"If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me."
These words sorely distressed the Twelve. To think of all their expectations coming to this—a suffering Messiah, and no end of troubles for all who followed Him! Their Master had pity on them, and to strengthen their faith and courage He gave them a proof of His Divinity and a foretaste of the reward prepared for them in Heaven when their trials here were over. It happened in this way:
One evening, a week after Peter's confession at Cæsarea Philippi, He took Peter and James and John and went up into a mountain to pray. He loved the mountains. They lifted Him for a little while above this sad earth. He loved the majesty of their solitude, their stillness, their strength. He loved the tranquil glory of the midnight skies into which they rose. He was the Creator of the starry heavens above Him. He knew and controlled all that they contain. If one of His Saints exclaimed: "How dull does earth appear when I look up to Heaven," how did His glorious Soul pour Itself forth in admiration and praise as He knelt there amid the wonders of His own creation through those eastern nights!
And so this evening He went up the mountain, probably Thabor or Hermon, with His chosen three. It was getting dark when they reached the top and knelt down to pray. His companions watched with Him awhile, then, wearied with the labours of the day and the steep ascent, and drowsy in the strong mountain air, they fell asleep.
A dazzling light falling on their faces roused them. They woke and looked around. The Mount, the sur-
