. The story of Jesus Christ; an interpretation . every conviction thatfeeds on the will of an unconquerable being, andthe war has gone mightily in many a strong here was a man who carried a burden so isolatethat the imagination almost refuses to hold it. It has been asked, Why did not Jesus Christbecome a maniac ? There have been moral alienists who would, ifthey could, have detected symptoms of mental dis-ease in this dauntless life. But the calm eye of hispersonal sanity has rej^lied to the interrogations oftwenty centuries. He had not even the usual pro-portion of morbidness or ec
. The story of Jesus Christ; an interpretation . every conviction thatfeeds on the will of an unconquerable being, andthe war has gone mightily in many a strong here was a man who carried a burden so isolatethat the imagination almost refuses to hold it. It has been asked, Why did not Jesus Christbecome a maniac ? There have been moral alienists who would, ifthey could, have detected symptoms of mental dis-ease in this dauntless life. But the calm eye of hispersonal sanity has rej^lied to the interrogations oftwenty centuries. He had not even the usual pro-portion of morbidness or eccentricity which falls tothe lot of great minds. Here was a sane man, whobelieved that the salvation of the human race restedupon himself. . In success, in activity, in religious oratory, in theenergies of mercy, this belief had jiassed for themost part undistressed, if not undisturbed. Geth-seniane challenged it. Defeat, disgrace, and ap-proaching death shook conviction to the the roots of the olives the smitten man, with up-. CHRIST IN GETHSEMANE GETHSEMANE 353 reaching hands, groped like the blind. Above thetreetop was the sky; he felt upwards for it, as if ithad been a thing that he could grasp and hold. Theupper branches stirred ; the brightening moonlight,like some forced and frightened witness, glanced atthe upturned face it saw, and fled. The thick foli-age closed in again. He had seen the heavens im-pearled, hollowed like a chalice. It seemed to him to be held to his recoiling lips,a draught of agony which he must drink. He criedout against it: Father! Father! He was still so young, so vigorous ! The bloodbeat strongly in his being. He loved life, as allwell souls and bodies do, and his were so sound!Health throbbed in every artery, in every cell. Sick-ness had never weakened him. No taint had evermarred him. His system had never beconie theslave of his overstrained nerves. Even the tormentof prolonged vigil had not conquered him. He wasalive to the last
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