CHAPTER XXVI.
ONCE more the multitude pressed round the Nazarene, keener than ever to hear the words of one who had performed the great miracle they had all been longing for. All the circumstances—too the fact that the body of Lazarus had lain four days in the grave, and the publicity of his resurrection, had impressed their minds with an assurance in the Messiah's power that seemed unshakable. But to those who believed, each word was fraught with the approaching grief of separation; to His disciples and a few besides, each phrase that fell from Him thus held for them an added tenderness and pathos and would be treasured with the greater care. In a short time they would have to live their lives without the sweet presence that had sustained and guided them. His words would be their only guide through this world and, through death, to life eternal. There were tiny children, too, who were growing up, whom Jesus loved. The message would have to be handed on to them in all its purity and all its hope.
The crowd was waiting. The Nazarene stood ready to deliver once more the message from the Father; never wearying of His mission, ever appealing to them to lay hold of true happiness in this world and their salvation in the next. Then two disciples advanced with reverence, and, plucking at
264
