The Humiliation of Our Saviour.
By C. Green
It is not in the power of human imagination to conceive the majesty and glory our Saviour had with the Father before the world was. But few know the splendor of the courts of earthly kings. How far above these is the glory of the court of Heaven! With a faint conception of his high and exalted position, we contrast it with the lowly condition of the Babe of Bethlehem, and now can, in a measure, comprehend our Lord in human form, for he becomes like ourselves. All are more or less acquainted with suffering. Disappointment and sorrow are the heritage of mortals. He comes to share with us in all our trials, that he may sympathize with the afflicted. Our trials begin with life. Perhaps this is why the story of our Saviour’s birth awakens so strong an interest in the human breast; so much so that even the little child becomes often deeply affected by it. But it is not here that we learn the lesson of our Lord’s humility and patience. We trace his steps from Nazareth to Jordan. We follow him into the wilderness. We witness his conflict with the various temptations and wants of199humanity. We watch with interest his almost unequal contest with his first great enemy, and the adversary of man, and rejoice in his final victory over the power of darkness. We consider the character and calling of those he chooses to be with him during his ministry. We follow with them his journeyings on foot; witness his miracles in behalf of suffering humanity; listen to his teachings of wisdom and instruction; his rebuke of sin in those who made a high profession of piety; his gentle reproofs to those he loved, and forbearance toward those who came to learn the way to life, but, sorrowing, turned away from his cross-bearing counsel; and also his interest to succor those who cried loudly for help. All of these incidents we become acquainted with, but are not yet made familiar with his humiliation. These are his triumphs over disease, evil spirits, and weaknesses of the flesh. He moves along, carrying the tide of humanity with him, by his teachings, his miracles, and his power, when he sought to exercise it in behalf of the truth and his Father’s honor. His humiliation we do not witness, until it begins beneath the shades of Gethsemane. For years, he has borne the sufferings of mortals, but now he feels the sins of the world. Dreadful hour! None but those who have felt the burden of sin can sympathize with him now; and that, but in a faint degree. The Father begins now to cause his Beloved to feel his hatred of sin. His own face begins to be hid from his devoted Son. The triumph of the power of darkness now begins; and not only is the presence of evil spirits felt, but armed men are drawing near, to bind and lead him to the judgment hall. Betrayed with a kiss, that strongest token of friendship, forsaken by friends, and God’s face hidden from him, he is led before those who for a long time have sought his life. He who once swayed the multitude in his favor has given up his power, that the Scripture might be fulfilled and his Father’s will in regard to sin satisfied; and in sweet submission he humbles himself, even to the death of the cross. In one, he satisfies his Father’s will, and the desire of his enemies by his death. Clothed in purple, a reed,—a token of royalty—in his hand, a crown of thorns on his head, spat upon, his humiliation becomes complete by being nailed to the cross, and derided by the multitude. Borne by friends to the tomb, he is hid from mortal sight, to share with all in the lowly bed of mortal man. From Bethlehem to Calvary, we trace his steps, and in his death we find he triumphs, in that he does not murmur, but submits with meekness and filial love, with the words, “Thy will, not mine, be done.” C. GREEN.