in his conception of what prophetism and priesthood ought to be, so did he have an idea of his own kingship differing from that then current in the world or from what we, alas, know of, in our own days. Hear his teaching as to what a true king ought to be. He said to his disciples: "Ye know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. Not so shall it be among you: but whosoever would become great among you shall be your minister [servant]; and whosoever would be first among you shall be your servant [slave]: even as the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many." Jesus thus taught and illustrated in his life his idea of kingship, which they were to apply not to himself alone but to all— not to receive service but to render it, not to make politics a gain of ambition but a sphere of service. It is indeed hard for selfish human beings, in whom the old animal passions still survive, to make this the law of their lives. Nevertheless the ideas of Christ are gaining ground. "The common heart responds to Christ's teaching, that the kingliest is he who sacrifices himself most willingly, works the hardest and achieves most for the weal of all."

Thus we see from this portion of the gospel record how the Jews would not have this man to rule over them. He was rejected by the authorities of Church and state, who, having joined together the Roman soldiers in the temple guard to seize Jesus in the garden, struck hands together to plant the cross on Calvary. We see, too, how, before enemies and under stress of danger, Christ's own disciple who vowed eternal faithfulness rejects the rule of the King in order to save himself. Yet his sin may be no greater than ours, who refuse to Christ anything more than nominal rule. A true sovereign not only reigns but governs. To every real Christian Jesus is not only Christ, but Lord.

Well says the beautiful and scriptural Heidelberg Catechism:

"Jesus is called the Christ, that is, Anointed, 'because he is ordained of God the Father and anointed with the Holy Ghost to be our Eternal King, who governs us by his word and Spirit, and who defends and preserves us in the enjoyment of that salvation, he has purchased for lis.'

Oh, that our eyes may ever behold the King in his beauty, and we be ever ready to follow him loyally with courage and perseverance, that each of us with "free and good conscience may fight against sin and Satan in this life; and afterwards reign with him eternally over all creatures!" William Elliot Griffis.

CHRIST BEFORE PILATE

JOHN 18: 28-40

"I find no fault in him."-John 19: 4.

Charles Lamb, in a gay and brilliant company, asked his friends how they would feel if the greatest of earth's dead were suddenly to appear in their presence, and then, with profound seriousness and impressive earnestness, replied thus to his own question: "If Shakespeare was to come into the room we should all rise up to meet him: but if that Person [meaning Christ] was to come into the room, we should all fall down and try to kiss the hem of his garment."

This feeling of reverence for Jesus is not an intermittent but a constant one. His life is never off guard: he is never taken by surprise or at a disadvantage. Wherever you meet him, in solitude or society, at a banquet or in the temple, when his soul is flooded with radiant joy or clouded with deep sorrow, in reflective or aggressive attitude, as a preacher or as a prisoner, in each event and in every relation—he is the same reverence-inspiring and love-commanding character, so calm, so true, so matchless, that instinctively we borrow Napoleon's word and exclaim: “He was no man!"

The civil trial of Jesus, following the agony in the garden, the arrest, the cruel taunts, the ecclesiastical mocking, the sleepless night, finds the Master at a mighty disadvantage. Here, if anywhere, we may expect a recession from the high level of his attainment; but here as everywhere the

poise and perfectness of his character find their sublime and startling illustration.

Tennyson once said that if he had been one of the wise men of Greece and had been asked for a dictum, he would have given: "Every man imputes himself," meaning that in one's judgment of others the miniature of one's self is produced. The scene at this civil trial is a worthy illustration. The Jews in their furious demands upon Pilate reveal the small prejudice which has consumed their nobler selves: Pilate, with his hesitating, blundering diplomacy, is the embodiment of that politic spirit which, seeking in vulgar fashion to be all things to all men, loses in the end its own advantage, while sacrificing others' just rights. Jesus, with his calm dignity, his unsurprised bearing, his patient restraint, evidences the "colossal man" he indeed is, and reveals those reservoirs of principle from which he draws the strength and assurance of his life. It is plainly to be seen, in this diverse company, that actions are the ambassadors of inherent powers of mind, will and heart, fulfilling their offices under instructions. Nor should it be difficult to decide whether prejudice, policy or principle is the efficient attendant of a regnant and uplifted character.

Christ before Pilate reminds us of the truism that noble character is forever encountering hostility formidable enough in appearance, but devoid of real strength. "Those who are near Me are near the fire" was the ancient Christian proverb with which those early men of faith inspired each other as they "marched breast forward" to their terrific engagements. "No one becomes an Alpine climber who has no Alps to climb" is the modern garb in which this ancient truth clothes itself. The fire cannot consume, though it may singe; the Alps cannot prevent, though climbing their jagged sides may weary.

The truth in proverb is easy enough, but in life it is hard to grasp. Why must Christ stand before Pilate? Why

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must the noble be handicapped by the base and vulgar? Why must righteousness be ridiculed and snubbed by the coarse and blatant usurpers of temporal power? The fine impatience of a smarting spirit can hardly restrain itself in waiting for a reply to its burning question. It is, after all, the old mystery of right forever on the scaffold, and wrong forever on the throne, requiring the trained eye of faith to see that which is called a scaffold is in fact a scepter, and as such, sways the future.

One must expect to meet the world-power, to have his ideals challenged by brute materialism, his efforts checkmated by designing trickery, his motives impugned and his great attempts buffeted. It is part of the necessities of the coming kingdom that the good shall meet the evil in open conflict and vindicate its worth not merely by philosophizing but by fighting. The abiding comfort is that Jesus himself did not file an exception in his own experience. Tempted in all points like as we are, he was brought before Pilate; his great, pure character was exposed to the hostility of the world-power; it realized itself amid the storms of life.

Every great character is forged in the glowing fires of resistance and of opposition; it has to vindicate its essential superiority in the presence of the inferior, which is usually as well the impertinent. Great poets sing their inspired songs to a clay-eating generation, whose only response is jeering sarcasm; but at last the generation falls asleep, and when the new one wakes it rubs its wondering eyes and marvels at the blindness of its predecessor.

Great students perceive and announce new truth, and, for recompense, are summoned before Pilate and condemned; but, after they are condemned, their truth becomes the inspiration of succeeding centuries. Great reformers, whose blood tingles with indignation at outrage and who hurl their impetuous souls against some glaring inhumanity, al