20. Reproach hath broken my heart. There is
no hammer like it. Our Lord died of a broken heart, and reproach had done the
deed. Intense mental suffering arises from slander. And I am full of heaviness. Calumny and insult bowed him to the dust; he was sick at heart.
The heaviness of our Lord in the garden is expressed by many and forcible words
in the four Gospels, and each term goes to show that the agony was beyond
measure great; he was filled with misery like a vessel which is full to the
brim. And I looked for some to take pity, but there was none. Not one to
say him a kindly word, or drop a sympathetic tear. Amongst ten thousand foes
there was not one who was touched by the spectacle of his misery; not one with
a heart capable of humane feeling towards him. And for comforters, but I found none. His dearest ones had sought their own safety, and left their
Lord alone. A sick man needs comforters, and a persecuted man needs sympathy;
but our blessed Surety found neither on that dark and doleful night when the
powers of darkness had their hour. A spirit like that of our Lord feels acutely
desertion by beloved and trusted friends, and yearns for real sympathy.
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