“Jesus answered them, Do ye now believe? Behold, the hour cometh, yea is now come, that ye shall be scattered, every man to his own & shall leave me alone; and yet I am not alone because the Father is with me.” John XVI.31.2

      [NOTE: the capital letter X was used by Lay to designate the name of Christ.]

     Such, my He[arers], was the Saviour's mournful yet brave reply to the disciples in the very moment when they were protesting that their faith in him was clear and impregnable. They had Sat with him for hours, and listened to his parting words with increasing reverence and love. They felt themselves knit to him more than ever, and death itself could scarcely Separate them as they thought. But the Saviour knew them better than they knew themselves: in a little the Shepherd would be [unclear] & they scattered as sheep upon the mountain.

   And for himself, standing at the entrance of the dark valley which lay before him, anticipating the agonies in store for him, he looked full in the face that dreary solitude of spirit, that terrible isolation from all human help & sympathy which were to be his portion. "Ye shall leave me alone". It is the mournful voice of a gentle heart, full of love for all, and craving love in return. "Alone, yet not alone" Faith lends her aid, and tempers grief with hope. Alone. Alone. Oh what a dreadful word. Yet not alone--what a remedy does faith afford against despair!

    The loneliness of X! Have you ever thought of it or realized it--You know what the feeling is. It need not bring up the vision of a dungeon or a desert. We are sometimes most lonely in a crowd. Loneliness is the absence of affectionate hearts & friendly faces, where there is no eye to pity & no voive to bless. It is the exclusion from human sympathies and ordinary kindness. It is the huge sorrow of a great soul which can look no whither for support and comfort, save to its own integrity and to the judgement [sic] of its God. How lonely was the Saviour--a worm and no man, a very scorn of men and the outcast of the people. And how sublime was he in his loneliness, daring to brave it all, because said he "the Father is with me".

    Let us trace the thickening of this dark cloud and see how even amid its darkness, our Lord was undismayed.

    It began with the treason of Judas--a familiar friend whom he had trusted laid wait for him. One who sat bread with him lifted up his heel against him. O the dreariness of soul that comes over us when a brother proves false: when a friend becomes informer, and is guide to the malicious. We know how one such experience shakes our confidence in the race, and makes us feel as if none cd be trusted. No wonder that the Saviour exclaimed "if it was an enemy that had done me this dishonor I cd have borne it: but it was thou, even thou, mine own familiar friend." In that bold act of treason he saw the beginning of that deffection [sic] which was to leave him without a friend. And to treachery succeeded weakness.

    Up to a certain point, our Lord carries with him the interest and the sympathy of his followers. They truly loved him & desired to serve him. But when he would lean heavily upon them, they are unequal to his need. Their sympathy was inadequate & too shallow for the grief of a [unclear] spirit. The agonies of Gentlemen confuse the mind and then the faculties which they shd have aroused to tender solicitude and ready consolation. What a wistful appeal was that "tarry ye here & watch with me." What inexpressible loneliness in the expostulation Could thou not watch with me one hour?

    A little while longer, and to treachery & drowsiness were added desertion. The lights of the upper chamber where thay had sat & talked had all gone out: the night dews of Gethsemane had abated the ardour of their zeal. The ungenial air of the gray dawn brought a chill upon their spirits. When the traitor drops his mask and flashing torches & gleaning weapons invade the spot just consecrated by the Saviour's tears, Alas! alas for human nature! they all forsook him and fled. Yes all--John who leaned upon his breast. Peter who was ready to die with him. Nathaniel the Israelite without guile. All. All gone, scattered every man to his [own]. Not one left to stand by him, while he is manacled & carried away.

    But as if desertion were not enough, denial is added to it. What voice is that which in its earnestness is distinctly audible in the High Priests hall, declaring with the eagerness of falsehood, with unholy violence and blasphemiteration [sic], I know not the man. I was not with him! The Lord turned and looked upon Peter--what loneliness in that look! How did it seem to say It needed only this to complete my solitude, and to break loose my last hold on earth. He looked on Peter, but not now for sympathy. Nought remained to him save the look to heaven.

    When our intimate friends & brethren fail us, we Sometimes turn to the outside world, & I find some relief in their respect and kindness. The Saviour sees around him the multitude familiar with his teaching, & his miracles, the multitude who on the Sunday before thronged his path and shouted hosannas. Is no help there? They have learned their lesson, and the love of yesterday is turned to gall. Crucify him, away with him, crucify him, is their cry. They hated me without a cause, is the sad self-[communing] of the Saviour, and the gulf widens at his feet, & the solitude is more profound.

    But the magistrate is there, invested with the sacred insignia of right and justice. Is there no help in him for the innocent, no pity for the wronged? The High Priest Smites him on the face & rends his clothes in affected horror. The Roman Governor washes his hands in impotent distress & confessing that he is faultless dares not protect him. The rulers of the State & of the Church surrender him as unworthy to breathe the common air. And still the tragedy proceeds. Perjury insults him by the imputation of pretended crimes. Levity mocks his degradation with the robe & the reed & the crown of thorns. Cruelty [plucks] his back and defiles his benign countenance. Robbery despoils him of his poor raiment, and Brutality rattles its dice while waiting for him to die. Hate denounces him as an accursed thing, suspends him between malefactors, and racks his body with tortures inconceivable.

    Brn, put together all these items--the treachery, the dulness [sic], the desertion, the denial of his friends, the senseless prejudice of the multitude, the injustice of the magistrate, the perjury of witnesses, the levity of Such as beheld his sorrows, the brutishness and hate wh. pursue him on the cross, the [unclear] malice which seeks to [unclear] him with robbers & malefactors. Look upon that emaciated form extended on the cross, with a [unclear] multitude around, & the cry "I thirst" upon his lips. Can you imagine a greater loneliness than that of one with friends all gone & devils & wicked men raging around him?

    One other element remains, and the horror of great darkness is complete. Friends have departed & enemies have spurned him from the Earth--Has he ought else to lose?

    Hark to that wild cry of agony, such as no stresses, no wounds, no parching thirst, no bodily pain, no indignity cd extol. Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani. It is the cry of the God forsaken--and his loneliness is complete. Darkness is over all the earth--every gleam of goodness has expired & the last beam of comfort is shut out from that tortured spirit.

        Once voices from the clouds did honor him. Once when Seated in weariness by Jacob's well, he was refreshed with meat which his disciples knew not of--a little while ago and angels ministered to him. But now there is no voice, no whispered comfort, no ministering spirit. God frowns upon his Son, and restrains the evidence of his love--while the angels veil their faces with their hands, and weep to see the Son of God abandoned to his foes.

    Oh, my H[eare]rs, what will you do, shd X's suffering not stand for yours, should God thus frown on you & frown forever! Fear not them wh. kill the body & after that have no more that they can do. But fear him who can cast both body & soul into hell, who shall say with a terrible voice of just judgement [sic] to the wicked--Go, ye accused into the fire everlasting. Yea, I say unto you fear him. Alone--yet not alone. How strange the assertion, yet how true, that in all these dreary hours, yea even in the last & darkest of them, the Father was with him. See how in this calm persuasion, our Lord was sustained & comforted. He endured the treason, because it was the Father's will--the S[cripture] must be fulfilled. When the disciples slumbered his Spirit was not angered, the Father was with him to impart submission & gentleness. Sustained by the assurance of God's approbation, he listened to perjury without resentment--submitted to bodily torture without complaint. Relying on his vindication, he stood silent before Pilate. Filled with his Father's spirit he invoked a blessing on his murderers--and if once he uttered the cry for drink, it was not to ask relief, but to invite the vinegar & gall appointed him by the Father. And even in the darkness, the Father was present to his faith tho' not to sense and feeling. Even then he recognized the father near at hand tho' with averted face, and cried with sublime trustfulness in a love and power, unseen, unfelt, darkened and eclipsed. Father unto thy hands I commend my spirit.

    The loneliness of X! How awful the theme we have ventured to present to you--how little do we realize or understand it! How terrible the vale thro' wh. he marched to the cross! How fearful the gloom of loneliness wh. encumbered him there. O Lamb of [God], thou hast trodden the wine [unclear] alone & of the people there were none with thee. Think oh my Hr. that he dared all this, endured all this for you. He was deserted, that you may rest among faithful men. His light was extinguished that you may not be cast into outer darkness. He was condemned that you may be acquitted. He was frowned upon that God may smile on you for ever.

    Oh hard heart of man, will nothing dissolve thee into tears--Shall not all this fill thee with awe & reverence, with love and gratitude--Oh remembering all this how canst thou still indulge the complaint, & slumber at thy cross & live for thyself instead of God. Lord, teach us to know the love that X had for sinners--to explore the mystery of his grief & the tenderness of his compassion! and we will leave all & follow him. Brethren, as we revive these holy recollections, let us endeavor to realize that this pain is what our sins have deserved, these pangs the punishment of them laid upon the innocent. Let us unite to love & worship him who has done so much for us, & prove our love by renouncing the sins wh. grieve him, and the perverseness wh. threatens to make that love unavailing. Let not this Good Friday pass away, without some special act of humility. Let us, each for himself, seek our master in the closet, and inasmuch as like Peter we have oft denied him, like Peter let us mourn and ask forgiveness.

    We have seen that our Lord in his loneliness was working out our redemption. Let us now consider that he was setting us an example: and by that example let us strengthen ourselves to hear whatever sorrow may be in store for us.

    It is not often that we have been left alone. Through most of our life past we have all had friends to love us and care for us. There have not been wanting some good people to admire and help us. God has blessed and prospered us in our Earthly state. We have enjoyed the privileges of the Church and the communion of Saintly people. And when in our poor way we have been faithful to our Xn duty, we have had the testimony of an approving conscience, and the sweet comforts of that Blessed Spirit who dwells in the breasts of God's people. Dark days we all have had, but it oftenest [sic] it has been sunshine. It is hard for us to realize how much we have been supported by love and sympathy, by pious example and present consolation. Solomon however advises us thus--Truly the light is sweet and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to look upon the sun--but if a man live many days and have pleasure in them all yet let him remember the Days of darkness, for they shall be many. The day will come when you shall be alone. Brace yourself for it and resolve that left alone, you will no be alone.

    What shall be the occasion that shall carry you into the wilderness of sorrow? God only knoweth.

    Perchance it shall be his own doing--He may see best to send you into the solitude of bereavement and misfortune. Alas they are not a few already, who once presided over a happy circle of loving hearts, but now sit down in a desolated home, stripped of all that constituted their pride & ornament, young forms blasted by sorrows, or old people driven as by a thunderbolt, bearing still a life that has been emptied of its joys. Or if it be not thus, still every earnest-minded Christian must in virtue of his religion sometimes be lonely. His fidelity to truth will bring upon him the anger of friends, the hate of enemies. His spiritual-mindedness will make him offensive to his to a trifling world. There will be times when his friendship towards God will mean the enmity of man. Times these are when the multitude think one way, and the good man must choose the narrow and solitary path--When the trusted slumber and the faithful are intimidated, and every man must bear his own burden and bear it all alone. Oh wo [sic] unto us, if unconsciously the example of the many has been our pattern, if we have stayed ourselves absolutely on any arm but God's.

    Times there are too in our earthly strife, when God for wise and mysterious reasons, hides his power and veils his face, withdraws from us the consolations of his grace and leaves us, as it seems to contend single-handed with all the powers of darkness. Times like those when David cried out of the depths, and was in misery & at the point to die.

    And when the mortal strife is ending, we must reach a barrier beyond which human sympathy may not pass. We must shake hands with loving friends, and tho' they watch us from afar with wistful eyes, each one must go out a lone spirit to the world unseen.>

    Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. We need not vex our spirits by vain and useless apprehensions of possible calamity. But the prudent man forseeth the evil, while the wicked pass on and are punished.>

    Some of X's bitter cup, we must all taste. Some moment or two we must expect to spend in his dreary solitude.

    Brn, have we the courage to look these things in the face, and to say Father if this cup may not pass away except I drink it, thy will be done! Are we strong in our determination to stand true to Christ and to our duty, tho' all the world shall turn against us, tho' houses & land & libert & life be forfeited? However stern & unloving he may seem to the darkened eye of reason, and tho' he afflict and buffet without measure, are we resolved still to submit & to adore, saying tho' he slay me, yet will I trust in him?

    Brn, let us realize the magnitude of the strife into which we have entered and fortify our souls for all that may await us. Let us make more of our religion, [unclear] our souls with its precepts, drinking in more of its spirit--leaning habitually on the beloved as our comfort and our stay. Let us commence with X, until we know intimately the depths of his compassion and the vastness of his power. And then we shall never be alone, for the Father will be with us: supporting under every trial--Sanctifying every loss: making defamation to work for our promotion & sorrow for our ennobling. And oh that we may so live and learn to walk by faith, that in our last extremity, and friends weep around our dying bed because there is nought left for human help & comfort, may we be able to with a faith as full of courage & as of humility--I am alone, yet not alone. father unto thy hands I commend my spirit.

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