of Truth and Love was silent before error and hate. They with whom he had walked meekly, and to whom he had given the highest proofs of divine power, called him a “pestilent fellow,” saying derisively, “He saved others; himself he cannot save.” They who turned “away the rights of man from before the face of the Most High” esteemed Jesus as “stricken and smitten of God.” He was brought “as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep dumb before the shearers.” “Who shall declare his generation?” Who shall decide what Truth and Love are?
Pilate — pale in the presence of his own momentous question, “What is Truth?” blind to the consequences of his awful decision against human rights and divine Love, ignorant that he was aiding the final proof of what Truth is, and what it does for man — was lured into acquiescence.
The women at the cross could have answered Pilate's question. They knew what inspired their devotion, winged their faith, opened the eyes of their understanding, healed the sick, and cast out evil, and what caused the disciples to say to their Master, “Even devils are subject unto us through thy name.”
But where were the seventy whom Jesus sent forth? Were all conspirators save eleven? Had they forgotten their Teacher's toils, privations, and sacrifices, his divine patience and sublime courage, his unrequited and immaculate love? Could they not have given him a cup of cold water for remembrance's sake, and gratified his last human yearning for one proof of fidelity?
From early boyhood he was “about his Father's business.” His pursuits lay far apart from theirs. His
