ably enough expect that it would be the beauties of heaven, with its gates of pearl, and streets of gold, and jupes wall, and foundations of precious stones; or the grandeur of its minstrelsy and melody of its songs; or the blessedness of the heavenly state and the ecstasies of its joys, or all the untold glories o the beatific vision ; or the unspeak- able magnificence of the heavenly hierarchy, with its thrones and dominions and principalities and powers. And yet it was none of these. It might have been the atmosphere of heaven brought down by Christ to earth, the perfection of his life when here below, the power of his miracles, the purity of his precepts, the preciousness of his promises, his words and works of benevolence. And yet it was none of these. It was perhaps a less inviting, but certainly not less important, theme. Over and above what is common to all the evangelists, each contributes a part peculiar to himself. As St. Mark omits mention of the change that passed over the countenance of the Saviour, and fixes attention on the garments so white and glistening ; so St. Luke alone records the subject about which they discoursed. Our curiosity is thus gratified at least in part. True it is that, while we are made acquainted with the topic of conversation, the evangelist gives no hint of the conversation itself. And yet perhaps we have an echo of that conversation in the writings of those favourite apostles who were privi- leged to form the audience on that remarkable occasion. 3, A peculiar term. t most interesting subject was the decease he was to accomplish at Jerusalem. The expression is so remarkable, it is no way strange that attention has often been directed to it. Elsewhere in Scripture death is literally spoken of, or it is represented from its hysical effect as “ giving up the ghost,” or it is euphemistically expressed as “sleep.” his latter expression, however, is never applied to the death of Christ, for that death was no babe-like slumber—no gentle falling asleep. It was death in all its hideousness, in all its bitterness, with cruelly aggravated horrors and fearfully augmented terrors. In consequence of these sufferings the believer's death is now changed into sleep, and so we read that “them who sleep by (3:4) Jesus will God bring with him.” The death of the Saviour is here set forth as an &fo8os, exodus or departure, so that the term would eover al) that was peculiar in the exit of Moses, or Elijah, or Christ himself; while it is the result of his own voluntary act, and an event, too, in which he was more active than passive; and so the ordinary verb féavey is not used in his case. Likewise in the narrative of his death the evangelists use a similar expression, namely, ¢érvevee, “ he breathed forth,” St. Luke and St. Mark; “he delivered up the ghost” (wapédwee), St. John ; or “ dismissed,” sent away his spirit (d¢jxe), St. Matthew. The decease he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem was thus lifted up out of the rank of ordinary deaths, and raised by a whole heaven above them. It was a voluntary surrender: “No man taketh my life;” “I have power to lay it down,” he said, “and power to take it again.” It was vicarious as well as voluntary; for he suffered, “the just for the unjust, to bring us to God.” It was valid for every expectant soul; because “ to them that look for him he will appear a second time without sin unto salvation.” It realized the types of the old economy, for it was the great antitype that finished all. It crowned the sacrifices under the Law; for “ by one sacrifice he hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified.” It fulfilled the promises of the past and guaranteed the bestowal of them all; for “he that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, shall he not with him also freely give us all things?” It ee new meaning into many otherwise dark and obscure statements of Old Testament Scripture. It was the death of deaths. It was the gateway to eternal life; it “opened the door of heaven to all believers.” It was an offering; for he gave himself an offering and a sacrifice of sweet-smelling savour. It was a propitiation; for “we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the Propitiation for our sins.” It was @ ransom; for “he came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and give his life a ransom for many.” Confessors took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, but that spoiling was the test of their own sincerity. Martyrs shed their blood unmur- muringly and even triumphantly, but the martyr’s death was the preparation for the martyr’s crown. Yet martyrs and confessors stood each in his own lot, suffering for “themselves and by themselves. Not so Jesus; for others, not for himself, he drained the bitter cup; for others, not himself, he underwent the bloody baptism ; for sins, but not his own, he endured the cross, despising all the pain and shame. 4. Oharacter f thetr conversation, The subject, then, as we have just seen, was that death—a death
46 THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO ST. MARK. (om. rm. 1—60.