“The Son of God!  The Son of God!  Set Him free!  It is the Son of God who hangs on the cross!” The cry rolled through the crowd like the dull noise of an avalanche; like a shriek of terror, like the inward consciousness of a fearful mistake, the most fearful that had been made since the world began.  He who hangs yonder on the cross is the Son of God.  Far below in a cleft of the rock is a poor sinner.  He struggles up to his feet, holding on with his lean hands, he looks up to the cross with rolling eyes.  A prayer for mercy wells up from his heart like a bloody spring.  And beside him a woman kneels and folds her hands against the cross.  And she who thus stands under the cross wrings her hands, and implores mercy for her child.

The letters I.N.R.I, over the cross begin to gleam.  And a voice is heard in the air:  “Jesus Near Redeems Ill-doers.”

“The Son of God!  The Son of God!” The cry went on without ceasing.  “The Son of God on the cross!”

“The Son of God’s coat!  A hundred gold pieces for the coat!” shrieked old Schobal, lifting the garment up on a stick like a flag.  The dealer swore by that flag, for its value had risen a thousandfold in an hour.  “A hundred gold pieces for the Son of God’s coat!” But it was high time that the dealer made himself scarce, for the people of Jerusalem were enraged at a man who wanted to do business in presence of the dying Saviour.  The good, pious citizens of Jerusalem!

Not a High Priest was to be seen.  They had all gone away.  The hoarse-voiced Rabbi was still there, reciting Psalms aloud to the dying man.

“Stop that!” someone shouted at him.  “You killed Him.”

“We’ve killed Him?  Who do you mean?” asked the Rabbi with well-feigned innocence.

“Why you, you expounders of the Scriptures, you brought Him to His death; it was you, and you alone!”

The Rabbi replied very seriously:  “Think, my friend, what you are saying.  Can you prove this charge before the dread Jehovah?  We expounders of the Law brought Him to His death!  Every one knows who condemned Him.  It was the foreigners.  They have ever been the ruin of our nation!  Every one knows who crucified Him at the desire of the people.”

It was high time that he should defend himself.  The voices grew ever louder:  It was the High Priests who had goaded on the people and judges!  They are guilty——­

“Silence!  He still lives!”

All looks were centred on the cross.

Jesus turned His head to the crowd and muttered in His weakness:  “I am thirsty!  I am thirsty!”

The captain ordered a sponge to be dipped in vinegar, and reached up to
Him on a stick so that the dying man might sip the moisture.

A young woman with her hair flowing loose lay among the rocks.  She kneeled, and, supporting her elbows on the ground, wailed softly:  “O Saviour, Saviour!  My sins!”