- sedly by a fire of coals which he had made, and on which he had
designed to cook for their common entertainment, some fish previously caught, dished with some bread. Jesus without ceremony ordered them to come and bring some of the fish they had just caught. Simon Peter now mindful of his late heedless desertion of his comrades in the midst of their worst labor, stepped forward zealously, and, unassisted, dragged the heavy net out of the water; and though on opening it they found one hundred and fifty-three large fishes in it, notwithstanding the weight, the net was not broken. When they had obeyed his command, and supplied the place of the fish already cooked on the fire by fresh ones from the net, Jesus in a kind and hearty tone invited them to come and breakfast with him on what he had prepared. The disciples, notwithstanding the readiness with which they had come ashore to their Master, still seem to have felt somewhat shy; not, however, because they had any solid doubt as to his really being the person they had supposed him, for no man durst say to him "who art thou?" knowing him to be the Lord. Perhaps it was not yet full day-light, which may account for their shyness and want of readiness in accepting his invitation. But Jesus, in order fully to assure them, comes and takes bread, and puts it into their hands, with a share of fish likewise to each. They now took hold heartily, and without scruple sat down around the fire to breakfast with him. So when they had done breakfast, as men are usually best disposed to be social after eating, he on this occasion addressed himself to Peter in words of reproof, warning and commission. He first inquired of him, "Simon, son of Jonah, lovest thou me more than these?" To this Peter readily replied, "Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee." Jesus then said to him, "Feed my lambs." Peter had learned some humility by his late fall from truth and courage. Before, he had boldly professed a regard for Christ, altogether surpassing in extent and permanency the affection which the other disciples felt for him, and had, in the fullness of his self-sufficiency, declared that though all the rest should forsake him, yet would he abide by him, and follow him even to prison and to death. But now that high self-confidence had received a sad fall, and the remembrance of his late disgraceful conduct was too fresh in his mind to allow him any more to assume that tone of presumption. He therefore modestly confined his expression of attachment to the simple and humble reference to the all-knowing heart of his Divine Mas-
