trying circumstances, we have taken.  We had some difficult task to perform—­to withstand (let us say) a fellow-Christian to his face, as Paul withstood Peter at Antioch; and we did the unpleasant duty as best we knew how, honestly striving not only to speak the truth but to speak it in love.  And yet when all was over we could not get rid of the fear that we had not been as firm or as kindly as we should have been, that, if only something had been which was not, our brother might have been won.  There is a verse in Paul’s second letter to the Church at Corinth which illustrates exactly this familiar kind of internal conflict.  Referring to the former letter which he had sent to the Corinthians, and in which he had sharply rebuked them for their wrong-doing, he says, “Though I made you sorry with my epistle, I do not regret it, though I did regret”—­a simple, human touch we can all understand.  Yes; but when did Jesus hesitate and, as it were, go back upon Himself after this fashion?  He passed judgment upon men and their ways with the utmost freedom and confidence; some, such as the Pharisees, He condemned with a severity which almost startles us; towards others, such as she “that was a sinner,” He was all love and tenderness.  Yet never does He speak as one who fears lest either in His tenderness or His severity He has gone too far.  His path is always clear; He enters upon it without doubt; He looks back upon it without misgiving.

This contrast between Christ and all other men, as it presented itself to His own consciousness, may be illustrated almost indefinitely.  His forerunners the prophets were the servants of God; He is His Son.  All other men are weary and in need of rest; He has rest and can give it.  All others are lost; He is not lost, He is the shepherd sent to seek the lost.  All others are sick; He is not sick, He is the physician sent to heal the sick.  All others will one day stand at the bar of God; but He will be on the throne to be their Judge.  All others are sinners—­this is the great, final distinction into which all others run up—­He is the Saviour.  When at the Last Supper He said, “This is My blood of the covenant which is shed for many unto remission of sins”; and again, when He said, “The Son of Man came to give His life a ransom for many,” He set Himself over against all others, the one sinless sacrifice for a sinful world.

There is in Edinburgh a Unitarian church which bears carved on its front these words of St. Paul.  “There is one God, and one mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus.”  I say nothing as to the fitness of any of Paul’s words for such a place—­perhaps we can imagine what he would have said; I pass over any questions of interpretation that might very justly be raised; I have only one question to ask:  Why was the quotation not finished?  Paul only put a comma where they have put a full stop; the next words are:  "Who gave Himself a ransom for all." But how could He do that if He was only “the man Christ Jesus”?