ord, which means a garden
or park and was applied to the abode of our first parents in Eden,
could not but call up in the consciousness of the dying man a scene of
beauty, innocence and peace, where, washed clean from the defilement of
his past errors, he would begin to exist again as a new creature. Even
Christians have believed that the utmost that can be expected in the
next world by a soul with a history like the robber's is, at least to
begin with, to be consigned to the fires of purgatory. But far
different is the grace of Christ: great and perfect is His work, and
therefore ours is a full salvation.

This second word from the cross affords a rare glimpse into the divine
glory of the Saviour; and it is all the more impressive that it is
indirect. The thief, in the most solemn circumstances, spoke to Him as
to a King and prayed to Him as to a God.[6] And how did He respond?
Did He say, "Pray not to Me; I am a man like yourself, and I know as
little of the unknown country into which we are both about to enter as
you do"? This is what He ought to have answered, if He was no more
than some make Him out to be. But He accepted the homage of His
petitioner; He spoke of the world unseen as of a place native and
familiar. He gave him to understand that He possessed as much
influence there as he attributed to Him. This great sinner laid on
Christ the weight of his soul, the weight of his sins, the weight of
his eternity; and Christ accepted the burden.

[1] "To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise."

[2] So Augustin and many.

[3] Schleiermacher makes much of this; and, indeed, does everything in
his power to minimise the moral miracle. The whole sermon is a
specimen of his worst manner, when he rides away on some side issue and
fails to expound the great central lessons of a subject.

[4] Tholuck.

[5] "In Biblical Hebrew the word is used for a choice garden but in the
LXX. and the Apocalypse it is already used in our sense of
Paradise."--EDERSHEIM.

[6] The word "Lord" in the robber's speech is, however, unauthentic.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE THIRD WORD FROM THE CROSS[1]

In the life of our Lord from first to last there is a strange blending
of the majestic and the lowly. When a beam of His divine dignity is
allowed to shine out and dazzle us, it is never long before there
ensues some incident which reminds us that He is bone of our bone and
flesh of our flesh; and, contrariwise, when He does an