John 19

John 19:1-16

The Gospel According to John John 18:1-40 - John 19:1-16 John 18:1-27. This is the first of our last seven studies in the Gospel according to John. The seven of them will deal with the final section of John’s writing from the standpoint of his own scheme. Now everything is climacteric. Chapters eighteen, nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one give us the story of the ultimate Sign. As we have followed the narrative along the line of our Lord’s public ministry, we have seen sixteen signs, eight of them in the realm of works, eight of them in the realm of words.

Now we reach what I have already described as the ultimate Sign. For the interpretation of that designation we go back to chapter two, where we have the account of our Lord going up to Jerusalem, and cleansing the Temple. In connection with that He was challenged, “What sign showest Thou unto us, seeing that Thou doest these things?” They asked Him for a sign that would demonstrate His authority for the things He was doing. To that He replied in what to them must have been mysterious language. John tells us immediately after recording His answer, that the disciples did not understand Him then, but they came to understand Him afterwards. He said, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” On another occasion, not recorded by John, Jesus said, “An evil and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be given to it but the sign of Jonah the prophet; for as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the fish; so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.” On both these occasions our Lord declared that the only sign which would completely and finally reveal Him and the secret of His authority, would be that to which He referred at first as their destroying of the temple which He would raise; and on the other occasion, taking the similitude of Jonah’s story, declaring that He would be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.

In other words, our Lord declared at the beginning, and again on one definite occasion at least, that the ultimate sign of His authority would be His death and His resurrection. He named the two things which, in their merging, would constitute the sign, the ultimate sign, the dissolution of the temple of His body at the hands of His enemies; and His raising of it again. Death and resurrection.

These last four chapters then, eighteen to twenty-one, have to do with these two things. It may be well to survey the whole scheme. In the first eleven verses of chapter eighteen (John 18:1-11) we have the prelude, the story of the garden and the betrayal. Beginning at the twelfth verse of chapter eighteen, and running over to the sixteenth verse of chapter nineteen, we have the account of two trials, the religious and the political; before the priests and before Pilate. In chapter nineteen, in a few verses, seventeen to thirty-seven (John 19:17-37), we have the story of the crucifixion. In what remains of the chapter, beginning at the thirty-eighth verse, and running through the forty-second (John 19:38-42), a very brief paragraph, we have the story of the burial of the dead body of Jesus. Then in chapters twenty and twenty-one we see the risen Jesus.

In these first twenty-seven verses of chapter eighteen (John 18:1-27) we have two movements; first the betrayal in the garden; and then, the trial before the priests.

How then do we see our Lord in this story of the garden? There are two things that are supremely evident; first His majesty, and then His meekness.

Let us look first at the things that mark His majesty. John is careful to tell us where this took place, and that in an arresting and beautiful way. “When Jesus had spoken these words, He went forth with His disciples over the winter torrent of the Cedars, where was a garden, into which He entered.” Mark that word “entered.” It was undoubtedly a private garden, into which Jesus had the right of entry. It was not a public place.

“Now Judas also, which betrayed Him, knew the place.” It is possible to be familiar with the Most Holy Places, and do the most damnable deeds. He knew the place. “For Jesus oft-times resorted thither with His disciples.” That is to say that Jesus often gathered there with His disciples. Thus it was familiar ground to which He went.

It is evident then that when our Lord had ended His prayer, He did not hide. He went to a place where He knew Judas could find Him. With majesty He was moving forward. He had ordered Judas, a little while before, to be quick about the business, when He said to him in the upper room, “That thou doest, do quickly.” Then Jesus, when He had done with the group round about Him, went to the garden, knowing that Judas knew where He was going. “Judas then, having received the band of soldiers,” that is a cohort, a whole company of Roman soldiers. His enemies were determined to settle the business for ever. Their obtaining of a cohort undoubtedly suggested that they anticipated trouble in the arrest of Jesus. They took with them also “officers from the chief priests,” that is, the Temple police. John names “the chief priests and the Pharisees.” The chief priests were not Pharisees; they were Sadducees. Thus two bitterly opposed parties, theologically and politically, were united in their determination to put an end to Jesus.

They came “with lanterns and torches and weapons” notwithstanding the fact that the paschal moon was riding high in the heavens. They thought He might be lurking and hiding somewhere, and might offer resistance.

Now mark the majesty of these next four verses. “Jesus therefore, knowing all the things that were coming upon Him, went forth.” That statement is full of significance, bearing out and emphasizing the fact that the pathway of Jesus to His Cross was not the pathway of a Victim. All the way He knew all that was coming to Him. Perfectly familiar with it all, He “went forth,” went forth in majesty, never more majestic than when His eyes were set upon His Cross.

This statement that “He went forth” means that He left the garden. He went forth from it. He went outside.

There and then happened a remarkable thing, which was a supreme evidence of His majesty. He faced them. He said, “Whom seek ye?” They said, “Jesus the Nazarene.” He then said, “I am.” Our versions render it “I am He.” Quite literally He simply said, “I am.” When He did so, a cohort of Roman soldiers, the Temple police, the rulers themselves, Judas guiding them, went backwards and fell to the ground. Some burst of majesty halted them. There may have been the emerging of something we cannot interpret, a flaming of glory. I think rather that something in the mien of Jesus as He stood confronting His enemies caused their shrinking and fall.

They could not lay a hand on Him. Right to the very margin He revealed the fact referred to again and again, as we have seen in the process of the Gospel, that no man could lay hands upon Him until His hour was come. His hour had now come, but even now, all the cohort and the police of the Temple and the elders were powerless of themselves to lay any hand on Him. “I am,” He said, and they went backwards, and fell. Thus the majesty of Jesus was revealed.

Then He said to them a second time, “Whom seek ye?” And they repeated themselves, “Jesus the Nazarene.” Said He, “I told you that I am; if therefore ye seek Me, let these go their way.” A beautiful merging of His mercy and of His majesty. He knew perfectly well that if they were arrested, they would all break down even more swiftly and terribly. So He said, Let them go; take Me alone.

Then Simon drew his sword and struck a blow for Jesus. I like Simon. He had got something in him. I know it was wrong. It was honest zeal, but it was zeal without knowledge. The other evangelists record that the last act of supernatural and Divine surgery wrought by Jesus was rendered necessary by the blundering zeal of a disciple.

I sometimes think that our Lord is still often healing wounds that zeal-without-knowledge people make on other souls. What said our Lord? “Put up the sword into the sheath; the cup which the Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?” That was zeal with knowledge. Simon did not understand, and struck a blow. It was a poor blow. When a man unsheathes his sword, and aims at a man’s head, and only gets his ear, it is a poor business. It was zeal, but he was nervous when he struck that blow.

That is not the way, said Jesus. “The cup which the Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?” And so Gethsemane is seen in John, although he does not tell the story. From other evangelists we know He had been talking to His Father about the cup. “If it be possible, let this cup pass away from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as Thou wilt.” There was shrinking, and yet complete fellowship with His Father’s will. Now, John shows the result of that. “The cup that the Father hath given Me, shall I not drink it?” Simon’s was zeal without knowledge. That of Jesus was zeal with knowledge,-“the zeal of Thine house hath eaten Me up” said the prophetic writing long before, knowing all that was coming upon Him. This cup that I am pressing to My lips, so potent and so bitter, that no human soul will ever understand it, shall I not drink it? This was the word of an ultimate majesty, and the revelation of complete meekness.

Then they bound Him. I never read it without laughing. Yes they bound Him, and see how many it took to do it; the band, and the council, and the chief captain, he is specially named, and all the police. They rushed at Him, and they bound Him. They bound Him? They thought they bound Him. What did bind Him? Love for me! Love for you I That was what bound Him; not the hempen cords of those foolish men, but the eternal cords of the Divine Love.

Still they bound Him, and they took Him to Annas. John only gives an account of the arraignment of Jesus before Annas, which was quite a preliminary matter. He tells us in the twenty-fourth verse (John 18:24) that Annas bound Him again, and sent Him to Caiaphas. John omits entirely the account of our Lord’s examination before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrim, recorded by Matthew and Mark. At verse twenty-eight (John 18:28) we read, “They led Jesus therefore from Caiaphas into the palace.” Thus omitting the appearing before Caiaphas, and the Sanhedrim, John gives the story of the preliminary arraignment of Jesus.

In many ways Annas was one of the most remarkable personalities flung up in Judaism at that time. Five of his sons occupied the high-priestly office. In the line of succession, Annas should have been high priest, but on some political ground, Rome objected to him, but consented that Caiaphas his son-in-law should be appointed. Annas probably was not eager to occupy the position of high priest. He was making money too fast. He had become one of the wealthiest men of the time by extortion. He had retained, some believe, his position as president of the Sanhedrim. At any rate he was so much in power, that when they arrested Jesus, they took Him first to the house of Annas.

Two of the disciples of Jesus went as far as that house. One of them went into the court, that is, the open space in front of Annas’ house. That one unquestionably was John the writer of the story. The other was Peter. The rest of the disciples seem by now to have gone. John went right in. Peter halted at the gate, and stood outside. It is at least suggestive that the man who went right in was not molested. The molestation of Peter began as he halted outside. John seems to have felt that his co-apostle was in danger, for when he got in, he remembered Peter was outside, and went to the door, and spoke to the girl in charge of the door, and she let Peter in.

I wonder why John told us it was cold that night. At that season of the year, the nights were hardly ever cold. But John says it was cold that night. I wonder if it was not the chill of fear, dread, apprehension: of the things that were happening. Peter was cold, and he stopped to warm himself at a fire built by the enemies of Jesus. A very dangerous thing to do. If any try to get warmth from fires built by His enemies, they are in danger.

The formal interrogatory before Annas was brief. Annas asked Him concerning His disciples and His teaching. It is self-evident that he was hoping to get our Lord to declare Himself, His ideals and His purposes and His teaching, and to name His disciples, and show how far they were infected or affected by His teaching. He was looking for something upon which he could fasten, in order to prefer a charge against Jesus, which would bring Him within the power of the authorities who could deal with Him, and put Him to death. This was not an enquirer, wanting to know. This was an enemy, hoping there in the flush of the morning to bring Jesus within the grip of the government.

The question was probably most courteously asked. In effect, Annas said, Tell us what is it all about? What is Your teaching? And what are You and Your disciples attempting to do? Our Lord answered in majesty and in anger. There is no question about the anger in this. That is proven by the action of the officer who struck Him. It was the tone in which He spoke which provoked the act. In what He said, the emphasis was on the personal pronoun. The “I” is emphatic. “I have spoken openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogues, and in the Temple, where all the Jews come together; and in secret spake I nothing.” The declaration was a contrast between His method, and that of His enemies.

A secret plotting against Him had been going forward, of which He was aware. He said, Why do you ask? You know. Or, if you do want to know, ask these who are all round about Me. I have spoken in public, I have spoken openly; I have not been having secret meetings; I have not been plotting against any earthly government. All I have done is in the open.

Because of the anger manifest in this reply an officer said, “Answerest Thou the high priest so?” Mark the “so.” He was rebuking Annas, and the officer smote Him. He did not answer the officer concerning the method of His speech, but, again referring to all His teaching, all that which He said had been spoken openly, He said, “If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why smitest thou Me?”

It was over. Annas had no more to say. The next thing was to bind Him again, and to send Him to Caiaphas.

Simon Peter was still standing there, warming himself, and they came to him again. The first denial had taken place when a saucy servant maid had taunted him. Now they came again, asking him, “Art thou also one of His disciples?” He denied. But “one of the servants of the high priest, being a kinsman of him whose ear Peter cut off, saith, Did not I see thee in the garden with Him?” Peter denied again. John did not tell us about the cursing and swearing. That was recorded by others, especially in the story of Mark, for which Peter himself was responsible.

John tells us of the tragedy, he “denied again; and straightway the cock crew.” Neither does he tell about the look of Jesus. He leaves it there. It is a tragic story. Zeal without knowledge struck a blow, and then weakened, wavered, and three times over, before the flush of morning was upon the sky, said, he did not know Him, did not belong to Him. I read it with fear. “Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed, lest he fall.” John 18:28-40 - John 19:1-16. As we saw in our last meditation, John gives us the account of our Lord’s arraignment before Annas, and tells that Annas sent Him bound to Caiaphas. He omits altogether the story of the examination before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrim, and resumes at the point where they sent Him to Pilate, after the Sanhedrim had sentenced Him to death. “They led Jesus therefore from Caiaphas into the palace.”

This is a most graphic story. The scene is the Praetorium, which undoubtedly was the residence of Pilate, and there he held court. As we read, we find the scene alternating between the outside and the inside of the Praetorium. There are seven movements. The first things recorded took place outside, and are recorded in verses twenty-eight to thirty-two of chapter eighteen (John 18:28-32). In verses thirty-two to the first sentence in verse thirty-eight (John 18:32-38) we are inside.

From the rest of verse thirty-eight to forty (John 18-38-40) we are outside. In the nineteenth chapter in the first three verses (John 19:1-3) we are inside. In verses four to seven (John 19:4-7) we are outside. In verses eight to eleven (John 19:8-11) we are inside. In verses twelve to sixteen (John 19:12-16) we are outside. The whole story is that of Jesus and Pilate, with a background of priests and rulers and a rabble.

Here we have the Gentile world as represented in the person of Pilate, confronting Jesus. Pilate was the embodiment of the Roman Empire; all its might and all its majesty were vested in him as an executive. All the way through the question about Jesus is a question of Kingship. Everything revolves around that. Three times over Pilate went inside the Praetorium, taking Jesus with him, leaving the crowd outside. These two are seen confronting each other.

The priestly trials were over, the arraignment before Annas, and the examination before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrim. Religion had decided to kill Jesus, and now the civil trial goes forward. We see Jesus no longer in the presence of religion, but of government.

The first movement, outside the Praetorium, is revealed in verses twenty-eight to thirty-two. In that first movement Pilate put an official question to the men who brought Jesus to him. They had made up their minds that Jesus must die. That is why they brought Him to Pilate. They were anxious that they should not be ritually defiled, so as to prevent them eating the Passover. Therefore they did not enter the Praetorium.

Jesus had spoken of straining at a gnat, and swallowing a camel. That is what they were doing. Pilate’s question was in legal form. These Jewish rulers had brought a prisoner before him. His was the official court of appeal in all these matters. He represented the Roman Empire, and he asked them, “What accusation bring ye against this Man?” Sometimes it is possible to discover the tone in which a question is asked by the answer that is given to it.

So here. They replied, “If this Man were not an evil-doer we should not have delivered Him up unto thee.” What made them say that? Pilate had a perfect right to ask. Their reply shows that the question was one of contempt and scorn for them. As though he had said, What now? What accusation do you bring against this Man?

What is the meaning of this coming to me? He had not yet come face to face with Jesus. That was the spirit of Pilate as he met them. This cold, dispassionate Roman procurator, a remarkable personality, a freed slave, rising to a position of power through the influence of the emperor’s mother and wife, was impatient with these priests and rulers, and this troublesome mob of Jews. Angrily they replied, “If this Man were not an evil-doer, if He were not a malefactor, we should not have delivered Him up unto thee.”

Pilate therefore said, “Take Him yourselves, and judge Him according to your law.” In other words, he refused to consider the accusation; he refused to take the case. Then the Jews said, “It is not lawful for us to put any man to death.” Pilate saw at once that the thing was more serious than he had understood. He discovered that what they sought was not an investigation, but a sentence, that they had brought Jesus there, determined upon His death. They would not have brought Him there had they not themselves at the time been deprived of the power to inflict the death penalty. They had gone as far as they could. They had had their interrogatory in the house of Annas, and before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrim. They considered Him to be worthy of death; and now they came to Pilate because, while they could pronounce a sentence, they could not carry it into effect. Pilate thus discovered that these people had not come to him to investigate an accusation, but to promulgate a sentence.

The second movement in verses thirty-three to thirty-eight took place inside. The priests and the crowd were left out. “Pilate therefore entered again into the Praetorium, and called Jesus, and said unto Him, Art Thou the King of the Jews?” While it was an interrogation, the form of the sentence in the Greek is arresting. “Thou art the King of the Jews?” The emphatic word is “Thou,” and is placed first, as Pilate said it. He said, “Thou art the King of the Jews?” Quite evidently he knew the accusation they were bringing against Him, although he had asked them for an official statement of it. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John all tell us that these were the first words of Pilate to Jesus. Face to face with Him inside the Praetorium, the whole emphasis of his question is on the “Thou.” There was a touch of scorn in the question. “Jesus answered, Sayest thou this of thyself, or did others tell it thee concerning Me?” Have you already had that judgment from others, or is your question the result of your own wondering? A tremendously searching question.

Is that the result of your own thinking, or are you repeating what someone else has said? Pilate found himself face to face with Someone he had probably never met before, and certainly a personality such as he had never known before. He answered Him angrily: “Am I a Jew? Thine own nation and the chief priests delivered Thee unto me.” Then he said this amazing thing, “What hast Thou done?” Having manifested scorn in his first question, Jesus had asked him the question that had searched him, and he was angry. Yet this Roman judge did that most unusual thing, he asked the prisoner to give him the reason for His being there. “What hast Thou done?” “Jesus answered, My Kingdom is not of this world; if My Kingdom were of this world, then would My servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews; but now is My Kingdom not from hence.” What an amazing reply. The judge was asking what He was there for, what had He done, and He answered Pilate, representing the Roman Empire, and what He said concerned His Kingdom. He spoke of “My Kingdom,” and the emphatic word in the Greek throughout is the pronoun “My.” “My Kingdom is not of this world; if My Kingdom were of this world, then would My servants fight.” The word He used of His disciples was arresting and suggestive. It is the only place in the New Testament where that word is applied to the followers of Jesus Christ. It is a word suggesting dignity, those holding office within a Kingdom. This was the voice of the King.

The Prisoner, confronting Pilate, the embodiment of the Roman Empire, and representative of the Gentile world, when asked why He was there as a Prisoner, did not answer, but talked about His Kingdom, and told this man who represented the kingdom wholly of this world, depending for its authority upon the mailed fist, upon soldiers, cohorts, and armies, that His Kingdom was not of this world. If it were, said He, My officers, My statesmen would fight. My Kingdom is not from hence. It is not built up by the world, nor by worldly methods.

There are senses in which this reply of Jesus does not seem relevant to what Pilate was doing; but it had a relevancy to the Divine over-ruling, of all Pilate was doing. ‘‘My Kingdom is not of this world." “Pilate therefore said unto Him, Art Thou a King then?” Are you admitting that You are a King? I asked You if You were King of the Jews, and You gave me no direct answer. “Art Thou a King then?”

“Jesus answered. Thou sayest that I am a King.” Thou sayest that which I am, a King. He definitely thus claimed Kingship. Then He told Pilate the nature of His Kingdom. “To this end have I been born, and to this end am I come into the world, that I should bear witness unto the truth. Everyone that is of the truth heareth My voice.” His Kingdom is the Kingdom of truth. He came into the world to bear witness to the truth.

If once the truth triumphed in human life and history there would be no problems left for us to solve at Geneva or London, or anywhere else! Rudyard Kipling speaks of God somewhere, and says of Him that He is “the God of things as they are.” So He is; that is to say, He is the God of truth. Paul in writing to Timothy said that He “witnessed a good confession” before Pilate. That confession was marked by this strange, mystic dignity, claiming Kingship, not of the world; but in the realm of truth.

Then Pilate looked at Him and said, “What is truth?” He was arrested now. He had heard things he had never heard before. He knew much about empire on a worldly basis, an empire governed by force. But here was One, a Prisoner, claiming to be a King, and that in the realm of truth. And so he said, “What is truth?” I do not agree with Bacon in his great essay on Truth, when he begins by saying, " ‘What is truth?’ said the jesting Pilate, and did not wait for a reply." Pilate was not jesting. Pilate never felt less like jesting than he did that day.

Here suddenly brought face to face with something startling, he said, “What is truth?” I think that probably there was cynicism in the enquiry, concerning the world in which he lived. It was as though he had said, Truth! What is it? He was not denying that there is such a thing as truth; but he was saying in effect, If that is the nature of Your Kingdom, You have not much chance of realization in a world like this. “What is truth?”

Then he again went out. The account is in verses thirty-eight, the second part, to verse forty. John again has condensed into very brief words this story. We have it far more particularly in the other evangelists, but he gives enough for his purpose. When Pilate went out, he pronounced the official sentence of acquittal. What he said was the official sentence of a Roman judge, acquitting the prisoner-Not guilty! would be our formula. He went out and said, “I find no crime in Him,” then suggested that he should release Him.

But evidently they were ready. They cried out, “Not this Man, but Barabbas.” From the other evangelists we learn that He was wont to release a prisoner to them at that season of the year. They were allowed freedom of choice, a prisoner, whom they would. But now he had limited their choice. He had offered them a choice between Barabbas and Jesus. As though he had said: It is a custom for you to ask from me the freedom of any prisoner. On this occasion you must choose between this Man and Barabbas. They cried for Barabbas. The next section is in the first three verses of chapter nineteen. Again the happening was inside. Here we are in the presence of something that is appallingly wicked. The judge had pronounced Him not guilty, had suggested that He go free, but when they chose Barabbas, he did a dastardly thing. He took Him back into the Praetorium, and he handed

Him over to scourging. The law provided that he stand by when the scourging was done. What was he doing? I have no hesitation in saying that he was making a concession to the clamour outside, in the hope that that would satisfy them. He was trying not to put Jesus to death, in spite of the clamour. So he did the most illegal thing, the most dastardly thing, gave a Prisoner to scourging Whom he had acquitted.

In verses four to seven, the scene is again outside. “Pilate went out again, and saith unto them.” He went out by himself, and said: “Behold, I bring Him out to you, that ye may know that I find no crime in Him.” Then Jesus “came forth, wearing the crown of thorns, and the purple garment. And Pilate saith unto them, Behold, the Man!” What was Pilate doing? He had violated all justice in having Him scourged, and yet down in the heart and mind of him was the hope that the scourged and lacerated and thorn-crowned and bruised and bleeding Man would appeal to their pity. He said, “Behold, I bring Him out to you,” I bring Him forth to you, knowing that I have acquitted Him; but behold the Man. As they looked at Him, the chief priests and the officers cried out, “Crucify, crucify.”

Pilate said, “Take Him yourselves, and crucify Him; for I find no crime in Him.” Again he refused to put Him to death. He said, Take Him yourselves, and crucify Him, knowing perfectly well they could not do it. He was mocking them. And again I think he thought he had found a way out. Then immediately they said something else. “We have a law, and by that law He ought to die, because He made Himself the Son of God.” At last they have told the truth. He had claimed to be the Son of God, and that had been their quarrel with Him all through, but they had never raised it in connection with His trial before Pilate until then.

Now, driven to desperation, they told this pagan Roman-for whom they had no respect, but whom they would get on their side for the death sentence,-the underlying reason of their hostility. He had claimed to be the Son of God. It was a clever stroke on their part, and it had its effect.

The next section from verse eight to verse eleven takes us inside once more. “When Pilate therefore heard this saying, he was the more afraid, and he entered into the palace again.” He went in and took Jesus with him. “He saith unto Jesus, Whence art Thou?” As though he had said, What do these men mean by saying Thou art the Son of God? If ever a man was sore perplexed and tempest-tossed, Pilate was. “Jesus gave him no answer,” a most remarkable statement. The question was of fear, resulting from this declaration of the Jews, and Jesus gave no answer.

Then, “Pilate therefore saith unto Him, Speakest Thou not unto me? knowest Thou not that I have authority to release Thee, and have authority to crucify Thee?” He was telling the truth on the human level. The priests had not. He had. The right of life and death was vested in him. The answer of Jesus was, “Thou wouldest have no authority against Me, except it were given thee from above; therefore he that delivered Me unto thee hath greater sin.” He was revealing His sense of the authority that rises higher than the throne of the Caesars, or any other; that all authority in the last analysis is in God. He was reminding this procurator that he had no authority except that which was derived.

Moreover He apportioned guilt. Caiaphas who had sinned against the spiritual, “hath greater sin” than Pilate, even though he was violating justice.

And so we come to the last section, verses twelve to sixteen, and we are outside once more. “Upon this Pilate sought to release Him. The Jews cried out, saying, If thou release this Man, thou art not Caesar’s friend; every one that maketh himself a king speaketh against Caesar.” In that sentence the Jewish nation expressed, through its rulers, their final subjugation by Gentile power, and their rejection of their birthright inheritance. They bowed the neck to Caesar in order to murder Jesus. “When Pilate therefore heard these words, he brought Jesus out, and sat down on the judgment-seat at a place called The Pavement, but in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the Preparation of the Passover; it was about the sixth hour.” He made one more effort to release Jesus as he said, “Behold, your King! They therefore cried out, Away with Him, away with Him, Crucify Him.” And again he said, now perhaps in defeat and disappointed mockery, “Shall I crucify your King?” Then the final word of the priests, “We have no king but Caesar.” “Then therefore he delivered Him unto them to be crucified.”

John 19:17-42

The Gospel According to John John 19:17-42 John 19:17-30. In this paragraph we have John’s account of the crucifixion of the incarnate Word of God. Here as everywhere, his principle of selection is manifested. There are matters concerning the crucifixion to which he makes no reference. Unquestionably selecting, as he has done throughout, he has given exactly the presentation necessary for the completion of his presentation of our adorable Redeemer.

In this paragraph we have the first movement in the ultimate Sign. At the commencement of our Lord’s ministry He was challenged when He cleansed the Temple for a sign demonstrating His authority; and He then made that mystic reply, not apprehended as to its meaning at the time, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” By that statement He meant to say that the world was asking for a sign of His authority, and that the one, ultimate, final, complete sign would be that of His death and resurrection. That death, on the human level, would be brought about by the enmity of man in sin; such would destroy the temple of His body. Resurrection, the triumph of love and redeeming power over sin, would follow, the third day “I will raise it up.” These last chapters in John record that final sign, the two sides of it, the human and the Divine. We are now dealing with the human, the dissolution of the temple; the death of Jesus on the human level. Nevertheless in that consideration we shall see that the chief glory of the death of Jesus was not brought about by human agency.

The story opens with the statement that “They received Jesus” from Pilate. We read, “They took Jesus therefore.” The Greek word there means, “They received Him.” Pilate delivered Him; they received Him. Pilate, at last baffled, beaten, played the coward, compromised, stifled his conscience, and “delivered Him” to them, and “they received Jesus,” they received Jesus! John does not say they took Him out. They received Him, but-“He went out, bearing the Cross for Himself.” We are watching Him in His majesty. Pilate has delivered Him; they have received Him, having gained their objective; but “He went out, bearing the Cross for Himself,” no Victim, but a Victor.

By all human seeming, and I am inclined to think by hell’s thinking, He was beaten. He was not. “He went out, bearing the Cross for Himself unto the place called The place of a skull, which is called in Hebrew, Golgotha.” They got their way, but He was treading a Divinely marked pathway. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. . . . And the Word became flesh, and pitched His tent among us . . . full of grace and truth.” “He went forth,” bearing His own Cross. All the details of circumstances are trivial and stupid things in the last analysis, when one gets the vision of Divine procedure. He went out, bearing His Cross, His own Cross. And He went to Golgotha.

They crucified Him. Only three words. I am not going to add to the reverent reticence of John, and of Matthew, and of Mark, and of Luke, any detailed description of that. The New Testament writers give us no description of the crucifying. The fact is stated. It may be a challengeable opinion, but I think the Church of God has suffered more than it knows by pictures of the crucifying of Jesus; and sometimes by very honest and well-intentioned sermons, trying to describe the matter on the physical side. I am not denying the tragedy and the pain of it physically, but the physical suffering of Jesus was nothing compared to the deeper fact of that Cross. So, with reverent reticence, John tells the story and leaves it. “They crucified Him.”

They! Who? When Peter came to the day of Pentecost, he talked to the crowd in Jerusalem, and he said to them, “Ye men of Israel… ye by the hands of men without the law did crucify and slay” Jesus of Nazareth. “They” the Gentile hands did the work, but behind them were His own people, God’s people, but renegade, blinded, depraved. They, they crucified Him. Sin is there revealed in its most degraded and degrading form, that of devitalized religion. The most damning thing in life is religion when it has been degraded.

All history proves it. “They crucified Him” the Sinless. But more. There comes back to us the voice of His great forerunner, when identifying Him for His Messianic mission he said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” There they crucified Him, the Sinless; and in the Divine economy the Sin-Bearer. They heaped insult on Him even then. They crucified Him with two others, John does not name them, but he does point out the fact that they put “Jesus in the midst.” What does that mean? It was the sign of pre-eminence in guilt; and that is what they meant when they put Him there.

By an act of malice they crowned Him King among sinners. Jesus in the midst. “They crucified Him, and with Him two others, on either side one, and Jesus in the midst.” And as Redeemer He was rightly placed, for He had taken upon Him the sin of the world.

In the meantime Pilate was somewhere there in the background. I see him with a stylus in his hand, for John is very particular to tell us that Pilate wrote the superscription. What did it say? “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” He had it written in Hebrew, the national language; in Latin, the language of the government; in Greek, the language spoken of the common people. The priests objected. Of course they did. We will leave them alone with their objection.

Looking back on that scene, from the standpoint of the Divine government, we see how all men were in the hands of God, and guided by God, even when they are not seeking His guidance. Every human being ultimately is under the government of God. When a Roman procurator, who has sold his conscience, takes the stylus and writes, guiding his hand, is God. Pilate meant to annoy the priests. The priests hated the thing, and made their protest, and with sharp incisiveness, gathering courage in an attempt to save his face, Pilate said, “What I have written I have written.” Pilate, yes! Moreover, what you have written, you have written by the authority to which Jesus referred when He stood before you, and told you you could have no authority at all except it were given you from above.

Now you have written God’s estimate of Him among the Jews. Moreover, in that writing, from the Divine standpoint is an evidence that He had fulfilled God’s intention in the creation of the Hebrew people. The Hebrew people had failed in casting Him out; but God, out of that Hebrew nation, has lifted up the King. As King of the Jews, He will realize God’s programme for them, that of providing a Witness for all the world, and a way home for humanity. What Pilate meant, and what God meant!

The rest of the story very briefly brings us into the presence of the Crucified. From verse twenty-three He is seen on His Cross. There are two groups about the Cross, the soldiers, and the friends of Jesus.

Soldiers gambled for His garments, the four pieces under the over-wrapping robe. They gave one piece to each soldier; and then the soldiers saw that the robe was a peculiar one. Not a costly one, but woven from the top throughout. It was the garment of the simple folk, home-made. That garment of Jesus was woven by the deft fingers of some woman. Who shall doubt it was His Mother’s work? Those Roman soldiers were not accustomed to that kind of robe, so rather than rend it, they cast lots.

Here John inserted the statement, “That the Scripture might be fulfilled, which saith,

They parted my garments among them, And upon my vesture did they cast lots.” Thus once more John drew attention to the fact that the trivialities of men are resolved in the knowledge and purpose of heaven. Where is that written? We find it in the twenty-second psalm; and in a moment or two, though John does not record it, Jesus quoted from that psalm on the Cross, its opening words, “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” I have often wondered, when the Cross was over, if John did not go home and read the psalm, and pondering it, found out the truth about it, that its ultimate value was Messianic foretelling. There he found these words:

“They part My garments among them, And upon My vesture do they cast lots.” John caught the radiance of the rainbow around the darkness of the tragedy.

There were others beside the soldiers there, four women and one man. Mary the Mother, Salome her sister, Mary the wife of Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene, close to the Cross. One man, the man writing the story. John never names himself in his writings, and he never names the Mother of Jesus, never names His own kindred, never names the brothers of Jesus, and members of the family.

Then something took place that is full of beauty. Evidently the eyes of Jesus,-in the midst of His physical pain, with all the pains of hell gradually getting hold of Him,-fell upon His Mother standing there, and standing close by, John. Those eyes fell upon the face they had first looked into when He came into the world. A sword was piercing her soul. He knew it, and He said to her, “Woman, behold, thy son!” Then evidently His eyes passed quickly from her to John, “Behold, thy Mother!” He in the midst of the unfathomable things, in the midst of those hours when all the Divine compassions were toiling to redeem men, and exhibit the everlasting mercy, His heart thought about His Mother, and He provided for her for the rest of her earthly pilgrimage. We are trying to look at the Cross. It will baffle us finally, but as we look we learn that the Christ of Golgotha, of Calvary, of the mystery of the everlasting mercy, has eyes for human sorrow, and cares and provides.

And then John says, “And from that hour the disciple took her unto his own home.” One wonders how long she lived with him. There are all sorts of traditions. One is that he stayed in Jerusalem eleven years, until she was fifty-nine, and then she died. Another says that when he went presently to Ephesus, he took her with him.

And so we come to the central Wonder. John says, “After this.” How long after? Probably three hours, for the word to His Mother was probably uttered at the beginning. John does not tell us about those three hours. He says, “After this.” John’s account here is the most revealing of those of the evangelists. Of course Matthew wrote by inspiration, so also did Mark, and Luke unquestionably; but equally by inspiration John has written something in simple sentences that is more revealing than what Matthew, Mark, or Luke were inspired to write about that hour, and what transpired.

John says, “After this Jesus, knowing.” What? “That all things are now finished, that the Scripture might be accomplished, saith, I thirst.” Jesus did not say “I thirst” until He knew that everything was done. He knew that all things were accomplished. Then there passed His lips the only words in all the process, either of trial or crucifying, or long-continued agony on the Cross, that gave expression to physical suffering. Then He said, “I thirst,” but He did not say that until whatever He had gone to the Cross to do was done. When He knew that “all things were accomplished, He said, I thirst.” There was a vessel standing there with vinegar in it; and somebody took some hyssop, and saturated it with the vinegar and gave Him, and He received it. At the very beginning they had offered Him wine, mingled with gall, drugged, and He refused it.

He refused anything that would deaden the physical pain. But now knowing that all things were finished, He said, “I thirst.” They gave Him the simple sour wine of Palestine on hyssop, and He took it.

When He “had received the vinegar He said, It is finished.” But He knew it was finished, before He said “I thirst.” Finally He said, “It is finished.” John does not tell us, but others, who do not record the words, say that He cried with a loud voice. From them then we know that this thing was said with a loud voice. It was not the voice of One defeated. It was the voice of the Victor. “It is finished.” The Greek words mean far more than that something was over. It means that it was rounded out to perfection. Whatever He went to the Cross to do was accomplished.

There is the sea of mystery. We can only stand by it, and listen to the sigh and the moaning of the storms that sweep across it; but what we learn from John is that the dying by which we are redeemed was not the physical dying. That was necessary as a sacramental symbol, but something deeper, something profounder, something rooted in Deity, into which human intellect peers reverently, always to be blinded by excess of light had been accomplished.

He had finished; it was over, it was done. The pains of hell gat hold upon Him. All the waves and the billows had swept across Him. He had breasted the storm, and accomplished God’s purpose. When He knew all things were finished He said, “I thirst”; and then He announced His victory, “It is finished.” Whatever the “it” stands for, that which brought Him there, the purpose of His going was fulfilled, completed, rounded out.

And then the last act. I did not say fact. I said act. What was it? He yielded up His Spirit. The eyes closed, the limbs relaxed, and men said, He is dead.

Yes, He is, on the human level. The temple is dissolved. They have destroyed the temple of His body. But on the Divine side, before the consummation of their wickedness came, He had completed the work He came to do. And so now John says of Him, He yielded up, He “gave up His Spirit.” Again let it be remembered that neither Matthew, Mark, Luke or John says of that final fact that He died. Matthew says, “He yielded His Spirit.” Mark says, “He gave up the Spirit.” Luke says, “He gave up the Spirit.” John says, “He gave up His Spirit.” It was an act.

I go back a little way, and I listen to Him, when all His enemies were round about Him, and criticizing Him; and I hear Him saying, “No man taketh My life away from Me, but I lay it down of Myself. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it again.”

Yes, they had destroyed the beautiful sacred temple. They have done their uttermost. Sin can do nothing worse. But the death that redeems was over, before the physical death took place. John 19:31-42. This is a brief paragraph, but it is full of suggestive and revealing beauty, against a background of appalling darkness. The ugliest and the darkest days in all the stretches of human history were the days when Jesus lay dead. The dead Jesus! The sacred and beautiful temple of His body destroyed, dissolved, by human malice. During all the process of these studies we have been following John’s account of His ministry, with its illustrations of His teaching and His power; but we have always gathered around Him in the consciousness of the living Jesus. Now we gather around His dead body. The dead Jesus; life ended, light extinguished, love eliminated.

Life ended. Spiritual death universal, and no hope of attaining to abiding life. The group of His own disciples, because He was dead, had lost their hope of life. Light extinguished. The only perfect Light that had ever shone in human history after humanity had broken with God was put out in darkness. Love eliminated. Oh but the world was full of love. Nay verily, lust, not love. The Incarnate Revelation of life and light and love had been done to death. That was the world’s verdict; the dead Jesus!

I have no desire to leave that impression upon the mind as final; and if I had, I could not do it. We are all conscious that there is something else to be said, and the light of it is already breaking through for us. For the moment however we are concerned with the dead body of Jesus.

The paragraph falls quite naturally into two parts; in the first, verses thirty-one to thirty-seven (John 19:31-37), we see the dead body of Jesus in the hands of His enemies. In the second, verses thirty-eight to forty-two (John 19:38-42), we see the dead body of Jesus in the hands of His lovers. Yet that statement needs to be amended slightly. I have said that in the first part, we see the dead body of our Lord in the hands of His enemies. As a matter of fact, the hand of an enemy never touched the dead body of Jesus. When once His mighty work was accomplished, and He had dismissed His spirit to His Father with august majesty, no enemy had touched Him.

They pierced His side with a spear, the long broad lance of the Roman soldier; but no hand was laid upon Him. Only the hands of His lovers ever touched that dead body.

First of all, we find the Jews requesting the removal of the dead bodies. There were three. The rulers requested their removal, and the ground of their request was supposed to be religious. The ritual of religion must be observed, however much its principles were violated. According to Jewish law, an executed person must be buried before sundown. (Deuteronomy 21:22 and on). They were strictly within the limits of Jewish law when they asked Pilate to grant the dead bodies removal, in view of the fact that the Sabbath was approaching, which was a great Sabbath.

The attitude revealed is that of the ritual of religious law being punctiliously observed by men who had violated the very essence of religion. The Roman custom in crucifixion was that of leaving the bodies to putrefy on their crosses. So when these Jewish rulers went to Pilate and asked that the bodies might be removed, they were asking a concession to their religious rites and ceremonies. Pilate granted their request. Pilate let them have their way. Another of the evangelists tells us that he was very careful to enquire as to whether Jesus was dead.

He sent for the centurion, the officer in charge, to find out if He was really dead. One wonders whether some superstitious fear was haunting him.

That is immediately followed by the account of the response of authority to the request. The soldiers came, under Pilate’s orders unquestionably, and they brake the legs of the malefactors, one on the one side, and one on the other side of Jesus. The breaking of the legs was an entirely separate punishment from crucifixion in the Roman method. It was however often super-added. There are different opinions as to the reason for it. There are those who think it was an act of mercy to hasten death.

It has been shown too, that sometimes they were taken off their crosses long before death, and the legs broken to prevent escape. Evidently here the intention was to end their lives swiftly, in order to grant the request for the removal of the bodies. Then we have this most significant statement. When they came to Jesus, they found He was dead already. Crucifixion meant a lingering and agonizing death. Sometimes the crucified hung on their crosses for two or even three days and nights before they died.

Probably the two malefactors would have done so if it had not been for this. But “Jesus was dead already.” When they found He was dead already, a Roman soldier pierced His side.

Then something happened, proving that He was dead. That it was something of vital importance is proven by the way John emphasizes it. In telling the fact, that when the spear pierced the side of Jesus, straightway there came forth blood and water, he says, “He that hath seen hath borne witness, and his witness is true; and he knoweth that he saith true, that ye also may believe.” John made this statement because he was desirous of insisting upon the absolute accuracy of what he had recorded. It is quite possible that that soldier pierced the side of the three. We are not told that he did; but it was often done. If the soldier had pierced the side of either of those malefactors before they were dead, what would have been seen issuing from the wound created by the lance?

Blood, red blood alone. That is why John is particular to say when the sword pierced the side of Jesus, there came out blood and water. Now I have no doubt whatever there are mystical things and symbolic values in the fact, but the first value of it was that the outflow of blood and water, as John calls it, was a demonstration of the fact that He was dead already, and reveals moreover how, on the physical side, He had died. He had died of a ruptured, broken heart. In 1847 a volume was written by Dr. Stroud on that subject. I have a pamphlet given to me eighteen years ago by Sir Alexander Simpson, the father of Dr. Hubert Simpson, called, “The broken heart of Jesus.” This pamphlet deals with the subject briefly, but very clearly, quoting from Dr.

Stroud, and showing how other men, eminent pathologists took up the work of Dr. Stroud, and investigated it. The finding of these scientific experts is that the out-flow which John calls blood and water might with perfect accuracy have been described as blood and serum; and the very fact that the two appeared, when the side was pierced, was a demonstration of what John had just said, that He was “dead already.” The spear did not put Him to death. Whatever the intention of the spear was, the issue of that action in the case of Jesus was demonstration of the fact that He “was dead already,” and that He had died of a broken heart. That breaking of His heart did not take place until He knew all things were accomplished for which He had gone to the Cross, and until He had said, “It is finished,” and commended His Spirit to His Father. Then, on the physical side, the whole strain ruptured His heart, and straightway He was dead.

And yet it was a demonstration of the fact, that while the humanity of Jesus was real, the moment of the rupture was within the counsel and determination of His own will, and so we are here also in the presence of something more than human. “No man taketh My life from Me. I lay it down of Myself.” Here we have perfect humanity, the strain and the agony, bodily and mentally, reacting upon the physical, until His heart was broken, but this only taking place when He willed that it should.

John here adds something arresting. He saw in these happenings fulfillment of two words from the past: “A bone of Him shall not be broken”; and “They shall look on Him Whom they pierced.” John saw the over-ruling of God in all these things of human iniquity, and human sin.

His first quotation was from the book of Exodus; his second from Zechariah. From the law and the prophets he takes out two simple statements. The fact that they did not break His bones was the fulfillment of something found in Exodus; and the fact that they pierced His side was the fulfillment of something foretold by Zechariah.

As to the first. We search in vain for any such statement in the Old Testament that is explicitly made concerning Messiah. The words in psalm thirty-four,

“He keepeth all his bones; Not one of them is broken,” are often applied to Messiah, and perhaps in some senses justifiably so. As a matter of fact however it is not a Messianic psalm. David is speaking of the righteous in contrast with the wicked. We must go to Exodus to find the reference. John recorded how when Jesus began His public ministry, His forerunner announced Him in these terms, “Behold, the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world.” John was remembering that. When he wrote this, he had come to understand the glory of that introduction of Jesus by His great forerunner, “The Lamb of God.” So now he went back to Exodus where instructions were given for the paschal lamb.

One definite instruction was that it was to be perfect, and no bone of it was to be broken. They came, the soldiers, and saw Him dead already; and so there was no need to break His bones. Historically an incidental fact, but in it John saw a fulfillment. Jesus was the true paschal Lamb, and no bone of Him was broken. Then he remembered the passage in Zechariah, “They shall look on Him Whom they pierced.” And now John saw the pierced side. The piercing may have been an act of pity, for in those last moments the soldiers were over-awed. They gibed at Him at the beginning. They joined with the priests in their gibing, but as the hours passed in which He hung upon the Cross, and they listened to Him, the centurion in charge of the business broke out, and said, “Truly this Man was the Son of God,” and he broke out also, “Certainly this was a righteous Man.” One of the evangelists records one thing, and another another. A spell had been cast upon these soldiers. They found Him dead already; and then one of them pierced His side. So, the side was pierced, and the prophetic foretelling fulfilled.

That the outflow of blood and water was symbolic to John is seen in his letters, when he refers to blood and water. There we find how presently he came to see a symbolism in that which was purely natural, that it had a supernatural suggestiveness. He came to see that the blood was the symbol of redemption, and the water of regeneration.

There are two lines in one of our hymns which I never sing without a sense of sob in my throat, which merges into a song,

“The very spear that pierced His side, Drew forth the blood to save.” That was God’s answer to humanity’s sin. The spear thrust was the last brutality, the last indignity; and the spear was bathed with the blood, evidence of the infinite and compassionate heart of God.

Now His enemies had done all they could do. So we turn to the second section, in which we see Him in the hands of His lovers. Two of them are here, Joseph and Nicodemus. Joseph a disciple, but secretly, for fear of the Jews. John tells us that definitely about him. From the other evangelists we learn more about him.

He was rich. He was a member of the Sanhedrim. He had not voted for the death of Jesus. He had not given his consent to their counsel. The finding of the Sanhedrim, when Caiaphas gathered it, and sent Him to Pilate presently, was not unanimous. There was at least one man who did not vote for the death of Jesus.

Nicodemus was also a Sanhedrist. I wonder how he voted. I think it is certain that he did not vote for His death, because on an earlier occasion he had raised his voice on the side of justice (John 7:51). In any case we now see these two members of the Sanhedrin acting together; Joseph of Arimathaea was certainly weak. John is very distinct about him; he was a “disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews.” Yet when Jesus was in danger, he manifested his courage in that he did not vote for His death. We are told moreover that he was one who was looking for the Kingdom of God.

John does not tell us about the little group which, when Jesus was born, were in the Temple, Simeon and Anna, and a little group loyal to the God of their fathers, waiting for the Kingdom of God. Joseph belonged to that company, and he had come to believe in Jesus. Nicodemus was one of the earliest seekers. I have no sympathy with those who say he was cowardly. His coming by night proved his commonsense. He came when the crowd was gone, and he could get Jesus alone. He it is now who we see coming, bringing a hundred pounds weight of spices. The Roman pound was twelve ounces; twelve hundred ounces of spices. What was he going to do? He was coming to join Joseph of Arimathaea. Certainly they knew each other, for they were both Sanhedrists.

In that supreme hour Joseph did the thing of ultimate courage; he went straight to Pilate, and begged the dead body of Jesus. He went right to the Praetorium, past all other authority, to Pilate, and begged the body of Jesus.

Then we see those two men acting together. The sepulchre was rock-hewn. It was in a garden. There was a garden near the place where they crucified Him. It was Joseph’s garden, and the tomb was prepared unquestionably for his own sepulture by and by. No man had ever yet been buried there.

Always in those rock-hewn tombs, there was a porch, into that they carried the dead body. There they brought the body of Jesus, and there we see these two men wrapping it round, with a hundred pounds of spices intermixed with the wrappings. John is careful to say they buried Him “as the custom of the Jews is to bury.” That is to say not after the Egyptian manner, or the manner of other nations, which meant embalming, and the mutilation of the body. The Jews never mutilated a dead body, but wrapped it in spices in the cloths, and last of all a final winding sheet. The wrapping of those dead bodies was a work of singular complexity.

Here we see the last ministry of love. Two disciples,-one of them who had certainly been a disciple secretly. The other perhaps so also. Never let us forget that when Peter, the loud talking disciple, and the rest of the crowd with him had all run away, two secret disciples took care of the dead body of Jesus, and buried it with love. In the hour of supreme darkness, it was two fearful disciples who blazed into courage, and buried the dead body of Jesus.

What poetry there is in one little statement here? “In the place where He was crucified there was a garden.” Into the garden they carried His dead body. I always seem to see the dead body of Jesus lying where the flowers were blooming, and the birds were singing; the flowers He loved so well, and the birds He loved so well. Perhaps they were silent for a while; but I am sure they were blooming, the asphodel of heaven, and the birds of Paradise, when the morning of the first day of the week came. They put Him in a garden.

And yet mark it well. His lovers treated Him as dead. John tells us presently that they never grasped the truth of resurrection (John 20:9). He was dead, and as we see those two men burying Him, we know three things about them. We know they still loved Him. They had not lost their love for Him.

We know they still believed in Him personally. They loved Him, they believed in Him. Faith was still there; love was still there. What was lacking? Hope. They had lost all hope.

They were looking for the Kingdom. They had become His disciples. They had expected that He would realize all their hopes, and all their dreams. They had trusted that it should be He Who should redeem Israel. It was all over. He was dead I He could not do it.

He had failed. The world had been too much for him. The forces of ungodliness had triumphed. He was dead! But they loved Him still, and believed in Him. He meant well.

So they gave Him burial, the burial of love. They put him in a tomb in which no man had ever lain, and wrapped His body round with an over-plusage of spices.

He was dead! His enemies thought they had done for Him, and they were glad. His friends thought He was done for, and they were sad. But heaven watching was preparing the music that should ring around the world declaring the defeat of evil, and the mastery of sin, and the ransom of the race.