thodoxy, in all its theories concerning the influence of the death of Jesus, has supposed his case exceptional and his work peculiar. It would be very shocking to most Orthodox minds to suppose that the same law of vicarious sacrifice applies to others; that the sufferings and death of the good, in all ages, have helped to atone for evil; have enabled sinners to obtain pardon. But such, we believe, is the fact. Jesus Christ came, providentially, as the typical and perfect man the one who was sent by God, in his providence, to illustrate what humanity is to be and to do. If this is so, then Christ did essentially nothing but that which is finally to be done by all, in some degree, or some way. He is a channel, a mediator, through whom God's life flows into ours; but then he makes us also mediators, by whom his life shall flow to others. He is the image of God; but every true Christian is, again, the image of Christ. For what Christ did, and was, was no afterthought, no exception, but a part of the plan of the universe. He was "foreordained before the foundation of the world, but manifest in these last times." He was the "Lamb of God, slain from the foundation of the world." That is, his coming, his character, his death, his resurrection, his miracles, were all a part of a divine law. And all God's laws are the same "yesterday, to-day, and forever."

If this were not so, we could not understand Christ, nor sympathize with him. His life would be, not only supernatural, which it is, but unnatural, which it is not. His miracles would be, not what they truly are, God's higher life flowing into nature, and the Spirit overcoming the material resistance of things,-but they would be magical; they would be like sorcery and enchantment violations of the course of events.

All of Christ's life, then, is typical of our future lives, in this world or in some other world. It would be easy to prove this out of Scripture. Everything asserted of Christ

is, somewhere and in some way, asserted also of his disciples, and of all Christians. Is he said to be one with God?

and my Father are one." God: "That they all

them, and thou in me.

"I

They also are said to be one with may be one, as we are one; I in

As thou, Father, art in me, and I

in thee, that they also may be one in us.”

Was Christ said to know all things? It is also said of his disciples, "Ye have an unction from the Holy Ghost, and know all things."

Did Christ work miracles? He says to his disciples, "Greater works than these shall ye do?"

Did God give to Christ glory which he had before the world was? He himself says of his disciples, "The glory thou gavest me I have given them."

Did Christ rise from the dead into a higher life? We shall do the same. "As we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly."

Christ, in his high and perfect life, may be regarded as a prophecy of what man is to become: we may look on him as a revelation of the higher laws of human nature, as a type of all humanity.

As regards his atoning death, his reconciling sufferings, the same thing is true. As he died for man, so must we Thus says the apostle John: "Herein

die for each other. is love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one another." And again, "Because he laid down his life for us, we ought also to lay down our lives for the brethren."

And Paul, after having spoken of "Christ's having made peace by the blood of the cross," says of himself that he rejoices in his own sufferings for their sake— rejoices to "fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ;" that is, make up any deficiency in Christ's sufferings for them. "Christ's sufferings," he says elsewhere," abound in us,"

his disciples. "We are partakers of his sufferings," says the apostle Peter. If he thought Christ's sufferings entirely different in their nature and meaning from all other sufferings, he would scarcely have said that he "partook" of them.

§ 12. This Law illustrated from History — in the Death of Socrates, Joan of Arc, Savonarola, and Abraham Lincoln. The death of Jesus, therefore, manifested in a higher degree the same law which is illustrated in the deaths of all good and great souls, martyrs to a principle, or to an idea. In proportion to the greatness and universality of the idea, and the greatness and holiness of the martyr, is the impression profound. We will give a few instances of this from history, to see that the death of Jesus was not something wholly outside of law, wholly exceptional, but the highest example of the great effect produced by one who walks straight into death for a great idea.

The first instance we take shall be that of Socrates. When we think of Socrates, we think of his death. He, like Jesus, spent the time before his death conversing with his friends concerning the highest themes. He talked of immortality through the long summer day. He showed the superiority of the soul to the body in which it dwelt; and he had lost all fear of dying. He had silenced what Plato calls "the child within us, who trembles before death." In fact, the whole tone of his defence before the judges shows that he did not care to save his life. The verdict of guilty was pronounced by a majority of five or six, in a vote of five hundred and fifty-seven dicasts. He made no preparation for his defence, and said that a blameless life was the best defence. When he came to speak before those whose vote was to decide on his life or death, his speech seems a sort of confidential clearing of his breast of all his opinions. He declares he has been the greatest benefactor of Athens. He tells them they ought not to be offended at the resolute tone of his defence, since it would be unmanly for him to beg and plead

for life; for his duty was to instruct them, but not to supplicate. It was strange that so small a majority was cast against him after such a speech. Then the custom required him to say himself what punishment he should suffer. His accuser had called for death. If he had named something less severe, as exile, fine, imprisonment, no doubt his life had been saved. Instead, he said, "I propose that I be rewarded as a public benefactor, by being supported at the public expense, as a teacher of the people. Still, as my friends wish me to name a fine, I will say thirty mine." They took this as an insult, and sentenced him to death. Then he spent his hours in those immortal conversations which will be remembered when all the rest of the glory and beauty of Greek literature and art has passed away. Every moment of his last hours has been carefully recorded; and the death of Socrates gave a power to his life, and his life an influence to his death, which placed him among the names which will never perish from human memory and gratitude.

There is another name, which comes out of the darkness and cruelty of the middle ages, with a sweet, serene, and noble beauty a pure life glorified by a death of martyrdom. I mean that of Joan of Arc- the Maid of Orleans. On her trial, the readiness and beauty of her answers astonished her prejudiced judges. The poor girl, only nineteen years old, a prisoner in chains, before these doctors and lawyers, showed as much courage as on the field of battle.

They asked why she let the people kiss her feet and garments. She answered, "The poor people came to me because I did them no wrong, and helped them when I could." "Was it well to attack Paris on Our Lady's day?" "It is well to keep the festivals of Our Lady always." "Do your saints love the English?" "They love what God loves, and hate what he hates." "Does God hate the English?" "As to his love or hate for their souls I know nothing; but I know he will drive them from France." "Can you tell

whether you will escape death?” "That I leave in God's hands." When she went to death, her purity and truth had so touched men's hearts that a great tide of remorse and pity began to swell up against her persecutors. A priest, who had played the part of Judas, and betrayed her, repented like Judas, and flung himself down before her, accusing himself of his treachery. The soldiers who stood by were melted. They said, “We have burned a saint.” The executioner declared that God would never forgive him. From the day of her death, all men began to believe in her holiness and truth.

- the

Come down to the end of the same century, and take another instance in Savonarola, the Florentine friar man who was at once the patriot, leading the minds of the people of Florence to republican institutions; the reformer, seeking to root out the abuses of the Church; and the prophetic teacher, preacher, religious inspirer. He also climbed to the height of his glory on his funeral pile. As Athens was glorified by the death of Socrates, as the Maid of Orleans has been a vision of beauty in the square of Rouen, so the place in Florence where Savonarola was murdered, in front of the Palazzo Vecchio, is memorable as the scene of virtue triumphing over its enemies and over evil, when it seemed to be conquered. That day, also, will never be forgotten, when he and his two companions walked through the furious rabble to their death, calm as if to a marriage feast. Savonarola was so absorbed in the thought of the life to come, says his biographer, that he appeared already to have left the earth. He was put to death by the order of Alexander Sixth, the worst pope and worst man of modern times; but in twenty years Rafaelle was painting the monk's portrait on the walls of the Vatican by order of another pope.

So it is that death glorifies life. If John Brown had escaped from his prison, and gone to Canada, what would have been his influence? He would only have been remem