exactions the marks of its divinity; others apologizing for it, and
toning it down; still others assuring us that, although it be very
bad, it is not to be compared with the positive blessings of
Christianity. How many, especially among the young, has this one
mistaken phrase driven forever away from the kingdom of God? Instead
of making Christ attractive, it makes Him out a taskmaster, narrowing
life by petty restrictions, calling for self-denial where none is
necessary, making misery a virtue under the plea that it is the yoke
of Christ, and happiness criminal because it now and then evades it.
According to this conception, Christians are at best the victims of a
depressing fate; their life is a penance; and their hope for the next
world purchased by a slow martyrdom in this.

The mistake has arisen from taking the word "yoke" here in the same
sense as in the expressions "under the yoke," or "wear the yoke in his
youth." But in Christ's illustration it is not the _jugum_ of the
Roman soldier, but the simple "harness" or "ox-collar" of the Eastern
peasant. It is the literal wooden yoke which He, with His own hands in
the carpenter shop, had probably often made. He knew the difference
between a smooth yoke and a rough one, a bad fit and a good fit; the
difference also it made to the patient animal which had to wear it.
The rough yoke galled, and the burden was heavy; the smooth yoke
caused no pain, and the load was lightly drawn. The badly fitted
harness was a misery; the well-fitted collar was "easy."

And what was the "burden"? It was not some special burden laid upon
the Christian, some unique infliction that they alone must bear. It
was what all men bear. It was simply life, human life itself, the
general burden of life which all must carry with them from the cradle
to the grave. Christ saw that men took life painfully. To some it was