Mark 14:26-42 - Homilies By J.j. Given

Parallel passages: Matthew 26:30-46 ; Luke 22:39-46 ; John 18:1 .—

The agony in Gethsemane.

I. SCENE AND SEVERAL CIRCUMSTANCES CONNECTED WITH THE AGONY .

1 . Anticipation . From the entrance of our Savior upon his public ministry his life was one of continued trial. All along symptoms of the approaching crisis appeared, all along the bitter cup was steadily filling, all along the clouds were gradually gathering. At length, towards the close of his career, the stormclouds in all their fury burst upon him. After his last entrance into Jerusalem the bitter cup became brimful, and he was now to drink and even drain it to its very dregs. The anticipation of those sufferings he was to undergo had made a deep impression on his mind; forebodings of them had frequently disturbed his repose, dread of them overwhelmed his spirit. He foresaw all, he anticipated all, he in a measure foretasted all; accordingly, several days before his passion, he cried out," Now am I troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause came I to this hour;" or, as some erroneously read it, "What shall I say? Shall I say this, Father, save me from this hour?"

2 . Preceding circumstances . On examining the circumstances that precede the agony, we find that the Wednesday and the Thursday before the Passover our Lord himself spent at Bethany, while on the latter day his disciples went to Jerusalem to engage an apartment and prepare a lamb for the coming solemnity. When the evening of the day was come, Jesus also repaired to Jerusalem. Having there joined the disciples, he sat down with them to the sacred feast which had been prepared, and which he purposed to render still more sacred by engrafting thereon (as we have seen) the new festival to be observed in remembrance of himself, as a memorial of his death, and in exhibition of his body broken and blood shed for many for the remission of sins. Such were the order and connection of events. The Passover had been observed—that Passover which he had desired so earnestly to eat with his disciples. The sacrament of the Supper had been instituted by our Lord, and kept for the first time in company with his faithful followers. Subsequently he had delivered that touching and pathetic, yet most consolatory and truly sublime discourse recorded in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth chapters of the Gospel of St. John. He had poured forth, out of the fullness of his heart, that fervent and beautiful prayer contained in the seventeenth chapter of the same Gospel. He had warned the disciples against deserting him in the hour of temptation. He had selected three of them specially to attend him in his sorrows. Then, late at night, after delivering the discourse and praying the prayer and making the arrangements referred to, he left the city for the scene of his agony.

3 . The scene . The place where this occurred was a spot often frequented by our Lord and his disciples. On this account St. Luke does not designate the place by name; he merely says, "When he was at the place." St. John accounts for the traitor's knowledge of the place from its being a frequent resort of the Savior: "Judas also," he says, "knew the place: for Jesus ofttimes resorted thither with his disciples." The place was a garden, little more than half a mile from the city of Jerusalem, and only a stone's throw from the brook Kidron, situated on the western slope and near the foot of the Mount of Olives. That garden had not been laid out for the production of herbs, but as an olive plantation. The name of that garden, as given by St. Matthew and St. Mark, was Gethsemane, so called from two words meaning "oil-press." As just intimated, it appears to have been a frequent and favorite resort of our Lord and his disciples. To that spot he often went as a meeting-place with his disciples scattered through the city during the day, according to the meaning assigned by some to the term συνῆχθη , rendezvoused. Thither the Savior often retired from the world, and to be alone with God. Thither he often repaired for prayer and meditation. There he often spent the night in intercourse with Heaven. There, amid the deep gloom of that solitary plantation, was the place of the memorable and most affecting scene to which this section refers. That garden, if tradition has rightly marked the site, remains to the present day. That enclosure still stands, surrounded by a wall formerly of loose stones but now plastered and whitened, and contains eight large and venerable olive trees. Up to the present time it is a gloomy and forsaken place, yet from its associations it must ever be to the Christian a sweet and sacred spot. To this day it is a peculiarly sombre as well as solitary place, with that rude stone wall enclosure and those grey old olive trees. It was here an event took place the full purport of which eternity perhaps can alone reveal. At all events, for suffering and sorrow it ranks next to the Crucifixion itself. But sad and sorrowful as are the memories associated with Gethsemane, it is invested with a sacredness that makes it unspeakably dear to every Christian heart.

"Gethsemane can I forget,

And there thine anguish see,

Thine agony and bloody sweat,

And not remember thee?"

Let us imagine ourselves, then, in that sombre and solemn enclosure on the eve of man's redemption, in company with our Lord and along with Peter and James and John. The same three had been spectators of the Transfiguration. The same three had stood by while their Master restored to life the ruler of the synagogue's daughter. The same three are now privileged to be witnesses of that fearful struggle of the Redeemer's soul, called in this passage his agony. And as we stand in that society and on that spot, eastward rises high above us the lofty summit of Olivet. Westward we are overshadowed, or at least our view is shut in, by the gigantic walls of the holy city. Below us lies the valley of the Kidron, with the little freshet from which it takes its name. Yonder at a distance, amid the gloom of the overhanging olive trees, is seen the Savior's person dimly revealed by the pale light of the silvery moon. It is a chilly night, but chilly as is the night-air, the warm perspiration bursts forth from every pore, moistens every limb, and falls like big drops of blood down to the ground.

II. THE STRUGGLE AND ITS SEVERITY .

1 . Meaning of the term . The word "agony" is due to St. Luke, and employed by him only in the record of this transaction; while the use of this word helps considerably to the right understanding of the whole. The idea of pain so usually associated with agony is not the exact sense of the word. It rather means conflict or struggle. It was a word which the Greeks applied to their games. Thus the runner in the race, the pugilist in the combat, and the wrestler in the contest, were properly said to agonize. Pain connected itself with the word only as a secondary and subordinate notion. But what was the nature of this struggle? It could not be with sin, for he had no sin; he was "holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners." It was not with the development of any unholy tendency or the uprising of any evil passion; from all such his humanity was exempt. Nor yet are we without a hint respecting the source whence the struggle proceeded. If we compare an expression at the close of the temptation with another in the narrative of the agony we may arrive at a tolerably safe conclusion. In the first-named passage Satan is said to have left our Lord for a season, or rather until a convenient season ; while in this passage the subject of prayer, which he suggests to his disciples, was the avoidance of temptation. Putting these two things together, we have good ground to believe that the suitable season for another onslaught of the evil one had arrived; that the attack was renewed; that Satan had returned; that the tempter, though foiled once and again before, had resumed with increased facilities, or from a vantage-ground, or at a more favorable opportunity, the terrific trial. A passage in the Epistle to the Colossians favors this view. It is there ( Colossians 2:15 ) said that he stripped off or put away from himself the hostile principalities or powers that clung to him like a deadly Nessus-robe. The thrice-repeated assaults of Satan in the wilderness had been repelled, and the tempter defeated, but only for a time. The attack was renewed in Peter's effort to dissuade the Savior from suffering; and unconscious as the apostle was of the source whence the suggestion sprang, it was none the less a device of the great enemy, as we may infer from the sternness of our Lord's rebuke when he said, "Get thee behind me, Satan." But the tempter was again baffled and beaten. Once more, however, the prince of this world mustered all his forces for the last and fiercest onslaught. This was the hour and power of darkness, beginning with the agony and ending with the Crucifixion. And now Satan and the powers in league with him are not only vanquished, but Jesus "made a show of them openly, triumphing over them," as we read in that passage of Colossians; that is, they were boldly exhibited as trophies by the Victor, and led in triumph as captives bound to the Conqueror's car.

2 . Point of attack . Still curiosity would desire information with respect to the particulars of the present trial, or the character of the struggle in which the Savior is now engaged. What was its turningpoint? Was he pressed to repudiate the responsibility he had assumed for sinners, and did the struggle consist in resisting such pressure? Was he tempted to renounce the great work of man's redemption? Was there a shrinking of the flesh from the terrible ordeal that was fast approaching, while the spirit drew in the opposite direction? It can be no matter of surprise that the pure humanity of our Lord should recoil from what was coming in the near future, for he foresaw it all—the sneer, the scorn, the spitting, and smiting; the robe of mockery, and the thorn crown, together with the scourging and suspension on the cursed tree. We cannot wonder that the anticipation of all this, and vastly more, should produce a struggle of no ordinary kind in the breast of the Son of God. But whatever the exact nature of the struggle was, from whatever cause he agonized, one thing is perfectly plain, and that is the extreme intensity of the agony.

3 . Evidence of its intensity . So unspeakably intense was its severity, that he sweat as it were great drops or clots ( θρόμβοι ) of blood which ran down to the ground. With reference to this proof of its severity, several similar instances of sweating blood have been adduced. Ancient authors and modern writers alike record cases of it. Diodorus of Sicily mentions bloody sweat as resulting from the bite of Indian serpents. Aristotle speaks of it as caused by a diseased state of the blood. Some recent medical authorities reckon it among the consequences of excessive terror or extreme exhaustion. But by far the most striking case of all is one narrated by the infidel Voltaire. In his essay on the civil wars of France, he says that the king, Charles IX ., soon after the Bartholomew Massacre, was attacked by a strange malady, which carried him off at the end of two years. His blood was always oozing out, forcing its way through the pores of the skin—an incomprehensible malady, against which the art and skill of the physicians were unavailing. This, he adds, was regarded as an effect of the Divine vengeance; but elsewhere he attributes it to excessive fear or violent agitation, or to a feverish and melancholy temperament, admitting that other cases of the same have occurred.

III. THE SAVIOR 'S SORROW AND ITS SOURCE .

1 . The description of his sorrow . There is a climax in this description. He began to be sorrowful; his soul was sorrowful, exceeding sorrowful, even unto death . He was amazed , and very heavy . One of the words here employed is peculiar. It denotes, according to one derivation, satiety , but according to another a state and consequent feeling of strangership —a sort of homesickness. How applicable to the Savior's sorrow! He must have been more than satiated with earth, and homesick , if we may use the expression, for heaven. But, looking deeper down, we find three words descriptive of the Redeemer's sorrow, which require closer and more careful consideration. The original word for being sorrowful ( λυπεῖσθαι ) is in this narrative peculiar to St. Matthew; that for being sore amazed or stunned ( ἐκθαμβεῖσθαι ) is only used by St. Mark; while those equivalent to very heavy ( ἀδημονεῖν ), and to the soul being exceeding sorrowful ( περίλυπος ) even unto death, are common to both. The first expression is one of frequent occurrence, but is here intensified by a subsequent compound and several adjuncts. Further, while the seat of this sorrow is the soul, the sorrow itself is exceeding and overwhelming, and enwraps the soul, the soul being distressed all round—grieved on every side ( περί ). Nor is that all; it is so excessive that soul and body seem ready to part, or actually to part, under the pressure and the death-pang to be anticipated. If it be not the fulfillment of, it is at least in correspondence with, the words of the psalmist—

"The pains of hell took hold on me,

I grief and trouble found."

The next term, that peculiar to Mark, imports a complex state of feeling made up of horror and amazement , or extreme alarm and consternation, approaching to stupefaction or being stunned, while here, again, an augmenting particle increases the notion to the highest degree. Once more, the former of the two words employed by St. Matthew and St. Mark in common, whatever origin is assigned to it, is used to denote a state of distress that combines at once dejection of mind and disquietude of spirit, or anxiety and anguish.

2 . The cause of this sorrow . Now, those words and phrases employed in describing the Savior's sorrow, weighty as they are in themselves separately, when taken together represent an extreme of sorrow and a weight of woe which no utterances of human speech appear adequate fully to express. To this sorrow may be applied the words of the prophet, "Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, which is done unto me, wherewith Jehovah hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce anger." It is now time to inquire into the cause or causes from which such sorrow sprang. To what must we attribute this sorrowfulness, this sore amazement, this extreme heaviness and exceeding sorrowfulness of soul even unto death? We may answer

"Resting in the glorious hope

To be at last restored,

Yield we now our bodies up

To earthquake, fire, and sword."

Is it, then, for a moment supposable that the servant should so far surpass his Master, and the disciple his Lord, that what caused the latter such agony and anguish was matter of exultation and triumph to the former? We answer

"Die man, or justice must

Except some other as able and as willing pay

The rigid satisfaction—death for death."

The exact relation of the Savior's sufferings to the penalty incurred we need not dwell on here. Whether it is a relation of diversity ( aliud pro quo ), as Grotius maintained; or of equivalence ( tantundem ), according to others; or of identity ( idem ), in accordance with the view of a third class, we shall not attempt to determine further than to reject the first, and express our preference for the second rather than for the third. Further. as his life had been stainless, his death must be sinless. Holy and harmless as that life had been, his death must be equally free from sin and separate from sinners. But now came the severest test and sorest trial. If the awful sufferings in near prospect should weaken his purpose; if, foreseeing the shame and pain and torture, his resolution should give way; or if, what would equally defeat his undertaking, his heart should conceive or cherish any feeling of revenge; or if the burning sense of wrong should provoke complaint, or any word of impatient murmuring should escape his lips; if, in a word, any sin were to mingle with thought or feeling, or find utterance in speech, his life-work would miscarry and the whole would end in irreparable failure. No wonder, then, that, in view of all this mighty burden which he bore-in view of the dread responsibility laid upon him, in view of that mountain-load of sin he was to transfer to himself and bear away, in view of that great sacrifice which he was to offer, in view of the great satisfaction he was to make, in view of that great salvation he was to effect, the Savior's humanity began to shrink. If we turn to the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah, a passage written more than seven hundred years before the time of our Lord's agony, we find at once a comment on that agony and a key to its cause: "The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all," or, more literally rendered, "The Lord hath made the iniquities of us all to meet or fall on him," or, more strictly still, "The Lord hath made the iniquities of us all to rush on him." In those words thus understood our sins are figuratively represented as beasts of prey, and Jesus is their Victim; or as cruel enemies, and Jesus is the Object on which their vengeance vents itself. Like bulls of Bashan, they beset him round. Like ravening and roaring lions, they gaped upon him with their mouths. Other adversaries, less powerful but more vexing, compassed him like dogs. It was as though fiercest foes of every kind and on every hand assailed him.

IV. THE SUPPLICATION AND THE STRENGTH THEREBY SECURED .

1 . The meaning of this cup . No wonder he prayed, "Let this cup pass from me." The meaning of "cup" Isaiah ( Isaiah 51:17 ) here is obviously suffering and sorrow—a bitter mixture to be drunk. Thus of his fur says, "O Jerusalem, which hast drunk at the hand of the Lord the cup of his fury; thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling, and wrung them out;" while in the seventy-fifth Psalm we read that "in the hand of the Lord there is a cup, and the wine is red; it is full of mixture; and he poureth out of the same: but the dregs thereof, all the wicked of the earth shall wring them out, and drink them." A similar figure is found in Homeric poetry ('Iliad,' 24.528)—

"Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood;

The source of evil one, and one of good.

From thence the cup of mortal man he fills;

Blessings to these, to those distributes ills.

To most he mingles both: the wretch decreed

To taste the bad unmix'd, is cursed indeed."

But while the figure itself is clear, the fact underlying it is not so clearly or easily understood.

2 . The mixture in this cup . What elements mingled in this cup? What were the bitter ingredients in the mixture it contained? It was not, as already seen, the mere shrinking of our Lord's humanity from death, however painful and shameful, though we do not by any means exclude this element. Neither was it an apparition of the evil one in some form specially dreadful and terrible, as some have conjectured. There was something worse than all this—something more and bitterer still. There can be little doubt, though some seem to think otherwise, that the assaults of the Prince of darkness were peculiarly powerful at this juncture, and went to make up part of the bitterness of this cup. Of this we are not without some intimation from our Lord himself, for before entering Gethsemane he says, "The prince of this world cometh," and before leaving the scene of the agony he adds, This is your hour, and power of darkness." From all this, and from the circumstance already adverted to, that Satan had relinquished his attempt only until another and more suitable season arrived, we have reason to conclude that Satan was again at work during the agony, that he was renewing with redoubled energy his fiery darts, deterring from the work that was being done, and at the same time in every way depreciating its worth. The conflict foretold in the garden of Eden was to be fought out in Gethsemane; the heel of the Seed of the woman was to be bruised, and the head of the old serpent to be crushed. It was not strange, then, that the serpent should hiss most horridly, while his head was thus being crushed. It were strange indeed if, when the spoiler was to be spoiled, the captor deprived of his prey, and captivity led captive, Satan should not rouse himself to one fearful, final effort to retain at once his power and his prey. His temptation then mingled in and embittered the draught which the Savior was to drink and drain to its dregs. Whatever the nature of Satan's suggestion may have been, whether resistance to the Divine will, or refusal of the destined draught, or desertion of the post assigned, or something yet more shocking, it is needless to inquire. It is enough to know that when our Lord tasted the cup he turned aside, so exceeding bitter was that mixture; a dark cloud passed over the serene spirit of the Son of God; his inward vision was obscured; the Father's will became invested in mystery, and the cross in blackness.

3 . Other ingredients in the cup . Another ingredient in that cup was the withdrawal of the Divine presence—the hiding of his heavenly Father's face. Sin shut man out of Paradise; sin excludes man from the favor of God. The Savior took our sin upon him; he became our Substitute; he acted as our Surety; he stood in our stead, and eventually offered himself a Sacrifice for us. He thus exposed himself to the temporary withdrawment of the light of the Divine countenance. Nor can anything be more trying or more painful to a child of God than the loss of the Divine fellowship for a season. When deprived of the sensible enjoyment of Divine communion, he is comfortless. It was thus with Job (23): "Behold, I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him: on the left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold him: he hideth himself on the right hand, that I cannot see him." Similar is the complaint of the psalmist in the eighty-eighth psalm: "Lord, why castest thou off my soul? why hidest thou thy face from me? I am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up: while I suffer thy terrors I am distracted. Thy fierce wrath goeth over me; thy terrors have out me off." If a child of God, a sinner saved by grace, feel so acutely the hiding of God's countenance, how unspeakably more the sinless Son of God! This withdrawal of God's presence—favorable presence—is one element, perhaps a main element, in the misery of the world of woe, and forms no small part in the punishment of the lost. But this part of the Savior's distress had a positive as well as a negative side. Not only was there deprivation of the joys of Divine favor and fellowship, the overclouding of his heavenly Father's face; there was in all probability some actual infliction of chastisement, as may fairly be inferred from the strong language of the prophet, when he says, "It pleased the Lord to bruise him; he hath put him to grief." But of all the bitter ingredients in the cup of the Savior's suffering, nothing would pain him more than the sense of our sins being laid upon him, that he might be made sin for us; and the sight of that accursed thing, so abhorrent to his pure nature, as the burden he was to bear; together with the consciousness of the close connection of sin and death and hell. It was then that sorrow arose on every side; sufferings, with concentrated bitterness, overwhelmed him. The hatefulness of sin, God's indignation against it, that loathsome load of human guilt he was to bear, the work he was to go through in order to remove it, the wrath of Heaven manifested against it,—all these ingredients mixed together in that bitter cup.

4 . His supplication . It was then he prayed, "O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt." Here we find, side by side with the deepest suffering, the meekest submission. The prayer is conditioned by possibilities. If justice can be satisfied, if redemption can be effected, if the government of God can be upheld, if, consistently with all this, sinners can be saved without such excess of sorrow, so let it be! The prayer was prayed three times. He went away and prayed; he kneeled down and prayed; he fell on his face or on the ground and prayed. Thus he offered up prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears. His prayer was heard and answered, and yet the cup did not pass away. He was "heard in that he feared" ("for his godly fear," Revised Version); or, according to another rendering of the words, "he was heard, and delivered from the fear of death." Though the cup was not removed, the dread of death was thus taken away; at all events, strength was imparted.

5 . The strength secured by his supplications. There appeared an angel unto him, strengthening him ;" literally, infusing strength ( ἐνιχύων αὐτόν ). The immediate consequence of this increased or renewed strength was more earnest and energized supplication: "He prayed more earnestly ( ἐκτενέστερον )." Strictly sneaking, he continued praying ( προσηύχετο ), and that more intensely; the tense (imperfect) of the verb and the qualifying adverb imply prayer sustained and intensified. But intensely earnest as his supplication for the removal of the cup had been, it was equalled by the entire surrender of his own will to that of his heavenly Father. He had said, "O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt" (so St. Matthew); he had said, "Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done" (so St. Luke); while here, according to the record of St. Mark, he says, "Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt." And once more, as we read in the Gospel of St. Matthew, he said, "O my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done." As though he had said,—I feel it may not be; I know I must drink it; and as I must I will Not as I will, but as thou wilt. Thy will be done.

6 . His example . He was in all things an Example for us. We may pray, and with perfect propriety, for deliverance from danger, or disease, or difficulty, or distress of any kind. If the answer come directly and as desired, it is well; if not, succor of some sort will be brought us, strength suitable and grace sufficient will be given us; in either case, our duty is submission to a will that is wiser than our own, and a full surrender of ourselves into the hands of our heavenly Father, who, in disposing all things to his own glory, disposes them at the same time for our good. The address, as reported by St. Mark, repeats the word for "Father;" thus "Abba" is the Aramaic for "Father," and to it is added the Greek word of the same signification. It may be that

V. THE SLEEPINESS OF THE DISCIPLES AND THE SADNESS THAT CAUSED IT .

1 . Object of the disciples' watching . The Savior had selected three disciples, as already seen, to be with him. No doubt one object, perhaps the primary object, in view was that they might be eye-witnesses of his agony, and bear testimony thereof to his Church. But another object, and one little if at all less in importance, was that they might be near him for sympathy and support. It was with this view, no doubt, he had said, "Tarry ye here, and watch with me." But even of this human succor he was deprived, forever as he came to them—once and again and a third time in the interval of prayer—he found them asleep; so Jesus was left alone in his agony.

2 . Nature and cause of their sleepiness . And yet it was not a sleep of stupidity, or insensibility, or want of sympathy, in any sense. The cause was the very opposite. And here it is noteworthy that while the other evangelists record the fact, Luke, the beloved physician, alone assigns the cause. How characteristic of his profession! From his skill in physiology he here tells us that "he found them sleeping for sorrow; "just as afterwards, from his knowledge of psychology, he accounts for disbelief from joy where he says, "While they yet believed not for joy." And so it was from very sorrow that they slept. It is not an unusual experience that sorrow acts the part of a narcotic, and sadness causes sleep; thus the psalmist says, "Reproach hath broken my heart, and I am full of heaviness." And a merciful arrangement it is that men under such circumstances can sleep for a season and forget their sorrows.

3 . Different explanations . The words which Jesus addresses to his drowsy disciples have been variously understood. Some take them

(a) he is far off, or

(b) in relation to the crisis of the agony—it is past; while

(c) the great majority of interpreters, in accordance with the second meaning of the word, translate it impersonally-it is sufficient, or enough.

VI. THE CHIEF OBJECT OF THE AGONY .

1 . Preparation . One great object of the agony was, as we conceive, preparation for the final, fearful struggle near at hand. The Savior was to brace himself for the conflict. Hence the difference between the agony and crucifixion was this: The agony was, if we may so say, the prelude, the crucifixion the performance; the one was—with reverence be it spoken—the rehearsal, the other the reality; the one was the anticipation, the other the accomplishment; the one was the will, the other the work. The language of the one is,—I am willing—I am going to suffer, and so put an end to sin; that of the other is,—I have already and actually suffered, and so put away sin forever. The grand issue of Gethsemane was preparedness for future and final suffering, and, if put in words, it would be,—I am ready, and in no way reluctant to suffer; while from Calvary proceeds a shout of triumph over suffering endured to the uttermost and attainment of finality as expressed in the words, "It is finished." In the agony we see the sinless human nature of our Lord shuddering in sight of sin, and on the brink of fearful suffering because of sin, though not his own; in the crucifixion we see the same nature sustaining the load of human sin, and succumbing under the consequent suffering and sorrow, yet victorious even when vanquished, and conquering by being slain. The agony was a forecasting of the final struggle; it was going overall beforehand—going over all in mind, in spirit, and in body too; the crucifixion was the successful realization of the same. Once the agony was over, the bitterness of death was to some extent past.

2 . The loneliness of our Lord in his sufferings . In all this the Savior was alone—as much alone in the garden as on the cross, in his agony as in his crucifixion. Sleep on now, he said; you have let the opportunity of sympathizing with and sustaining me pass by. Such, at least, is one not unnatural interpretation of the words. Miserable comforters ye have been, yet I blame you not; the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. Sleep on now—it matters not; for the struggle is over, and over without your cooperation; of the people there was none with me. I have trodden the winepress alone, from first to last. They had been saddened by the prospect of losing their Lord and Master, by his pathetic discourses, by his touching intercession, and by his present supplication, and in consequence they slept.

3 . Summary . In summing up the lessons to be learnt from this subject, we are taught