into the degrading position of bearing this shameful cross? For let it be remembered that then it was a shameful cross. What is now our ornament and pride, the symbol of all that is worthiest in man and divinest in God, was then the badge of shame and lowest degradation. So that it was an outrage and insult of the very last degree, which was inflicted on Simon the Cyrenian, when they compelled him to bear the cross of Jesus Christ. The vilest of that howling Jewish mob would have shrunk from touching it, it would have been pollution, while the lowest Roman soldier would have regarded "bearing a cross as an unspeakable degradation.

Then how came they, how dared they inflict this insult on Simon the Cyrenian? Was it, think you, the swarthy hue, the dusky complexion, the slave mark on skin or dress, which singled him out as one who might be safely wronged? This seems to be the most probable opinion, endorsed by at least one very great critical authority, for Simon was a Cyrenian, that is, a native of Northern Africa, and though we may not, perhaps, say positively he was a "man of colour," yet there might be, and as I venture to believe there was, enough to mark him out the slave. And it was for that reason they dared inflict on him this wanton insult, and compelled him to bear the cross of the doomed Nazarene. But, friends, if that be so, then my text becomes filled with very sacred instruction and encouragement, and touches into very gracious light some of the darker sides of experience and of life; for

1. Note here that the sorrowful mark was also the Divine mark, separating out this man from a vast multitude for this special service to the suffering Christ. What story of disaster, suffering, and wrong lay behind that African cross-bearer we do not know, but the very fact that he was, and could be, singled out from all that multitude for such a duty, points very strongly in the direction of the other fact that there was something in his appearance and his dress which marked him off from both Jew and Roman as a stranger and, perhaps, a slave. But then, does

2 Meyer, with whom Alford apparently agrees. Note on Matthew xxvii. 32.

not that open a door for very lovely and consoling thought concerning what we call the strange, dark providences of God? For we might ask, what was God doing when that slave child was born, when the dark colour gathered in the tiny face, when the mean dress of servitude was first put on, when the lash first fell upon his quivering flesh, when, tossed from hand to hand, a mere human chattel, Simon the Cyrenian appeared on the fringe of the crowd pressing out that day from the gate of Jerusalem? To human judgment no lot could be more hopeless or more sad; for such a man might seem both God-forsaken and God-forgotten, a mere waif and stray swept up amidst the outcasts and offscourings of a world.

But it was not so, for through all that hard, bitter experience God was putting the mark, His mark, upon the man, by which he should one day be selected from an enormous crowd to be Christ's helper in an hour of sorest need. It was the hand of a dark providence working through sorrowful years to bring the slave and the Saviour beneath the same burden and blessing of the cross. And may not the same be true in our own experience of life? The very thing which stamps our lives with a peculiar sadness, which flings a dark cloud over our fortune and career, which puts a mark on us, hopeless and indelible as the brandingiron placed upon the body of the slave, has sometimes proved to be a sacred preparation for special and beautiful service, which none else could render so wisely and so well. Who are the crossbearers of the world, the true companions of Christ in His great enterprise of love? Not those who have been lapped in luxurious ease, on whom the world smiles, and whom the multitude surrounds with shouts of praise. But rather those who have been bruised by a heavy hand, who have "learned by experience" the bitterness of suffering and wrong. They can take hold, as no others can, of one end of the cross of Jesus Christ. It is the mother, who has closed the eyes and folded the dead hands of one of her own children, who can best console that other woman mourning for the same loss, and can best direct the sister-mourner to the consolations of her God. It is the man, who has both felt and forgiven sin against himself,

that can best preach to others the Gospel of Divine forgiveness. It is the reformer, who has been struck and stung in his own person by some aged wrong, that stretches out the strongest hand to lift like burdens from other lives; for the very thing which thus sets one apart, also marks him out for the special service, just as the slave was singled out among the crowd, as by the finger of God, to be the cross-bearer of Jesus Christ.

And if these things be so, then, let us not slight our own care, or murmur at our own burden. And depend upon it, there is something in this world to be done for Jesus Christ which only we can do. Christ is somewhere waiting for our help, and if we will only learn our lesson, follow the guidance of God's providence, evade no present duty, then one day, when we are "coming out of the country" toward the gates of the holy city of holy service, we shall find the cross, and the Saviour, waiting for us in the way. And the faithless thought, that anyone can be too weak, too poor, too insignificant, stands rebuked for ever by that sight of the slave and the Saviour bearing together the burden of the cross.

2. And here a second truth is presented for our consideration. It is suggested by the words, "they compelled him," or, "him they compelled" to bear Christ's cross. It was no willing choice. Indeed a self-chosen cross is very seldom the right one for us to carry. And it is just here we touch the true reason of so much religious failure. We make our own crosses instead of simply carrying Christ's; we strive to do religious work instead of doing our own work religiously. Yet is it not clear that if Simon had cut down all the trees in Gethsemane, and all the cedars of Lebanon, he would but have made for himself a heavier burden, and would have been no true helper of Jesus Christ. And just so, I believe, there are whole heaps of so-called religious work being done in these days, vast expenses are being incurred, grievous burdens are being borne, that are doing simply nothing to promote the cause of Jesus Christ; and for this one reason, that they are too frequently crosses chosen for self-glory, and fashioned by self-will. Often we go staring about for something to do, when our real duty is lying there, in our own home, or in

our own church, waiting to be done. But it is that, and that alone, which really tells; not the fashioning a crucifix after our own pleasure, studded with jewels, glittering with gold, that can be held up, flashing in the sun, for all the world to see; but taking up the homely cross of a hard day's work, or a humble duty, simply because God has put it in our way.

But the special point to which, just here, I would direct your attention is this:-Does anyone take up life after this fashion without some pressure, some compulsion? Surely not. There is much true fellowship with Christ, even some true discipleship, but very seldom "a communion of the blood," without compulsion.

Him they compelled," as when harsh and untoward circumstances force a young man away from his cherished plans of life, and oblige him, for the sake of those he loves, to give his heart and energy to a business or profession for which he has no taste. Men so placed often fail, because they will not see God behind the disappointment, and so they rebel, or else slouch through life with sullen indifference. But where they are of a different strain, and take what must be as God's best for them, when they lay hold of this cross with reverent and submissive hands, then what grand men they often make. In their moral conquest there are all the beginnings of spiritual greatness, and that man's best self is brought out because "him" these unfriendly circumstances "compelled to bear the cross." "Him they compelled." Do you see that young Jewish Rabbi flashing along the Damascus road, hating the very name of Christ, and loathing the story of His cross? His life is all laid out, his position is secure, his renown is safe among the generations of Israel. But there came one blinding flash, one awful, crushing revelation that swept away the purpose and the dream of Saul for ever, and Paul arose the bondsman of Jesus Christ, chained for ever to the cross he once despised. Henceforth he lives a life "constrained," "compelled," but it was glorious living, and the mighty influence of that man, compelled to bear the cross of Christ, will last longer than the world.

And so, my friends, let me say this, to some of you especially, your life is not going to take the shape and fashion that you

wished; there is a cross in it that you will be compelled to bear; you will have to be something different from your boyish dreams, and do something that you never meant to do. But do not let your lives be spoiled because of that. Do not sulk and do not whine. Try to see God behind the compulsion and the disappointment. Behold the crown shining above the cross. Believe this, that you will be helping goodness and helping God more by cheerily making the best of what God gives, than of being made by what you wish.

"Him they compelled to bear Christ's cross," and Simon would have been dead and clean forgotten but for being forced to do that very thing.

3. And now this leads us to another thought suggested by "the manner of this cross-bearing." It seems from Luke's account, that they did not entirely remove the cross from the shoulders of our Lord, but so arranged its parts that Simon might "bear it after Jesus." And it is extremely possible that they placed the head of the cross on Christ's shoulder, while the foot rested on that of Simon. So that when the eye of the man travelled along the cross, it rested on the form of the suffering Son of God. The burden was thus borne between the two.* And that is the only bearable way for any man to bear the burden of the cross. Life would be very dark, and the burden of life too heavy to be borne were there no glimpse or gleam of God and His incarnate purpose at the end. The old Stoics used to say that no one had a right to complain of life, because there was alway an open door by which a man could leave it when he chose; that is, he could always end his trouble by committing suicide. But we Christians have a better thing to say, for we can point you to the Divine purpose and the Divine love. The cross, thy cross, my brother, is borne after Jesus. The darkest path has been fore-trodden by His blessed feet, the gloomiest way is lighted by His love. The via dolorosa led straight to

3 It is conceivable that Simon carried the whole, but, all things considered, very improbable.

4 If this hypothesis be correct, then the heaviest end still rested on the shoulders of the Christ.