Page:SermonsFromTheLatins.djvu/253

 Abandoned by  God,  abandoned  by  man,  He  sank down under  His  weight  of  woe,  with  not  a  sign  of life  left  save  the  bloody  sweat  that  oozed  out  at every  pore. So long  did  He  lie  there  that  even heaven seemed  to  doubt  of  His  reviving,  for  an angel  came  and  recalled  Him  to  life — recalled  Him from the  agony  of  death  to  begin  a  living  agony — to receive  the  false  kiss  of  Judas,  to  see  His  sworn  followers desert  Him,  to  be  led  away,  bound,  by  the rabble, to  be  flung  headlong  into  the  brook  Cedron as He  passed  it,  to  be  dragged  wet  and  bleeding  from Annas to  Caiphas,  and  from  Caiphas  to  Pilate,  and from Pilate  to  Herod,  and  from  Herod  back  to  the courtyard of  Pilate. There we  find  Him  now. Let us push  through  that  jeering,  scoffing,  brutal  crowd and look  at  Him. My poor  Brother! Handcuffed and bruised,  His  breast  heaving  with  emotion,  His breath quick  and  short,  the  perspiration  dripping from His  face,  and  His  eyes  wildly  searching  among those around  Him  for  a  friendly  face. Suddenly His countenance lights  up,  for  He  sees,  by  the  door,  the Apostle Peter,  come,  no  doubt,  to  fulfil  his  oath,  and die with  Him. Ah! no, for  Peter  will  not  even  look at Him;  he  turns  away  swearing  he  never  knew  Him; and now  the  drops  of  sweat  that  trickle  down  Our Saviour's face  are  mixed  with  scalding  tears.

Now that  He  is  alone,  entirely  alone,  the  full  frenzy of His  enemies  breaks  upon  Him. We see  them  load Him with  dishonor;  subject  His  body  to  every  kind of abuse  and  torture,  and  finally  murder  Him  before our eyes. They ask  Him  what  He  has  to  say  in  self-