Now, what good could possibly be expected from such a man? None at all, if the same hard treatment had been continued towards him. But it was not continued. No, at Norfolk Island, he came under the care of a good Christian gentleman. This was Capt. Maconochie, an officer of the English army. He had great faith in the power of kindness and love. He found this man Anderson one of the very worst men he had ever met with; but he resolved to try the power of the gospel upon him. He treated him kindly, as one man ought to treat another. He got him to attend a night school which he had opened, and there had him taught to read. Then he persuaded him to join a Bible class which he taught. He showed an interest in him and sympathy for him. He often took him apart by himself and talked kindly to him. He told him of the wonderful love of Jesus, as shown in the story of the cross. This touched and melted the hard and stony heart of that desperate man. He wept like a child, at the thought of his life of sin. He prayed earnestly for pardon, and found it. Charles Anderson—the fierce, unmanageable man—the man who had been chained, like a wild beast to that lonely rock, became a Christian. And he was a thoroughly changed man in every respect. The change from midnight to mid-day, from mid-winter to mid-summer, is not greater than the change that appeared in him. From being an ill-tempered, gloomy, disobedient, idle man who was a plague to all about him, he became gentle, and kind, cheerful, obedient, and trustworthy; a man who gained the respect and the love of all who knew him. Capt. Maconochie got him released from being a prisoner, on account of his good behaviour. Then he took him into his own service, and a more useful and excellent servant he never had in all his life. Here we see the power of the love of Christ. And so when we think of the history of the crucifixion, let us remember these six things,—the place—the time—the manner—the witnesses—the wonders—and the words—which make up that history. And when we think of the lessons it teaches—let us remember the lesson of forgiveness—the lesson of duty to our parents—the lesson about the power and willingness of Christ to save—about the depths of his sufferings—and the wonders of his love. We cannot better close this subject than with the words of the hymn we often sing: “When I survey the wondrous cross, On which the Prince of glory died, My richest gain I count but loss, And pour contempt on all my pride. “Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, Save in the cross of Christ my God, All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood. “See from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e’er such love and sorrow meet, Or thorns compose so rich a crown? “Were the whole realm of nature mine, _That_ were a tribute far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my life—my soul—my all.” THE BURIAL