Do you fancy that in His agony in the garden, when His sweat was as great drops of blood, that it was only bodily fear of pain and death which crushed Him for the moment?  He felt that, I doubt not; as He had to taste death for every man, and feel all human weakness, yet without sin.  But it was a deeper, more painful, and yet more noble feeling than mere fear which then convulsed His sacred heart; even the feeling of shame—­the mockery of the crowd—­the—­But I dare not enlarge on anything so awful; at least I will say this—­That he had to cry as none ever cried before or since, “O God, in thee have I trusted, let me never be confounded;” for he had, it seems, actually, at one supreme moment, to feel confounded; and to say, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” That was the highest and most precious jewel of all his self-sacrifice.  Of it let us only say—­

Our Lord and Saviour stooped to be confounded for a moment, that we might not be confounded to all eternity.

And therefore our blessed Lord is to us an example.  As he did, so must we try to do.  He entered into glory, by suffering shame, and yet despising it.  He submitted to be confounded before men, that He might not be confounded in the sight of God His Father.  And so must we, sometimes, at least.  Every man who makes up his mind to do right and to be good, must expect ridicule now and then.  Rich or poor, boy or man, if you try to keep your hands clean, and your path straight, the world will think you a fool, and will be ready enough to tell you so; for it is cruel and insolent enough.  And the more tender your heart; the more you wish for the love and approbation of your fellow-men; the more of noble and modest self-distrust there is in you, the more painful will that be to you; the more you will be tempted to obey man, and not God, and to follow after the multitude to do evil, merely to keep the peace, and live a quiet life, and not be laughed at and tormented.  And thus the fear of man brings a snare; and naught can deliver you out of that snare, save the opposite fear—­the fear of God, which is the same as trust in God.

Joseph of old feared God when he was tempted; and said, “How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?” But I doubt not there were plenty in Egypt who would have called him a fool for his pains.  There are hundreds of gay youths in any great city—­there may be a few in this Abbey now for aught I know—­who would have laughed loudly enough at Joseph for throwing away the opportunity of what certain foolish French have learnt to call, as its proper name, a “bonne fortune”—­a piece of good luck.—­As if breaking the 7th Commandment could be aught but bad fortune, and the cause of endless miseries in this life and the life to come.

And it may be, as Joseph was all but confounded and brought to shame, at least from man, when he found that all that he gained by fearing God was—­a false accusation, the very shame and contempt from which he most shrank, danger of death, imprisonment in a dungeon.