the
thorn-crowned Jesus.

It is easy to account for this. In that heathen age the soul had
received no higher inspiration. It was only after the advent of Christ
that men realized the greatness of sorrow and endurance. It was not
until the history of the Garden, the Judgment-Hall, and the Cross had
been developed, that genius caught nobler conceptions of the beautiful.
This fact is, therefore, a powerful witness to the prophecy in the text,
and to the truth of Christianity. Christ's personality, as delineated
in the Gospels, is not only demonstrated by a change of dynasties,--an
entire new movement in the world,--a breaking up of the its ancient
order; but the moral ideal which now leads human action,--which has
wrought this enthusiasm, and propelled man thus strangely forward,--has
entered the subjective realities of the soul,--breathed new inspiration
upon it,--opened up to it a new conception; and, lo! The statue dilates
with a diviner expression;--lo! The picture wears a more lustrous and
spiritual beauty.

The Christ of the text, then,--"A man of sorrows, and acquainted with
grief,"-has verily lived, for his image has been reflected in the minds
of men, and has fastened itself there among their most intimate and
vivid conceptions. Sorrow, as illustrated in Christ's life, and as
interpreted in his scheme of religion, has assumed a new aspect and
yields a new meaning. Its garments of heaviness have become transfigured
to robes of light, its crown of thorns to a diadem of glory; and
often, for some one whom the rich and joyful of this world pity,--some
suffering, struggling, over-shadowed soul,--there comes a voice from
heaven, "This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased."

I remark, however, that Christianity does not accomplish this result by
denying the character of sorrow. It does not refuse to render homage to
grief. The stoic is as far from its ideal of virtue as the epicurean.
The heart of the true saint quivers at pain, and his eyes are filled
with tears. Whatever mortifications he may deem necessary as to the
passions of this poor flesh, if he imitates the example of Christ he
cannot deny those better affections which link us even to God; he
cannot harden those sensitive fibres which are the springs of our
best action,--which if callus we become inhuman. He realizes pain; he
recognises sorrow as sorrow. Its cup is bitter, and to be resisted with
prayer.

There is nothing more wonderful in the his