THAT life on which it is proposed to found an argument for Divinity was singular in the materials and the mode of its formation. The outward and the inward aspects of every earthly course are mysteriously related to each other. The age, the country, the physical organization, education, society, and the like, exert an acknowledged influence in the intellectual and moral development of a human being. Native force of character may rise above the accidents of birth and early position and all the external conditions by which the soul is limited, so that it can never be predicted with certainty, from any given circumstances, what a man’s future life shall be, because we can never foresee how the action of these circumstances may be modified, and what minute and delicate influences may either neutralize or assist their effect in the progress of years. But the fact of dependence and of moral causation, nevertheless, has almost the constancy and sovereignty of a universal law. The seeds of that definite form which each individual life eventually assumes will be found to lie within its early history. The future is never accidental and capricious, a void filled up with materials, gathered according to no principle and disposed without order or law. It is rather the natural product of elements which existed and acted in the earlier period of life. The present and the future stand almost in the relation of cause and effect. Events, influences, incidents in the one largely contribute to make the other what it ultimately becomes. Usually a man’s early life and position will be found to contain the germ and to furnish the true interpretation Of his future character in history.

PART I.

CHRIST’S SOCIAL POSITION.

His Mother.—Her views respecting Him and their origin.—The influence of these on Him.—Nothing else, in the early life of Jesus, favorable to his subsequent elevation.—His Poverty, hinderances in this to his Ministry.—“The Carpenter.”—His want of formal education and of patronage.

IT will be proved that the common formative principles which have just been referred to utterly fail to explain the life of Jesus. His life, we shall find, stands out a mysterious exception to all the ordinary laws that govern the destiny of men. What He ultimately became, so far from harmonizing with his early course and his outward condition, was reached not because hut in spite of all the influences descending upon him from both of these regions. It was not a natural result of the circumstances amid which he grew up, but one which, unless to some hidden antagonist force, these circumstances must have rendered absolutely impossible.

We can recognize one specific agency, indeed, though only one, which undeniably had an effect in preparing Jesus in his early life for the position to which he eventually rose. There was one person, nearer to him and dearer than any other, who must have exerted an influence in the formation of his character favorable to the peculiar development which it was destined to reach. That person was his mother. The Virgin Mary entertained from the first very exalted notions respecting her Son. The origin of these notions can not be unfolded here, because we have consented to surrender for the time all that is supernatural in the New Testament records. The mystery of Christ’s birth, the vision of the shepherds of Bethlehem, the visit of the Chaldean sages, the prophetic words of Simeon and Anna in the Temple, must therefore be left out of the discussion. Perhaps it will be found by and by, that facts of this nature beautifully harmonize with the calmest and soundest views which can be taken of the Christian writings. But no use must be made of them here, and they must not be suffered to influence either the narrative or the argumentative part of this investigation.

Twelve years after the birth of Christ, an incident occurred, which is the more remarkable, because it forms the solitary piece of intelligence which is communicated to us respecting a period of his life, extending over nearly thirty years. On the occasion of the Passover, the child Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem after Mary and her husband Joseph had left to return home, and at the end of three days he was found by them in the Temple, sitting at the feet of the teachers of the Law, listening to them and asking them questions. The circumstance, of Jesus being so long separated from his earthly guardians without their knowledge, is easily accounted for by the usages of the Passover-time. Even his being found with the teachers of the Law is not out of harmony with the history and manners of the period. The Jewish historian relates something of this kind, which happened to himself when he was about fourteen years of age.

Ἔτι δ᾽ἄρα, παῖς ὢν περὶ τεσσαρεσκαιδέκατον ἔτος, διὰ τὸ φιλογράμματον ὑπὸ πάντων ἐπητούμενος, συνιόντων ἀεὶ τῶν ἀρχιερέῶν καὶ τῶν τῆς πόλεως πρώτων ὑπὲρ τοῦ παρ᾽ ἑμοῦ περὶ τῶν νομίμων ἀκριβέστερόν τι γνῶναι. Vita Josephi, sec. 2, in Oper. Geneva, 1688.

PART II.

THE SHORTNESS OF HIS EARTHLY COURSE.

Duration of His Ministry.—His Death.—Earthly Causes of it.—Intolerance of the World and His own unconquerable Will.—Shortness of His Life in relation to the Form of His Work—in relation to His Influence on succeeding Ages.

THE disciples of Christianity suggest that, had the Redeemer of the World lived to old age, the impression, at least on their minds, of feebleness, imperfection, and decrepitude must have been deeply injurious. They suggest, besides, that Jesus lived long enough to gain a full experience of the world—a knowledge of the duties, trials, and hazards of life—and long enough for the full probation of his personal character and for the completion of his great work for the world. Whatever force there be in these suggestions, let the simple fact of the case be here briefly stated: Jesus passed away from the earth when he was only thirty-three years of age. Thirty years he spent in Nazareth; for three years he ministered before the world, and then he suffered death by crucifixion.

PART III.

THE AGE AND PLACE IN WHICH HE APPEARED.

Moral condition of the age.—Gentile world.—Judea.—Galilee.—Nazareth

Mythical theory.—Irreconcilable with the outer conditions of Christ’s life.—These, facts not myths.—Not founded on Messianic ideas.

THE circumstances to be introduced here do not need extended notice, but they are too important to be omitted entirely. The age in which Jesus appeared, the nation to which he belonged, and the place where he dwelt while among men, formed an obvious limitation around his earthly life. If there shall be found any thing free, and catholic, and world-wide in the affections and purposes of his soul, it must be remembered that he was born a Jew, one of a people who had been long accustomed to over-value themselves and to under-value all the rest of the world—a people who had become notoriously proud, narrow, and intolerant. He appeared, besides, at a peculiar crisis in the history of that people, and indeed of the world. The testimony of many independent witnesses proves beyond question the awful corruption of manners into which the nations of antiquity had then sunk. It is represented that the age betrayed a secret consciousness of its own moral condition, and a secret apprehension that some terrible change was approaching. It would be mere pedantry to quote in proof of this, from Lucian on the one hand and from Juvenal and Persius on the other, passages with which even a moderate scholarship is familiar. And with respect to Judea, the Jewish historian of the times

Joseph. Antiq. Jud. See the detail commencing, Καὶ πρότερον τοῦ τῶν Ἰσιακῶν, κ. τ. λ. lib. 18. cap. 3., Geneva, 1663.

PART I.

HIS OWN IDEA OF HIS PUBLIC LIFE.

His public position, the act of his own will.—His claim to Messiahship.—His idea of Messiahship.—Not temporal but spiritual.—Not national but universal.—Jesus alone in his age, his country, the world

IT is a fact that Jesus of Nazareth rose to a position of unrivaled prominence in the eyes of his country. Whether this may appear to have resulted, according to the natural succession of events, from causes which are at once obvious, or whether it shall be found inexplicable on ordinary principles, the fact itself remains; and no naturalistic, rationalistic, or mythic theory, can expunge it from the record.

Perhaps the broad and startling peculiarities of the age in which Jesus appeared, on the one hand, influenced his mind, and on the other hand, prepared his countrymen to recognize his assumed prominence. The great epochs in the history of the world, when it is laboring under some intolerable burden, or heaving with some new and urgent mission just ripe for development, find for themselves the men equal to their wants. Unwonted results are always exhibited at such times—powers which had never before revealed their existence are drawn forth, and latent attributes of character start into sudden energy at the bidding of extraordinary emergencies. Individuals; in spite of themselves, are then elevated to celebrity, or the necessities of the times appeal to some mind so resistlessly, that although uninvited, yet secretly conscious of resolution and energy, equal to the crisis, the man feels himself compelled to step forth at once into publicity.

It is certain, that no demand from any quarter was made upon Jesus to attempt the emancipation of his country and his age. The eyes of the nation were not turned to him and no party in the nation, perhaps not an individual, was prepared to find a Redeemer in him. The transition from private to public life was spontaneous on his part. The first thought, the matured purpose, and the decisive act, were all entirely his own. He came forth of his own accord—he assumed a public position, and was not compelled, or even invited, or even encouraged, to accept it. This was marvellous. We can not but ask, did it not abash a man in his condition to become, and above all, to make himself, an object of universal attention? Did not his want of preparation, and his conscious incapacity for a great public enterprise overwhelm him? Did he not tremble to encounter the caprice of the multitude—the learning, bigotry, and jealousy, of the priesthood, and the tyranny, and cruelty of the civil rulers? He did not, so far as can be discovered. Without fear, but with no ostentation of courage, Jesus placed himself on an unusual elevation. His entrance into public life, whatever it might mean, and whatever it might involve, was not a foreign suggestion, but a native impulse—a deliberate purpose of his own; and his own purpose also regulated all his movements throughout. Neither the popular feeling, nor even the wishes of his disciples, nor the current of events, were suffered to govern him, for he repeatedly acted in the face of them all. His own idea from the first was supreme, and his life was a determined realization of that idea, in spite of every opposing force.

The highest end of Christ’s mission, whether in his mind, or in the evangelic record, is not now the subject of investigation. His entire life, his personal character, and his public labors would require to be spread out; and not only his life, but his death, with all its mysterious meaning; and not only his life and his death, but the subsequent history of himself and his cause would require to be examined, before we could reach even the materials for forming a correct judgment of his mission, in its wide and holy significance. It is enough at present to know, that he claimed to be The Messiah of the Jews. He repeatedly avowed this claim in plain terms; and it is obvious, on the face of the gospels, that from first to last, the conviction in his mind, one of the formative and governing principles of his public life, was this, that he was The Messiah.

It is historically certain that at this period the advent of a deliverer was widely expected, and expected with intense enthusiasm. The Gentile world, groaning beneath its burden of darkness and crime, awaited a supernatural redemption; and Judea was tremulous with a hope well defined, and established by the authority of many a sacred text. It was not wonderful that, in a time of universal and high excitement many unfounded claims should be put forward, and especially that among the Jews pretenders should start up, moved by personal ambition or patriotism, or religious enthusiasm. Besides, it must not be overlooked that the appearance of John the Baptist, a genuine claimant of religious distinction, whose success at this period was unbounded, was calculated not to repress, but to deepen the aspirations of other susceptible souls. Perhaps in this way, humble as Jesus was, the latent spark of ambition, patriotism, or piety, was kindled up in his breast, and at last in that obscure village, he came to hope and believe that he was “the elect of God.” But a critical and vital question demands solution here, before we can consent to this interpretation of the origin of his movements. It is this: were the received views of the character and the mission of the Messiah, Christ’s views? Had he only caught the spirit of his times? Was he only an embodiment of the popular faith? Was he only a creation, naturally springing up out of sentiments and feelings which had long rooted themselves in the heart of the nation? He was not; but he was diametrically the opposite of all this. His idea had nothing in common with the views and the spirit which were then universal, but was peculiar to himself and perfectly original.

The Jewish Messiah,

Channing’s Sermon on the Character of Christ, Glasgow edition of works. p. 425.

PART II.

THE COMMENCEMENT OF HIS MINISTRY.

He dealt with the Age and Country collectively.—Their Character.—Christ, the Incarnate Conscience of both.—He not conscious of Personal Guilt.—Began by rebuking, in order to reform, the Nation.

THE marked difference between the views which are now held of the office of teaching, and those which were prevalent in the ancient world, must not be overlooked. Very extended freedom of investigation and communication was enjoyed in heathen nations by all classes, without distinction. The priesthood were not considered to possess higher rights and powers in this respect than others, and any individual, without violating any law or any established usage, might found a school and promulgate his faith or his skepticism. No restrictive policy, at least as to persons, was sanctioned even in Judea, and even the office of religious teaching was not reserved for the clerical or any other privileged order. There were rabbis, the heads of schools for sacred learning, and there were also scribes and lawyers whose business it was to write out copies of the sacred text and to expound its meaning; but they were not necessarily priests nor of the Levitical tribe. There was nothing in the laws or customs of Judea, to hinder any individual from assuming the office of religious teacher. It may therefore have excited little surprise, when Jesus began to teach, that he was no priest or rabbi, or scribe or lawyer. But it must have struck the men of that generation that he was young, and poor, and unlearned; all the outer conditions of his life were such as to make it wonderful that he should aspire to any public office, and to insure that, if he hazarded the attempt, his presumption would be punished with certain. and signal failure.

But the voice of Christ was lifted up, and the world heard, as, indeed, the world hears to this day. In some of the villages of Galilee, he first began to speak, to individuals or to small or large assemblages of persons, as the circumstances might be. He journeyed throughout Galilee, then throughout the other parts of Judea, and was frequently in Jerusalem preaching and teaching. It is the first tones of his voice which we now seek to catch, the commencement of his ministry which we now seek to observe and interpret. He began to deal with facts rather than with doctrines—with this fact especially, that one great era in the world’s history was then closing, and another of higher meaning and of brighter promise was then opening upon men. He began by characterizing the masses rather than individuals by depicting the country and the age collectively, and in their broad and prominent qualities. He foretold the speedy doom of things as they then were, and declared that evil, wide-spread and deep-seated, could no longer be endured and that a radical spiritual revolution was at hand—a kingdom of God in place of a reign of hypocrisy and formalism. And he taught at the same time that the duty of the age was expressed in one word, repentance not in the restricted meaning to which custom has reconciled us, but in the sense of an entire and universal change of mind. “Repent,” he cried as he commenced his public course; “change your minds, for the reign of heaven is at hand.”

Matt. iv. 17.

PART III.

THE MARKED CHARACTER OF HIS PUBLIC APPEARANCES.

I. Severity.—Moral Condition of Palestine.—Scenes of His early Ministry.—Scribes and Pharisees.—Formalism and Hypocrisy.—II. Tenderness.—Instances and Source.—III. Simplicity.—General Character of His Life.—Relation of His Teaching to Times, Places, Persons.—His Words and Illustrations.—IV. Authority.—Testimony of Hearers.—Claim to Connection with God.

THE individuality of Jesus strongly impressed itself on his whole public life. It gave a unique form, as has just been shown, to the beginning of his ministry, and the same impress, but drawn with deeper lines, was left on his. entire subsequent course. One of the most marked features of Christ’s spirit and manner in public was

I. The terrible severity with which, although seldom, he exposed and denounced evil. Friendless and powerless as he seemed to be—as in his earthly relations he certainly was—he did not repress on necessary occasions a burning indignation and if a voice of thunder was required to awaken and alarm that generation, such a voice was lifted up and resounded through the length and breadth of the land. Supposing the aim of Jesus to have been, as we shall hereafter prove that it was, to plant a spiritual system among men—the mightiest obstruction then existing to such a system was the condition of Judea. The minds of the Jews were so proud, so blinded, and so hardened by sin, that until they were thoroughly aroused and convicted, there could be no opening for the entrance of new light and life. It was not of choice, but from necessity, that the preaching of Jesus took that form which was yet an exception to its pervading tone, and that with stern severity he rebuked the age in which he appeared. “This is an evil generation”—“an evil and adulterous generation”—“a sinful generation”—“a wicked generation”—“a perverse generation”—“that the blood of all the prophets which has been shed from the foundation of the world may be required of this generation.”

Matthew, Mark, and Luke, passim.

Upon the scenes of his earlier ministrations, he poured forth his indignant, yet pathetic warnings—“Woe unto thee, Chorazin! woe unto thee, Bethsaida! for if the mighty works, which have been done in you, had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and in ashes. But I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgment than for you. And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shall be brought down to hell.”

Matthew, xi. 21, 22, 23.

But the objects of deepest aversion and abhorrence to Jesus were the Pharisees, Lawyers, and Scribes, the leaders of the chief sect in that day, the transcribers and interpreters of the Bible. He was strikingly more patient with the Sadducees, the latitudinarians and freethinkers of Judea, although he decisively condemned their principles. Even to the convicted and gross violator of the laws of morality, he spoke with wondrous gentleness. But his severity was consuming, when he turned to the high religious professors—the men of stern orthodoxy and of saintly rigor—the admired but unworthy champions of Judaism. Hypocrisy, pretense, hollow semblance, were of old, and they are still, unutterably abhorrent to Christ; and nothing was, or now is, so dear to him as simplicity and sincerity. If there be still, as there were of old, men “who tithe mint and anise and cummin, but neglect the weightier matters of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith,” in whom, however fair their exterior, are found not the living principles of religion, but only dead dogmas and submission to outward forms, Christianity disowns them as Christ disowned these. The kingdom of God on earth which he announced and founded, is the reign of living principles in the soul, not the adoption with the lips, or even by the judgment, of a system of dogmas, however true, and not outward homage to any set of rites, however significant. The Being with whom we have to do is a spirit; and his worship is a spiritual and real service. Nothing but truth, pure truth, a living reality in the soul, will answer to the principles and the spirit of the Christian books. Simple reality is every thing in this religion—pretense is infamy and crime.

Against hypocrisy, formalism, pretense, Jesus lifted up his voice in the severest tones. “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, which is hypocrisy.” “Woe unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites.” “Ye shut the kingdom of heaven against men, and neither go in yourselves nor suffer them that are entering to go in.” “Ye love greetings in the market-places, and the uppermost rooms at feasts, and the chief seats in the synagogues.” “Ye bind heavy burdens on men’s shoulders, but ye yourselves will not touch them with one of your fingers.” “Ye devour widows’ houses, and for a pretense make long prayers.” “Ye compass sea and land to make one proselyte, and when he is made, he is tenfold more the child of hell than before.” “Ye cleanse the outside, but within ye are full of extortion and excess.” “Ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.” “Ye blind guides.” “Oh, fools, and blind.” “Whited sepulchers, outwardly ye appear righteous, but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.” “Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how shall ye escape the damnation of hell?”

Matthew, xxiii. 13-33.

But severity in Christ was exceptional and occasional, as it was terrible. It was awakened only toward certain aspects of the age, and only toward certain classes of character. Another and quite opposite attribute pervaded and distinguished his official life—the attribute of

II. Tenderness. The great lights of the world, brilliant but cold, have not often reflected, much of this gentle virtue. Philosophers and sages have deemed susceptibility of heart unbecoming their character and vocation. A gifted and God-sent man, it is thought, must be superior to all the tenderer and softer impulses of ordinary human nature; and it is found in fact, that when men imagine they are appointed to act in God’s name, they at once assume a sort of holy isolation and crucify the common feelings and sympathies which bind them to their fellow-creatures. They speak down to humanity, instead of standing on its level and mingling in its sorrows and its joys.

The life of Jesus Christ is full of incidents, that reveal surpassing tenderness of heart. As he journeyed to Jerusalem, when he drew near to the city, he wept over it, and said, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen cloth gather her chickens under her wings, but ye would not!” “If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this, thy day, the things that belong to thy peace; but now they are hid from thine eyes!”

Luke, xiii. 34, and xix. 42.

PART IV.

HIS TEACHING.

PART V.

THE ARGUMENT FROM HIS WORK TO HIS DIVINITY.

Human systems of religious truth.—Mohammedanism.—Hindooism and Buddhism.—Talmudism.—Ancient Jewish Scriptures.—Stoicism, earlier and later.—Errors and Excellences.—Socraticism or Platonism.—Philo-Judæas.—Life of Socrates.—His Death.—His Faith and Hopes.—Christian views of them and him.—Christianity contrasted with Teaching of Socrates.—Solution, Christ’s true Divinity.

THE peculiar conditions of the earthly life of Jesus have now been examined. The time and place of his advent, his parentage, his social position and his early death, strike the least reflecting, and give extraordinary significance to his subsequent history. They therefore first received consideration.

It seemed proper, then, to look at the more prominent and public developments of a life which formed itself under such peculiar conditions. The position to which Christ actually rose, his own idea of that position, the commencement of his public course, the qualities that marked his public appearances, and his teaching itself; contrasted with the speculations and discoveries of other lands and ages, were successively reviewed.

We presume now to venture still nearer to this mysterious personality. Advancing beyond his outward circumstances and his public life, we meditate a close inspection of his inner spiritual being, the sphere of his conscience and his soul. We seek to penetrate that holy place where, exposed to the eye of the Omniscient, lie all the hidden principles of the outward life. We seek to look within the vail, into the innermost chamber of that spiritual temple which the heart of Jesus inclosed, and with anxious impartiality and with devout fear, we approach the secrets of this untrodden region.

The proper spiritual individuality of Jesus Christ was evinced in his oneness with God, in the forms of his consciousness, in his manifestation before the world as a whole, in the motive of his life, and in his calm assurance of Triumph.

PART I.

HIS ONENESS WITH GOD.

Communion between created and uncreated Mind.—Human side of the Doctrine.—Effort to conceive God.—Faith in His Nearness to us.—In His Love.—Sense of Dependence.—Veneration.—Trust.—God listening and responding to the Soul.—To Christ, God the greatest Reality.—Christ alone with God.—Original, habitual Union.—Walked with God.

COMMUNION between the uncreated and the created mind is a contested subject in the theological schools. We mingle not in the conflict, but venture to express the profound convict ion that, if God be the Father of minds, then the idea is very rational and very refreshing that he should mercifully regard his intelligent offspring, and be ready to converse with them; and, on the other hand, that they should seek to communicate with him. But it is a hard effort for the created mind even to conceive of God, much more to commune with him. A perfectly just conception of God is impossible. The Infinite can never be contained within the finite. The utmost possible to us is to strive to approach, for we can never even approach, however distantly, toward the idea of an infinite nature, infinite excellence, infinite duration; the idea of the uncreated, all-creating Mind, the eternal dwelling and source of life, truth, love, and power. And even this striving after a distant approach to the conception of God is more than we can long endure. We are overwhelmed by our own poor thoughts, and can only bow down in helpless wonder, before Him who is past finding out. “It is high as heaven, what canst thou do? It is deeper than Hades, what canst thou know? The measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea.”

To stretch toward the Infinite is the first effort the second is to connect the Infinite with our personal sphere, our movements, interests, and destinies. Nothing is more certain than that God is as cognizant of every human soul as if it alone existed in immensity. The changes in our outward condition, and all the passing shades of emotion and of volition within, must be instantly perceived by him. His awful presence is unutterably near to us, the open Infinite Eye gazes upon us every moment. When this faith is once reached, life becomes invested with wondrous sanctity; but it is not enough. Does the Great Being who is so mysteriously near, also love the creatures he hath made? Perhaps the open Infinite Eye is cold as it is luminous, and in conducting the vast interests of the universe, God is indifferent to what is passing in individual minds, and heeds not whether they suffer or rejoice, or how they appeal to his throne. The conviction is indispensable, that the nature of God, in its relation to our minds, is essentially parental. How this conviction is legitimately reached, on what basis it must rest in order to be permanent and safe, can not be shown in this place, but it must be reached. It must be believed that God is profoundly interested in the human soul; that the eternal Father stands in the tenderest relation to that soul, and that Divine sympathy and Divine love are not less but more real, than human sympathy and human love.

The mind of man in deep earnest stretching up toward the infinite God, believing in his mysterious nearness and in his love, presumes to utter itself before him. At such a moment, its first feeling is that of absolute dependence. It is in the very condition to trace back existence, preservation, and all good for the present or for the eternal life to the uncreated Source. Along with this sense of dependence, there is deep veneration, not simply love, but such love as finds its proper object only in God—love mingled with awe, love taking its very highest form, the form of reverence. There is superadded simple trust, trust in parental love commanding infinite resources, the confiding look and confiding heart of a child. The mind of man gazing up to the Infinite Nature with mingled dependence, reverence, and trust, opens and utters itself to Omniscience.

This is the human side of communion, but there is here, as yet, no interchange. There is outgoing from below, but no response from above. On earth the communion of one human mind with another is profoundly mysterious, and it is far more rare than we imagine. Intercourse by looks, words, and acts, is universal; but real mental fellowship, communion of intellect with intellect, conscience with conscience, heart with heart; communion of soul with soul is excessively rare. It is always and necessarily imperfect. The real and great differences between one soul and another, and the consequent proportional defect of sympathy between them, mental and moral incompetence and poverty on the one side or the other, or both in different respects, constitutional or acquired reserve, shame, pride, and fear, necessarily prevent the entireness and the freedom of communion. But such as it is, it is real, and there are palpable expressions and tokens of it, and a palpable medium through which it is conducted. There is no palpable medium of intercourse between the human soul and God, and on the side of God there are no palpable expressions and tokens of its reality. The region belongs to pure faith; we only believe that God is responding to us; that is literally all. But this faith is rational, and it is purifying and exalting. If one human soul welcomes and answers the utterances of an other, it is morally certain that the Eternal Father will meet the advances of his own child. God must perceive every movement of the soul toward him, self, and can we doubt, that he will greet the rising aspiration in his pity and love? The belief is in harmony with the highest reason, that the Uncreated responds to the created mind, pours illumination, breathes down peace, and sheds forth living and healing influences. Divine fellowship is the selectest and most solemn of all mysteries. It is a blessed moment in the earthly history of a soul, when it seeks an audience of God, and believes that God is mercifully listening and responding to it. This is heaven on earth, an earnest of the highest dignities and the noblest joys of the life to come. Communion with God is the most exalted spiritual privilege, and the habit of communion is the proof of the most matured spiritual excellence.

Jesus Christ possessed this privilege in a higher degree than it was ever possessed by man, and he exhibited this excellence in a maturity which was never beheld on earth before or since. On reading his life, the impression is irresistible that his soul was full of God. The selection of a few great occasions could not convey to us an adequate conception of the constancy Sand closeness of his union with the Invisible Father. His labors were incessant he was in the midst of the ignorant, who needed to be instructed, the suffering, who needed to be relieved, and the mourners; who needed to be comforted. The demands made on his sympathy, his wisdom, and his power, were perpetual, and he delighted to meet them all. It was not often that he could rob his public work of the hours which might have contributed to his solitary personal joy, but he was never separated from God in thought or in heart. The word oftenest on his lips was this, “the Father,”—“the Father”—“God!” Spontaneously, naturally, constantly, the idea rose, because it was a fixed reality, the greatest of all realities in his mind. No being was so present to him as God; not merely in the hours of peculiar and prolonged communion, but always and every where God was every thing to him. Habitually he brought the Invisible and Uncreated into the sphere of the visible and the created; in his mind the two were one. Even amid multitudes, who had no sympathy with the movements of his inner nature, he knew how to be alone with God, and could convert the crowded city into a religious solitude.

But the deep yearnings of Jesus’ soul, the Divine force within, often drove him into literal solitude, that he might give unrestrained and full expression to his spiritual emotions. In every one of the eventful crises of his life, he gave affecting testimony to the reality of his oneness with God. “He went into a desert place, and there prayed.” “He went up into a mountain to pray.” We find that he spent days and nights also, in solitary prayer and communion with God. After his baptism, and before entering on his public course, he went into the wilderness and spent weeks alone with God. On one occasion, after a succession of public labors, we are told that “rising up a great while before day, he departed into a solitary place, and there prayed.” When the people sought to take him by force, in order to crown him, he withdrew to pray. On the night of his betrayal, thinking more of the sorrows of his disciples than of his own, “he lifted up his eyes to heaven and prayed” for them. In the garden of Gethsemane, overwhelmed with agony, he prayed, saying, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me.” His agony deepening, “he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”

See Matt. xiv. 23, and xxvi. 36; Mark. i. 35, and vi. 46; Luke, v. 16, and vi. 12, and ix. 28; John, xvii. 1.

Christ’s attendance in the temple or the synagogue, his sacrifices and offerings, and his regard to places, rites, and days—things which in that age were thought to enter into the very essence of religion—are little noticed in the Gospels. But in the habits of his mind, in his words, and in his uniform example, he revealed that which alone gave worth to outward services and sanctity to the synagogue and the temple. He revealed the soul and God, and the reality of intercourse between them. Standing erect in his heavenward tendencies and in his purity, he laid open the spiritual world, its occupations, its eternity, its glory—like a majestic column, round whose base there lies an atmosphere of pollution and darkness, but on whose summit there streams perpetual sunshine. Jesus walked on the earth, but his soul was in the skies with God, and in the light of that upper sphere he ever viewed the world below, and conducted all his ministrations among men.

PART II.

THE FORMS OF HIS CONSCIOUSNESS.

Nature of Consciousness.—Its Universality.—Value of its Testimony.—Christ’s Consciousness.—Highest Development.—Expressed to the last.—Interpretation of it.—Proof of the Validity of His Claims.

THERE is an inward sense, the counterpart of the senses of the body. These reveal the external, this the internal world. The eye and the ear assure us respecting the existence of material objects; consciousness assures us respecting the actual facts within our minds, our experiences, motives, thoughts, and aims at every movement. In this, all mental phenomena is realized; by these all material phenomena are perceived. Consciousness belongs to men universally; it is one of the acknowledged attributes of the human soul, and not the least wonderful. Every human being is distinctly conscious of what is passing in his mind at any moment, of the evil and the good in him, his insincerity or sincerity. It is one of the mysteries which are, nevertheless, undoubted facts of our spiritual constitution. In spite of what may be thought by others, whether unfavorable or favorable; in spite of what a man himself may assert and cause to be believed respecting him; in spite of what he wishes to believe, and even sometimes persuades himself he does believe, deep under all this there lies a clear sense of what is really within him at the moment, and to a man himself this testimony is irresistible. The evidence of consciousness to the individual mind is to the full as decisive as the evidence of the external senses, in their peculiar sphere. A thousand arguments and a thousand difficulties are of no weight in the face of what we see and hear; and a thousand arguments and a thousand difficulties can in no degree disturb the clear testimony of the inward sense. There is, in fact, nothing which can bear comparison with this in directness and in strength. That of which a human soul is distinctly conscious as a present fact within it, is of all things most indubitable, because, otherwise, its original constitution and the Former of that constitution would be impeached. If either the outward sense or this inward sense could not be trusted in their proper sphere, there could be nothing certainly true in the universe; the very foundations of all certitude and of all confidence would be overturned. The reality of that inner fact of which a human soul is perfectly conscious, is identified with the existence, the veracity, the sincerity, and the goodness of God.

The evidence of consciousness is available only in a very limited degree, beyond a man himself. Generally the inward testimony is anxiously concealed from other men; through mere carelessness it may be misunderstood, or it may be designedly mutilated and falsified. But if a faithful report of it could be obtained—if we were able, by satisfactory evidence, to ascertain beyond doubt that what was said to be a positive consciousness was really such, this testimony would be as convincing and as valid to others as to the man himself, and we should reach a species of proof than which none can be higher or stronger. The Gospels profess to report, in Christ’s own words, the voice of his soul to himself, and it is this report which must now be impartially examined; Christ’s own statements respecting what he himself found and felt in his nature.

This Being, then, never uttered a word to man or to God which indicated the sense of a single defect in his whole life. The Old and New Testaments record the lives of many godly and honored men—Abraham, Moses, Samuel, Elijah, Ezekiel, John, Peter, Paul, and others; but they all confess faults and sins, and repent and throw themselves on the mercy of God. Religious biography leaves on the mind an impression of the same character, only more deeply marked. Without exception, the lives of men who feared and loved God, and who in intention and effect were workers for him and for their race, exhibit inconsistencies and imperfections. Such men utter humiliating confessions, and severe self-reproaches; and we are not surprised that they do; it would create astonishment if they did not. The range of general biography includes the illustrious men of all nations, and of all times—men distinguished for their moral qualities, their intellectual powers, their acquirements in all the various branches of knowledge, the positions of influence to which they have risen, and the reputation they have won, and which, perhaps, has lived through a succession of ages. It includes the originators of useful and sagacious schemes, the conductors of movements which have conferred extensive and lasting benefit on the world. It includes all the great benefactors of mankind, the instructors, examples, and guides of their race. Now we assert, without fear of contradiction, that in each individual, within this almost limitless range, there is found much that is wrong in the sight of God and men, many a deficiency, many a weakness, many a false step, many a positive sin. W hat is equally to our purpose, not one of all this vast number ever professes to be free from errors and sins, or even seeks to be thought so.

PART III.

THE TOTALITY OF HIS MANIFESTATION BEFORE THE WORLD.

True Man.—Peculiar Susceptibility.—Sufferings and Provocations.—Unconquerable Patience.—Absolute spiritual Perfection.—Simplicity and Freshness.—Uniform Perfection.—Jesus a Manifestation, not an Effort.—A pure Original, and not an Imitation.—Alone in History.

CHRIST’S original and constant oneness with God prepares us to expect in him, an extraordinary elevation and purity of character. His mysterious consciousness, also, is the proof of moral greatness which never belonged to. man. But in addition to these, there is a proof of his spiritual individuality, which comes home more directly to the consciences and hearts of men, and is fitted to move them more powerfully. It is found in his life, as a whole, in the entire unfolding of his character before the world from first to last.

His identification with universal humanity can not fail to be recognized at once. He belonged to no privileged class, and as an inhabitant of the world, he enjoyed no protection or advantage of any kind which was not common to all other human beings. Real moral excellence and holy force of character are admirable, whatever may have been the history of their production; but they are certainly less impressive when peculiar advantages have been enjoyed for their cultivation, and when peculiar measures have been adopted for their acquisition. If a man withdraw himself from the duties, trials, and snares of the world, retire to solitude, and devote his life to the pursuit of virtue, it is felt, however elevated his character may become, that the methods to which he has resorted are impossible to men in general, and indeed are at variance with the constitution of things which God has ordained. Even the example of an individual in the higher walks of society, or belonging to some privileged order, or in any other way placed in circumstances more than usually favorable to mental and spiritual development, protected against hinderances and evils which beset other men, and possessed of encouragements and helps which they can not reach, can never act effectively and permanently on the world.

But Jesus Christ was man in the wide sense of that term, and was placed altogether in the ordinary circumstances which attend the lot of humanity on earth. He belonged to the masses and was brought up with them, unprivileged and undistinguished. His associations, all his outward relationships, his speech and his dress, were of the same kind with theirs; so that there was every natural ground of sympathy between them and him. We read of his weariness, hunger, and thirst—of his tears and his groans—of his friendship with his disciples, and with John in particular—with Lazarus, Martha, and Mary; we read of him weeping at the grave of his friend; we read of his love to little children, taking them in his arms and blessing them. Whatever else he was, he was man, a true man, and his was a true and warm human heart. No reader of his life can doubt that he was a sharer to the full in the common circumstances, occupations, susceptibilities, trials, and wants of universal humanity.

Thus conditioned, Jesus had to encounter a difficulty of overwhelming force, altogether peculiar to himself and arising out of the constitution of his soul. In his own idea, whether true or false it matters not, he was born to a Godlike work. A. mysterious purpose lay in his mind; it was to redeem and reclaim a world, to recover man to God and to immortal perfection. This was the passion of his heart, and the very nature of this passion, this purpose would necessarily render him more keenly susceptible and more dependent on grateful appreciation. But he was unappreciated and unsupported. Even his disciples, instead of fortifying him by their enlightened sympathy, vexed him with their low and earthly thoughts, and without intending of even knowing it, they often obstructed instead of helping him. This was not all. He encountered designed resistance and unrelenting and cruel persecution. He never injured a single being, in his heart lay only intense love, but it was basely requited. His actions were decried, his motives suspected, his character maligned, his spirit, too unselfish and pure for that age, misconstrued and misunderstood. Because he was holy and denounced all evil, the workers of evil conspired against him, and moved an entire people in their wickedness and blindness to put him to death. The forms of justice were violated, the name of religion was prostituted, and he was surrendered to the unrestrained revenge and power of his enemies. But even then, he was absolutely unmoved in the deep love of his heart, and in all his gracious thoughts of man and for man’s salvation. Never, amid cruel provocation and persecution, was his soul excited to anger. Once in the narrative of his life, the word anger is connected with his name—“he looked round upon them with anger, being grieved for the hardness of their hearts.” But the passage itself sufficiently proves that it is not anger which is meant, but strong emotion, indignation perhaps, or amazement; for the same persons could not possibly be the objects of grief and of human anger at the same time. No; of one being in human form, but of one only, it can be said that he never spoke an angry or unkind Word, and never indulged for a moment an angry or unkind feeling. Ingratitude, injustice, hatred, pierced his soul; but his forgivingness, patience, meekness, and measureless love, were never disturbed. He bore in silence “the contradiction of sinners against himself,” “he was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross;” “when he was reviled he reviled not again, when he suffered he threatened not, but committed himself to Him who judgeth righteously.” “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” was the prayer with which he died, and it breathes the spirit which pervaded his whole life.

The Rev. T. H. Horne, in his “Introduction to the Study of the Scriptures,” vol. i. p. 422, puts into English a magnificent eulogy of the character of Jesus, by J. J. Rousseau. The piece, in itself, is surpassingly beautiful and eloquent, but considering who its author was, it is beyond measure astonishing. The original passage will be found in the “Emile, on de l’Education,” liv. 4. Œuvres, tom. ii. p. 91, 92.—Frankfort, 1762.

Was ever man like this? Was such a manifestation of a human soul ever even imagined? Certainly never, except in this instance, was such a manifestation described.

Greatness, in the sense which most commends itself to many minds, can not be claimed for Jesus. His name is not associated with the philosophy, the literature, or the science of the world. He occupied a position far above them. The good sense and the good taste of candid men will pronounce unhesitatingly, that formal connection with any or all of them would have degraded, and not exalted. him. It is not that they are not unspeakably important to the world, and it is not that he, or the religion which he founded, in its principles or its spirit, was hostile to them. But he was personally apart from them, and his greatness belonged to quite another sphere—one infinitely higher. We have shown that transcendent opulence, and power, and grandeur of soul were his; we have shown that he dealt as a master with things which the greatest of men thought it their highest office, even distantly, to approach. Unknown to philosophy, literature, and science, in him shone a light which they never kindled, and in him were the universal principles of all beauty and all truth.

The difficulty which we chiefly feel in dealing with the character of Christ, as it unfolded itself before men, arises from its absolute perfection. On this very account, it is the less fitted to arrest observation. A single excellence unusually developed, though in the neighborhood of great faults, is instantly and universally attractive. Perfect symmetry, on the other hand, does not startle, and is hidden from common and casual observers. But it is this which belongs emphatically to the Christ of the Gospels;, and we distinguish in him at each moment that precise manifestation, which is most natural and most right. It is wonderful, that the unpretending and brief annals of his life, by four different hands, have not failed in this respect, have not failed in any part of the delineation, or in a single touch or tint: the more wonderful it is, since the character was utterly unlike what the writers could have imagined, by the aid either of experience or of history.

In human beings, there never is an approach to sustained, proportioned, and universal goodness. The manifestation in one direction is so high as to be unnatural, while in another direction, it falls perhaps below the standard of our conceptions. This wondrous Person always is, and acts up to the idea of perfect humanity—never unnaturally elevated so as to be out of fellowship with men, and never below the highest human excellence, conceivable in the particular circumstances at the time. If men possess a virtue in an unusual degree, the probability is, that they will be found to exhibit a defect or fault in the opposite direction. The virtue itself shall pass into a fault, and shall occasion the injury or the neglect of other qualities equally essential. A man is remarkable for sagacity and decision, but he shall be coldly unsusceptible; or he is tender and ardent, but he shall be wanting in resolution and in judgment. He is remarkable for dignity of deportment, but he shall be reserved and proud; or he is communicative and accessible, but he shall be wanting in becoming self-respect. The high development of the intellect is rarely combined with the due cultivation of the affections, and the cultivation of the affections is rarely combined with full development and force of intellect. Jesus Christ possessed the tenderest heart, overflowing with generous and warm feelings, but, at the same time, his wisdom was profound, and his decision of character was invincible. He was accessible to all without exception, and no circle of exclusiveness was at any time drawn around him in order to guard his presence; but he was always self-possessed, and self-sustained, and his dignity was commanding.. Intellectually and morally, socially and personally, in relation to his kindred or his disciples, to the followers or the enemies of his ministry, he always rises up to the highest idea that can be formed of perfect man. And then, there is thrown over all his intercourse with men, the charm of freshness and genuine simplicity. Nothing is artificial, nothing assumed, nothing forced; but we behold the natural, honest, free development of a true soul. He is never trying to impress, never laboring to sustain a character. He is not aiming to seem, but he. seems what he really is—no more, no less, no other. Nor does this Being come before us only on a few special occasions, carefully selected, in order to exhibit conspicuously the best aspects of his character. We behold him in every conceivable variety of positions, mingling with all sorts of persons, and with all kinds of events; we follow the steps of his public life, and we watch his most unsuspecting and retired moments; we see him in the midst of thousands, or with his disciples, or with a single individual; we see him in the capital of his country, or in one of its remote villages, in the temple and the synagogue, or in the desert, or in the streets; we see him with the rich and with the poor, the prosperous and the afflicted, the good and the bad, with his private friends and with his enemies and murderers; and we behold him at last in circumstances the most overwhelming which it is possible to conceive, deserted, betrayed, falsely accused, unrighteously condemned, nailed to a cross! But wherever he is, and however placed, in the ordinary circumstances of his daily life, or at the last supper, or in Gethsemane, or in the judgment hall, or on Calvary, he is the same meek, pure, wise, god-like Being.

It must be most distinctly noted, that the character of Jesus was a manifestation not an effort. Men rise to spiritual excellence; but it is from the imperfections and errors of first efforts, it is after repeated failures, and as the result of a long and hard struggle with evil; and whatever triumph be achieved, the struggle, not unattended with frequent defeat, is prolonged to the last. This is the unqualified testimony of individual experience and of universal observation. But, in the case of Jesus Christ, there were no indications of struggle or even of effort, and not a single failure or defeat. His soul was deeply moved by the darkness and the evil around him; but he was personally untainted with either. We behold the gradual unfolding of an inward power, which did not need to contend, but meekly and at once put aside whatever resistance was offered to it. By the words and the acts of his life, Jesus rebuked all that was ungodly, impure, and false among men; but invariably it was as one who himself was innocent of sin, and who was sent to renovate and bless the world. His life was a triumph from the first—the manifestation of a soul that stood invincible in its native spiritual force.

The character of Jesus, besides, was a pure original, not an imitation. The model existed not, and had never existed, from which it could have been copied. There is no record, in the writings of all nations and of all times, of a life for which absolute perfection is claimed from its beginning to its close. But the character of Christ drawn in the Gospels, though undesignedly on the part of the writers, is human perfection, in which we can discover no defect, and which we can imagine nothing beyond. Nor is it the concentration in a single life of attributes which, though they never all existed in combination before, had all existed separately, in different proportions, in other lives and other times. There are single elements of character and combinations of elements here, which are perfectly new; appreciated and admired, having been once disclosed, but no trace of which had before appeared. The entire personality, as it rose up before the world, was a fresh living original—a stream from its native fountain, not the accumulation of many tributary waters.

The suspicion is very groundless that that manifestation which is delineated with great artlessness in the Gospels, was not real, but ideal—a creation of the writers’ own minds, not a simple account of what they had actually witnessed. We need only refer to the intellectual and moral condition of Judea, with its known principles, habits, and tastes, to the position and character of the evangelists, and then to the representation itself which they have executed, in order to show convincingly that such a suspicion is the most groundless which can be imagined. That country and these men could never have conceived or described such ideal spiritual excellence, as that which they have attached as a reality to the person of Jesus; least of all was it possible, that this idea could have been connected with the name and the office of the promised Messiah. This was not their idea at all, especially in this connection. In several most important respects, it was exactly the opposite of their idea; and by no possibility could it have originated merely in their minds. Such a character as that of Jesus, they were not the persons to have ever imagined; and that it has been delineated by them, is the unassailable proof that it was actually seen.

Never passed before the imagination of man, and never but once alighted on this earth so heavenly a vision. Once, in all human history, we meet a being who never did an injury, and never resented one done to him, never uttered an untruth, never practiced a deception, and never lost an opportunity of doing good, generous in the midst of the selfish, upright in the midst of the dishonest, pure in the midst of the sensual, and wise far above the wisest of earth’s sages and prophets, loving and gentle, yet immovably resolute, and whose illimitable meekness and patience never once forsook him in a vexatious, ungrateful, and cruel world.

If the New Testament had contained only the character of Jesus, as it unfolded itself in his intercourse with men, it had deserved a place above all human productions, it had been a mine of spiritual wealth, and a fountain of holy influence unknown to every other region, and to all the ages of time.

PART IV.

THE MOTIVE OF HIS LIFE.

Absence of Selfishness.—Presence of pure and lofty Motives.—His active Goodness.—Views of the Soul.—Love of Man as Man.—Gave his Life a Sacrifice.

THE recorded life of Christ proves that he neither sought to gain, nor, in point of fact did gain, power, wealth, or fame, for himself, or for any connected with him. He had frequent and fair opportunities of gratifying ambition, had his nature been tainted with that passion. Occasions were even thrust upon him, and the amplest means were ever ready to his hand. The Jews expected in their Messiah a king, and were burning with impatience for his advent. Jesus needed only to have announced himself, and the country would have hailed him with enthusiasm, and would have enthroned and crowned him. As a matter of fact, such was the state of the public mind, that on more than one occasion, the people were about to take him by force to make him a king, but he quietly withdrew till the excitement had passed away. Throughout his public life, though announcing the sublimest truths, and performing the noblest works, he never stepped, or sought to step, out of the humble sphere in which he had been brought up. It has been shown that he was at first, and he continued to the last, a poor man. He does not seem to have ever possessed for himself to the value of the smallest coin, and, when he died, he had no means of providing for his mother, and could only commend her to the care of one of his disciples.

The entire absence of selfishness, in any form, from the character of Christ, can not be questioned, and not less undoubted was the active presence of pure and lofty motives. His life was not only negatively good, it was filled up with positive and matchless excellence, and was spent directly and wholly in blessing the world. A large portion of it was occupied with teaching, and both in its design and its native tendency, Christ’s teaching was only restorative and healing, and itself at once reveals the motive in which it originated—love of man, profound, unselfish love. This reigning spirit was yet more apparent, though not more really present, in another region of Christ’s life. He lived not merely to announce spiritual truth, but to relieve and remove physical suffering. The supernatural character of this portion of his work among men, we do not urge; but apart from this, it is quite certain that much of his life was occupied in healing the sick, and comforting the sorrowing and the poor. The substance of the record on this head, is condensed in a few beautiful sentences by Matthew, 4th chapter, 23d and 24th verses. “And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, and preaching the Gospel of the kingdom, and healing all manner of sickness, and all manner of disease among the people. And his fame went throughout all Syria: and they brought unto him all sick people that were taken with divers diseases and torments, and those that were possessed with devils, and those which were lunatic, and those that had palsy, and he healed them.” Make what deductions we will, it is perfectly certain, if any thing of history remain in the Gospels, that multitudes in that age experienced the effect of Christ’s merciful interposition. “He went about doing good.” He wiped away many a tear; he made many human hearts glad; and many others connected with them felt the benignant and genial influence of his earthly ministry. He relieved and removed a great amount of physical suffering; he created and planted in the world a great amount of physical happiness. He devoted himself to the work of blessing man; and in both regions of his life, in his acts and in his words, in the healing spiritual truths which he imparted, and in the unnumbered material kindnesses which he bestowed, we discover one reigning motive—love of man, deep, enduring, redeeming love.

We are entitled to assert that compassion for humanity held the place of a master-force in the soul of Jesus Christ. The man is worse than blind who does not perceive the charm of a subduing tenderness streaming fresh from his heart, and shed over his whole public life. It is related that, once as he looked upon the multitudes that lead assembled to listen to his teaching, “he had compassion on them, because they were as sheep that had no shepherd.”

Matthew, xv. 32.

PART V.

HIS FAITH IN GOD, TRUTH, AND THE REDEMPTION OF MAN.

His Foreknowledge of his Death.—Solitariness—Never himself disappointed.—Truth, a Provision for Wants, Cure for Evils of World.—Attributes of God.—Expressions and Proofs of Christ’s &ate of blind.—Institution of the Supper.—Interpretation of Facts.

IT is one of the marvelous facts in Christ’s history that he distinctly foreboded the calamities which were to befall him. Evil did not come upon him unawares; its pressure and its bitterness were aggravated by anticipation. No explanation is here offered of this fact, and nothing will be built upon it in the way of argument, but it stands with great distinctness in the narrative. “From that time forth began Jesus to show unto his disciples how that he must go unto Jerusalem and suffer many things of the elders, and chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third day.”

Matthew, xvi. 21.

PART VI.

THE ARGUMENT FROM HIS CHARACTER TO HIS DIVINITY.

Moral Aspects and outward Facts of Christ’s History.—A Character such as his not once-realized.—Interests of Truth and Virtue.—Moral Condition of Mankind charged on God.—Humanity in Christ peculiarly conditioned.—Idea of Incarnation universal.—A primitive Revelation.—A universal want.—Provision for this Want made once for all.—Higher Nature in Christ, not higher Office merely.—Absolute Divinity.—This secured Aids and Influences incommunicable to others.

THE spiritual individuality of Christ, we have found, is striking as it is manifest. Whether we look to his oneness with God, to the marvelous forms of his consciousness, to the totality of his manifestation, to the motive of his life, or to his unconquerable faith, his character, take it all in all, must be confessed to stand alone in the history of the world. But this character, in its unapproachable grandeur, must be viewed in connection with the outward circumstances of the being in whom it was realized—in connection with a life not only unprivileged, but offering numerous positive hinderances to the origination, the growth, and, most of all, the perfection of spiritual excellence. In a Jew of Nazareth—a young man—an uneducated mechanic—moral perfection was realized. Can this phenomenon be accounted for? There is here, without doubt, a manifestation of humanity; but the question is, was this a manifestation of mere humanity, and no more? Can this be interpreted on the common principles, which in other cases explain the facts of history, observation, and experience? It is not maintained, in any quarter worthy of regard, that ordinary principles of interpretation are sufficient here. But, if not, what are the extraordinary principles that are sufficient in this singular case?

This question is met by the suggestion that Jesus needed and received for the mission with which he was charged, extraordinary protection from God—protection for his intellect, his conscience, and his heart; and not only protection, but extraordinary divine influence, in the illumination, invigoration, guidance, and entire culture of his spiritual nature. It is suggested that, by the holy power and under the sheltering care of God, his character was preserved faultless, and rose to the highest perfection of which humanity is capable. Certainly, special powers are demanded for special functions, and it is fitting that unusual honors should attend unusual responsibilities. It is obvious, also, that God has a right to withhold or bestow his own gifts, and to bestow them on whom and in what measure he pleaseth. But the question arises, if Jesus was no more than man, why have there not been other men like him? why has there not been one man like to him in the whole course of time? The question is unanswerable, we humbly maintain. If by the spiritual protection and influence of God, Jesus in his peculiar circumstances—with his youth, his want of education, his poverty, and all his hinderances and exposures—reached moral perfection, it is unaccountable that, in far happier combinations of circumstances, such an attainment has never been approached. What God did for one man, God certainly could have done for other men. It is unaccountable that it has never been done, and that not a single individual known to history has risen to the glory of this youthful, untaught, unprivileged Galilean mechanic. The question here, it must be remembered, does not respect merely adaptation to an extraordinary sphere; it does not respect merely official qualifications and endowments it relates to personal excellence, to moral education and culture, to inward goodness; and it is, therefore, vitally connected with the great cause of virtue and truth in the world. If Jesus was man only, and if, therefore, the invigorating and quickening influences of God bestowed on him, could have been bestowed on others, it is impossible without deep injury to the divine character, without impeaching either the benignity, or the purity of God, to account for their being withheld in other cases. All is intelligible and consistent if Jesus was essentially separate from men, separate in the very constitution of his person—a being raised up once in all time for a crisis which never could again arise, and for a work never to be repeated. But if not, if he was man only, we ask in the name of that holiness which is the life of the intelligent universe, and in the name of God with whom the interests of holiness are paramount, how it has come to pass, that of all men he alone has risen to spiritual perfection? What God did for piety and virtue on the earth at one time and in one case, God certainly could have done at other times and in other cases. If Jesus was man only, God could have raised up, in successive ages, many such living examples of sanctified humanity as he was, to correct, instruct, and quicken the world. But he did not; and the guilt of the moral condition of mankind is thus charged at once upon God; and the real cause of the continuance of moral evil, and of the limited success of holiness and truth in the earth is thus declared to be in God—that cause is the withholding of his merciful influences.

If such be the inevitable conclusion to which these premises lead, we have no alternative except to abandon them as false and impious. Jesus Christ can not have been merely man. No mere man, especially under the outward conditions that environed him—not the most venerable and gifted sage, in circumstances incomparably more favorable than his—ever rose to his moral stature; and unless all analogy and the unbroken testimony of all history are to be set aside, we must believe that Jesus was not merely man. It is morally impossible that the spiritual perfection of his character can have been owing to divine influences, which could have been bestowed as well on others as on him. If they could have been bestowed, we can not doubt, looking to the benignant and holy character of God, that they must have been bestowed. Since they were not bestowed on others, but only on him, there must have been something in him some real and great difference to account for the fact, something which rendered that possible to him which was not possible to any other. Between him and all men there must have been a separation—though there was also as certainly a community—of nature; a separation not incidental and relative only, but constitutional and organic. Humanity in him must have existed under conditions, essentially distinct from those which belong to the universal humanity of the world. Incarnation, but incarnation alone, helps us to the solution of the overwhelming difficulties of this case. It is perceived at once that this involved access to God, and reception from him—involved illumination, protection, guidance, and power absolutely and necessarily incommunicable to all others. Man, Jesus certainly was, but not man merely, but God in man.

We can not hope to discover, in the religions of mankind, the method of solving the deepest problem of Christianity, but it is quite possible that they may illustrate, perhaps confirm, the only satisfactory solution which has yet been suggested. In these religions, almost without exception, the idea of incarnation will be found under one form or another. It is related that Paul and Barnabas in the city of Lystra were about to receive divine honors; Barnabas was to be worshiped as an incarnation of Jupiter, and Paul as an incarnation of Mercury. The people of Lycaonia cried, “The gods have come down to us in the likeness of men.”

Acts, xiv. 1.