him as a man gluttonous and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners,' to have any place in the belief, or even in the obloquy, of mankind. To say, that our Saviour was chaste and temperate, is so far from seeming like a commendation of his character, that it rather wears the aspect of that cold approbation which is considered as grudged, and is yielded merely because it cannot with decency be refused. Nay, it may with strict propriety be said that the very approach to this subject savours in a degree rather of impropriety and indelicacy, and wears more the appearance of an anxious and sedulous disposition to shield a doubtful reputation, by watchful efforts to say every thing which can be said in its favour, than of a sober determination to utter the sincere approbation of the understanding, and the just applause of the heart.

With these observations premised, I observe,

1. That the industry of Christ was wonderful.

St. Peter describes the character of the Redeemer in these memorable words, who went about doing good.' Acts x. 38. This emphatical description exhibits the active part or side of his life just as it really was; and, though extremely summary, it is complete. Doing good was his only proper, professional, employment; in this employment he did not, like other beneficent persons, stay at home, where he might meet with solitary and casual objects of his kindness, but went unceasingly from place to place to find the greatest number, and those on whom his kindness might be most advantageously employed.

The whole life of Christ was a perfect comment on this text. He himself has often told us his own views concerning the great duty of industry in the service of God. When his mother gently reproved him for the anxiety which he had occasioned to his parents when, at twelve years of age, he staid behind at Jerusalem, while they went forward three days' journey towards Nazareth; he replied, 'How is it that ye have sought me? Wist ye not, that I must be about my Father's business?' This honourable scheme of life, so early adopted, and so forcibly expressed, was the uniform rule of his conduct at every succeeding period, and is often mentioned by him, as such, during the progress of his public ministry. Thus, in his reply to the disciples, asking him a question concerning

the man, who was born blind,' he said, I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day. The night cometh,

when no man can work.' John ix. 4. Thus, when the Pharisees informed him, that Herod would kill him,' and urged him, therefore, to get him out, and depart thence,' he said unto them, ' Go ye, and tell that fox, Behold, I cast out devils, and I do cures, to-day and to-morrow; and the third day I shall be perfected. Nevertheless, I must work to-day, and to-morrow, and the day following.' Thus, also, he declared, universally, the character of his life, in those memorable words, The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister.' Who could claim, with so much propriety, to be ministered unto as Christ? From whom ought not ministering to be expected, rather than from him? Finally, when he was conversing with the woman of Sychar, and his disciples solicited him to eat, he answered, My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work.'

In exact accordance with the spirit of these declarations, we find him, immediately after his baptism, going into the wilderness to suffer and to overcome in his temptation. As soon as this was ended, he journeyed unceasingly throughout Judæa, Galilee, and Peræa, and occasionally in the neighbouring countries, instructing, healing, comforting, and befriending all whom he found willing to hear his words, or fitted to receive his assistance. His early life was a life of industrious labour, literally so called. His public life was also an uninterrupted course of laborious exertions, made in a different manner, a period filled up with duty and usefulness. With an unwearied hand he scattered blessings wherever he went. The manner in which, and the object to whom, the good was to be done, were to him things indifferent, if it was really done. Whether they were friends or enemies, Jews or heathen, disciples or strangers; whether they were to be taught, healed, restored to sight, hearing, or life; he was always prepared to bestow the blessing, wherever there was necessity to demand, or faith to receive it. So wonderfully numerous were the labours of Christ, as to furnish a solid foundation of propriety for that hyperbolical and singular declaration of St. John, with which he concludes his Gospel:

And there are also many other things, which Jesus did; the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that

even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written. Amen.'

A stronger instance of this disposition can hardly be given, than one of those, to which I have already alluded. Hungry, weary, and faint in his journey through the country of Samaria, he came to the neighbourhood of the city Sychar, and seated himself on Jacob's well.' A woman, a miserable inhabitant of that city, came out to draw water, and presented him with an object to whom good might be done, and who infinitely needed it. Forgetting all his own sufferings, our Saviour applied himself with the utmost diligence to accomplish the conversion of this sinful woman, and that of her countryAfter he had conversed a considerable time with her, she left him to call the people of the city. His disciples then prayed him, saying, Master, eat. But he said unto them, I have meat to eat, that ye know not of. Therefore said the disciples one to another, Hath any man brought him aught to eat? Jesus saith unto them, My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work.' The sentiments here expressed, and on this occasion gloriously exemplified in the diligence with which he devoted himself to the business of converting this poor woman and her neighbours, were the rules by which he governed his whole life.

men.

As he drew near to the close of his ministry he appears to have been even more industrious, if possible; and to have taught and done more than during any former period of the same length, as if he thought the remaining time valuable in proportion to its shortness.

Thus he was able to say with perfect confidence and exact truth, after he had ended his ministry, Father, I have glorified thee on earth; I have finished the work, which thou gavest me to do.'

2. His fortitude was not less remarkable.

This characteristic of Christ is everywhere discovered, and with the highest advantage. To form just views of it, we ought to remember that he was alone, poor, and friendless; that he was more opposed than any other person ever was; and that he was opposed by the government and nation of the Jews, especially by the learned, wise, and great. We ought to remember that, wherever he was, he found enemies, enemies to his person and to his mission, subtle, watchful, persevering,

base, and malignant. All his strength, in the mean time, was, under God, in himself, in his mind, in his wisdom and virtue. Yet he met every danger with unshaken firmness, and immoveable constancy. He bore, not only without despondency, without shrinking and without a murmur, but with serenity and triumph, all the evils of life, and, except the hiding of his Father's face, and the manifestations of his anger against sin, all the evils of death. At the same time, all this was done by him, while these evils were suffered by continual anticipation.

They were, in a sense, always in his view. He foretold them daily, and yet encountered them with invincible constancy. Other men, however boldly and firmly they encounter actual calamities, are yet prone to sink under such as are expected. The distresses of a foreboding heart who can bear?

When, during his agony in the garden, the sweat' flowed from him in the form of great drops of blood,' he coolly met the guard which approached to seize him, reproved Peter for his violence, healed the wounded ear of Malchus, secured the escape of his disciples, and delivered himself up to those very soldiers whom his presence had awed into statues.

With the same invincible spirit he endured the miseries and injuries of the crucifixion. All the insults which were mingled with his agonies on the cross were insufficient to remove his self-possession, or disturb his serenity for a moment. Amidst them all he was able to forget himself, to pity and admonish the daughters of Jerusalem, to provide for the future comfort of his mother, and to pray for the forgiveness and salvation of his murderers.

3. Not less wonderful was his meekness.

Meekness is a voluntary and serene quietness of mind under provocations perceived and felt, but of choice unresented.

No person was ever so abused or provoked as Christ, nor in circumstances which so greatly aggravated the provocation. He came from heaven, lived, and died only to do good to his enemies, and received all his abuses while occupied in this divine employment. Ingratitude, therefore, and that of the blackest kind, was mingled with every injury, and added keenness to its edge. At the same time, every abuse was causeless and wanton, without even an imaginary wrong done by him to excite ill-will in his persecutors.

But no person ever bore any provocation with such meckness as he exhibited in every instance of this nature. Neither revenge nor wrath, as this word is usually understood, ever found a place in his breast. His character was maligned, his actions were perverted by the worst misconstruction, himself was insulted often and alway, and all the amiableness and worth of his most benevolent conduct insolently denied; yet 'when reviled, he reviled not again; when he suffered, he threatened not; but committed himself to him that judgeth righteously. In his trial particularly, and at his crucifixion, he was mocked and insulted beyond example. Yet though beaten, buffetted, pierced with thorns, spit upon, derided with mock-worship, and wounded with every other insult which the ingenuity of his enemies could devise, he quietly submitted to them all.

The nature of all these also he perfectly understood, and the sting which each conveyed he deeply felt. The tenderness of Christ's affections, the exquisiteness of his sensibility, are strongly evident, not only in the history of his life, but also in those remarkable predictions contained in Psalms xxii. xl. Ixix. and lxxxviii. Here, in prophetical language, Christ utters the very feelings which he experienced both while he lived, and when he died. No picture of sorrow is drawn in stronger colours, or formed of more vivid images, or can more forcibly exhibit exquisite tenderness and sensibility. In this picture the injuries and insults which Christ received while on earth hold a distinguished place, particularly those which surrounded him at his trial and crucifixion.

The manner in which he felt them all he himself has explained to us in these Psalms, and has taught us to consider them as filling his heart with anguish and agony. Still, he quietly yielded himself to them all without a momentary resentment, without a single reproachful or unkind observation. No cloud of passion appears to have arisen in his breast, or obscured for a moment the steady sunshine of his soul. Calm, and clear, and bright, amid the rage of the tempest beneath, he pursued his celestial course with an undisturbed progress, with a divine serenity.

4. Equally extraordinary was his humility.

No

person ever had the same reason to entertain a high opinion of himself, or would have been so naturally justified,