of Mary, and the dreary moans of the dying Christ. " It is finished," He cries, and soon again through the darkness comes a long, last, loud scream of pain: " Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit" The earth trembles and the storm-cloud bursts, and men. fly for their lives, only to run into the arms of the newly risen dead. The thunder booms and the lightning flashes through the darkness, and lights up, with a ghastly glare, the mount and the cross and the white limp figure of the dead Saviour. Nature is convulsed at the death of Nature's God; all men cry out as I cry out here to-night: " Brother, Saviour, God, we have come and we have seen and we own there never was and never can be woe like unto Thy woe."
" Have pity on Me, have pity on Me, at least you,t My friends." O Brethren, is there a heart here tonight so stony as to refuse Him that pity which the Saviour begs? He is our Brother and Mary is our Mother. In their blessed company we have spent the happiest days of our lives. He toiled for us little ones with all the great love of an elder Brother. He prepared us the choicest food — His sacred body; and the choicest drink — His precious blood; and kept us clothed constantly in the royal garment of His precious grace. Mary, too, watched over us and cared for us with all the infinite love which only a fond mother's heart can feel. And can we, her younger children, His younger brothers and sisters —can we stand around that cross unmoved, and refuse our dying Brother and our martyred Mother, Mary the tenderest pity of our hearts? Especially
