Think Well On't/Day 25
THE TWENTY-FIFTH DAY.
On the passion of Christ: and, first on our Saviour in the garden of Gethsemani.
CONSIDER how the Son of God, who came down from heaven, and clothed himself with our humanity, in order to be our priest and our victim, and to offer himself a bleeding sacrifice for our sins to his eternal Father, was pleased to begin his passion by a bloody sweat and agony, in the garden of Gethsemani, the night before his death. Here having left the rest of his disciples at some distance, and taken with him Peter, James and John, who before had been witnesses of his glorious transfiguration on mount Thabor, he begins to disclose to them that mortal anguish, fear and sadness, which oppressed his heart. My soul, saith he, is sad even unto death. Matt. xxvi. that is, with a sadness, which even now would strike me dead, if I did not preserve myself, in order to suffer still more for you. Sweet Jesus, what can be the meaning of this? Didst thou not lately cry out, speaking of thy passion, and the desire thou hadst of suffering for us: I have a baptism wherewith I am to be baptized, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished? Luke, xii. Whence then this present sadness? Was it not thou, who hast given that strength and courage to thy martyrs, not even to shrink under the worst of torments? And wert thou thyself afraid? But, O dear Lord, I plainly understand that it was by thy own choice, that thou didst condescend so far as to let thyself be seized by this mortal anguish. It was for my instruction; and that thou mightest suffer so much the more for me. I adore thee under this weakness, (if I may be allowed to call it so) no less than on thy throne of glory: because it is here, that I better discover thy infinite love for me.
2. Consider how our dear Saviour under this sadness and anguish betakes himself to prayer, the only sure refuge under all afflictions, the only shield in the day of battle. But take notice, my soul, with what reverence he prays to his eternal Father, prostrate on the very ground: with what fervour, with a loud cry and tears, says the apostle: Heb. v. 7. and learn to imitate him. In this prayer he condescended so far as to allow the inferior part to petition, that the cup of his bitter passion might be removed from him; but then he immediately added: yet not my will, but thine be done: to teach us, under all trials and crosses, a perfect submission and resignation to the divine will.
3. Consider how our Saviour made two interruptions in his prayer, to come and visit his disciples, but found them both times asleep. Ah! my soul, is it not thy case, like these apostles, to sleep, that is, to indulge thyself in a slothful, sensual way of living; whereas the whole life of thy Saviour was spent in labouring for thy salvation; and all that he now suffers, he suffers for thee? Ah! pity now at least his comfortless condition, whilst on the one hand his Father seems deaf to his prayers, and on the other hand his disciples are too drowsy to give any attention to him. In this desolate state, an angel from heaven appears to comfort him who is the joy of angels. Oh! what humility! But what kind of comfort, think you, did this angel bring? No other, to be sure, but the representing to him the will of his eternal Father, and humbly entreating him, in the name of heaven and earth, not to decline the imparting to poor sinners, by his infinite love, that plentiful redemption, for which he came into the world, and to undergo the ignominies and torments of one short day's continuance, with the prospect of the salvation of mankind, and of that eternal glory and honour which the Godhead would receive from all his sufferings. Let the like consideration of God's will, his greater honour and glory, and the good of thy own soul, comfort thee also under all thy anguish and crosses. There can be no more solid comfort.
4. Consider the mortal agony which our Saviour suffered in his soul, during the prayer of this night. We may judge of the pains and anguish of his soul, by the wonderful effect they produced in his body, by casting him into that prodigious sweat of blood to such a degree, as to imbue the very ground on which he lay prostrate. Sweet Jesus, who ever heard of such an agony as this? But what thinkest thou, my soul, was the true cause of all this anguish, and of this bitter agony of thy Saviour? Chiefly these three: first, a clear view and lively representation of all that he was to suffer during the whole course of his passion: so that all the ignominies and torments, that he was afterwards successively to go through, were now all at once presented before the eyes of his soul with all their respective aggravations; by which means he suffered his whole bitter passion twice over; once by the hands of his enemies, and another time by his own most clear and lively imagination of all that he had to suffer. But why, dear Jesus, these additional agonies? Only thy love can answer me. Another cause that contributed to our Saviour's anguish was, a distinct view of all the sins of the world from the first to the last; of all the horrid crimes and abominations of mankind, all now laid to his charge, to be cancelled by the last drop of his blood. Ah! how hideous, how detestable were all these hellish monsters in the eyes of our Saviour; who alone had a just notion of their enormity, by having always before him a clear sight of the infinite majesty offended by them! O Lord, how great a share had my sins in this tragical scene! How much, alas! did they contribute to thy pains and grief! A third cause of our "Saviour's agony was the knowledge that he had of the little use that the very Christians would make of all his sufferings; to see their blindness and hardness of heart, by which they would pervert this antidote into a mortal poison, and tread under their feet his precious blood; and the eternal loss of so many millions of souls, for which he was to die. All these sad and melancholy thoughts, attacking at once the soul of our Redeemer, cast him into that mortal agony, and forced from him those streams of blood. Christians, pity now your Saviour's anguish, and resolve never more to have any hand in afflicting his tender soul by sin.