He loved his friends.

He loved his mother.

Proof

take his walks, and share his griefs, with Peter, James and John. There is nothing more touching, in regard to this subject, than his private intimation at the last supper, to his dearest personal friend, of the fact, that it was Judas, who was to betray him. He understood and felt the happiness of communion and confidence between kindred spirits, and, by his example, has authorized us to link ourselves to one another, by the ties of friendship and affection, as strongly as we please. Christianity, in expanding the affections of the individual, till they reach every brother and sister on the globe, does not weaken or endanger a single private or domestic tie. While it draws the whole human family together, it links, by a still closer union than before, the husband with the wife, and the parent with the child, — sister to sister, and friend to friend. It is indeed "the bond of perfectness," or as we should, at this day, express it, A PERfect bond.

5. The last thing I have to say about the character of Jesus Christ is, he loved his mother. Perhaps I have some young readers, who can remember that at some recent period, when they have been sick or suffering from any cause, they have, by their fretfulness or discontent, brought trouble and care to their parents, and have considered themselves excused for it, by the circumstances in which they have been placed. To them I have one thing to say. Your Savior was nailed to the cross. The whole weight of his body was suspended from his lacerated limbs, and here he had to hang hour after hour, till life actually sunk under the power of suffering. But even here he did not forget his mother. He gave, in the most touching manner possible, his dearest friend a charge to be kind to her, to protect her, to take care of her as long as she should live. He did this, however, almost by a word, for under such circumstances it was torture to speak. "BEHOLD THY MOTHER. That was all; but it was enough. Now let me ask

Filial affection.

A difference between the gospels and the epistles.

each one of my readers, whether old or young, who has a mother still in life, as you shut this book at the close of this chapter, to go and devise some act of kindness and affection for her, in imitation of the dying example which the Savior set us. Do something to cheer and comfort her; even if it is no very substantial act of kindness, it will bring gladness to her heart, as a memorial of your remembrance and affection. Mary must have felt this proof of love most deeply. They told the Savior, long before, that his mother was to be envied. She must have endured a great deal of solicitude and a great deal of suffering, during her life; but it must have gone far towards counterbalancing it all, to be remembered thus, under such circumstances, and by such a son.

CHAPTER III.

HUMAN DUTY,

OR THE SAVIOR'S MESSAGE TO MANKIND.

"And they went out and preached that men should repent."

IT is a remarkable fact, and one which has often surprised careful readers of the Bible, that scarcely any thing is said by our Savior himself, in regard to his own sufferings, as the ground of human salvation, while the writings and addresses of the apostles are full of this theme. There is a most extraordinary contrast, in this respect, between the gospels and the epistles. In the former, Christ's sufferings and death are scarcely ever spoken of, in the latter, nothing is spoken of so much. This state of the case has, on the one hand, led many persons to underrate the influence and importance of our Savior's sufferings and death, and they defend their views by referring to the nature of our Savior's instruc

Wrong way to read the Bible.

Right way.

tions. Others err on the other side, by taking the epistles as their only model, not sufficiently considering the character of Christ's instructions. Others are embarrassed when they think on this subject; they do not know how to reconcile the seeming inconsistency, though they endeavor to diminish it, as far as possible, by exaggerating and emphasizing the little which Jesus Christ did say, in regard to his sufferings and death. We ought always to suspect ourselves when we are attempting to get out of scriptural difficulties in this way;- by loading passages of scripture with more meaning than they will naturally bear; a process very common among theological writers. The best way is to let the Bible speak for itself. We must not try to improve it, but just let it tell its own story, in its own way. The man who, when he reads some of the strong, decided passages in the Epistles, ascribing all hope of human salvation to the atoning sacrifice of the Son of God finds himself holding back from the writer's view, endeavoring to qualify the language or to explain it away, is not studying the Bible in the right spirit. On the other hand, he who cannot take the directions which Christ or John gave, for beginning a life of piety by simple repentance for the past, without adding something from his own theological stores, or forcing the language to express what never could have been understood by those who originally heard it, he cannot be studying this book with the right spirit. We must take the Bible as it is; and there certainly is a very striking and extraordinary difference, between the public instructions of our Savior himself, and those of his apostles, in respect to the prominence given to the efficacy of his sufferings in preparing the way for the salvation of men. Let us look into this.

Whenever, under any government, a wrong is done, there is, as any one will see, a broad distinction between

The school house.

A stormy night.

Trouble

the measures, which the government must adopt, in order to render it safe to pardon, and the conditions with which the guilty individual is required to comply, in order to avail himself of the offer. To make this plain, even to my younger readers, I will describe a case. It illustrates the principle, I admit, on a very small scale. In a remote and newly settled town in New England, on the shore of a beautiful pond, and under a hill covered and surrounded with forests, was a small school house, to which, during the leisure months of the winter, thirty or forty boys and girls gathered, day after day, from the small farm-houses, which were scattered over the valleys around. One evening a sort of exhibition was held there. Before the time had arrived, there had been indications of an approaching snow storm. These increased during the evening; and when, at the close of it, the assembly began to disperse, they found that the storm had fairly set in.

The master was sitting at his desk, putting away his papers, and preparing to go home. The snow was beating against the windows, and the aspect of the cold and stormy weather without, made many of the scholars reluctant to leave the warm and bright fire, which was still burning on the spacious hearth. For many of them, sleighs were to be sent by their friends, others were waiting for company, and every minute or two the door would open and admit a boy shivering with cold, and white with snow.

Presently the master heard some voices at the door, in which he could distinguish tones of complaint and suffering. Several of the boys seemed to be talking together, apparently about some act of injustice which had occurred, and after waiting a few minutes, the master sent for all the boys who were standing at the door, to come to him.

Half a dozen walked eagerly in, and behind them

The lost cap.

Conversation.

The teacher's perplexity.

followed one, more reluctantly; his head was bare, and he had evidently been in tears. As they entered the room, the conversation among the other children was hushed, all their preparations were suspended, and every face was turned with an expression of eager interest towards the master, as this group approached him.

William," said the master to one of the foremost, "there seems to have been some trouble, will you tell me what it is?"

"Yes sir: Joe Symmes threw his cap," (pointing to the sorrowful looking boy in the rear,) "off upon the pond, and it has blown away and he cannot find it.” "Joseph," said the master, "is it so?"

Joseph acknowledged the fact. It appeared, on more careful inquiry, that there had been some angry collision between the boys, in which Joseph had been almost entirely to blame; it was a case of that kind of tyranny of the stronger, which is so common among school boys. In the end, he had seized his schoolmate's сар, and thrown it off upon the icy surface of the pond, over which it had glided away with the driving wind and snow, and was soon lost from view. Joseph said he knew it was

He said he ran after it, as

wrong, and he was sorry. soon as it was gone, but he lost sight of it, and that now he did not know what he could do to get it again.

The master told the boys they might go to the fire, while he considered, for a few minutes, what he ought to do.

When left alone, the teacher reflected that there were two separate subjects of consideration for him. First there was an individual who had been guilty of an act of injustice. Next there was a little community, who had been witnesses of that injustice, and were all in suspense, waiting to know what would follow.

"I am sorry to punish Joseph," thought he, "for he seems to be sorry for what he has done, and I think it