the judge confers with his prisoner. Jesus "is led as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he openeth not his mouth." "When Pilate therefore heard that saying, he was the more afraid; and went again into the judgment hall, and saith unto Jesus, Whence art thou? But Jesus gave him no answer" (John xix. 8, 9). His silence is the silence, not of disrespect, but of awful, divine authority. He has met the charge already brought against him. He has explained what might give rise to the accusation of treason; and, in doing so, he has said enough to determine Pilate's decision, and Pilate is bound to decide. This new question, so earnestly put, is not necessary or relevant; it is not to the point, it is not to the purpose. "Whence art thou?" asks the trembling Roman Whence art thou, that thou shouldst make thyself the Son of God?'

Dost thou ask this, O Pilate! as an inquirer? Wilt thou also be his disciple? If so, thou shalt not long be at a loss for an answer. Thou art not far from one even now. It is in thy heart already, if out of thy heart thou wouldst allow thy mouth to speak.

Meanwhile thy function as judge is not yet discharged. There is a case before thee to be disposed of, and there are all the elements for disposing of it. Do justice according to the dictates of thine own conscience, not according to the prejudices and passions of others. Till then Jesus is silent.

Vexed by this silence, and provoked perhaps by the calm demeanour of the Lord, contrasting so painfully

with his own agitation, Pilate suffers one flash of his natural impatience and the insolence of office to escape him, in a scene which has hitherto overawed him. He reminds the prisoner of his power over him,-a power which, though subordinate to that of the emperor, was practically, in such cases and in that distant province, absolute and arbitrary: "Speakest thou not unto me? knowest thou not that I have power to crucify thee, and have power to release thee?" (John xix. 10.) It is an unworthy taunt against one in whom he himself acknowledges that he can find no fault. It marks a secret misgiving in regard to the equity of his procedure. Conscious of having no other ground to stand upon, he takes refuge in the last and worst argument of cowardly tyranny,the argument of mere power.

There is no

Alas! this too is but a refuge of lies. escaping from the searching glance of one who seems to pierce his very soul. Infatuated man! this power of which thou makest a boast, however practically irresponsible in so far as thy master on earth, the emperor, is concerned, is not so in reality. It is given thee from above, it is of God. And wilt thou use it after thine own pleasure, when it is the Son of God, as thou hast reason to fear, who stands before thee? 'The sin of those who delivered me to thee is aggravated tenfold by their seeking thus to turn against the cause of God and his Son the very power that is ordained of God. Thy sin will not be the less if thou art moved to yield to their importunity. "Thou couldest have no power at all against me, except it were given thee from above: therefore he

that delivered me unto thee hath the greater sin (John xix. 11).*

But yield, after all, he did; although to the last—all the more after this closing interview-he would fain have delivered his prisoner. "From henceforth," more than ever, "Pilate sought to release him: but the Jews cried out, If thou let him go, thou art not Cæsar's friend" (John xix. 12). The struggle becomes more desperate as it draws near its close. The claim of Jesus-his claim of sovereignty as a king, of truth as a witness, and now even of divinity as the Son of God-is pressing closer and closer on the conscience. But, alas! alas! the loud cry prevails, "If thou let this man go, thou art not Cæsar's friend."

Ah! it had been well for Pilate if, at this eleventh hour, in this final crisis of his mental struggle, the Lord's appeal to his tremendous responsibility, as having no power but from above, had been effectual to make him feel that he had no discretion,-that he was shut up to the necessity of deciding for Jesus, and owning him as the King, the true Witness, the Son of God. It had been still better if, at the very first, when the idea of sovereignty and of truth, as not fictions but realities, took hold of his mind, he had learned to stand in awe, that he might not sin, to believe, that he might be saved. If there be ground for the vague rumours of history, he had but little ease or peace in his future life, which he himself, it is said, in disgrace and in exile, terminated by a * See Appendix.

voluntary death. It is a solemn reflection to think how near the vacillating judge, the despairing suicide, may once have been to a believer. It is a most emphatic

warning to all, to trifle with no convictions of their own, to yield to no solicitations of others, to let the word of God have free course in their hearts, and to offer no resistance to the strivings of his good Spirit.

XVIII.

THE WICKED TAKEN IN THEIR OWN NET.

PONTIUS PILATE DEALING WITH THE JEWS.

JOHN xix. 13-37.

THE fatal tragedy in which Pilate bears so sad a part, has what we might almost call an after-piece, in his subsequent intercourse with those to whom at last he has made up his mind to give way. Altogether, it is, if I may say so, a strange game throughout that we see carried on between Pilate and the Jews,-between the halfawakened conscientiousness of the governor and the unscrupulous ferocity of the Pharisees. They are well matched in this trial of strength or skill. They are nearly balanced, mutually seeking to overbear or to overreach one another; and were it not that the subject of contention is so solemn, and the issue so serious, a discerning by-stander might almost smile as he looks on. At first the Pharisees have greatly the best of it. Their remorseless and unrelenting bigotry gives them an advantage over the vacillating Roman, who, however irreligious, has still some sense of honour and some feelings of compassion. Accordingly they press hard upon him. They drive him from one point of defence to another. They carry in succession the several outposts at which he would gladly rally and make a