whether all
occurred in the evening of that same eventful day or at different times.

STILLING THE STORM.[661]

The instruction to launch forth and cross to the opposite side of the
lake was given by Jesus, who probably desired a respite after the
arduous labors of the day. No time had been lost in unnecessary
preparation; "they took him, even as he was, into the ship," and set out
without delay. Even on the water some of the eager people tried to
follow; for a number of small boats, "little ships" as Mark styles them,
accompanied the vessel on which Jesus was embarked; but these lesser
craft may have turned back, possibly on account of the approaching
storm; anyway, we do not hear of them further.

Jesus found a resting place near the stern of the ship and soon fell
asleep. A great storm arose,[662] and still He slept. The circumstance
is instructive as it evidences at once the reality of the physical
attributes of Christ, and the healthy, normal condition of His body. He
was subject to fatigue and bodily exhaustion from other causes, as are
all men; without food He grew hungry; without drink He thirsted; by
labor He became weary. The fact that after a day of strenuous effort He
could calmly sleep, even amidst the turmoil of a tempest, indicates an
unimpaired nervous system and a good state of health. Nowhere do we find
record of Jesus having been ill. He lived according to the laws of
health, yet never allowed the body to rule the spirit; and His daily
activities, which were of a kind to make heavy demands on both physical
and mental energy, were met with no symptoms of nervous collapse nor of
functional disturbance. Sleep after toil is natural and necessary. The
day's work done, Jesus slept.

Meanwhile the storm increased in fury; the wind rendered the boat
unmanageable; waves beat over the side; so much water was shipped that
the vessel seemed about to founder. The disciples were terror-stricken;
yet through it all Jesus rested peacefully. In their extremity of fear,
the disciples awakened Him, crying out, according to the several
independent accounts, "Master, Master, we perish"; "Lord, save us: we
perish"; and, "Master, carest thou not that we perish?" They were
abjectly frightened, and at least partly forgetful that there was with
them One whose voice even death had to obey. Their terrified appeal was
not wholly devoid of hope nor barren of faith: "Lord, save us" they
cried. Calmly He replied to their pite