shines on us with so gladdening an effulgence, was to be shrouded in darkness to us the moment we took our places at the Sacramental Table, while his beams shone on the rest of the world with the same unclouded radiance as before, what would be the impression produced by such a phenomenon? It would make the stoutest heart in this assembly "to meditate terror;" and they who were aware that they had no right to so sacred a privilege, but who had contemptuously disregarded reiterated warnings, even they would probably revere it as a warning from heaven.

Such, however, was the phenomenon that now presented itself to those who had procured the condemnation and death of the "Holy and Just One." Often had they demanded a sign from heaven; and now, in righteous displeasure, their request was answered, and there was given them a sign from heaven such as will have no parallel till "that great and terrible day when the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll." Now was verified the prediction of the prophet Amos, "In that day, saith the Lord, I will cause the sun to go down at noon, and I will darken the earth in the clear day, and I will turn your feasts into mourning." As if calling on the Saviour's persecutors to pause and reflect on their conduct, and as if refusing to be the witnesses of wickedness so enormous, the sun was darkened and the face of heaven was vailed.

It was impossible that tokens so appalling should not produce some impression; and, accordingly, we find that at least some of the spectators were forced to regard them as attesting the innocence of the sufferer, and the indignation of heaven at his betrayers and murderers. "When the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly this was a righteous man. And all the people that came together to that

sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their breasts and returned."

(3.) With regard to the Jews, this darkness may be considered as betokening the tremendous vengeance which was soon to overwhelm them. Once there was darkness over the whole kingdom of Egypt, while the children of Israel had light in all their dwellings,—an intimation of approaching destruction to their enemies, and of deliverance to themselves. Unhappily for them, the sign was now completely reversed. Darkness covered the land of Judea, while there was light in the rest of the earth; for the "Sun of righteousness' was about to withdraw from them and enlighten the Gentile nations. Abandoned in righteous judgment to be the victims of their own voluntary blindness, they soon "filled up their sins," as the scripture expresses it, "and wrath came upon them to the uttermost.” "Then was there great tribulation, such as was not from the beginning of the world, no, nor ever shall be." Their country was invaded and ravaged by an unpitying foe, their city and their temple were taken and burnt, "blood was shed in Jerusalem like water," more than a million of them perished in the war, the rest of the nation were dispersed, and to this day they are involved in a moral gloom, and wander on the face of the earth an astonishment and a terror to every other people.

Such were the calamities impending over them, and which we may not unreasonably suppose to have been portended by the darkness which now overspread their territory. And with regard to many, there is reason to fear that this darkness was a prelude of a yet more direful vengeance, even of the gloom of the bottomless pit, and of that "blackness of darkness" which is to be the everlasting habitation of the impeni

tent and the unbelieving. Let us consider the moral import of this darkness,

2d, In regard to Christ himself. And we may remark in general, that, with regard to him, it was in evident accordance with the indescribable abasement through which he was now passing, and the inconceivable anguish and distress which he was now enduring. "It was now the hour" of wicked men, "and the power of darkness." The principalities and powers of hell had mustered their force against the Captain of our salvation; and, as if he would give them the advantage, and encounter them in that element which was most congenial to their nature, darkness pervaded the scene of conflict. In proportion to the purity of the Saviour's mind must have been the pain which he felt, from the efforts of those infernal foes to annoy and ensnare him; and we shall deceive ourselves if we imagine that he suffered but little from his combat with their mighty malice.

There was another cause, however, from which the Son of God was now enduring an anguish still more intense; for there was a gloom which involved his soul, in consequence of the withdrawment of his Father's countenance. Of that material darkness which covered the land of Judea we can easily form a conception, but of that spiritual gloom which overspread the Saviour's soul it is not easy to form a distinct, and it is impossible to form an adequate, idea. Remorse and despair are the two most direful feelings that can agonize the human soul; but the Son of God had no personal guilt, and therefore he could not feel remorse. On the cross he anticipated the "joy that was set before him," and therefore we are not warranted to say that he felt despair. He could not endure, literally, the torments of hell or the horrors of the damned,-which is affirmed

by the celebrated Calvin,-and yet it did seem that he endured a misery greater than any of "the spirits in prison" experiences at one time,-a misery greater than any created spirit, human or angelic, is capable of sustaining. What else can we infer from the images and expressions employed in scripture to describe the present state of his soul, than that his sufferings were such as none but God could inflict, and none but the Son of God sustain? In a prophetic representation of his sufferings, we are told that "the sorrows of death compassed him, and that the pains of hell gat hold on him." We are told that "it pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief." We read of the "travail of his soul," and of "his soul being made an offering for sin." In the unexaggerated narratives of evangelists, and in the didactic discourses of apostles, we are told that he was "in an agony," that he was "amazed and sorrowful," he was "made a curse for us," and that, "in the days of his flesh, he offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears." In describing his own feelings, we find him declaring in the garden, that his soul was "exceedingly sorrowful,-sorrowful even unto death;" and we find him exclaiming on the cross, with a loud and bitter cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Such are the representations given in scripture of that anguish which the Son of God was now enduring. How strange that such expressions should have been employed in reference to such a Being, and that such exclamations should have been uttered by himself! How intense must have been the anguish, how fearful the mental gloom, of which such language is descriptive! This anguish arose, it is probable, not only from the withdrawment of his Father's countenance, the smiles of which form the supreme felicity of every holy being,

but also from the positive inflictions of his Father's wrath, not at him, but at that sin which he was now bearing in his own body on the tree. Now, of the Redeemer's inward anguish and gloom, the external darkness formed an impressive though inadequate emblem. Eclipses of the celestial luminaries and other unusual phenomena have perplexed earthly monarchs with fear of turmoil and disaster, as if their paltry concerns could affect or interest the magnificent objects or stupendous movements of nature. Now, however, the Lord of nature was suffering, and it was fit that nature should give signs of sympathy. His birth had been notified by a preternatural light, and it was proper that his death should be announced by a preternatural darkness. The Sun of Righteousness was undergoing an eclipse, and well might the natural sun vail himself in obscurity. It was now the crisis of the world, the fate of the universe was at stake,-the interests of heaven and earth depended on the issue of the conflict now agitating; and well, therefore, might heaven and earth give tokens of anxiety and fear.

3d, Your time will scarcely permit me to advert, as I proposed, to the moral import of that darkness in reference to ourselves. There is one thing, however, which it indicated in reference to the Saviour, to his Father, and to us, and which it is indispensably necessary to mention. It is this: that the time at which that darkness terminated, indicated that divine justice was completely satisfied, and our redemption completely accomplished, by the Saviour's sufferings. If there be one particular connected with those sufferings which more than any other deserves our attention, it is the nature or design of them. Infinite as was the dignity of the sufferer, and inconceivable as was the severity of his sufferings, to us they would have possessed little