SERMON XII.

THE ALABASTER BOX OF PRECIOUS OINTMENT.

Monday before Easter.

ST. MARK XIV. 3.

And being in Bethany, in thE HOUSE OF SIMON the Leper, AS HE SAT AT MEAT, THERE CAME A WOMAN HAVING AN ALABASTER BOX OF OINTMENT OF SPIKENARD VERY PRECIOUS; AND SHE BRAKE THE BOX, AND POURED IT ON HIS

HEAD.

Ir is an admitted principle in the constitution of human nature, that constant familiarity has a tendency to weaken the vividness of our interest, and the strength of our impressions. The most astonishing phenomena of nature, the surpassing wonders of our own material and mental mechanism, scarcely elicit one transient emotion, because they have been familiarised to us by daily experience. And so it is with the great truths of our religion. Topics so astounding, so affecting, that they might rend the very rocks, or wake the very dead, are listened to by Christians with a sluggish indifference, because they have been in the habit of hearing them. As the glorious sun is scarce observed, when, by a daily miracle, he pours his beams upon this benighted world, so the brighter glories of the Sun of Righteous

ness shine forth in the midst of us, and yet are scarce perceived. We speak of life and death, resurrection and judgment to come, celestial joys, and fire that is never quenched; we tell of the LORD OMNIPOTENT cradled in a manger, and the Prince of Life dying upon a malefactor's cross; and yet, most wonderful to say, such transcendent, such absorbing subjects are listened to with a stupid apathy, or turned from as if they were some dull, stale, flat, and unprofitable tales.

To counteract this benumbing force of habit, the Church wisely appoints set times and seasons for the express and definite consideration of the principal articles of our Christian faith. The vague and floating impressions of society are thus periodically forced into some shape and form. These recurring solemnities break in upon the routine of carelessness, and summon, with an emphasis too distinct to be disregarded, the most thoughtless to consideration. Like pauses in the race of life, they check for a little the ordinary current of our existence, and remind us of another and a higher scene of things. There are few so callous and so cold, that they are not solemnised and softened, when the day arrives upon which JESUS was born, or was crucified, or rose again, or ascended into heaven! No, my Brethren, human nature, fallen, corrupted though it be, still retains too much of her divine original not to kindle, and melt, and burn, when such meditations are really dwelt on by the mind, and mused upon in her quiet chambers. If Christian men would steadily fix their attention by faith upon the facts of our religion, emotions suitable to those facts, love, gratitude, devotion, must be elicited as the necessary consequence. The tempter knows full well that his power would be destroyed if men would thus commune with their own

hearts and be still. He, therefore, attempts, and, alas! but too successfully attempts, so to occupy the thoughts that these sacred truths can find no admittance or attention. In the bustle of business, or the noise of party, or the whirl of dissipation, or the laughter of levity, he strives to drown the still small voice which ever and anon whispers to the interior conscience. To make men think, then, is a most important part of the process, begun in Holy Baptism, which transfers them from the power of Satan unto God; to fix their minds upon truths suited by their nature to engage the intellect, to attract the affections, to mollify and purify the heart.

Wisely adapted, therefore, to the infirmity of man is that provision of the Church which assigns to particular portions of the Christian scheme their definite and peculiar periods of inculcation. We are all of us indeed, the paptized disciples of the Crucified, and by profession Bearers of a Cross. Three times every week we pray to be delivered by His agony and bloody sweat, by His cross and passion. Such are our professions, such our prayers throughout the year. But the present season call us with a deeper emphasis to behold the LAMB of GOD which taketh away the sin of the world; to meditate upon His mysterious sufferings; to look upon the bruises which for our iniquities HE bare, the stripes by which we were healed. In the solemn services of this holy week, the Church attends her LORD along the path of His voluntary agonies. We shall hear His gentle voice consoling His sorrowing disciples with the promise of another COMFORTER, and bequeathing to them. and us the blessed Sacrament of His Body and Blood. We shall stand beside HIM in the garden, and witness the bloody sweat, which evidences the soul within sore

amazed, and exceeding sorrowful even unto death. We shall see HIM betrayed by His own familiar friend, deserted by those who should have loved HIM to the last. We shall behold HIM a degraded criminal, arrayed in the garment of mockery, and the crown of thorns, scourged, buffeted, spitted on. And with His everblessed mother we shall stand mourning over against His cross, and listen to His voice, though faltering in death, still of energy divine, as He prays for His murderers, opens Paradise to the repentant thief, and declares that His work is finished.

"The LORD," says the Venerable Bede, "when about to suffer for the whole world and redeem the nations by His blood, dwells in Bethany, that is, in the house of obedience." To that tranquil scene He had been wont to retire from the noise and tumult of Jerusalem, and there he was now preparing HIMSELF for His final struggle. You have seen HIM in this day's Gospel condescending to partake the hospitality of that Simon whom he had healed of his leprosy. And " as He sat at meat, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard very precious, and she brake the box and poured it on His head." This woman, according to the most eminent authority,' was Mary, the sister to Lazarus. Of her St. Augustin observes, that she is the only instance recorded in the Gospel of one who came to JESUS not to be relieved of any temporal malady, or bodily infirmity, but to cast on HIM the intolerable burden of her sins. A sinner--a ruined

2

1 St. Augustin.

2

I follow the authority of St. Augustin in supposing that the woman mentioned in my text is the same who is spoken of in St. Luke, chap. vii. as anointing our Blessed LORD upon another and former occasion.

outcast-scorned, despised, unpitied-for the world has no pity for such transgressions as go the least beyond its arbitrary license-she had drunk to the dregs the cup of guilty pleasure, and she had tasted it to be a cup of bitterness. Forsaken by friends, despairing, broken-hearted, one faint ray of hope beamed through the gloomy darkness of her prospects. She had heard of JESUS-His works of charity, His miracles of goodness. Perhaps, she thought, this great Physician may have some balm to heal the wounds even of such a wretch as I am, some word of consolation, some

hope of mercy. And she drew near with trembling diffidence and eyes suffused with penitential tears. And, oh! can we be surprised that she loved much, when, as she stood weeping before her LORD, she beheld the Divine compassion which shone upon that countenance; and heard from those all-gracious lips, not bitter reproaches, or harsh reflections, but words too transporting for belief, thy sins are forgiven thee! Can we wonder that devotion to such a Master henceforth became the ruling passion of her soul? A love which followed JESUS' steps whithersoever he went; a love which would not be divided from HIM even in His death, for Mary stood mourning over against His

cross!

But the love of Mary was not merely ardent. It was what is far more rare-it was constant and unchilled by time. The circumstance referred to in my text took place long after the occasion recorded in the seventh chapter of St. Luke, when Mary for the first time approached her SAVIOUR; when she washed His feet with tears, and anointed them with ointment, and received forgiveness of her sins. This first appearance of Mary was early in our LORD's ministry. But the