During the Last Days of the Passion

Village op Ephraim. Journey to Jerusalem. Bethany. Peter and the barren fig-tree. The celebration op the Passover. Special warning to Peter. Gethsemanb. Peter’s denial op his Lord. His penitence.

‘* The Saviour looked on Peter. Aye, no word,
No gesture of reproach; the heavens serene,
Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean
Their thunders that way: the forsaken Lord
Looked only on the traitor. None record
“What look that was, none guess: *
He went out speechless from the face of all
And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.”

—E. Barrett Browning.

“Peter may have thought that his untruth could not injure any person, while it might profit him and insure his safety; and hence that it was lawful, or at least a matter of small moment. But he soon experienced what consequences the commencement of sin eLtailed.” — Lutlter.

“He must have now felt fully the truth of his Lord’s declaration of the preceding day, * Without Me ye can do nothing.’ He now learnt, no doubt, to distrust his own unaided strength.” — Archbishop Whately*s Lectures on the Apostles.

“If Christ had not looked upon Peter, Peter had not wept. Peter’s tears flowed first from the eyes of Christ.... ‘I came, I saw, I conquered’ — may be inscribed by the Saviour on every monument of His grace. I came to the sinner. I looked upon him, and with a look of omnipotent love I overcame hiui.” — Toplady.

present, occupies in connection with it no more prominent place than the other Apostles, we shall not dwell on the many touching incidents of that loveliest “Idyll” in our Lord’s life. The miracle itself had the effect of greatly exasperating the hostility alike of Pharisee and Sadducee against the great Conqueror of death, and of hastening on the awful end. Meanwhile, however, in anticipation of the Passover, Jesus and His Apostles retired to the seclusion of a little village on the borders of the wilderness, called Ephraim; supposed to be situated in one of the undulating valleys* which cluster around the ancient Bethel. Work seems to have been here suspended. Ere the final scene and conflict, Master and disciple once more have turned aside there together “to rest awhile.” Nearly twenty miles of road would lie between them and Jerusalem. Their spirits would be refreshed on these breezy uplands, hallowed with the old memories of ‘Abraham’s first altar and Jacob’s mystic ladder; commanding in unusual impressiveness, from my own recollection, a prospect of the Mountains of Moab, which, next to Hermon, form the grandest hill scenery visible in Palestine. Doubtless these weeks of calm would be employed by the Divine Pilot in strengthening the vessel for the coming storm. Those quiet hills would be turned into oratories. Many a warning and encouragement too would drop from the lips of the Master into the ears of His soon to be scattered followers; chiefly, we may suppose, would He seek to reconcile their minds to that mysterious revelation which He had recently made as to His approaching death.

From one of these watch-towers of lonely Nature He could descry, in the distant Valley, the troops of worshippers on their way to the city of solemnities, carrying branches of palm, citron and myrtle, and singing their Shemas and other appointed festal songs. It was again Earth’s loveliest season, when the corn was ripening, and the hill sides were flushed with red anemones; when the birds were twittering among the branches, and making the groves vocal with their earliest melodies. It must have been a solemn and sustaining thought to Him, that in these caravans were many devoted followers from Galilee, who would be present in Jerusalem during His coming hours of suffering; perhaps His own Mother among the number, and the other holy women who were to be the List at His cross and the first at His tomb. Ere long, He and His disciples joined the group of Pilgrims at the Ford of Jordan; crossing that burning plain, — at present the dreariest of wastes, baked with furnace heat; a heat which was then doubtless, however, tempered by the abundant vegetation. There, surrounded with gardens, palm forests, and olive groves, rose on a gentle swell where now there is nothing but a cluster of the meanest hovels, the City of Palms. “Its towers, its gates, and theatres might have won the prize from Csesarea, and Ptolemais; gardens of oranges, dates, and pomegranates extended from its ramparts on every side; a circus stood beyond the wall; a college flourished within; a town adding the charms of a Nilotic climate to the artistic beauties only to be derived from Greece. This shining city was no fit home, not even for a night, of poor Galilean boatmen, carpenters, and potters; men who drove their own asses, baked their own bread, drew their own water, and either carried their own tents, or slept on the bare ground. So the caravan of pilgrims marched through the city, in by one gate, out by another; the women seated on asses, the men and lads trudging beside them, bearing sprigs of myrtle and fronds of palm, the whole company singing hosanna as they wound their way past the portico of Herod and the temple of Zeus. In the western suburb of this royal city they encamped. Jesus passed through the streets with this caravan.” 1

Next day (Thursday) the procession was renewed. Passing near the fountain of Elisha, and entering the Wady Kelt, the grandest gorge in Southern Palestine, they pursued their way up the steep road, with valleys

i Dixon, p. 353.

of limestone on either side, leading from Jericho to Jerusalem. The pass of the Kelt, by some (though we venture to think erroneously) identified with the Cherith of the Prophet Elijah, “is ’ the going up of Adummim,’ that is ’ the red pass ’ which was on the western border of Judah; the word is the plural of the same Hebrew root as Adam, Edqm, &c, all meaning red, St Jerome says that the name refers to the blood so often shed by robbers on this road; but in the Septuagint it is given as the ’ pass of the red ones, “cc It is,” continues the same writer, giving a faithful description of its present features, unchanged in all material respects since Peter trode it that day with his Master — “It is a very steep and rugged ascent, with sharp angles, turning on the edge of the cliff, with the 400 or 500 feet of chasm below: but the road is every where protected by rough walls. It bears traces of the old Roman work at intervals all the way to Jerusalem. From the summit we looked back once more over the plain, now beautiful in the morning light — the orange and green foliage by the winding river, like a green serpent on the sands — the blue sea, and the stern and lofty cliffs with the cleft of Wady Hesban, through which probably the Israelites arrived at the Promised Land — the Eastern and Western Mountains gradually closing in at the far north.” 1 They would pause for the night in all likelihood at the good Samaritan’s Inn, the only place of shelter probably then as now in that dreary road, — the modern Khan Hoadjar, where alone among these rainless wastes a well of water is to be found: then on the morrow making an early start to complete the fatiguing journey. The last pause

1 Miss Beaufort’s “Syrian Shrines,” p. 140. would probably be made when within sight of Bethany, to quench their thirst at the fountain then known as En Shemish, with its screen of rock and trickling water, now so familiar to all travellers as “the Fountain of the Apostles.” “There are few pictures,” it has been well said, “in the Gospel, more striking than this of Jesus going forth to His death, and walking alone along the path into the deep valley, while in awful reverence and mingled anticipations of dread and hope — their eyes fixed on Him, as with bowed head, He preceded them in all the majesty of sorrow — the disciples walked behind and dared not disturb His meditations. But at last, He paused, and beckoned them to Him, and then once more, for the third time, with fuller, clearer, more startling, more terrible particulars than ever before, He told them that He should be betrayed to the Priests and Scribes, by them condemned, then handed over to Gentiles; by the Gentiles mocked, scourged, and He now for the first time revealed to them without .any ambiguity the crowning horror — crucified, and that on the third day He should rise again.” 1

This last and most sacred pilgrimage was probably that afternoon terminated at Bethany. There the Prophet of Nazareth and His chosen followers parted company with the rest of the multitude that kept holiday. These latter would pour by thousands across the shoulder of Olivet, their enthusiasm breaking into most joyous strains at that well-known turn in the road when Herod’s magnificent Temple burst in a moment on their sight on the other side of the Kedron — the same spot that was watered by the Redeemer’s tears, and which, when we saw it, was sprinkled with “blood-drops”

l Dr Farrar, vol. i. p. 179. (as the red anemone has after Him been touchingly called by Christian pilgrims).

. From the name given it by the Latin and Greek Christians (Viri Galilasi), it has been conjectured that the most northerly summit of Olivet was the spot where the disciples and the other worshippers from Galilee were in the habit of pitching their tents on the recurrence of the great festivals. On the present occasion, however, it is more than probable that night quarters would be provided for the immediate followers of Jesus in the home of Lazarus, which we have reason to believe from various incidental touches in the story of Bethany was not the dwelling of poverty, as it is often represented to be, and therefore not so limited as others in its accommodation. To be lodged however in a house, or even within walls, was, at the time of the Passover, the exception, not the rule.” The thousands on thousands were content with the little green booths called Succoth, a wattle of twigs and leaves, such as Jacob had made for himself in Canaan, and such as the Sharon peasant still builds for his family at the Jerusalem gate. Mizpeh, Olivet, Gibeon, Rephaim, s|>arkled with these booths and tents. The slopes of the Kedron being alive with men and women with sheep and goats, with camels and asses, while the great fountains of En-rogel and Siloam were thronged with girls drawing water for man and beast. * 2

Such is a picture of that eventful evening when Peter, and Peter’s great Lord, saw the sun sinking over the brow of Olivet, and lighting up with varied hues of purple and amethyst the line of the Moab hills.

1 Beland in loco * The Hoi j Land,” p. 145.

During that ever-memorable week, Jesus crossed and recrossed Olivet by the familiar road to the same congenial home; forgetting, amid the scenes matchless in Palestine for their varied interest, the strife of tongues in Jerusalem; and in the sweet friendship of those He loved, banishing deeper sorrows, which like gathering thunder-clouds were closing around Him.

It was on one of these journeys (the second morning of the Passion week), that He pronounced the doom on the barren fig-tree. This must have occurred some time in the early part of the day. On returning to Bethany, the disciples might possibly fail in the dusk of evening to recognise the completeness of the withering; but following the same path next morning, Peter, ever vigilant, turned his Master’s attention to the solitary, shrivelled, blighted cumberer, “Master, behold the fig-tree which Thou cursedst is withered away.” Upon which the Divine Teacher inculcated a lesson, needful for them all in the future of their Apostleship, and specially when in a few days they would see Him scotted and buffeted and crucified. They might take this exercise of His power and sovereignty in the world of nature as a pledge of similar potency in the domain of Providence and grace, “Have faith in God” (Mark xi. 22).

Either the same, or possibly the next day, was one which seems to have impressed itself deeply on the mind of Peter; for in St Mark’s Gospel, he specially puts his own name first, in describing a memorable scene and interview on the summit of the Mount of Olives.

Jesus had quitted the Temple for the last time. One of His many adherents had directed His attention to the grandeur of the pile of buildings He was now leaving; to stair and cloister, gate and pillar, stones of cyclopean size, plates of gold and silver gleaming on wall and roof in the sunset

His own Apostles listened for the moment in silence to His strange reply, that the hour was on the wing when all that mass of gorgeous magnificence would become a pile of desolation! They retain their silence till they have crossed the Kedron gorge and climbed the caravan road to Bethany, — the same which He had traversed on the occasion of His triumphal entrance, and from which the city appears, despite of the intervening valley, s«> peculiarly near.” The stones could be seen from the opposite hill, so that a man might have counted the tiers, and told off the mason work; here the grand art of Solomon, marked with the Tyrian bevel; there the more hasty Labour of Nehemiah, showing columns of porphyry and serpentine flung into the mass; the whole riveted and topped with the less solid, but more regular masonry of Herod the Great.,,1 The hum of busy tents and encampments is all around; but they select some secluded grassy knoll where they may seat themselves in the cool of the evening and unburden theii thoughts. Peter, joined by James, John, and Andrew, interrogate confidentially the Master about the strange mysterious prediction they had just heard Him utter. No wonder that both the scene and the prophetic utterances imprinted themselves indelibly on the mind of our Apostle. The discourse was the most solemn and impressive of all Jesus had delivered: and the outer framework surely was a fit setting to it. As they gazed right and left on the mountains round about Jerusalem, — and

“The Holy Land,” p. 366.

rHE LAST DAYS OF THE PASSION. 171

in front, across the -deep crevasse of the Kedron, on the glittering masses of white marble reddened with the hist fires of day, there was truly no hyperbole — no poetical licence or exaggeration — in the words of the Minstrel King as applied to the “perfection of beauty “beheld at that sunset hour —” Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is Mount Zion; on the sides of the north, the city of the Great King! 99 Who need wonder that one of those, whose eyes then gazed upon this earthly “apocalyptic vision,” should afterwards, when the visions of Heavenly glory were stealing over him, have made the transcendent human scene suggestive of a grander and more enduring verity — “the holy city, the New Jerusalem,” with its gates of pearl, and its streets of gold, “coming down from God out of Heaven prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Rev. xxi. 2). Let the minstrel of the “Fall of Jerusalem” complete the picture of that vision of loveliness on which the eye of Peter, and we may add the eye of Incarnate glory, fell.

44 How boldly doth it front us! how majestically J Like a luxurious vineyard, the hillside Is hung with marble fabrics, line o’er line, Terrace o’er terrace, nearer still, and nearer, To the blue heavens. Here bright and sumptuous palaces, With cool and verdant gardens interspersed; Here towers of war that frown in massy strength, While over all hangs the rich purple eve.

Behold the Temple In undisturbed and lone serenity, Finding itself a solemn sanctuary In the profound of Heaven. It stands before us A mount of snow, fretted with golden pinnacles! i The very sun, as though he worshipped there, Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs: And down the long and branching porticoes, On every flowery, sculptured capital, Glitters the homage of his parting beams.” 1

“Master, seest Thou what manner of stones and what buildings are here ]”

“There shall not one stone be left Upon another that shall not be thrown down.”

Peter might afterwards contrast this with another saying regarding a more enduring Rock and Temple.” Upon. this Rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it! *

On the Thursday morning of that great week, the favoured Apostle was selected along with John to go into Jerusalem to make preparation for the keeping of the Passover. Jesus gave these two messengers specific directions as to how, in the densely-crowded state of the city at that time, a chamber could be secured for the sacred celebration. Dr Hanna observes with regard to this joint errand of Peter and John, that “though often singularly and closely associated afterwards, this, I believe, was the only time that Christ separated them from all the rest, and gave them a conjunct task to perform. In sending them before the others, He could easily and at once have indicated where the room was in which they were to meet in the evening; instead of this He gives them a sign, the following of which was to conduct them to it. This way of ordering it, whatever was its real purpose, served effectually to conceal from the others the locality of the guest-chamber, and may have been meant to keep the traitor in the meantime in

1 Milman’s “Fall of Jerusalem.” ignorance of a fact, his earlier knowledge of which communicated to the Chief Priests might have precipitated the catastrophe, and cut off Gethsemaue from our Saviour’s passion.” 1

. Their omniscient Lord told them, that on entering the Eastern gate of the city they would meet a hired ser* vant bearing a pitcher of water from one of the fountains of the Kedron. They were to follow the footsteps of this water- currier till they reached a house the mas* ter of which would bid them welcome, and shew them an upper ropm already furnished and plenished for the feast.” At noon all work was laid aside, and all leaven destroyed, unleavened bread alone being lawful food for the next eight days. In the Temple the evening sacrifice was offered an hour earlier than on other days, for the number of Passover-lambs to be slain* before night-fall was immense. During this. wee.k the whole company of priests was on duty; and the courts of the Temple were crowded with the multitudes of. Jews who had come up to the city to keep the Passover and brought their lambs to slay for the Paschal supper, which had to be eaten that night; the first day of the Passover beginning as soon as the stars became visible in the sky. Peter and John... had to choose and buy a suitable lamb, carry it up to the Temple, and see that it was roasted for supper. ....

“On this day the evening sacrifice was offered about half-past two, immediately after which the slaying of the Passover began, Probably die disciples were in the first division of those who brought their lambs; for at the fall of evening, as soon as the stars shone in the sky, the feast was ready. Christ had been lingering on

i Dr Hanna’i “Passion Week,” p 280.

Olivet, where the hymns and hallelujahs from the Temple might reach His ear, with the blast of the silver trumpets which told that the Paschal lamb was slain. But as the evening drew on, He descended the Mount with His disciples, and entered the city unobserved in the twilight. ....

“The pre-occupation of the people freed the little group of men from observation, as well as the twilight, which was darkening the streets. Every Jew must eat the Passover that night, in his best and festive garments; Many of those who had been latest in the Temple, were hurrying homewards with the lamb that had yet to be roasted for the supper. All of them were too much engrossed in the celebration of the feast to give more than a passing thought to the band of Galileans, but dimly seen, who were following the Prophet of Nazareth through the streets

“It was still early in the evening when they reached the large upper chamber where the feast was prepared for them.,, 1

Peter, as he had been sent beforehand to prepare, so was he conspicuous as one of the privileged guests in the Ccenaculum. After partaking of the Paschal Supper, the sacramental memorial of Redeeming love was instituted. All that is hallowed and sacred in thought must ever gather round that quiet sanctuary. It is a beautiful family meeting where He who on other occasions is either brought before us as the Homeless One, or else as the guest of others, is now Himself the Master of the feast. The disciples are “seated under their Beloved’s shadow with great delight.” It was a second Mount of

l “The Wonderful Life,” pp. 177-8, a recent history of our Lord, written with the charm of simplicity and reverence.

Transfiguration. But besides the “decease that He was so soon to accomplish at Jerusalem,” there were superadded themes of ineffable comfort for the Church on earth, with sublime vista-views of the “many mansions,” and the Eternal glory; — the crown rising above the Cross. Well might Peter on that hallowed ground have renewed his exclamation, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.”

Before partaking of the sacred symbols, there occurs the touching incident of the washing of the disciples’ feet by the Great Master Himself. “When the Holy Jesus,” says Jeremy Taylor, “had finished His last Mosaic rite, He descends to give example of the first fruits of Evangelical grace.” The act itself was in harmony with the other parts of our Lord’s teaching. We have indeed at times that teaching enforced and illustrated in the continuous, systematic discourse; but we have, more frequently still, great and eternal truths which He wished to impress on the heart not only of His hearers but of humanity, set forth in significant rite and emblem. Now it is outer nature — the scenes around Him, — now it is the bread which feeds the hungering multitudes, or the water drawn at the wayside well — (the conjoint staff of daily life) which are made the exponents and interpreters of spiritual verities. And so it was in the present case. A lesson is to be read to the disciples a,nd the Church by means of an acted parable.

The simple Gospel narrative has thus been graphically expounded by a recent writer. “On arriving in the upper room, after the hot and dusty afternoon walk from Bethany, the first refreshment needed by the weary disciples was the loosening of their sandals, and the bathing of their feet. To perform this kindly office was usually the duty of the host, but on occasion of the Passover when rooms were lent gratuitously to parties of visitors to Jerusalem, it was expected that the guests would provide for their own comfort in this, as in other respects. Nor could the household servants be spared at so busy a time to wait upon the visitors. Only the laver was ready, with the cool water, and the linen towels. Yet no one of the disciples would stoop to perform the service to the rest. The condescension seemed too great, the old strife broke out, as to “which of them should be the greatest” In the end it seemed as if they would have to take their places at the table weary and unrefreshed, and with mutual rancour in their hearts, when Jesus Himself solves the difficulty, inculcating at the same time great lessons of purity and humility upon them all; “He riseth from supper,” Le. from the supper* table, before the meal had begun, “and laid aside His (upper) garments, and took a towel and girded Himself. After that He poureth water into the laver, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith He was girded.” 1 How impressive an example for engaging in those lowly works and services of charity which He had so often inculcated; denying themselves, and stooping to the infirmities and necessities of the poor and suffering! He administers a significant rebuke to human pride. “Ye call me Master and Lord, and ye say well; for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye also ought to wash one another s feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you” (John xiii 13-15). It was a pattern

1 Dr Green, pp. 42, 43.

exhibited by the Master to be followed, not in the letter, but in the spirit; not by the ostentatious ablutions practised in Easter week by the Papal hierarchy who in affected humility washes in a golden ewer the feet of twelve extemporised pilgrims; but the exercise of those silent offices of love, by which the greatest as well as the humblest member of the household of faith can help and comfort those who are in anywise afflicted and distressed in mind, body, or estate. “Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me.” 1

When Peter’s turn came in the touching ceremonial, With mingled humility and pride he resents the thought of his Master stooping to so mean an office, and curtly refuses the offered service. He asks, with astonishment and displeasure, and under a deep consciousness of his u n worthiness, “Lord, dost Thou wash my feet V — ‘Thou whose brows I so lately saw encircled with unutterable glory on the Mount, receiving homage from the greatest of Hebrew sires, and pronounced by the Diviue voice as the Father’s Beloved Son! * It recalls the spirit and emotions of the trembling fisherman of a former year, kneeling on the shores of Qennesaret, and exclaiming, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord; “as well as the bold and arrogant reprover of his Divine Master, on the way from Hennon,” This be far from Thee, Lord..”” Then cometh He to Simon

1 Regarding the question we hare already discussed of Peter’s primacy or precedence over his brother Apostles, a discerning writer, previously quoted, here well remarks: “Peter is again, as in many other places, prominent — an eager speaker. But this prominence is not assigned to him by his Lord. We are not told that Jesus began with Peter. On the contrary, He began with some other of the Apostles, and ‘then cometh He to Simon Peter ;» Who does not appear to have been either the last or the first” — Author of Euays on the Church, p. 6.

Peter; and Peter saith unto Him, Lord, dost Thou wash my feet? Jesus answered and said unto him, What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter. Peter saith unto Him, Thou shalt never wash my feet. Jesus answered him, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me. Simon Peter saith unto Him, Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head “(John xiii. 6-9). They then return to the table, reclining, as was the Jewish wont, on couches and cushions around it. Their Lord begins to discourse more fully than He had done before, on the mysterious cross and passion now so close at hand. The joy moreover of an otherwise joyous feast was darkened by a new, portentous shadow of evil. The startling announcement was made by those lips of tenderness, that one of their number was to turn false hearted — “Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me.” The question was asked by one after another of the sorrowful guests — blank astonishment on every face — none suspecting a brother, each suspectiug himself, “Lord, is it I?” Peter, under the agonizing memories of former instability and faithlessness, seems to dread more than all the rest the possibility that he may be the dastard apostate. As if anxious to be relieved of the horrible suspicion of any complicity in so foul a deed, he can, unseen by Jesus in the place he occupied on the triclinia, make a silent but

1 The subject of Christ washing Peter’s feet was often selected by the religious painters, Giotto and others But by far the most beautiful and reverent al treatment, in harmony with all the works of the great Artist who was said never to have used his brush without previous prayer, is a picture by Fra Angelica (See a careful reproduction in ouUine in Mrs Jameson’s vol., p. 16.) She also refers to the oldest art treatment of the same Gospel incident on a sarcophagus found in the Roman catacombs. sufficiently understood sign to the Beloved Disciple. He beckons to the latter, as he was leaning on his Master’s bosom, to ascertain the whole sad truth — so that the hypocrite and traitor may be at once exposed — “Ask Him who is it.”

Supper being ended, and Judas having gone out to consummate his villanous purpose, renewed reference was made by the Divine Lord to the tour of trial. “Little children, yet a little while I am with you. Ye shall seek me: and as I said unto the Jews, Whither I go ye cannot come, so now I say to you.” Peter was again the first to speak. The words jarred and grated on his spirit. The others maintained awe-struck silence — they sit like Mary of Bethany at the Master’s feet; but this Martha of his sex must probe the mysterious secret about these valedictory utterances. “Lord, whither goest Thou 1 “Jesus intimated to him that the awful journey to the mount of suffering was to be made alone —” Whither I go thou canst not follow Me now.” But, giving His disciple the first hint of future and remote fellowship in His sufferings, He adds “thou shalt follow Me afterwards.” The latter is not content with the reply; he is doubtless honest and sincere in his expression and feeling of reverence and devotion, nor can we even question his courage. Perhaps at that moment he carried on his person the sword which he afterwards unsheathed in defence of a life dearer than his own. Little knowing the weakness and treachery of his own heart, and the fitfulness of his best frames, he presumptuously refuses to acknowledge any reason why he may not accompany his Lord, even if that should involve martyrdom; — “Why cannot I follow Thee now?” adding the still more confident assertion, “I will lay down my life for Thy sake.“- Jesus addresses to him the severest of rebukes, couched in the announcement which Peter could not fail to reject with incredulity, viz., that before cock-crowing, or the early morning watch, he would be guilty of a shameful threefold denial of Him he now boasted that he would so faithfully serve. It is worthy of note also, that on this one occasion alone, as given by St Luke, Jesus calls him by his Rock-name,” Peter; “perhaps to remind him of his own weakness and recal the source whence alone his rock-like strength was derived. Moreover He made no secret to him, as they still sat at the Feast, that he would become the victim of Satanic assault; Satan would try to” sift him as wheat: “revealing too sadly: that all these loud vain-glorious protestations were but as the chaff of the summer’s threshing-floor; accompanying, however, the warning with the gracious assurance that” though he fall, yet would he not be cast down utterly,” for He, his faithful Lord, would “uphold him with His right hand.” “But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not.” “The vision set before him,” says Dean Stanley,2” is not of the future, but of the present and the past; not clothed in the imagery of the national prophecies, but of that Book which above all others in the Old Testament speaks of the struggles and temptations of the individual man in the presence of his Maker. It is the opening of the Book of Job that furnishes the medium through which the inward and spiritual contest is represented to the outward sense.

1 St Mark, as usual, records two points which enhance the force of the warning and the guilt of Peter, viz., that the cock would crow twice, and that after such warning he repeated his protestation with greater vehemence. — Bb. Diet., ii. 800.

a Stanley’s Sermons and Essays on the Apostolic Age, pp. 152, 153.

As in a previous occasion peculiar to this same Gospel, it had been said on the return of the Seventy, * I beheld Satan fall from heaven like lightning, as if the court of heaven had been opened before him, and at the triumph of good the Accuser had visibly fallen from his wonted place amongst the sons of God; so here the same scene is again displayed, but with its brightness overcast by the coming on of the * hour and the power of darkness, brought before us also in this especial Gospel with a. vividness and emphasis peculiar to itself (Luke xxii. 53)* 1 It is,’ if we may so far bring out the latent image implied in the sacred words, ‘It is no light trial which is now impending over you; it was no slight demand which has, as it were even now, been made and obtained by the Great Adversary as he stood before the throne of heaven, and received permission from the Most High to sift as on a threshing-floor the good from the bad who are mixed up in your company. But, great as the trial will be to all, and, above all, to thee, the first and chief Apostle, fear not. One there was, who at that moment sent up His prayer to the Father that thou at least mightest come through victorious, that thy faith might not sink under the terrors of the coming distress; and it will be for thee therefore, whensoever the time may come, that thy spirit shall revive, and that thou shalt turn again from thy flight ... to support those whose faith has even more than given way under the danger; when thou hast known what it is to be tried thyself, thou wilt be the better able to strengthen others.’ “l

* It has been noted that in this address of Jesus, the word “you” (plura’ in the first part) includes all the Apostles, who were to be subject to thh assault of the Evil One, and to succumb to it But “thou,” in the second part,, is addressed to Peter, as the one against whom the onset would be mainly directed, and moreover who was specially to enjoy the benefit of The great Hallel was now sung — that cluster of time-honoured Psalms which had been for long centuries used on the same occasion by thousands and tens of thousands, and which that very evening were being intoned by thousands more, closing with the strangely appropriate words — words that became for all future ages the Hymn of Redeemed Humanity in looking back on that night of nights and on the day which followed: —

“God is the Lord, which hath shewed us light: Bind the sacrifice with cords, Even unto the horns of the altar. Thou art my God, and I will praise Thee: Thou art my God, I will exalt Thee. O give thanks unto the Lord; for He is good: For His mercy endureth for ever.” — P*. oxviiL 27-29.

Then followed the valedictory address contained in the 14th, 15th, and 16 th chapters of St John’s Gospel; and though Peter’s name is not specially mentioned as one of the auditors, we know that he was so. At the close of the 14th chapter the Divine Speaker suddenly interrupts His farewell words of comfort, as if some sudden impulse had seized Him, or some inner voice had whispered that “His hour was come.77 He pauses, and gives the summons, *; Arise, let us go hence!” Hence! Where ] From the hour of sweet communion to the place and the season of conflict.

They descended from the large upper room to the streets jubilant with the festive music and the hurrying crowds. Then issuing forth by the southern gate, the

his Master’s prayers. “I have prayed for tk’e, that thy faith fall not,” and yet further, that there was a promise that through him his brethren would be strengthened. “When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren.” — See Arch. Wkatdy s Lectures, p. 19.

distant olive-grove would come in sight. He dare not keep His disciples longer in ignorance of the impending trial. Proceeding, as we may suppose for a while in profound silence, wrapt in meditative thought, with a strange undefined presentiment of what was at hand, He makes the revelation, “All ye shall be offended because of Me this night: for it is written, * I will smite the Shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad’” (Matt. zxvi. 31). Peter is the first as usual to speak. His words are a renewed protestation of his fidelity and allegiance. Perhaps from former reproofs, he had good reason to believe that his great Master had little confidence in his steadfastness, less so than in all the others. His natural pride was wounded at such implied exception; and in half resentful language he makes anew the asseveration, “Though all shall be offended because of Thee, yet will I never be offended.” His Lord briefly repeats the warning of the cock-crowing, which would ere long convict him, not of one, but of a three-fold denial. We might have expected that he would have received the renewed reproof in silence and in tears. But nothing will daunt his boastful fortitude. “Though 1 should die with Thee,” is his avowal, “yet will I not deny Thee.” His Lord does not condescend on a second answer. He meets the assertion with an ominous silence. A few hours would reveal the sad fickleness and frailty of a wavering heart. “The hour is now come,” says Christ again, as they have reached the depths of the valley (to Him truly in a figurative sense 41 the Valley of the Shadow of Death “) “that ye shall be scattered every man to his own, and shall leave me alone.” The disciples were very familiar with that road, especially so during the preceding days. Each evening of that eventful week, as we have seen, had been spent in the Village of Bethany. Doubtless therefore, in rising from the supper table, and taking the wonted path conducting to the Mount, most (or all) of them would imagine that their Divine Master was about to resort as heretofore to the same hallowed retreat, and renew congenial seclusion and fellowship among the friends He. loved. But on reaching the gate .of the olive garden, there is a different resolve announced, and He thus alike prepares them and Himself for His hour of trial, “Sit ye here while I go and pray yonder.”

Let us endeavour farther to picture that walk in-Which Peter occupies so prominent a place. They would descend from Mount Zion either by the King’s Gardens, or else traverse the pathway, which in all likelihood would lead then, as it does now, under the Eastern wall of the city. In either case, they would cross the Valley of Jehoshaphat where the Kedron, swollen it may be by the last of the latter rains, murmured along its rocky gorges, “flowing through ranges of graveyards into the desert on its way into the Dead Sea: the ledges of hill dropping down to this brook being terraced for vineyards and olive woods;... the’ bare rock on its sides shaped into the monuments of forgotten priests and kings.” 1 It was not my privilege to be at Jerusalem during Passion Week, but under a clear full moon with its attendant stars a month pre* vious, I was able by looking in the direction of Gethsemane from the opposite side of the Valley, to carry away undying impressions of that supreme moment of

1 “Th« Holy Und,” p. 836.

the Incarnation; — the descent to the Kedron — the smooth grassy plateaux of “The Mouut” studded here and there with groups of olive, all under the impressive silence and stillness of an oriental night. Imagination was perhaps left the more free to reject the traditional site of the Garden, with its present obtrusive modern wall* and to follow that company of woe- worn, sorrow-stricken pilgrims of old to some quieter nook, not far off, bathed in that same silvery moonlight, and before Olivet’s wealth of trees had fallen under the axes of the Roman conqueror. The disciples with their adorable Master ascended slowly that opposite sward or pathway, pro* bably between our eleven and twelve o’clock. Doubt* less, other lights lingered in the city or among the white tents that covered the slopes of Olivet. The shadow from the opposite side of the ravine may have been projected upon Gethsemane, veiling it in partial darkness. Jesus was no stranger to that olive-grove. Some indeed suppose it to have been an orchard or farm, belonging to a disciple who had joyfully granted it to his Divine Master. St Luke, introducing the history, says, “He went as He was tvont to the Mount of Olives.” That same spot had doubtless oft before listened to His prayers; as if He had been desirous by previous fellowship with His Father in heaven on the same hallowed ground, to consecrate it, and to nerve Himself for that struggle on which He was now to enter! The betrayer, too, seemed to have been familiar with the favoured resort. He may have often tarried at the gate of that garden, and heard the same direction which was now to be given under more awful circumstances. “Sit ye here, while I go and pray yonder.” Nor need we limit it to a place of devotion.

It may have shared the honour with Bethany, of being the Judean Home or lodging-place of the Divine Pilgrim. That houseless Wanderer, who slept on the plank of a fishing-boat oii the Sea of Galilee, may have pillowed His weary head oft and again, on the sod underneath these sheltering olive boughs. As a stranger in the land, and a wayfaring man, He may have turned oft aside here to tarry for a night.

Peter has again a conspicuous post allotted to him in this momentous hour. While the rest of the eleven are left at the outer precincts reclining on the sward, he, along with other two out of the sacred band are permitted more nearly to approach and to be within a stone’s cast of their Master. These spectators of His humiliation are the same three, the favoured “triumvirate,” who we recently found had been the witnesses of His glory on the Mount of Transfiguration.” James and John had but a short time before boldly asserted that they were able to be baptized with His baptism of suffering and to drink of His cup of sorrow. Peter had just declared that he was ready to go with Him even to prison and to death. Of all His disciples, none had so confidently demanded a scrutiny; none therefore had less reason to complain that they were now placed in the front row of the battle. n 1 While they follow Him amid the deeper shades of the plantation, the august Sufferer Himself seems to have plunged further still into the solitude. He must be alone. No inviolate mountain-oratory indeed has He now, as on the silent hills around Bethsaida and Magdala; but the present, as it had been with every other momentous crisis of His life, must be entered on by prayer, even though the din

1 Blunt, p. 144. of the festal encampments all around may, late as the hour was, have invaded and disturbed the moments of supreme devotion. A horror of great darkness comes upon Him. Mark says “He became sore amazed and very heavy.” Matthew says “His soul became sorrowful” — “exceeding sorrowful ‘* (encompassed and environed, as the word means, round and round with grief), u sorrowful even unto death.” 1

Too soon was Peter’s weakness revealed and His Lord’s warnings fulfilled. The divine Sufferer, coining no less than three times in these moments of intense and vehement emotion from the depths of the Olive grove to the gate of the Garden, finds His boastful disciple and his two associates asleep under the trees. He utters the withering rebuke which might well have gone as an arrow to their hearts. “What, could ye not watch with me one hour?” The slumberer in whom we are chiefly interested is specially selected for a (personal reprimand. “Simon, steepest thou?” * Thou didst promise to die with me, canst thou not watch with me? O faithless one! for whole nights hast thou toiled at thy nets at Gennesaret and surrendered hours of needed repose — on this one night of temptation and anguish canst thou not spare thy Lord one hour?’ Coupled indeed with his previous bold and energetic protestation of unalterable devotion, Peters faithless conduct is most st range and his guilt most aggravated. It was the season of all others when his sympathy was most needed; — when strong crying and tears and great drops of blood were the exponent of divine-human anguish. Could

l On this as specially recorded by Mark in Peter’s own Gospel — Bishop Wordsworth observes : — “St Mark takes care to show that Peter bad all necessary training from Christ before the denial”

J88 THE FOOTSTEPS OF ST PETER.

he ever possibly forget these burning words of tender rebuke, I had almost said irony, with which the awful transaction closes, as perchance the red glancing torchlights of the approaching murderers were seen, and the noise of their footsteps was beard, — “Sleep on now, and take your rest” As if He had said, ‘The hour when you could have aided and comforted me is now past You have by your un watchfulness forfeited the one opportunity of sustaining me in the crisis of the battle.’ Faithless ones, your wakefulness can be of no use to me now, “sleep on and take your rest” 1

It would seem however, too, as if Peter had treasured up in special memory for after years the prayer of that hour of agony. It would seem as if he could not have been so oppressed with sleep as to be unconscious of gome of its utterances. For it has been discriminately noticed that in his special Gospel alone, the expression “Abba, Father” is found; as if that precious name had mingled with the recollection of his disturbed slumbers*

A» Peter’s Lord uttered the last words I have quoted, the tramp of hostile feet seems to have been borne yet nearer to His listening ears. The first, sorest, most mysterious part of the spiritual struggle was over. He bad made in vain the appeal, “Have pity upon Me, Have pity upon Me, O ye My friends, for the hand of God hath touched Me.” Now He was about to enter on the second part of the awful drama, and to be seized by the hand of man.

But we need not more minutely detail the well-known narrative. Immediately after this came the armed troop with their lighted torches and rough staves,

l This latter portion is mainly abridged from the author’s “Memories of Olivet”

THE LAST DAYS OF THE PASSION. 1B9

headed by the traitor a Jewish rabble assisted by Roman soldiers and some emissaries from the High Priest. Those who have beheld what I have just been describing, a full Passover moon in Palestine, making the night clear as day, will only see in these needless lanterns the firm determination to prevent the possibility of escape, and of tracking, if need be, the footsteps of the Divine Victim in case He might seek concealment amid the deeper shades of the olive-groves. Unsanctioned by their Master, a collision takes place between the handful of disciples and the assassin band. As we might expect, the ungovernable spirit of Peter takes the initiative; and yet, may we not extenuate his rashness by making it share the better interpretation of an act of heroic devotion in a desperate hour, — as if he would redeem, if he could, his recent unfaithful vigils? Unsheathing one of the two swords we have already noted as having been taken by the disciples to the garden, he assaulted Malchus, the High Priest’s servant. But missing a more deadly aim and purpose he cut off his ear. Jesus at once interferes. Mingling mercy and forgiveness in that hour of unmerited vengeance, He heals the wound, making the last miracle before His death a deed of kindness to an enemy,1 and then addresses His impetuous disciple in words of rebuke for this fresh act of indiscretion and temerity: — “Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again

1 The same writer on sacred art already quoted, referring to this incident, says : — «’ There was perhaps a tradition in the fifteenth century of the serrant harlng carried a lantern; for from about that time it is always introduced (in pictures) and seen fallen with him to the ground. In a manuscript in the Brussels ‘Library... the prostrate servant catches hold of the robe of Judas to save him: a touch of bitter satire on the painter’s part, on the blindness which could thus appeal to the sinking sinner with the Ark of Refuge standing by.”. thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to My Father, and He shall presently give Me more than twelve legions of angels?” (Matt, xxvi. 52, 53).

“Peter’s precipitate sword,” says a recent writer, “strikes a random blow; all in keeping, it might be thought, with the flashing of lanterns and the glitter of weapons, and the clamour of voices which now broke upon the still night; but all violently out of keeping with the deep resignation of the soul of Christ, and that final act of self-consecration which the band of men and officers were bringing to its accomplishment. If the sword were to be used at all, Malchus was not the person to strike at. The only chance was to slay the leader of the band, and escape, if possible, in the confusion. But, indeed, it was a mistake altogether* The sword was utterly out of place. Whole armies of men, or twelve legions of angels, were as powerless here as that one futile blow. Those awful world-moments held the everlasting ages in their grasp. Stand all aside. It was the Sons supreme agony of self-sacrifice and of obedience to the Father’s will. * Put up thy sword into the sheath.’” 1

The Divine Sufferer having meekly resigned Himself into the hands of His captors, was led at dead of night, not in the first instance to the “LUh-cath ka-gazith” the meeting-place of the Sanhedrin on the Temple-bill, (that court could not be convened until the morning had advanced) but to the dwelling of Annas or Hanan, the High Priest; situated near the great bridge over

1 See a thoughtful and suggestive volume, Waiting for the Light, and Other Sermons,’’ by Rev. Mr Wright. Vicar of Stoke- Bishop.

THE LAST DAYS OF THE PASSION. 19t

the Xystus, “between Millo and the Armoury on the North-Eastern slope of Mount Zion.”1 All the disciples in abject terror had forsaken Him and fled, ere He had recrossed the*Kedron. They may have expected some divine intervention the advent of some strong angel to elFect His liberation. But when they beheld His hands bound with cords and no effort made on His part to wrench them away; some plunged ignominiously into the thickets or grottoes around; others betook themselves within the walls of the city, and left their Divine Master to His fate —

“All My disciples fly! Fear put a bar Betwixt my friends and Me; they leave the star Which brought the wise men from the East from far.

Was ever grief like Mine! n — George Herbert.

Peter, however, timidly fidlowed the crowd, but it is specially noted he “followed afar off.” Had his nobler and braver nature risen to the ascendant; — facing the jeers and buffetings of the rabble had he walked by his Master’s side, and listened to the same majestic words which had calmed his fears on Gennesaret, he might have saved himself the bitterest and most mournful hours of his history. Nerved with such Divine utterances, and receiving the fresh promise of supporting grace, he might have renewed his strength and mounted up as on eagles’ wings. But he cowardly skulked away in the distance. He was once more on the midnight waves and “beginning to sink.”

“Forsake the Christ thou sawest transfigured, Him Who trod the sea, and brought the dead to life? What should wring this from thee? Ye laugh and ask What wrung it? Even a torchlight and a noise,

1 Dr Barclay’s “City of the Great King.” chill dews of the Jehoshaphat Valley, Peter joined the soldiers and servants as they gathered around a brazier or charcoal fire in that open quadrangle, warming his hands. He had foolishly imagined that he would have been unrecognised in the strange place. It is even evident that he had injudiciously and discreditably entered into promiscuous conversation with those sharing in the popular frenzy, traducing his Master and thirsting for his Master’s blood. The foretold hour of unworthy denial came. The young portress, probably a female slave, who had first admitted him, appears to have been relieved at her post by another, and meanwhile joined the circle round the brazier. Holding up her lighted lamp to Peter’s face, as he sat in ill-suppressed terror and excitement, she charged him with being a friend and accomplice of Jesus: “Thou also wast with Jesus of Nazareth.” But he seeks by an unworthy equivocation to evade an answer, pretending not to comprehend the precise drift of the question; he thought that perhaps thus he might escape a further scrutiny and be saved the baseness of a more direct falsehood — “I know not what thou sayest.” The first fatal step being taken, another quickly follows. According to Peter’s own recollection (for the picture seems to have been minutely engraven in his inmost heart, Mark xiv. 66-72), he seems to have stealthily crept away from the glow of the

l It was dow past midnight. Those who hare trarelled in Palestine at the same season of the year will endorse the naturalness and accuracy of this incidental touch in the narrative, as to the grateful heat from the brazier. Often have I felt in tent-life there, that when the early part of the night was balmy, pleasant, and “summer-like,” the early morning hours were intensely cold, so much so as to render additional clothing not only acceptable but necessary. firelight to the outer porch of the hall, possibly to secure a retreat from his perilous position. As daybreak was approaching, he heard, and yet he seems to have heard as if be heard not, a strange reprover there in the crowing of a cock. Tbe glance of another suspicious eye is upon him. The second portress, to whom we have just alluded, repeats the accusation. She communicates her shrewd suspicions to “them that stood by:” — these bystanders, we may well believe, being animated with the deadliest hatred to the cause of Jesus. The miserable man plunges deeper into the morass. It is indeed with him the hour and power of darkness. A second denial follows. He now disclaims all knowledge of his kind and affectionate Master. Who can imagine the conflict of cowardice and shame and mental reproach which he then must have undergone?

But lower still has he to sink ere he emerges from the depths of his degradation. He felt retreat from where he was now to be impossible; and yet with that foolhardihood in its most terrible phase which we have seen to be his natural characteristic and failing — as if he would brave his baseness to its direful end rather than surrender, he returns again to join the group of servants and idlers at the fireplace. His doom and disgrace are now inevitable. They confront him anew with the charge. They are fortified and confirmed in their accuracy by hearing his Galilean accent, the peculiarity of which, says De Wette, was “that the gutturals were not properly pronounced f — to which Lange adds the curious statement, that “the pronunciation of the people of Galilee was so uncouth and indistinct, that they were not allowed to read aloud in the Jewish Synagogue. The Talmudists relate a number of anecdotes about the curious misunderstandings occasioned by the indistinctness of pronunciation in Galilee.” “Thy speech bewrayeth thee,” — was therefore a new, and to Peter an unexpected testimony confirmatory of his guilt. A relative of the servant he had wounded at Gethsemane, and who had seen him there, adds his damning testimony; one after another of the excited group hurls a missile on the unhappy apostle. But it only makes him turn to bay, and with the coarse aggravation of oaths and curses once more to deny any knowledge of the Lord who bought him. “It is to be observed,” says Greswell, “that the moral lesson furnished by this most impressive and instructive incident is wonderfully enhanced, if it appears, as it must do now, that the number of times for which it was predicted that Peter should deny his Master, and the number of times for which he protested, in the confidence of a genuine sincerity, that he would rather die than deny Him, and the number of times for which, on being put to the test, he did deny Him, were precisely the same.” 1 Thus tersely too does Lange note the gradations of his guilt. “Ambiguous evasion, distinct denial, awful abjuration.” He has reached the sad climax — a position, excepting that of Judas, unparalleled almost in the annals of human ingratitude.

But He who came to His sinking disciple in the deepest darkness of stormy Gennesaret, comes to him now. He sends, probably at this moment, for the second time, the same humble instrument already employed to enkindle feelings of shame and remorse. While the stars are still shining in the early morning sky, the shrill voice

l Greswell’s Dissertation*.

THE LAST DAYS OP THE PASSION.

of the cock again greets the ear of the self-blinded one. And far more than this — more than gleam of lightning or voice of thunder, or sword of avenging angel — a look penetrates to the inmost recesses of his soul. Peter had imagined he was beyond the cognisance of Jesus. He never dreamt that his words of denial and perjured curses would reach his Master’s ear. It has been surmised that the eyes of the Master and the disciple may have met as the former was being led away bound to Caiaphas across the court where the Apostle was then standing. At all events, at that moment, with a glance not to be mistaken, never to be forgotten, — “a glance of more than human power, and more than human tenderness,,, — “the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how He had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny Me thrice. And Peter went out, and wept bitterly” (Luke xxiL 61, 62). Or, as St Mark expresses it, “And when he thought thereon, he wept.” The simple wording of Peter’s repentance in “Peter’s own Gospel” is surely

1 1 hare followed the “harmony” which seems the most satisfactory one and most generally accepted, detailed in the following note . — “The difficult question of the harmony of the various accounts cannot here be fully entered into. If we allow ourselves to conceive that in the narrative of 8t John the first and second denials are transposed, and that the first took place at going out, rather than coming in, there would stem to result this very natural account, — that the first denial took place at the fire (Matt, xxvi 69. Mark xiv. 66, Luke xxii. 55, John xviii. 25), and was caused by the fixed recognition (Luke xxii 56) of the maid who admitted St Peter; that the second took place at or near the do..r leading out of the court, to which fear might have driven the Apostle (Matt. xxvi. 71, Mark xiv. 63, Luke xxii 58. John xviii. 17), and that the third took place in the court about an hour afterwards (Luke xxii. 59), before several witnesses who urged the peculiar nature of the Apostle’s harsh Galilean pronunciation, and near enough to our Lord for Him to turn and gaze upon Uis now heart-touched and repentant follower.” — ElUcott * Life of Our Lord, p. 333, with, authorities.

-worthy of passing note, as an additional testimony to what has often been observed, how when in his declining years he came to dictate the story of his life, he ever seeks to keep bis goodness in the shade, and brings always into emphatic prominence his faults and failings. He authorises, or rather instructs, St Mark graphically to describe the sad story of the threefold denial; but in the present instance, lest he should seem to exaggerate his feelings of penitential sorrow, he records of himself simply that “he wept,” while the other faithful chroniclers specially mention that “he wept bitterly” We can picture, and no more, what that soul-penetrating” look n would be! How, like scathing fire of heaven, it would flash conviction and rebuke on his seared conscience. All the more so, that it would not be a look of wrath and vengeance, but rather such as would instantaneously photograph all the three past years of unvarying kindness and amazing privilege. The Apostle’s heart was broken.

“The rock is smitten, and to future years,
Springs ever fresh the tide of holy tears.”

“That gracious chiding look, Thy call
To win him to himself and Thee,
Sweetening the sorrow of his fall,
Which else was rued too bitterly.”

We cannot truly wonder at the bitterness of these tears, when, at the risk of recapitulating, we attempt to gather up in a sentence all the peculiar aggravation of Peter’s sin. None of the Apostles had been more loved, more trusted, more honoured than he; enjoying constant and endearing intercourse with his Lord; admitted into the inner circle of fellowship; the auditor of these matchless discourses spoken on Mount Hattin; the witness of these miracles of power alike in Capernaum and Jerusalem. He had beheld the glory of the Transfiguration — an eye-witness there of his Lord’s majesty; he had sat a guest at the supper-table, listening to those valedictory words of kindness which must have reminded him more of a Parent speaking to his children, than a Master to disciples: he had partaken of the consecrated bread, and drank the sacramental cup, the emblems and memorials of Redeeming love, and the ratification of previous vows of allegiance. With reiterated protestations he had said, “Whatsoever others do, as for me, I will serve the Lord.” We might well have expected that if any grew apostate and renegade, it would not be he who walked fearlessly at his Master’s bidding on the midnight wave, who nobly confessed His Divinity at Cesarea Philippi, and avowed, almost in the words spoken by the young Moabitess of oldeu time, “Where Thou goest, I will go;... death itself shall not separate between Thee and me.” Yet at this critical moment, when his Redeemer stood companiouless and alone among His foes, “a lamb dumb before His shearers,” uncheered by one sympathising look in the palace- ball of Caiaphas — nay, rather, surrounded by an infuriated throng of blasphemers, who are soon to wreak upon Him their vengeance — His tender heart is wounded most of all by the faithlessness of His own familiar friend. Peter might even have made some partial amends and compensation now for the slumber of Gethseinane. He might by his presence and looks have given the meek Sufferer the assurance that amid that surging crowd, with their rough jostling, cruel taunts, and ribald jests, there was one heart at least that beat true to Him in its unvarying and unswerving attachment. But memory and heart seemed to be strangely dormant and extinct; the lips that should have been employed in intercession and sympathy are debased by a cruel falsehood; and the profane swearing, which we could only expect in the mouth of Roman soldier, or debased publican, or sceptic Sadducee, is emitted from the tongue of him who a few hours before had exulted in being a disciple of “the Holy One of God.”

“Did I yesterday Wash thy feet, My beloved, that th«y should run Quick to deny Me, *ueuth the morning sun?”

—Browning,

As he rushed out amid the chill of early morn to the grassy ridges of Jehoshaphat, “dewy with Nature’s tear-drops,” how the recalled words of better days must have rung like a knell in his ears: — “Whosoever shall be ashamed of Me and of My words, of him shall the Son of Man be ashamed, when He cometh in the glory of His Father, with the holy angels.”” O Lucifer, how art thou fallen! The Elijah of New Testament story turns coward the very moment we look for stout heart and brave deed. Other inspired words might be added to those which emblazon Peter’s reputed tomb in Borne, * When thou thinkest thou standest take heed lest thou falU»

Such was our Apostle’s deepest and saddest humiliation. But that look of penetrating love melted the faith-THE LAST DAYS OP THE PASSION. 201

less one. Tradition asserts, that every time afterwards Peter listened to the crowing of a cock, he fell on his knees and mourned; and that it was his wont to rise at midnight and spend the hour between cock-crowing and morning in acts of penitence and devotion. We may well reject the tradition while we accept the truth it embodies. From that day he was alike an humbled and an altered man. “Peter,” says Lange, “went out into the black night, but not, as Judas, into the blackness of despair. Weeping bitterly, he awaited the dawn of another and a better morning. The Angel of Mercy accompanied him on that heavy road to spiritual self-condemnation, which issued in the death of his old man, more especially of his former pride and self-confidence. And thus it came that he really accompanied Christ unto death, though in a very different and much better sense than he intended.” 1 With one solitary exception bis path, in future years, is no longer chequered with shadow and darkness, but rather begins that brightness which deepened and increased to the perfect day, till at last the promise was made good, “At evening time it shall be light.” The sun which had waded among threatening clouds sets in vermilion and gold; and the words thus confidently spoken were shown not to have been spoken in vain, “Lord, to whom shall we go] Thou hast the words of eternal life!” The invocation and prayer of the poet of the “Christian Year” was in his case most faithfully answered —

1 Lange’s Life of Christ in loe. The great German commentator naively adds, Will the so-called Romish Peter ever go forth from the Palace of the High Priest, when he has denied Jesus, to weep Utterly?”

When brooding o’er remembered Bin
The heart lies down — O mightiest then,

Come ever true, come ever near,
And wake the slumbering love again,

Spirit of God’s most holy fear.”1

1 The denial of Peter occurs frequently on the ancient sarcophagi as the symbol of Repentance; and is treated with olassical and sculptural simplicity, the cock being always introduced.” The same writer however adds, “It has not been often painted; it seems to have been avoided in general by the early Italian painters, as derogatory to the character and dignity of the Apostle.”... “The maiden, whose name in the old traditions is Balilla, is always introduced with a look and gesture of reproach, and the cock is often perched in the background.” — Sacred and LtQtndary Art, p. 197.