was being consigned to endless ignominy. He saw his mother standing near. She and John had approached, drawn by their intense love, which controlled every other sentiment, whether of fear or disappointment.

The relation between Jesus and Mary was peculiar. Mary was his mother. He had spent his earlier years in her society. Even after the display of his extraordinary spirituality

His mother.

at twelve years of age he was subject to her. She treated him with a kind of maternal authority which was strangely mingled with awe, as for a superior being. There had been miraculous circumstances about his birth. She never forgot them. There is a veil over the years intervening from his twelfth to his thirtieth year of age. We do not know the temper and style of the intercourse between this exceptional mother and this marvellous son. But after he entered on his ministry it is clear to see that his whole behavior was such as to impress her that she had no maternal control over him. Very distinctly and firmly was this done in Cana of Galilee, at the changing of water into wine. It will be recollected that on another occasion, when his kinsmen began to think that much zeal was crazing him, and went to take him home, Mary accompanied them, and when she sent him her name, as having some authority, he returned for answer that he loved those who listened to his teaching more than his kinsfolk who were not believers; that they were more to him than even his mother, when she stood in the way of his high and holy work.

It seems really a very difficult relation to understand, and much more difficult to maintain. If it be granted that he foresaw the spread of his religion, it is very plain to see that he determined that no one, not even a woman, not even his mother, should have a share in the worship which the world was to give him.

Mary given to John.

But he had a clean, clear human heart. He saw the sword entering Mary's soul. He did not call her "mother;" he gave himself no such indulgence. Looking at John he said, “Woman, see your son!" Looking at Mary, and addressing John, he said, "Behold your mother!" It is as if the feeling he had for Mary in that hour was a sentiment he entertained towards all womanhood that is stricken and forsaken. "Woman:" that was the dying son's title for his mother. IIe had no title for his nearest male friend.

But he met their several necessities. Mary needed some one to take his place; John needed a charge to divert his heart from its breaking grief. It was an announcement of fitness. Her nephews, who had been his playfellows, and Mary's other sons, were not spiritual kinsmen of Jesus. John was. It was fitting that these two should live thereafter in near relationship and found a household which should be a rallying-point for all the believers in Jesus.

John immediately took Mary away from the painful spectacle of the cross, and ever thereafter she lived in his house.

The ecclesiastical party had rolled back from Pilate's palace to Golgotha, and had been engaged, as we have seen, in heaping indignities and insults on the dying Jesus.

Section 11.-From Noon until Three o'clock.

Noon and dark

ness.

It was mid-day-the sixth, the sacred hour. The sun was in the splendor of a Syrian noon. Then came a mysterious thing. The earth began to darken. It was not an eclipse. It was at the full of the moon of the Passover. The darkness did not begin in the sky, but on the earth, as we learn from Luke, who, of all the biographers of Jesus, seems the most careful observer of physical phenomena. The darkness spread itself outward and upward until the sun was shrouded. It was a darkness which obliterated outlines. The Temple, the tower, the city walls disappeared. The people in Jerusalem could no longer see the crowd swaying about in Golgotha. The priests lost sight of their victim. The crucified thieves could no more see each other. The Roman soldiers could not discern their dice. Mary of Magdala could not see Jesus. For three hours men stood, or sat, or lay down. Jesus was in an agony. It was a long three hours for the sufferers, for the persecutors, for Pilate, for the friends of Jesus. What was said or done we know not. What was thought, we can only conjecture. The world had dropped down into the core of darkness. All was night. Heaven, earth, the heart of man, the minds of the wicked and the souls of the just were in darkness. When Mary's son was being born, mid-night became a splendor. When Mary's son was being slain, mid-noon became a horror.

The eighth hour came. That darkness passed away as myste