of His words, the subjects of
His miracles, the objects of His love; and they prefer to Him a
murderer and a robber.

This scene has often been alleged as the self-condemnation of
democracy. _Vox populi vox Dei_, its flatterers have said; but look
yonder: when the multitude has to choose between Jesus and Barabbas, it
chooses Barabbas. If this be so, the scene is equally decisive against
aristocracy. Did the priests, scribes and nobles behave better than
the mob? It was by their advice that the mob chose.

It is poor sport, on either side, to pelt opponents with such
reproaches. It is better far to learn holy fear from such a scene in
reference to ourselves, to our own party and to our country. What are
we to admire? Whom are we to follow? In what are we to seek
salvation? Certainly there are great questions awaiting the democracy.
Whom will it choose--the revolutionist or the regenerator? And to what
will it trust--cleverness or character? What spirit will it adopt as
its own--that of violence or that of love? Which means will it
employ--those which work from without inwards, or those which work from
within outwards? What end will it seek--the kingdom of meat and drink,
or the kingdom which is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy
Ghost? But such questions are not for the democracy alone. All
classes, all parties, every generation and every country have, from
time to time, to face them. And so has the individual. Perhaps all
the great choices of life ultimately resolve themselves into this
one--Jesus or Barabbas?

IV.

To Pilate the choice of Barabbas must have been not only a surprise,
but a staggering blow. "What then," he asked, "shall I do with Jesus?"
Probably he expected the answer, Give us Him too; and there can be
little doubt that he would willingly have complied with such a request.
But, instead of this, there came, quick as echo, the reply, "Crucify
Him!" and it was more a command than a request.

He was now made sensible that what he had considered a loophole of
escape was a noose into which he had thrust his head. He might,
indeed, have intimated that he had only given them the prerogative to
save one of the two lives, not to take either of them away. But
virtually he had put both prisoners at their disposal. In this way, at
all events, the mob interpreted the situation; and he did not venture
to contradict them.

He was, however, deeply moved, and he did a very unusual