The Assassination

Ohere is a wild mob going through the streets of Jerusalem. As it passes along it is augmented by the multitudes that come out of the lanes and the alleys to join the shouts and the laughter and the lamentation of the rioters, who become more and more ungovernable as they get towards the gates of the city. Fishermen, vagabonds, rude women, grave ofiicials, merchant princes, beggars, mingle in that crowd. They are passing out now through the gates of the city, on their way to a hill white with bleached skulls of victims — a hill that was itself the shape of a skull, covered with skulls, and called Golgotha, which means the place of a skull. Here was the place appointed for the death of Jesus and two thieves, one named Gesmas, to suffer on His left, and the other named Dismas, to be crucified on His right, and the three were to die the most horrible, because the most excruciating of all deaths — death on the cross.

Three crosses in a row. An upright piece and two tranverse pieces — one on the top, on which the hands were nailed, and one at the middle, on which the victim sat. Three trees just planted, yet bearing fruit — the one at the right bearing poison, and the one at the left bitter aloes; the one in the middle, apples of love. Norway pine, and tropical orange, and Lebanon cedar, would not make so strange a grove as this orchard of Calvary.

The cross was a gibbet on which criminals were put to death. It was sometimes made in the shape of a letter T, sometimes in the shape of the letter X, .sometimes in the shape of the letter I — a simple upright; sometimes two cross-pieces against the perpendicular bar, so that upon the lower cross-piece the criminal partially sat. But whatever the style of cross, it was always disgraceful and alwaj’S agonizing. When Darius conquered Babylon, he put two hundred captives to death on the cross. “When Alexander conquered Tyre, he put two thousand captives to death on the cross. So it was just an ordinary mode of punishment.

The carpenters have split the timber into two pieces. They are heav’ and they are long pieces, for one of them must be fastened deep down in the earth lest the struggling of the victim upset the structure. They put this timber upon the shoulder of Christ very gradually, first to see whether He can stand it, and after they find He can bear it, they put the whole weight upon Him. Forward

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now, to Calvary. The hooting and the yelling mob follow on. Under the weight of the cross, Christ, being weary and sick, stumbles and falls, and they jerk at His robe, indignant that He should have stumbled and fallen, and they cry: “Get up, get up!” Christ, putting one hand on the ground and the other hand on the cross, rises, looking into the face of Alary, His mother, for sympathy; but they tell her to stand back, it is no place for a woman — “Stand back, and stop this crying.” Christ moves on with His burden upon His shoulders, and there is a boy that ppsses along with Him, a boy holding a mallet and a few nails. I wonder what they are for! Christ moves on until the burden is so great He staggers and falls flat into the dust and faints .dead away, and a rufiian puts his foot on Him and shakes Him as he would a dead dOg, while another ruffian looks down at Him wondering whether He has fainted away, or whether He is only pretending to faint away, and with jeer and contempt indescribable says: “Fainted, have you? fainted! Get up, get on!”

But it is not so much fainting as complete exhaustion that causes our Lord to sink to the earth, and from which goad of whip nor spur of heel can arouse Him under His burden. All the preceding night He had spent in agony; anguish of mind in the garden, agony of body before Annas, physical torture before Pilate; mortification, indignity, merciless abuse had drained His energies, and now the Best Friend in all the world is prostrate at the feet of iniquity. The thieves go on with their crosses, but Christ can no longer bear His own. Someone must help Him support it. But who? Ah, here is the man, Simon from Cyrene, a foreign Jew from a part of Africa which is now called Tunis. He has shown sympathy for the poor sufferer; besides, the infamy of having to carry a cross will not likely provoke any remonstrance from the Judean Jews. Here, put the cross on Simon’s strong shoulders. Now let the procession continue. What a blessing in disguise was that sign of degradation to Simon, for under the weight of the cross he and all his family became converted; bearing the cross he won a crown.

The pale face, the bleeding back, the suffering body, plead to the eyes of tender women who follow, and they weep, weep for their Best Friend, weep for the sorrow which they could not minister to. “O daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but for yourselves,” said Jesus to His grieving sympathizers, “weep for your children too, for the woes that shall come upon Jerusalem and those who thus persecute and kill Me will be infinitely greater than the pains which I now bear.”

After a while the place of execution is reached and the condemned are divested of their clothes and prepared for death by wrapping a single cloth about their loins. Of the clothes which Christ wore, the undergarment was in one piece, woven without seam from top to bottom, and was a robe like all the priests wore; but the top garments were perhaps two in number, and these were torn into four pieces in order to allow a part to be given to each of the Roman guards. They were of no particular value except as relics, but the priesth- robe was desirable, and its possession was therefore made the ol)ject of contention, which was settled only by casting lots to determine which of the four Roman soldiers should have it.

Jesus being now
stripped, the cruel
rabbis insist on
another punishment
being given Him before the supreme one
is inflicted; so at their
instigation He is
again scourged, and
so cut by the fearful
whip that His back
is drained of its blood,
and deep gashes lie
open, red and swollen.

It is now tweU e
o’clock, the hour ( f
His lifting up is at
hand. Then they put
the cross upon the
ground, and they
stretch Christ upon
it, and four or five
men hold Him down
while they drive the
spikes home, at every
thump a groan, a
groan! And while
the nails are driven through the flesh and bones and tendons, and the little
blood left in temple and hands and feet is trickling down over the cross,
in His agony Jesus lifts His voice in compassionate cry and prayer for His
enemies. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

i Tin-: KdAii

C I.’AKV.

Christ has only one garment left now, a cap, a cap of thorns. No danger that it will fall off, for the sharp edges have punctured the temples, and it is sure and fast. One ruffian takes hold of one end of the short beam of the cross, and another ruffian takes hold of the other end of the short beam of the cross, and another ruffian puts his arms around the waist of Christ, and another ruffian takes hold of the end of the long beam of the cross, and altogether they move on until they come to the hole digged in the earth, and with awful plunge it jars down with its burden of woe. It is not the picture of a Christ, it is not the statue of Christ, as you sometimes see in a Roman Catholic Cathedral; but it is the body of a bleeding, living, dying Christ.

Darkness About the Cross.

There were three or four absences that made that scene worse. First, there was the absence of water. The climate was hot, the fever, the inflammation, the nervous prostration, the gangrene had seized upon Him, and He terribly wanted water. His wounds were worse than gunshot fractures, and yet no water. A Turk, in the thirteenth century, was crucified on the banks of a river so that the sight of the water might tantalize him. And oh, how the thirst of Christ must have tantalized as He thought of the Euphrates and the Jordan and the Nile, and all the fountains of earth and heaven poured out of His own hand. They offered Him an intoxicating draught made out of wine and myrrh, but He declined it. He wanted to die sober. No water.

While the mob are howling and mocking and hurling scorn at the chief object of their hate, the darkness hovers and scowls and swoops upon the scene, and the rocks rend with terrific clang, and the choking wind, and moaning cavern, and dropping sky, and shuddering earthquake declare in a whisper, in groan, in shriek, “This is the Son of God.”

The world has seen many dark days. About fifteen summers ago there was a very dark day when the sun was eclipsed. The fowls at noonday went to their perch, and we felt a gloom as we looked at the astronomical wonder. It was a dark day in lyondon when the plague was at its height, and the dead with uncovered faces were taken in open carts and dumped into the trenches. It was a dark day when the earth opened and Lisbon sank. But the darkest day since the creation of the world was the day when the carnage of Calvary was enacted. It was about noon when the curtain began to be drawn. It was not the coming on of a night that soothes and refreshes; it was the swinging of a great gloom all around the heavens. God hung it. As when there is a dead one in the house you bow the shutters or turn the lattice, so God in the afternoon shut the windows of the world. As it is appropriate to throw a black pall upon the coffin as it passes along, so it was appropriate that everything should be sombre that day as the great hearse of the earth rolled on, bearing the corpse of the

King.

Spectators of the Tragedy.

The crowd that stood about the cross was a mixture of friends and enemies,
of sorrowing companions and malignant hate. There was a brutal soldiery
gambling for the
Lord’s garment,
while Joseph of Arimathea would have
given much of his
wealth to have possessed it as a sacred
relic. Mary, the;
mother of Jesus,
would like to have
had it. How fondly
she would have hovered over it, and
when she must leave
it with what tenderness she would have
bequeathed it to her
best friend! It was
the only covering
Christ in darkness
and storm. That was
the very coat that the
woman touched when
from it there went
out virtue for her
healing. That was
the only wedding
garment He had in
the marriage at Cana,
and the storms that
swept Galilee had
drenched it again and
again. And what did they do with it? They raffled for it. We have heard of
men who gambled away their own garments, who gambled away their children’s
shoes, who gambled away the family Bible, who gambled away their wife’s last

THE CRUCIFIXION.

dress; but it adds to the ghastliness of a Saviour’s humiliation and the horror of the crime when I hear Jesus in His last moments declaring, “They parted My garments among them, and for My vesture did they cast lots.”

In the group were also rulers, scribes and chief priests who had been at once complainants, prosecuting witnesses, jury, judge and executioners; who while He hung on the cross vented their murderous rage by mocking Him with all manner of insulting and ribald cries. And the soldiers likewise railed on Him, and offered Him vinegar as an insult, saying, “If Thou be the King of the Jews, save Thyself.” And to the vulgar taunts of the mob was now added bitter revilings of one of the thieves, who twisted his head around far enough to set a contemptuous gaze on Christ and to hiss at Him through his teeth, “If Thou be the Christ, save Thyself and us.” But the other thief, not wholly conscienceless, whose crimes had not stifled his sense of mercy and justice, which if he had not followed he could yet appreciate, shamed his confederate, and rebuked him for joining in the insults to one who, unlike themselves, had committed no offence, and who was indeed the true type of innocence. And having believed on Christ, the penitent thief said to Jesus,” lyord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom.” Nor was this conversion at the last hour of life without reward, for his cry was answered, “Verily I say unto thee, to-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.”

But there were rays of light that streamed into the crucifixion. As Christ was on the cross and looked down on the crowd of people He saw some very warm friends there. The first in all that crowd was

His Mother.

You need not point her out to me. I can see by the sorrow, the anguish, the woe, by the upthrown hands! Tha*^ all means mother! “Oh,” you say, “why didn’t she go down to the foot of the hill and sit with her back to the scene? It was too horrible for her to look upon.” Do you not know when a child is in anguish or trouble it always makes a heroine of a mother? Take her away, you say, from the cross. You cannot drag her away! She will keep on looking; as long as her Son breathes, she will stand there looking. What a scene it is for a tender-hearted mother to look upon! How happily she would have sprung to His relief! It was her son. Her son! How gladly she would have clambered up on the cross and hung there herself if her Son could have been relieved! How strengthening she wc”M have been to Christ if she might have come close by Him and soothed Him!

If the mother of Jesus could have only taken those bleeding feet into her lap! If she might have taken the dying head on her bosom! If she might have said to Him,” It will soon be over, Jesus, it will soon be over, and we will meet again. and it will be all well.” But no; she dared not come up so close. They would have struck her back with their hammers. They would have kicked her down the hill. There can be no alleviation at all. Jesus must sufifer and Mary must look. I suppose she thought of the birth-hour in Bethlehem. I suppose she thought of that time when, with her Boy in her bo.som, she hastened on in the darkness in the flight toward Egypt. I suppose she thought of His boyhood when He was the joy of her heart. I suppose she thought of the thousand

THE SUPPOSED TOMB OF THE SAVIOUR, AS IDENTIFIED BY GENERAI. GORDON. — From

The Christian Herald.

kindnesses He had done her, not forsaking her or forgetting her even in His last moments; but turning to John, and saying, “There is mother, take her with you. She is old now. She cannot help herself. Do for her just as I would have done for her if I had lived. Be very tender and gentle with her. Behold thy mother!” She thought it all over, and there is no memory like a mother’s memory, and there is no woe like a mother’s woe.

And among His sorrowing friends, whose grief was but little less than was that of His mother, were Mary, wife of Cleophas, one of the first mothers of the church, and Mary Magdalene, the penitent who had anointed Him, or that other Mary from whom He had cast out seven devils, and Lazarus whom He had raised from the dead, and Mary and Martha the two sisters, and John His beloved disciple, and Nicodemus, and Joseph of Arimathea, and Simon of Cyrene, and Mary Salome and Susanna Veronica, and perhaps many other dear ’ friends, all of whom loved Him unto death. Oh, the wail of woe that went through that crowd when they saw Jesus die! You know the Bible says if all the things Jesus did were recorded, the world would not contain the books that would be written. It implies that what we have in the Bible are merely specimens of the Saviour’s mercy. Where we are told of one blind man who got his eyesight, I suppose He cured twenty that We are not told of. Where He cured the one leper, whose story is recorded, He might have cured twenty lepers. Where He did one act of kindness mentioned, He must have done a thousand we do not know about.

I see those who received kindnesses from Him standing beneath the cross, and one says, “Why, that is the Jesus who bound up my broken heart! “And another, standing near the cross, says,” That is the Jesus who restored my daughter to life.” Another looks up and says, “Why, that is the Jesus who gave me my eyesight.” And another looks up and says, “That is the Jesus who lifted me up when I was sick; oh, I can’t bear to see him die!” Every stroke of the hammer drove a spike through their hearts. Every groan of Christ opens a new fountain of sorrow.

The Death.

The hours pass on, and it is twelve o’clock of the Saviour’s suffering, and it is one o’clock, and it is two o’clock, and it is almost three o’clock. Take the last look at that suffering face; wan and pinched, the purple lips drawn back against the teeth; the eyes red with weeping and sunken as though grief had pushed them back; blackness under the lower lid; the whole body adroop and shivering with the last chill; the breath growing feebler and feebler and feebler and feebler until He gives one long, deep last sigh. He is dead! Oh, my soul. He is dead! Can you tell me why? Was He a fanatic dying for a principle that did not amount to anything? Was He a man infatuated? No; to save your soul and mine from sin, and make eternal life possible He died. There had to be a substitute for sin. Who shall it be? “Let it be Me,” said Christ; “let it be Me.”

The brigands of Jerusalem had done their work. Dizzy, swooning, feverish — a world of distress is compressed in two words: “I thirst!” O skies of Judea, let a drop of rain strike on His burning tongue! O world, with rolling rivers, and sparkling lakes, and spraying fountains, give Jesus something to jKSUS LAID IN iHr. iu.mH OK JOSEPH OP ARIMATHKA.

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drink! If there be any pity in earth, or heaven, or hell, let it now be demonstrated in behalf of this Royal Sufferer. The wealthy women of Jerusalem used to have a fund of money with which they- provided wine for those people who died in crucifixion — a powerful opiate to deaden the pain; but Christ would not take it. He wanted to die sober, and so He refused the wine. But afterward the soldiers go to a cup of vinegar, and soak a sponge in it, and put it on a stick of hyssop, and then press it against the hot lips of Christ. You say the wine was an anaesthetic, and intended to relieve or deaden the pain. But the vinegar was an insult. I am disposed to adopt the theory of the old English commentators, who believed that instead of its being an opiate to soothe, it was vinegar to insult. Malaga and Burgundy for grand dukes and duchesses, and costly wines for bloated imperials; but stinging acids for a dying Christ. He took the vinegar.

When the last hour of His suffering was at hand, nearly three o’clock in the afternoon, just before death had come to bind up His pain with the balm of easement. He raised His voice and cried, “My God, My God, Why hast Thou forsaken Me.” And again He murmured, “It is finished,” and then arousing all the small spirit that was yet in Him He feebly cried, “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.” And thus He died.

The Earthquake.

At the moment that Jesus expired all the world seemed plunged into convulsion of grief; the earth trembled and quaked until rocks were burst asunder, and gaping rents and violent upheaval unloosed the dead and shook life again into many corpses, and the great Temple toppled until the rich veil which separated the Holy Place from the Holy of Holies was torn in twain. So appalling was the phenomenon that even the centurion having command of the guards who were set to watch, exclaimed, “Certainly this was a righteous Man. This was truly the Son of God,” and great fear fell on all. But the friends of Jesus still lingered about, awaiting some chance to take the precious body, or watching what the lyord’s enemies would do.

Toward evening as the faithful watchers were still keeping their vigils they saw a body of soldiers approaching armed with clubs to break the bones of the crucified three, as was customary, a merciless way for hastening death while increasing suffering. When the soldiers reached the bodies they found the two thieves still alive and in conscious agony, the legs of these they broke, but when coming to Jesus they found Him dead and hence did not break -His bones, but to assure themselves they plunged a spear into His side and from the wound flowed blood and water

The day following the crucifixion was the Holy Sabbath, when it was unlawful to allow a body to remain upon the cross, so that the Jews had asked permission

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THE SHEIK NOW IN CHARGE OF MT. CALVARY. - From The Christian Herald. (518) of Pilate to send a squad of soldiers to finish the execution, but almost at the same time, or directly after, Joseph of Arimathea, a rich Jew, who had long been a secret follower of Christ, but who made no open profession of his belief through fear of his people, went to Pilate and begged the privilege of taking down the body of His Lord and giving it burial in his own sepulchre.

After Pilate had assurance that Christ was indeed dead he commanded the centurion to take down and deliver the body to Joseph. Nicodemus now also reveal|d his love for Jesus by bringing rich spices, and a hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes with which to anoint the body, and fine linens in which to wind it after the manner of Jewish burials. And the two took the body, and accompanied by other friends they reverently laid it away in a new tomb — hewn in the rock — which might have been prepared beforehand for Joseph’s own body. The place, we are told, was in the garden, near the place of crucifixion, but the spot, while marked by tradition, it is impossible for us now to positively fix upon. Here the body was carefully deposited and a great stone was rolled against the door, to protect the tomb from riflement by Jews, who now seemed to have some fear that Jesus would rise on the third day, as He had prophesied.

The sacrifice is completed, the suffering is over. The Holy One lies sleeping the last sleep, the ransom is paid, the redemption of the world is accomplished.