that he exclaimed _My Soul_ (being truly human) _is exceeding sorrowful_, _even unto death_. _O_! _my Father_, _if it be possible_, _let this Cup pass from me_. Here it was his great mind took in all the evil, apprehended all the vileness that was in Sin. Our Sins here beset him, stared him in the face; encompassed him, and he felt their burden so heavy, he was filled with amazement and terror. _Now it pleased the Father to bruise him_—he was exposed to the whole storm of divine Wrath; he was in an Agony, such as had never been felt before by any one—it covered his whole Body with a bloody Sweat, which started from his Veins, came out at the Pores, and fell in clots on the ground! The Curse due to the Sins of the Elect, seized him and fell on him.—Here it was he offered up _strong cries and tears to God_. At this time his heart melted like wax, so that he might well say, _I am poured out like water_. In the midst of this Agony he was betrayed by an apostate Apostle, seized on by an insulting rabble, led from the Garden, first to Annas, next to Caiaphas, and then to Pilate; from him to Herod, then back again to the Roman Governor. Here he endured the contradiction of Sinners against himself—He stands at Pilate’s Bar—then uncovered, bound to a pillar, and flogged by merciless men—a thousand Roman soldiers, perhaps, around him, and each gave him a wound—being bound so fast to the post, as that his arms were ready to break. Now the Ploughers _ploughed on his Back_, _and made long furrows_—he was wounded that his flesh was made black and blue with blows—they continued their strokes till they made him bare to the very bone—then he was untied and turned, and tied up again, so as to wound that part which yet remained whole—then platting a crown of thorns, drove them into his Temples, so that they entered into his Skull, so that the pain was exquisite—they put a reed or cane in his hand, struck him with it—mocked his Offices—put on his Body an old coat—they smote him with their hands.—He came forth, wearing the purple robe and crown of thorns. But, O! what an object of grief, sorrow, and pain! He looks around him, and exclaims, _Beheld the Man_! while his every step was marked with blood! The rabble still cry out, _Away with him_! _Crucify him_!—He goes forth, and ascends the Hill, where his dear Body was nailed to the cursed tree. See him giving his dear Hands, with all the meekness and patience of a Lamb, to the cruel executioners, while they, hard as adamant, drove the rugged iron through them. His Body was stretched on the cold Cross, his Hands and Feet bored through with iron pins, from which the Blood gushed out abundantly. Here was _a fountain opened_, under the Wrath of God! The heavens gathering a dismal gloom, he cried out, _My God_, _my God_! _why hast thou forsaken me_?—All these sorrows, and infinitely more than these, our Jesus experienced for our Salvation.