Read Ebook: The Life of Jesus Christ for the Young Vol. 4 And His Life Depicted in a Gallery of Eighty Paintings by Newton Richard Hole William Illustrator

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Nothing is said about Judas during the time of the trial of Jesus. Some suppose that he expected our Lord would deliver himself out of the hands of his enemies. We have no authority for thinking so. But, when he found, at last, that Jesus was condemned and was really to be put to death, his conscience smote him for what he had done. He brought back the thirty pieces of silver--the beggarly price he had received for betraying his Master--and threw them down at the feet of the chief priests, saying--"I have sinned, in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said--What is that to us? See thou to that. And he went and hanged himself."

This was the end of the wretched man, so far as this world is concerned. And such is the history of the betrayal and desertion of Jesus.

We might refer to many lessons taught us by this sad history, but we shall speak of only four. Two of these relate to Jesus, and two of them to Judas.

We all know how natural it is, when we are in trouble, to desire to have one near who loves us. The very first thing a child does when worried about anything is to run to its mother and throw itself into her loving arms. It would almost break the child's heart if it could not have its mother's presence and gentle sympathy at such a time.

Jesus never forgets how lonely he felt at this time; and he loves to come near and comfort us when we are left alone. We should always remember at such times how well able he is to help and comfort us.

And this was just the way King David felt when he said, "I am poor and needy; yet the Lord thinketh upon me."

"Not Alone." Little Bessie was sitting on the piazza. The nurse came in and found her there. "Ah! Bessie dear, all alone in the dark," said the nurse, "and yet not afraid?"

"No, indeed," said little Bessie, "for I am not all alone. God is here. I look up and see the stars, and God seems to be looking down at me with his bright eyes."

"To be sure," said the nurse, "but God is up in the sky, and that is a great way off."

"No," said Bessie; "God is here too; sometimes He seems to be clasping me in his arms, and then I feel so happy."

"The Help of Feeling Jesus Near." There was a poor man in a hospital. He was just about to undergo a painful and dangerous operation. They laid him out ready, and the doctors were about to begin, when he asked them to wait a moment. "What shall we wait for?" was the inquiry of one of the doctors.

"Oh, wait a moment," said he, "till I ask the Lord Jesus Christ to stand by my side. I know it will be dreadful hard to bear; but it will be such a comfort to think that Jesus is near me."

One thing we are taught by the betrayal and desertion of Christ, is the loneliness of his sufferings.

"The Power of Love; or, The Just for the Unjust." In a town near Paris, is a school for teaching poor homeless boys who are found wandering about the streets of that city and are growing up in idleness and crime.

When one of the boys breaks the rules of the school and deserves punishment, the rest of the school are called together, like a jury, to decide what shall be done with the offender. One of the punishments is confinement for several days in a dungeon, called "the black-hole." The prisoner is put on a short allowance of food, and, of course, forfeits all the liberties of the other boys.

Not long ago, a boy about nine or ten years old, named Pierre, was received into this school. He was a boy whose temper and conduct were so bad that he had been dismissed from several schools. He behaved pretty well at first; but soon his bad temper broke out, and one day he quarrelled with a boy about his own age, named Louis, and stabbed him in the breast with a knife.

Louis was carried bleeding to his bed. His wound was painful, but not dangerous. The boys were assembled, to consult about what was to be done with Pierre. Louis was a great favorite with the boys, and they all agreed at once that Pierre should be turned out of the school and never allowed to come back.

This was a very natural sentence under the circumstances, but the master thought it was not a wise one. He said that if Pierre was turned out of school, he would grow worse and worse, and probably end his life on the gallows. He asked them to think again. They then agreed upon a long imprisonment, without saying how long it was to be. They were asked as usual, if any one was willing to go to prison instead of Pierre. But no one offered and he was marched off to prison.

After some days, when the boys were all together, the master asked again if any one was willing to take Pierre's place. A feeble voice was heard, saying--"I will." To the surprise of every one this proved to be Louis--the wounded boy, who was just getting over the effect of his wound.

Louis went to the dungeon and took the place of the boy who had tried to kill him; while Pierre was set at liberty. For many days he went to the prison carrying the bread and water to Louis, but with a feeling of pride and anger in his heart.

He kept his promise, and became one of the best boys in the school.

And so it is the love of Christ in being willing to suffer for us that wins the hearts and lives of men to him, and gives to the story of the cross all its power.

The willingness of Christ to suffer is the second thing taught us by the history of the betrayal and desertion.

These are the two things taught us about Jesus by this history: his loneliness in suffering, and his willingness to suffer.

But, there are two things taught us about Judas, also, by this history.

One of these is--THE POWER OF SIN.

"Clara's Obstinacy." Little Clara Cole was saying her prayers one evening before going to bed. Part of her evening prayer was the simple hymn--"And now I lay me down to sleep." When she came to the last line she stopped short and would not say it. "Go on, my dear, and finish it," said her mother. "I can't," she said, although she knew it perfectly well, and had said it hundreds of times before. "Oh, yes! go right on, my child."

"No; I can't." "My dear child, what makes you talk so? Say the last line directly."

But, in spite of her mother's positive commands and loving entreaties, Clara was obstinate, and would not do it. "Very well," said Mrs. Cole at last: "you can get into bed; but you will not get up till you have said that line."

Next morning Mrs. Cole went into Clara's room as soon as she heard her stir. "Now, Clara," she said pleasantly, "say the line, and jump up."

"I can't say it," said Clara, obstinately, and she actually lay in bed all that day, and part of the next rather than give up. The second day was her birthday and a number of little girls had been invited, in the evening, to her birthday party. That little, strong, cruel will of hers held out till three o'clock; then she said, "I pray the Lord my soul to take," and bursting into tears asked her mother's forgiveness.

How much power there was in that one sin! No one can tell what trouble it might have caused that poor child if she had not been taught to conquer it. But after that it never gave her much trouble.

"One Drop of Evil." "I don't see why you won't let me play with Willie Hunt," said Walter Kirk, with a frown and a pout. "I know he doesn't always mind his mother. He smokes segars, and once in a while he swears just a little; but I've been brought up better than that; he won't hurt me. I might do him some good."

"Walter," said his mother, "take this glass of pure water, and put just one drop of ink into it."

Walter did so, and then in a moment exclaimed, "Oh! mother, who would have thought that one drop would blacken a whole glass so!"

"Yes, it has changed the color of the whole. And now just put one drop of clear water in it, and see if you can undo what has been done."

"Why, mother, one drop, or a dozen, or fifty won't do that."

"That's so, my son; and that is the reason why I don't want you to play with Willie Hunt. For one drop of his evil ways, like the drop of ink in the glass, may do you harm that never can be undone."

Here we see the power of a single sin.

"One Worm Did It." One day a gentleman in England, went out with a friend who was visiting him, to take a walk in the park. As they were walking along, he drew his friend's attention to a large sycamore tree, withered and dead.

"That fine tree," said he, "was killed by a single worm."

In answer to his friend's inquiries, he said:

"About two years ago, that tree was as healthy as any in the park. One day I was walking out with a friend, as we are walking now, when I noticed a wood-worm about three inches long forcing its way under the bark of the tree. My friend, who knew a great deal about trees, said--'Let that worm alone, and it will kill this tree.' I did not think it possible, and said--'well, we'll let the black worm try, and see what it can do.'"

The worm tunnelled its way under the bark. The next summer the leaves of the tree dropped off, very early. This year the tree has not put out a single green leaf. It is a dead tree. That one worm killed it.

Here we see the power of one sin. The third lesson taught us by the history of the betrayal and desertion, is--the power of sin.

Every sin is like a seed. If it be planted in the heart and allowed to spring up, no one can tell what it will grow into. Suppose, that you and I knew nothing about the growth of trees. We are sitting under the wide-spreading branches of a vast oak tree. A friend picks up a tiny, little acorn, and holding it up before us, says--"This giant tree, under whose shade we are sitting, has all grown out of a little acorn, like this." It would seem impossible to us. We could hardly be made to believe it. But we need no argument to prove this. We know it is so.

But the growth of sin in the hearts and lives of men is quite as surprising as the growth of trees in the forest. We see this in the case of Judas. Suppose that we could have seen him when he first let his love of money lead him to do wrong. Perhaps he only stole a penny or two, at first. That was not much. And then, suppose we had not seen Judas again till the night in which he had made up his mind to commit that greatest and most awful of all sins--the sin of betraying his Master! what a wonderful change we should have seen in him! The growth of a river from a rill--of a giant oak from a tiny acorn--would not be half so surprising as the monstrous growth in wickedness that we should have seen in Judas. When we saw him committing his first sin, he was like a little child. When we saw him committing his last awful sin--the child had sprung up into a huge, horrible giant. Jesus said he had become a devil. St. John vi: 70. How fearful it is to think of such growth in wickedness! And yet, if we allow the seed of sin to be sown in our hearts, and to spring up there, we cannot tell but what its growth may be as fearful in us as it was in Judas.

"The Growth of Lying." Some time ago a little boy told his first falsehood. It was like a solitary little thistle seed, sown in the mellow soil of his heart. No eye but that of God saw him as he planted it. But, it sprung up--O, how quickly! and, in a little time, another seed dropped from it into the ground, and then another, and another, each in its turn bearing more and more of those troublesome thistles. And now, his heart is like a field of which the weeds have taken entire possession. It is as difficult for him to speak the truth as it is for the gardener to clear his land of the ugly thistles that have once gained a rooting in the soil.

And so, if we give way even to little sins, they may make us their prisoner as the spider did the snake, and before we are aware of it, we may be bound hand and foot and unable to help ourselves.

"Sin Like a Whirlpool." The Columbia river, in Oregon, has a great bend in it at one place where it passes through a mountain range. When the water in the river is high there is a dangerous whirlpool in this part of the river. An officer connected with the United States Exploring Expedition was going down this river, some years ago, in a boat which was manned by ten Canadians. When they reached this bend in the river, they thought the water was so low that the whirlpool would not be dangerous. So they concluded to go down the river in the boat, as this would save them the labor of carrying the boat with its baggage across the portage to the place where they would take the river again below the rapids. But, the officer was put on shore, to walk across the portage. He had to climb up some high rocks. From the top of these rocks he had a full view of the river beneath and of the boat in her passage. At first, she seemed to skim over the waters like a bird. But, soon he saw they were in trouble. The struggles of the oarsmen and the shouts of the man at the helm showed that there was danger from the whirlpool, when they thought there would be none. He saw the men bend on their oars with all their might. But, in spite of all, the boat lost its straightforward course, and was drawn into the whirl. It swept round and round, with increasing force and swiftness. No effort they could make had the least control of it. A few more turns, each more rapid than the rest, and at last, the centre was reached; and the boat, with all her crew, was drawn into the dreadful whirlpool, and disappeared. Only one of the ten bodies was found afterwards, in the river below; and that was all torn and mangled by the rocks, against which it had been dashed.

Just such a whirlpool is sin. Judas was drawn into it when he first gave way to his covetousness and began to steal money from the purse with which he was entrusted. Like the men in the boat, he soon lost all control of himself and was carried round and round, till at last he was "drowned in destruction and perdition."

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