, but useless as an example for the purposes of life." On the contrary, the Christian must be satisfied, that, while he remains destitute of any of those principles of excellence, which were exemplified in the life of Christ, he is essentially defective in the Christian character.

I cannot leave this subject without a few more remarks un what I have called the practicableness of the character of Christ, and the nature of his instructions. Not only did he not affect singularity in his mode of life, which is the sure companion of enthusiasm; not only did he dress, eat, converse like other men, but he evidently suffered his disciples to do the same. He supposes them to follow some profession, to be fishermen, soldiers, taxgatherers; to marry, to submit to magistrates, to carry on their usual business, and, when they could be spared from his service, to return again to their respective employments.

Our Savior's instructions are not like those of Rousseau, adapted to men in an inconceivable state of nature, to which this visionary enthusiast would recall them. They do not require men, like some of the ancient Stoics, to throw their wealth into the sea, or to inflict upon themselves unnatural austerities. But everything about Jesus, in precept and practice, is mild, cheering, great; everything is suited to the precise wants of man in society.

And in his death, who would not submit to crucifixion, could he but die in the temper of Jesus, could he but commend his spirit with such confidence to God? He has died for us, that he might teach us how to die. My friends, may his courage fortify us, may his devotion warm our hearts, and may we never think his commandments grievous, or his example impracticable.

SERMON XVIII.

JOHN XIII. 23.

NOW THERE WAS LEANING ON JESUS' BOSOM ONE OF HIS DISCIPLES,

WHOM JESUS LOVED.

WHAT an expression is this! The disciple whom Jesus loved! There was one, then, in the fraternity of apostles," whom it was not invidious to call the favorite of Jesus. This beloved Son of the almighty Father, whose whole soul was continually filled with the magnitude of the undertaking in which he was engaged for the salvation of a world, and at whom men and angels were gazing with admiration; this Jesus, who had experienced, through the whole of his ministry, nothing but scorn and ingratitude from those whom he came to save, who knew that he was soon to be sacrificed for this hard-hearted world, who was, at the point of time, to which our text refers, anticipating the defection of his dearest friends and followers, and touching upon those fearful scenes in which his holy and benevolent life was ordained painfully to terminate; in a word, this friend of man, of weak, lost, wicked man, in all ages, countries, and conditions, has himself one friend who leaned upon his bosom, and whom he best loved. What an affection must that have been which was not dormant in the breast of Jesus in such an hour as this!