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It was that baptism which made the might of weakness irresistible; it was that which sent a few poor fishermen and publicans to conquer and regenerate the resisting world. In the might of that Spirit Peter broke down the old wall of partition, and admitted the Gentiles into the Church of God. By the earthquake of that Spirit the veil of the temple was rent, and free access was given to all in the holiest place. Convicted by the might of that Spirit the Rabbi of Tarsus sent the gospel flashing like a beacon fire from Jerusalem to Antioch, from Antioch to Ephesus, from Ephesus to Rome. The might of that Spirit, working among the Roman legionaries subdued their fierce and stubborn hearts; the might of that Spirit dilated the humble intellects of the apologists of Christianity, made ridiculous the wit of Lucian, the taunts of Celsus, the logic of Porphyry, the satire of Julian. That Spirit leapt with Telemachus into the Coliseum, and put an end for ever to the hideous butchery of the gladiators in the arena; it emancipated the wretched millions of ancient slaves; it made childhood sacred with the seal of baptism, and gave to trembling womanhood the rose of chastity and honour. The might of the Spirit again dissipated the radiant glamour of Pagan fancy, broke the wand of the enchantress, hushed the song of the Syren, branded with shame the flushed face of Bacchus, and the harlot brow of Aphrodite. The might of that Spirit, abasing the Roman eagles, wove its cross, the symbol which heathenism loathed as the gibbet of the malefactor, in gold on the banners of armies, and in gems on the diadems of kings. Touched with that Spirit, the rude northern barbarians bowed their heads before the meek white Christ. Clothed in that Spirit, the missionaries went forth from St. Thomas to Ulphilas, from Ulphilas to Boniface, from Boniface to Henry Martin and Coleridge Pattison, until the great Angel stood with one foot upon the land and one upon the sea, with an everlasting gospel in His hands. In the might of that Spirit the Crusaders gave up their lives for their fair Captain, Christ. It was the love which that Spirit kindled, like a pure flame on the altar of their hearts, which made the philanthropists, from Fabula to St. Francis, from St. Francis to St. Vincent de Paul and John Howard and David Livingstone and Lord Shaftesbury, strong to confront the menacing monopolies, and to smite the hoary head of inveterate abuse. So the descending flame, the rushing mighty wind of the Holy Ghost, is the secret of all that Christianity has done for the love of Christ its Lord. Look forward for three poor centuries from the first Pentecost, and on Whitsunday A.D. 337 died, in the white robe of baptism which he had just received, Constantine the Great, the first Christian emperor of Rome. Look forward for six centuries, and it was on Whitsunday of A.D. 597 that the conversion of Saxon England began with the baptism of King Ethelbert. Look forward for seven centuries and a half, and it was on Whitsunday A.D. 755 that St. Boniface was martyred, the great apostle of the Germans. Look forward nearly nineteen centuries, and to-day, in tens of thousands of Christian Churches, from the snows of Greenland to the rocky Falkland Isles, from dawn to sunset, and again from sunset to dawn, in every single spot where there are gathered the representatives of any portion of civilised peoples, there is being preached that very same gospel in every essential particular which was preached nearly two millenniums ago in Nazareth and Bethlehem.

(Archdeacon Farrar.)

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KJV: And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place.

WEB: Now when the day of Pentecost had come, they were all with one accord in one place.