The Gentleness of Christ.
By Albert Barnes
WHAT an expression! The gentleness of Christ! How much is there in that short sentence! How much to admire! how much to imitate! Christ performed great deeds—such as no other one ever did; but not that we should imitate them. He spake to the tempest, and stilled the rolling billows—but not that we should lift up our voice when the wind blows, and the thunders roll, and waves are piled mountain high, and attempt to hush them to peace. He stood by the grave and spake, and the dead man left his tomb, and came forth to life—but not that we should place ourselves by the graves of the dead and attempt to restore them to life. He opened the eyes of the blind, taught the lame man to leap as an hart, the tongue of the dumb to sing—but not that we should imitate him in this, or attempt by miracle to give vigor to the feeble, or health to the diseased. But Christ was meek and gentle, that we might be so too. Christ was benignant and kind, that we might be so. Christ patiently bore reviling, that we might do it also; he was not irritable, and uncharitable, and fretful, and envious, revengeful—and in all these we may imitate him. His was a life of benevolence, diffusive like the light of morning without clouds; a life undisturbed by conflicting emotions; unbroken by a harsh and dissatisfied temper; kind when others were unkind; gentle when the storms of furious passion raged in their bosoms; and tranquil and serene while all around him were distracted by anger, and ambition, and envy, and revenge. To us may the same spirit be given; and while the world around us is agitated with passion, and pride, and wrath, in our hearts may there reign evermore “the gentleness of Christ.” —Albert Barnes.