caprices. But many triumph
nobly over their temptation; and in this they are following the example
of the suffering Saviour. There are sick-rooms which it is a privilege
to visit. You may know that the place is a scene of excruciating pain;
but on the pillow there lies a sweet, patient face; the voice is
cheerful and thankful; and, instead of being self-absorbed, the mind is
full of unselfish thoughts for others. I recall the description given
by a friend of one such invalid's chamber, which used to be filled with
the most beautiful cheerfulness and activity. At a certain time of
year you might see in it quite an exhibition of stockings, pinafores,
dresses and other pretty things, prepared for the children of a
mission-school in India. By thinking of the needs of those children
far away the invalid not only kept her own sufferings at bay, but
created for herself delightful connections with God's work and God's
people. Yet she was one who might easily have asserted the right to do
nothing, and have taxed the patience and the services of those by whom
she was surrounded.
But there is another lesson besides patience in this word of Christ.
He only uttered one word of physical pain; but He did utter one. His
self-control was not proud or sullen. There is a silence in suffering
that is mere doggedness, when we screw our courage to the
sticking-place and resolve that nobody shall hear any complaint from
us. We succeed in being silent, but it is with a bad grace: there is
no love or patience in our hearts, but only selfish determination.
This is especially a temptation when anyone has injured us and we do
not wish to let him see how much we have suffered, lest he should be
gratified. Jesus was surrounded by those who had wantonly wronged Him;
not only had they inflicted pain, but they had laughed and mocked at
His sufferings. He might have resolved not on any account to show His
feelings or at least to ask any kindness. It is sometimes more
difficult to ask a favour than to grant one; it requires more of the
spirit of forgiveness.[4] But not only did Jesus ask a favour: He
expected to receive it. Shamefully as He had been treated by those to
whom He had to appeal, He believed that there might still be some
remains of goodness at the bottom of their hearts. All His life He had
been wont to discover more good in the worst than others believed to
exist, and to the last He remained true to His own faith. The maxi
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