twixt the regenerate and evil heart! Satan lays siege to the best by his temptations, and sometimes, upon battery and breach made, enters; the other admits him by willing composition. When he is entered upon the regenerate, he is entertained with perpetual skirmishes, and, by a holy violence, at last repulsed; in the other, he is plausibly received, and freely commandeth. O the admirable meekness of this Lamb of God! I see not a frown, I hear not a check, but, "What thou dost, do quickly." Why do we startle at our petty wrongs, and swell with anger, and break into furious revenges upon every occasion, when the Pattern of our patience lets not fall one harsh word upon so foul and bloody a traitor? Yea, so fairly is this carried, that the disciples as yet can apprehend no change they innocently think of commodities to be bought, when Christ speaks of their Master sold, and, as one that longs to be out of pain, hastens the pace of his irreclaimable conspirator: "What thou dost, do quickly." It is one thing to say, Do what thou intendest, and another to say, Do quickly what thou dost. There was villany in the deed: the speed had no sin; the time was harmless, while the man and the act were wicked. O Judas, how happy had it been for thee, if thou hadst never done what thou perfidiously intendedst! but since thou wilt needs do it, delay is but a torment. That steelly heart yet relents not. The obfirmed traitor knows his way to the high priest's hall, and to the garden: the watchword is already given, "Hail, Master, and a kiss." Yet more hypocrisy; yet more presumption upon so overstrained a lenity! How knewest thou, O thou false traitor, whether that sacred cheek would suffer itself to be defiled with thine impure touch? Thou well foundest thy treachery was unmasked; thine heart could not be so false to thee as not to tell thee how hateful thou wert. Go, kiss and adore those silverlings which thou art too sure of; the Master whom thou hast sold is not thine. But, O the impudence of a deplored sinner! That tongue which hath agreed to sell his Master, dares say, Hail! and those lips, that have passed the compact of his death, dare offer to kiss him whom they had covenanted to kill. It was God's charge of old, "Kiss the Son, lest he be angry." O Saviour, thon hadst reason to be angry with this kiss the scourges, the thorns, the nails, the spear of thy murderers, were not so painful, so piercing, as this touch of Judas: all these were in this one alone. The : stabs of an enemy cannot be so grievous as the skin-deep wounds of a disciple. CONTEMPLATION XXVIII.—THE AGONY. WHAT a preface do I find to my Saviour's passion! A hymn, and an agony: a cheerful hymn, and an agony no less sorrowful. A hymn begins, both to raise and testify the courageous resolutions of his suffering; an agony follows, to shew that he was truly sensible of those extremities wherewith he was resolved to grapple. All the disciples bore their part in that hymn: it was fit they should all see his comfortable and divine magnanimity wherewith he entered into those sad lists: only three of them shall be allowed to be the witnesses of his agony, only those three that had been the witnesses of his glorious transfiguration. That sight had well fore-armed and prepared them for this. How could they be dismayed to see his trouble, who there saw his majesty? how could they be dismayed to see his body now sweat, which they had then seen to shine? how could they be daunted to see him now accosted with Judas and his train, whom they then saw attended with Moses and Elias? how could they be discouraged to hear the reproaches of base men, when they had heard the voice of God to him from that excellent glory: "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased?" Now, before these eyes this sun begins to be overcast with clouds: He began to be sorrowful, and very heavy." Many sad thoughts for mankind had he secretly hatched, and yet smothered in his own breast; now his grief is too great to keep in: "My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." O Saviour, what must thou needs feel, when thou saidst so? Feeble minds are apt to bemoan themselves upon light occasions; the grief must needs be violent, that causeth a strong heart to break forth into a passionate complaint. Woe is me, what a word is this for the Son of God! Where is that Comforter which thou promisedst to send to others? where is that thy Father of all mercies, and God of all comfort, "in whose presence is the fulness of joy, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for evermore?" where are those constant and cheerful resolutions of a fearless walking through the valley of the shadow of death? Alas! if that face were not hid from thee, whose essence could not be disunited, these pangs could not have been, The sun was withdrawn awhile, that there might be a cool, though not a dark night, as in the world, so in thy breast; withdrawn in respect of sight, not of being. It was the hardest piece of thy sufferings that thou must be disconsolate. But to whom dost thou make this moan, O thou Saviour of men? Hard is that man driven, that is fain to complain to his inferiors. Had Peter, or James, or John, thus bewailed himself to thee, there had been ease to their soul in venting itself; thou hadst been both apt to pity them, and able to relieve them : but now, in that thou lamentest thy case to them, alas! what issue couldst thou expect? They might be astonished with thy grief; but there is neither power in their hands to free thee from those sorrows, nor power in their compassion to mitigate them. Nay, in this condition, what could all the angels of heaven, as of themselves, do to succour thee? what strength could they have but from thee? what creature can help when thou complainest? It must be only the stronger that can aid the weak. Old and holy Simeon could fore-say to thy blessed mother, that "A sword should pierce through her soul;" but, alas! how many swords at once pierce thine! Every one of these words is both sharp and edged: My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death." What human soul is capable of the conceit of the least of those sorrows that oppressed thine? It was not thy body that suffered now; the pain of body is but as the body of pain; the anguish of the soul is as the soul of anguish. That, and in that thou sufferedst, where are they that dare so far disparage thy sorrow, as to say thy soul suffered only in sympathy with thy body? not immediately, but by participation? not in itself, but in its partner? Thou best knewest what thou feltest, and thou, that feltest thine own pain, canst cry out of thy soul. Neither didst thou say, My soul is troubled; so it often was, even to tears; but," My soul is sorrowful:" as if it had been before assaulted, now possessed, with grief. Nor yet this in any tolerable moderation, (changes of passion are incident to every human soul), but "exceeding sorrowful." Yet there are degrees in the very extremities of evils: those, that are most vehement, may yet be capable of a remedy, at least a relaxation; thine was past these hopes: "exceeding sorrowful unto death." What was it, what could it be, O Saviour, that lay thus heavy upon thy divine soul? Was it the fear of death? was it the forefelt pain, shame, torment, of thine en suing crucifixion? O poor and base thoughts of the narrow hearts of cowardly and impotent mortality! How many thousands of thy blessed martyrs have welcomed no less tortures with smiles and gratulations, and have made a sport of those exquisite cruelties which their very tyrants thought unsufferable! Whence had they strength but from thee? If their weakness were thus undaunted and prevalent, what was thy power? No, no: it was the sad weight of the sin of mankind; it was the heavy burden of thy Father's wrath for our sin, that thus pressed thy soul, and wrung from thee these bitter expressions. What can it avail thee, O Saviour, to tell thy grief to men? Who can ease thee, but He of whom thou saidst," My Father is greater than I?" Lo, to him thou turnest: "O Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." ་ Was not this thy prayer, O dear Christ, which in the days of thy flesh thou offeredst up with strong crying and tears, to him that was able to save thee from death? Surely this was it. Never was cry so strong; never was God thus solicited. How could heaven choose but shake at such a prayer from the power that made it? how can my heart but tremble to hear this suit from the Captain of our salvation? O thou that saidst, “I and my Father are one," dost thou suffer aught from thy Father but what thou wouldst, what thou determinedst? was this cup of thine either casual or forced? wouldst thou wish for what thou knewest thou wouldst not have possible? Far, far be these misraised thoughts of our ignorance and frailty! Thou camest to suffer, and thou wouldst do what thou camest for: yet since thou wouldst be a man, thou wouldst take all of man, save sin: it is but human, and not sinful, to be loath to suffer what we may avoid. In this velleity of thine, thou wouldst show what that nature of ours, which thou hadst assumed, could incline to wish; but, in thy resolution, thou wouldst show us what thy victorious thoughts, raised and assisted by thy divine power, had determinately pitched upon : "Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt." As man, thou hadst a will of thine own: no human soul can be perfect without that main faculty. That will, which naturally could be content to incline towards an exemption from miseries, gladly veils to that divine will, whereby thou art designed to the chastisements of our peace. Those pains, which in themselves were grievous, thou embracest as decreed; so as thy fear hath given place to thy love and obedience. How should we have known these evils so formidable, if thou hadst not, in half a thought, inclined to deprecate them? how could we have avoided so formidable and deadly evils, if thou hadst not willingly undergone them? we acknowledge thine holy fear, we adore thy divine fortitude. While thy mind was in this fearful agitation, it is no marvel if thy feet were not fixed. Thy place is more changed than thy thoughts: one while thou walkest to thy drowsy attendants, and stirrest up their needful vigilancy; then thou returnest to thy passionate devotions, thou fallest again upon thy face. If thy body be humbled down to the earth, thy soul is yet lower; thy prayers are so much more vehement as thy pangs are: "And being in an agony, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was, as it were, great drops of blood falling down to the ground." O my Saviour, what an agony am I in, while I think of thine! What pain, what fear, what strife, what horror was in thy sacred breast! how didst thou struggle under the weight of our sins, that thou thus sweatest, that thou thus bleedest! All was peace with thee; thou wert one with thy co-eternal and co-essential Father; all the angels worshipped thee; all the powers of heaven and earth awfully acknowledged thine infiniteness. It was our person that feoffed thee in this misery and torment; in that thou sustainedst thy Father's wrath, and our curse. If eternal death be unsufferable, if every sin deserve eternal death, what, O! what was it for thy soul, in this short time of thy bitter passion, to answer those millions of eternal deaths, which all the sins of all mankind had deserved from the just hand of thy Godhead! I marvel not if thou bleedest a sweat, if thou sweatest blood: if the moisture of that sweat be from the body, the tincture of it is from the soul. As there never was such another sweat, so neither can there be ever such a suffering. It is no wonder if the sweat were more than natural, when the sufferings were more than human. O Saviour, so willing was that precious blood of thine to be let forth for us, that it was ready to prevent thy persecutors; and issued forth in those pores, before thy wounds were opened by thy tormentors. O that my heart could bleed unto thee, with true inward compunction, for those sins of mine which are guilty of this thine agony, and have drawn blood of thee, both in the garden and on the cross! Woe is me! I had been in hell, if thou hadst not been in thine agony; I had scorched, if thou hadst not sweat. O! let me abhor my own wickedness, and admire and bless thy mercy. But, O ye blessed spirits, which came to comfort my conflicted Saviour, how did ye look upon the Son of God, when ye saw him labouring for life under these violent temptations! with what astonishment did ye behold him bleeding, whom ye adored! In the wilderness, after his duel with Satan, ye came and ministered unto him; and now in the garden, while he is in a harder combat, ye appear to strengthen him. O the wise and marvellous dispensation of the Almighty! Whom God will afflict, an angel shall relieve; the Son shall suffer, the servant shall comfort him; the God of angels droopeth, the angel of God strengthens him. Blessed Jesu! if as man thou wouldest be " made a little lower than the angels," how can it disparage thee to be attended and cheered up by an angel! Thine humiliation would not disdain comfort from meaner hands. How free was it for thy Father to convey seasonable consolations to thine humbled soul, by whatsoever means! Behold, though thy cup shall not pass, yet it shall be sweetened. What if thou see not, for the time, thy Father's face, yet thou shalt feel his hand. What could that spirit have done without the God of spirits? O Father of mercies! thou mayest bring thine into agonies, but thou wilt never leave them there. In the midst of the sorrows of my heart, thy comforts shall refresh my soul." Whatsoever be the means of my supportation, I know and adore the Author. CONTEMPLATION XXIX. -PETER AND MALCHUS: OR, CHRIST APPREHENDED. WHEREFORE, O Saviour, didst thou take those three choice disciples with thee from their fellows, but that thou expectedst some comfort from their presence? A seasonable word may sometimes fall from the meanest attendant; and the very society of those we trust, carries in it some kind of contentment. Alas! what broken ree are men! While thou art sweating in the agony, they are snoring securely. Admonitions, threats, entreaties, cannot keep their eyes open. Thou tellest them of danger, they will needs dream of ease; and though twice roused, as if they had purposed this neglect, they carelessly sleep out thy sorrow, and their own peril. What help hast thou of such followers? In the mount of thy transfiguration they slept, and, besides, fell on their faces, when they should behold | to use them: "Shall we smite?" They were thy glory, and were not themselves for willing to fight for him, with whom they fear. In the garden of thine agony, they were not careful to watch: but of all others, fell upon the ground for drowsiness, when Peter was most forward; instead of openthey should compassionate thy sorrow, and ing his lips, he unsheathes his sword; and, lost themselves in a stupid sleepiness. instead of, Shall I? smites. He had noted Doubtless, even this disregard made thy Malchus, a busy servant of the high-priest, prayers so much more fervent. The less too ready to second Judas, and to lay his comfort we find on earth, the more we rude hands upon the Lord of life: against seek above. Neither soughtest thou more this man his heart rises, and his hand is lift than thou foundest: lo! thou wert heard in up. That ear, which had too officiously that which thou fearedst. An angel supplies listened to the unjust and cruel charge of men: that spirit was vigilant, while thy dis- | his wicked master, is now severed from that ciples were heavy; the exchange was happy. worse head which it had mis-served. No sooner is this good angel vanished, than that domestic devil appears: Judas comes up, and shows himself in the head of those miscreant troops. He, whose too much honour it had been to be a follower of so blessed a Master, affects now to be the leader of this wicked rabble. The sheep's fleece is now cast off; the wolf appears in his own likeness. He that would be false to his Master, would be true to his chapmen: even evil spirits keep touch with themselves. The bold traitor dare yet still mix hypocrisy with villany; his very salutations and kisses murder. O Saviour, this is no news to thee. All those who, under a show of godliness, practise impiety, do still betray thee thus. Thou, who hadst said, "One of you is a devil," didst not now say, "Avoid, Satan!" but, " Friend, wherefore art thou come?" As yet, Judas, it was not too late: had there been any the least spark of grace yet remaining in that perfidious bosom, this word had fetched thee upon thy knees. All this sunshine cannot thaw an obdurate heart. The sign is given; Jesus is taken. Wretched traitor! why wouldst thou for this purpose be thus attended? And ye foolish priests and elders! why sent you such a band, and so armed, for this apprehension? One messenger had been enough for a voluntary prisoner. Had my Saviour been unwilling to be taken, all your forces, with all the legions of hell to help them, had been too little: since he was willing to be attached, two were too many. When he did but say, “I am he," that easy breath alone routed all your troops, and cast them to the earth, whom it might as easily have cast down into hell. What if he had said, I will not be taken; where had ye been? or what could your swords and staves have done against Omnipotence? Those disciples, that failed of their vigilance, failed not of their courage: they had heard their Master speak of providing swords, and now they thought it was time I love and honour thy zeal, O blessed disciple! Thou couldst not brook wrong done to thy divine Master: had thy life been dearer to thee than his safety, thou hadst not drawn thy sword upon a whole troop. It was in earnest that thou saidst, "Though all men. yet not 1;" and, "Though I should die with thee, yet I will not deny thee." Lo! thou art ready to die upon him that should touch that sacred person. What would thy life now have been in comparison of renouncing him. Since thou wert so fervent, why didst thou not rather fall upon that traitor that betrayed him, than that serjeant that arrested him? Surely the sin was so much greater, as the plot of mischief is more than the execution, as a domestic is nearer than a stranger, as the treason of a friend is worse than the forced enmity of an hireling. Was it that the guilty wretch, upon the fact done, subduced himself, and shrouded his false head under the wings of darkness? was it that thou couldst not so suddenly apprehend the odious depth of that villany, and instantly hate him that had been thy old companion? was it that thy amazedness as yet conceived not the purposed issue of this seizure, and astonishedly waited for the success? was it that though Judas was more faulty, yet Malchus was more imperiously cruel? Howsoever, thy courage was awakened with thyself, and thy heart was no less sincere than thine hand was rash. "Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword, shall perish with the sword." Good intentions are no warrant for our actions. O Saviour! thou canst at once accept of our meanings, and censure our deeds. Could there be an affection more worth encouragement than the love to such a Master? could there be a more just cause, wherein to draw his sword, than in thy quarrel? yet this love, this quarrel, cannot shield Peter from thy check; thy meek tongue smites him gently, who had furiously smote thine enemy: Put up thy sword." more." It was Peter's sword; but to put up, not to use: there is a sword which Peter may use; but it is of another metal. Our weapons are, as our warfare, spiritual: if he smite not with this, he incurs no less blame than for smiting with the other: as for this material sword, what should he do with it, that is not allowed to strike? When the Prince of Peace bade his followers sell their coat and buy a sword, he meant to insinuate the need of these arms, not their improvement, and to teach them the danger of the time, not the manner of the repulse of the danger. When they therefore said, "Behold, here are two swords," he answered, "It is enough." He said not, "Go, buy More had not been enough, if a bodily defence had been intended: David's tower had been too strait to yield sufficient furniture of this kind. When it comes to use, Peter's one sword is too much: "Put up thy sword." Indeed, there is a temporal sword; and that sword must be drawn, else wherefore is it? but drawn by him that bears it; and he bears it, that is ordained to be an avenger, "to execute wrath upon him that doth evil; for he bears not the sword in vain." If another man draw it, it cuts his fingers, and draws so much blood | of him that unwarrantably wields it, as that "he who takes the sword shall perish with the sword." Can I choose but wonder how Peter could thus strike unwounded? how he, whose first blow made the fray, could❘ escape hewing in pieces from that band of ruffians? This could not have been, if thy power, Saviour, had not restrained their rage; if thy seasonable and sharp reproof had not prevented their revenge. Now, for aught I see, Peter smarts no less than Malchus: neither is Peter's ear less smitten by the mild tongue of his Master, than Malchus' ear by the hand of Peter. Weak disciple! thou hast zeal, "but not according to knowledge:" there is not more danger in this act of thine, than inconsideration and ignorance. "The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?" Thou drawest thy sword to rescue me from suffering. Alas! if I suffer not, what would become of thee? what would become of mankind? Where were that eternal and just decree of my Father, wherein I am a "Lamb slain from the beginning of the world?" Dost thou go about to hinder thine own and the whole world's redemption? Did I not once before call thee Satan, for suggesting to me this immunity from my passion? and dost thou now think to favour me with a real opposition to this great and necessary work? Canst thou | be so weak as to imagine, that this suffering of mine is not free and voluntary? Canst thou be so injurious to me, as to think I yield, because I want aid to resist? Have I not given to thee and to the world many undeniable proofs of my omnipotence? Didst thou not see how easy it had been for me to have blown away these poor forces of my adversaries? Dost thou not know, that, if I would require it, all the glorious troops of the angels of heaven (any one whereof is more than worlds of men) would presently show themselves ready to attend and rescue me? Might this have stood with the justice of my decree, with the glory of my mercy, with the benefit of man's redemption, it had been done: my power should have triumphed over the impotent malice of my enemies: but now, since that eternal decree must be accompliehed, my mercy must be approved, mankind must be ransomed; and this cannot be done without my suffering. Thy well-meant valour is no better than a wrong to thyself, to the world, to Me, to my Father. O gracious Saviour! while thou thus smitest thy disciple, thou healest him whom thy disciple smote. Many greater miracles hadst thou done; none that bewrayed more mercy and meekness than this last cure: of all other, this ear of Malchus hath the loudest tongue to blazon the praise of thy clemency and goodness to thy very enemies. Wherefore came that man but in a hostile manner to attach thee? Besides his own, what favour was he worthy of for his master's sake? and if he had not been more forward than his fellows, why had not his skin been as whole as theirs? Yet, even amidst the throng of thine apprehenders, in the heat of their violence, in the height of their malice, and thine own instant peril of death, thou healest that unnecessary ear which had been guilty of hearing blasphemies against thee, and receiving cruel and unjust charges concerning thee. O Malchus, could thy ear be whole, and not thy heart broken and contrite with remorse, for rising up against so merciful and so powerful a hand? Could thou choose but say, O blessed Jesus! I see it was thy providence that preserved my head, when my ear was smitten; it is thine Almighty power that hath miraculously restored that ear of mine which I had justly forfeited: this head of mine shall never be guilty of plotting any further mischief against thee; this ear shall never en. tertain any more reproaches of thy name, this heart of mine shall ever acknowledge and magnify thy tender mercies, thy divine omnipotence? Could thy fellows see such |