XL.

The Cross.

IN the olden times when legends and traditions, like parasites mantling a tree and hindering its healthy growth, had appeared well-nigh to choke gospel-truth while meant to adorn it, the day of the supposed discovery of the true cross was made a festival; * its name was given to province and city; and fragments, however small, of what was deemed so inexpressibly sacred, were esteemed amongst the greatest treasures of princes. Satan would be well pleased to see adoration paid to pieces of wood, if he could so draw away the minds of the pious from contemplation of the true cross, as it is preserved for believers in the Bible alone, to be touched only by Faith as she repeats the words of St. Paul, "God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."

* "'Invention of the Cross,' an annual feast solemnized on the 3rd of May, in memory of Helena's (the mother of Constantine) finding the (supposed) true Cross of Christ deep in the ground on Mount Calvary, where she erected a church for the preservation of part of it." _English Encyclopædia._

With the deepest, most solemn reverence, let us now draw nigh in spirit to this altar, on which was offered the one "full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole world." Let all worldly thoughts be put off; it is on holy ground that we tread, as the cross—stained with that most precious blood which alone cleanseth from all sin—draws our contemplation to Him who upon it agonized and died for mankind.

That Christ "could" suffer proves that He was human; that He could "so" suffer, proves that He was divine, for Deity alone could so hold the tortured frame in subjection as to keep it suspended for six hours in agony upon the cross. A mere man, by the force of strong will, may give himself up to death—may so overcome the shrinking of nature as to spring down the chasm, or throw himself into the waves. Many martyrs have yielded up their lives willingly and cheerfully, "but who could die as Jesus died?" His was no single effort of will, but a prolonged exercise of it, hour after hour, amidst sufferings more excruciating than the mind can conceive. We cannot doubt that He who is "the mighty God" could at any moment have ended those sufferings; no nails could have fixed Him to the cross; not the united powers of a thousand peopled worlds could have kept Him there for an instant! The unutterable pangs which the Saviour endured were His own deliberate choice, and it was His own infinite love which made Him sustain them even to the end. We know this from the Lord's declaration:

"I lay down My life . . . No man taketh it from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again."

Christ had but to will it, and the cross of shame would instantly have been exchanged for the throne of glory, and the mocking crowds have been stretched blackened, blasted corpses before Him! We speak of our Lord's temptation in the wilderness—what must have been His temptation "on the cross"? Such as none but Deity could have resisted—none but God have overcome. A Paul might have consented to be crucified for the sake of his brethren—but could even a Paul have remained long on the cross had it needed but an act of volition to release him? Human nature must have failed under the trial. The fondest of mothers clinging by her hands to the edge of a precipice, with her infant fastened to her shoulders, must let go ere long, though conscious that her child as well as herself will be dashed in pieces by her fall.

The weight of a world's salvation hung on the Redeemer, and He "would not let go."

"Come down from the cross!" shouted the rabble.

"Come down from the cross!" urged the tempter.

"Come down from the cross!" cried out agonized human nature,—Christ could, but He would not come down. This was constancy beyond that of humanity; this was the endurance not of a man but of a God!

There appears to be a mysterious analogy between the great act of the Creation and that of the Redemption of the world. After the six days in which the Lord made earth and the things within it, He "did rest the seventh day from all His works;" and so, after the six hours of anguish, the Saviour rested in death from the more awful work of redemption. Another analogy arises in the mind, though it is mentioned with some hesitation, as Scripture warrant cannot be brought forward to support it. It is an ancient well-known tradition that the world will endure six thousand years under our present dispensation, and that then will come the long Sabbath of rest. If it be so, is it impossible that each hour on the cross may have had a mysterious relation to each thousand years—that the two first hours of agony may have expiated the guilt of the antediluvian race; the succeeding, that of its successors; the increasing numbers of sinners corresponding with the tortures which, towards the close of the awful time of sacrifice, would naturally most fearfully increase?

If such a suggestion be admitted, what a peculiar interest have we, who live in these latter times, in the dying thirst—the agonized cry, which appears to have marked the climax in the sufferings of our blessed Redeemer! The idea links itself on to another. Is it impossible that before Him who knoweth all things may have passed in prophetic vision every human being who should enter Heaven through the merit of those pangs which He at that moment was enduring? That the Lord "waited," with arms outstretched, strained muscles and bleeding hands, until the last, the very last, should be safe; and till—knowing that none, not the least of His flock should perish—Christ could at length exclaim, "It is finished", and so bow the head and yield up the ghost?

There is something inexpressibly touching in this thought, especially if we regard the possibility that some one now breathing on this globe may have been the last one for whom the Lord waited on the cross! Perhaps some prodigal for whose soul a mother is now wrestling in prayer; perhaps some poor heathen slave in a distant land; perhaps some despised one brought up in haunts of vice, the answer to whose first cry of faith and repentance, "God be merciful to me a sinner," will be the sound of the trumpet announcing that the world's great suffering-time is ended, and that the last saved soul being gathered in, the glorious Sabbath shall commence!

Let us pause for a few moments, and with closed eyes and bended knees attempt to realize the thought,—"the Saviour waited on the cross for me!" For "me" was that awful thirst, for "me" that intolerable pain. Christ would not save Himself from a death of torture, because—with all my coldness, selfishness, sinfulness—He could not, would not, suffer me to perish!

A few words inscribed under a picture of the Crucifixion were once made the means of converting a soul; they were as a question from Him who hung on the cross, these touching words are addressed to us all—what reply dare we return? "I suffered this for thee; what dost thou for Me?"

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