That land was Capharnaum. We can scarcely picture to ourselves the excitement and enthusiasm which greeted our Lord when His boat drew up on the strand. Whilst the Apostles had been battling with the storm on the Lake, the people had gone round along the beach and got home before nightfall. The wonderful news they had brought of their day in the desert—the teaching and the healing and the evening feast—was now the talk of the city. Everyone wanted to see the mighty Wonderworker, and the crowd on the shore was so great that our Lord and His disciples with difficulty made a passage through. He did not stop to speak there, but led the way to the synagogue of the good centurion. His words on this day were to be more solemn than any He had yet spoken, and the synagogue was the fittest place wherein to speak. The ruler Jairus would be there, so pleased to receive Him and show Him honour, and no doubt the little daughter, too, and her mother.

The lintel above the door of the synagogue—which has been found lying among the ruins—had carved on it a pot of manna with vine leaves and clusters of grapes. As He passed beneath, our Lord will have looked up and thought how fitly it was there that day. For He was going to speak for the first time of that Gift of gifts to us, His own Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament under the appearances of bread and wine.

The Church calls this Sacrament an abridgment of all God's wonderful works. Everything about it is so marvellous that men had to be prepared for it by other marvels and by types. There was the manna in the wilderness, the food of their fathers on their way to the Promised Land. There was Melchisedech's sacrifice of bread and wine. There was the food of Eli as given to strengthen him in his flight from his enemies. There was the changing of water into wine at the marriage feast of Cana. And there was that miraculous multiplication of bread in the desert the day before, of which all minds were full.

The congregation crowded, into the synagogue till it was a closely packed mass of heads. The Twelve took up their position near their Master. Our Lord mounted the platform, or bima, and sat down. All eyes were fixed upon Him. Looking around with His heart-searching gaze, He said:

"Amen, amen, I say to you, you seek Me because you did eat of the loaves. Labour not for the meat which perisheth, but for that which endureth unto life everlasting, which the Son of Man will give you."
Some from the crowd called out:

"What sign dost Thou show that we may see and may believe ? What dost Thou work?" And this after the miracle of yesterday!

"Our fathers did eat manna in the desert," they went on, "as it is written: "He gave them bread from Heaven to eat." Jesus said to them:

"Amen, amen, I say to you: "Moses gave you not bread from Heaven, but My Father giveth you the true Bread from Heaven. For the bread of God is that which cometh down from Heaven and giveth life to the world." They said to Him:

"Lord, give us always this bread." Jesus said to them : "I am the Bread of life; he that cometh to Me shall not hunger, and he that believeth in Me shall never thirst." Wayward and fretful, they murmured at Him now because He said: "I am the Living Bread which came down from Heaven." And they said to one another:

"Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know ? How then saith He: "I came down from Heaven?" Jesus answered and said to them:

"Murmur not among yourselves. . . I am the Bread of Life. If any man eat of this Bread he shall live for ever, and the Bread that I will give is My flesh for the life of the world." The discontent and murmuring increased. It was a repetition of the scene in the synagogue at Nazareth, the same enthusiastic reception of our Lord, the same eager listening at the beginning of His discourse, the same indignation and rejection before the end.

"How can this man give us his flesh to eat?" they asked. Tens of thousands have asked this question since that day:

"How can Christ be present whole and entire in the Host?" The answer is that we do not know how. Our Lord did not tell the Jews to understand the mystery, but to believe it, to believe Him who for years had been working among them the signs for which they asked, signs such as no other man had ever wrought. They ought to have believed His word and waited humbly to see how He would accomplish it. But instead of this many even of His disciples among the crowd said:

"This saying is hard, who can hear it?" And they went back and walked no more with Him. Let us stop a moment to ask what this wonderful Promise really meant, and why so precious a Gift was left us.

When our Divine Lord took a body and soul like ours and the Word was made Flesh and dwelt amongst us, He did not mean this dwelling in our midst to be merely for the time of His mortal life, and for the few who were able to approach Him then. It was to be for all time and for all mankind. His blessed body, whose touch gave life and healing to the sick of Galilee and Judea, was to be our life and healing, too. Nay, we were to be allowed a closer union with Him than were those whose sores He touched and healed. He promised a Divine Bread that should give life to the world. This Bread was to be His Flesh and the food of all who should believe in Him:

"My Flesh is meat indeed and My Blood is drink indeed," are His solemn, earnest words.

When our Lord spoke in parables, He explained their meaning clearly, at least to the Apostles. But there was no parable here. He meant just what He said, and when some of His hearers, refusing to believe, went away, He let them go. He would have let the Twelve go had they refused to take His words as He meant them, in their simple, literal meaning. The way in which He was going to make this Gift to men and the manner in which His Body and Blood were to be received, He did not at this time explain. He watched the disciples going away, and, turning to the Twelve, said sadly:

"Will you also go away?" Simon Peter, his face aglow with love and loyalty, replied for all:

"Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. And we have believed and have known that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God."

Our Lord accepted from their spokesman, Peter, this solemn confession of faith from eleven among the
Apostles. But not from the twelfth. For He saw among His Twelve one who for some time past had followed Him in body only, whose heart was far away. Judas was now full of anger and vexation because his Master had refused the earthly kingdom which the people had pressed upon Him. He did not care to be His disciple any longer, and He was annoyed at His teaching and at the marks of reverence shown Him.

The heart of Christ our Lord, then, was full of sadness this day at Capharnaum. Though nothing disturbed His peace or tried His patience, unkindness, distrust and ingratitude wounded Him sensibly. He felt keenly the rejection of His best Gift, the desertion of His disciples, the gradual hardening of heart and falling away of one of the Twelve. For of all hearts His was the most faithful, the most tender and affectionate.

A printable file as well as a coloring picture of this chapter is below.

On their return from their little mission, the Twelve told our Lord all things that they had done and taught.

"Come aside into a desert place and rest a little," He said, for they were tired. It was a welcome invitation. The Lake, which they must cross to reach the desert place, was about the only spot where they could have Him all to themselves, and they had much to tell Him. So they were soon on their way. Look at them all in the boat with Him, bending forward on their oars to catch all He says; speaking to Him, first one, then another; telling Him of their success or failure. See how kindly He looks at them as they speak, how interested He is in all they say. But look! One of them points to the shore. A great crowd is moving slowly round the head of the Lake. The people see the boat is steering for Bethsaida Julius on the eastern side, and are following it on foot along the beach. They will be there first, many of them, for it is only a couple of hours' walk from Capharnaum. The Apostles grumble. The multitude never leaves Him alone, and they had come out for rest. But their Master tells them His disciples must not be selfish. These poor people need Him badly; the sick are being carried all that way, and there are many sad hearts in the crowd. They are ashamed of themselves now as they look at Him, more tired a great deal than they are, yet so kind, so thoughtful for others, so self-forgetting. There is no more murmuring

The boat is run into a little creek, and they get out and follow Him up a mountain side. He sits down, and they seat themselves in a circle oil the ground at His feet and listen to Him. They will not have Him long to themselves, the people are coming up in thousands—men, women and children "flocking after Him from all the cities." He watches them from this height and has compassion on them, for they are like sheep without a shepherd. Now He goes down to them and is surrounded at once.

All day He is among them, teaching, healing, comforting. See Him going in and out of the crowd, asking for the sick, laying His hands on them, seeking out those in sorrow and getting them to tell Him their troubles. He has such a tender way of listening. His kind eyes look so interested as the poor and the sick tell their sad tales. And they know by His questions that He really cares to hear and wants to help. What a happy multitude it is around Him all day! The newly cured exulting in the use of eyes and ears and healthy limbs; their friends taking them about, showing them off before the astonished neighbours who had helped to bring them in the morning; the children following our Lord about like a bodyguard, crowding round to watch Him as He heals, so eager, so intent, especially when the blind and the maimed are brought to Him. They love to see the dull, vacant eyes fill with brightness and fix themselves with adoring love and thankfulness on Him who gives them light and sight, and the crippled and the palsied come from under those mighty hands straight and strong. They are His heralds, as well as His guards, these joyous children, for at every fresh cure their shouts and their cheering go out over the crowd and tell where He is. Yes, it has been a happy time; how many hearts have been lightened to-day for having poured their heaviness into His!

But evening is drawing on and the Apostles think it is time to see about food and rest. The crowds have
lost count of time, of distance from home, of everything but Jesus. But they cannot stay here for ever. They have had nothing to eat and will have a good two hours' walk before they can find shelter for the night. So the Twelve come to Jesus and say:

"This is a desert place and the hour is now past. Send them away, that going into the next villages and towns they may buy themselves meat to eat." Jesus says to them :

"They have no need to go, give you them to eat." It was like Him to say that, but how can they provide for such a multitude?

"Let us go and buy bread for two hundred pence," they say, "and we will give them to eat."

"How many loaves have you ? He asks. "Go and see." Andrew says to Him:

"There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fishes, but what are these among so many?" Jesus answers:

"Bring them hither to Me." See the boy being led by St. Andrew to our Lord; the pride and pleasure of the little fellow as he gives Him his loaves and his fishes; our Lord thanking him for them. A great miracle is going to be wrought, the type of another still greater. It is a solemn moment, and our Lord will have all in order.

"Make the men sit down," He says to the Twelve. They sit down in ranks, by hundreds and by fifties, looking in their bright, many-coloured garments on the green grass like flowerbeds on the turf. And the eyes of all are on the hillock where Jesus stands, the twelve Apostles round Him. He takes the loaves, and, looking up to Heaven, with indescribable majesty, blesses and breaks them, and gives them to the Apostles to be set before the people. And the two fishes He divides among them all. Up and down among the ranks go the Twelve, giving into the eager hands on every side, hearing such cries of wonderment, getting such grateful thanks. Our Lord watches all from His little height, directing the distribution with His hand—an old couple here have been missed; those children over there are ready for more. When all have had enough, He says to the Apostles:

"Gather up the fragments that remain lest they be lost." And they fill twelve baskets with what is left after that multitude is satisfied—five thousand hungry men, besides women and children. Our Lord and the disciples take some of the fragments for their own meal. Whilst they are eating, a great cry is heard and taken up by the whole multitude:

"This is the Christ! This is of a truth the Prophet that is to come into the world! Hosanna to the King of Israel!"

The Apostles are delighted. The long-expected Kingdom is coming at last! And they join in the joyful shout. But their rejoicing is short. Their Master tells them to go home now across the Lake whilst He stays behind to dismiss the crowd. What a woeful disappointment! Their faces show their dismay. It is such a pity to go just now when the people are in such good dispositions. May not some of them stay—Peter and James and John—to help Him with the crowd? No, they must all go. Very reluctantly they obey, all the more so as there is a storm-cloud gathering and the wind is rising. They have not forgotten that storm when they came from Gadara. However, there is no help for it, so they get into the boat and push off.

Waving their arms and shouting, the people come round our Lord. He must be their King, and they will fight for Him and die for Him if need be. But He tells them He does not want to be an earthly King, and they must be quiet and go back to their homes and think of all He has taught them. There is no resisting the gentle gravity and authority with which He speaks; the cries die down, and before long they are all on their way home, a joyful, peaceful army, but the King and Leader left behind. Where? When the crowds have all gone, He goes with weary feet up the mountain side again—to pray. Before choosing His Apostles He spent the night in prayer. And now, on this night, before the great Promise He is to make on the morrow, He prays. This is His custom always. He teaches, heals, comforts, makes Himself
all to all. And then He seeks a quiet time and place for prayer, to teach us that however busy our lives may be, however full of work for others, we must keep time for being alone with God in prayer. We notice when and where He prays, and find another lesson for ourselves. We cannot indeed pray at night under the quiet stars on a still mountain side; but as far as possible we should choose an hour and a spot where we shall not be distracted, and where we shall not distract ourselves. As He prayed the wind rose higher and higher, and at length the storm broke in all its fury upon the Lake. Woe to the fishing craft out that night! Peter's boat in the midst of the sea was tossed about and could not make head against the violence of the wind and waves.

In vain did its crew furl the sail and bale out the water and row their best. It was plain to them that they would never see land. Oh, why had the Master sent them away from Him! It was foolish to be frightened the other day with Him in the boat, but now they were alone and He had forgotten them. St. John, who was there, wrote long after of that dreadful night: "It was now dark and Jesus was not come unto them." They were clinging to the sides of the boat as the sea rose and fell, when, suddenly—a Form was seen in the distance, a human Form, and It was coming towards them. Seamen are very superstitious, easily frightened by what they take to be spectres, or evil omens. But here was no imagination. It was plainly a Man and He was walking on the sea.

"It is an apparition!" they said, and they cried out for fear. For they all saw Him and were troubled. And immediately He spoke with them across the waves, saying:

"Be of good heart; it is I, fear ye not." Oh, what a change, what joy and peace and comfort came to them with those words:

"It is I! "A few moments and He would be with them. But Peter could not wait. His Master was there; he must go to Him at once.
"Lord," he cried, "if it be Thou, bid me come to Thee upon the waters."
And Jesus said :

"Come!" In an instant Peter's foot was over the side of the boat and down on the waves that grew firm beneath his tread. Up and down he walked on the heaving sea,- his eyes fixed on Jesus, the Eleven leaning over the side of the boat watching him in breathless silence. He is only a few steps from our Lord when a tremendous wave almost overthrows him. He looks round, loses sight of Jesus, gets afraid and begins to sink.

"Lord, save me!" he cries, and flings out his arms towards his Master. And Jesus immediately stretching out His hand takes hold of him and says:

"O thou of little faith, why didst thou doubt?" And Peter, clinging to Jesus, comes safe to the boat, and as soon as they are inside the wind ceases. The disciples come up and fall at our Lord's feet and adore
Him, saying:

"Indeed, Thou art the Son of God!" And He works yet another miracle, "for presently the ship was at the land to which they were going."

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring picture can be found below.

When we try to picture to ourselves our Blessed Lord in the midst of the poor of Palestine, we must bear in mind that a crowd of poor, such as we are accustomed to, is respectable compared with an Eastern crowd. Dirty, ragged, and afflicted beyond anything we can imagine, were those among whom His days were spent. They "thronged Him, pressing upon Him to touch Him as many as were diseased. They stayed Him that He should not depart from them." They poured into the house where He was, "so that He could not so much as eat bread," says St. Mark. Think what this means.

Everything in our Lord was most delicate and refined. He was more sensitive than any of us to what is unsightly and unpleasant. Yet He never complained, or seemed to notice what must have distressed Him sorely. He bore with these poor people. He let them press upon Him and touch Him. How often He was weary of standing and speaking, of going here and there as He was wanted, of satisfying the endless needs of such a multitude! Eor they could never have enough of Him. Used to seeing themselves objects of contempt and disgust to the Pharisees, they beheld with wonder and delight the gentleness and tender compassion of their new Rabbi, and in His company forgot everything else, even consideration for Him.

It was not often that He sought to escape from the people. But one evening as they showed no signs of returning home for the night, He said in a low voice to His disciples:

"Let us go over to the other side of the Lake." They were only too glad to obey, for He was quite spent, and this was the only way to get Him a little rest. So a few of them hurried Him down to the beach, and when the others who had stopped behind to dismiss the crowd joined them, they all got into the boat and pushed off. He seated Himself in the stern, resting His head on a rough pillow there, the steersman's cushion, and very soon was asleep. The disciples watched Him in silence or talked quietly among themselves about the parables which, in the intervals of that long day's preaching, He had explained to them apart. They did not like to come out with their difficulties before the people, but when alone with their Master they put their questions to Him, and He was so careful to explain all, that He used to ask them:

"Have you understood all these things?" He was asleep, and, as the boat glided smoothly over the still, moon-lit waters, they sat around Him, speaking little, content to gaze upon that calm, beautiful face, so tired and yet so restful. They were half way across the Lake, some dozing, some talking round the pilot, when a shriek of the night wind made them all start. In a few minutes a furious tempest was upon them. Down between the mountains swept the hurricane, lashing the water into wild, crested billows. Helpless on the heaving sea, the boat rose and fell, now sinking into the hollow, now mounting a monstrous wave, now plunging again into the depths. The water poured in, it was filling fast—and still He slept. For a while the disciples
dared not wake Him, but fear overcoming at length every other feeling they crowded round Him crying:

"Lord, save us, we perish!" He woke, and looked calmly into those terrified faces.

"Why are you fearful," He said, "O ye of little faith!" And rising up He rebuked the wind, and said to the sea:

"Peace, be still!" And the wind ceased, and there was made a great calm. And they feared exceedingly. They did not fall at their Master's feet pouring out their thanks in eager words. But they crouched before Him, whispering in trembling tones to one another:

"Who is this, that He commands the wind and the sea and they obey Him?"

To these men of the Lake the first feeling brought by this sudden stilling of the storm was one of overpowering fear. Who was it they had amongst them, that treated them as familiar friends, that ate, and drank, and slept in their midst? Who was it?—God, the Lord of the wind and sea. Jesus their Master, their Friend, was very God—and they feared exceedingly.

Smoothly over the placid waters the boat made the rest of its way. It was early morning when they ran
it into a little bay on the eastern shore of the Lake, the land of Gadara, or Gergesa. The disciples were stepping on shore, scarcely recovered from the terrors of the night, when a new fear seized them. Bounding down from one of the caves hollowed in the cliff came a wild creature, more like a beast than a man. His eyes glared in a frightful manner. He had long since torn to shreds the clothing that hung about him. He lived in the gloomy caverns in the rocks that were used as graves, and "he was exceeding fierce, so that no man could pass that way." No man could tame him; iron chains he snapped like flax. Day and night he roamed about the mountains, crying and cutting himself with stones. He was a demoniac. Seeing Jesus afar off, he ran to Him, and, falling down, adored Him. And, crying out with a loud voice, he said:

"What have I to do with Thee, Jesus Son of the most High God ? I beseech Thee do not torment me."
And Jesus asked him:

"What is thy name?" And he said, " Legion."

"For many devils were entered into him," says St. Luke. And the spirits besought Him that He would
not command them to go into the abyss. And there was there near the mountain a great herd of swine
feeding, in number about two thousand. And the devils said:

"If Thou cast us out, send us into the swine." And He said to them: "Go!" And they going out went into the swine, and the whole herd ran violently down a steep place into the sea and were stifled in the waters. And the men in charge of them fled into the city and told the news—how the fierce demoniac, the terror of the country, had been healed, and how the swine had perished. Strange to say, it was the last event that seemed to make the most impression on the townsfolk, for instead of rejoicing at the cure of the poor man, " they were taken with great fear. And the whole city went out to see what was done. And they came to Jesus, and saw him that had been troubled with the devils sitting at His feet, clothed and well in his wits."
 
And—poor, foolish people—all the multitude being seized with terror, besought Jesus to depart from them. And He went up again into the ship. The man who had been troubled with the devils begged earnestly that he might be with Him. It seemed to him that only in our Lord's presence could he be safe and happy. But Jesus told him that he had a work for him to do among his countrymen:

"Return to thy house" He said, "and tell how great things God hath done to thee." And he went through the whole city publishing the great things Jesus had done for him.

On reaching the western side of the Lake, they saw the shore thronged with people. Here at least our Lord was welcome. "The multitude received Him gladly, for they were all waiting for Him." He came among them and was surrounded at once by petitioners of every kind.

Presently the crowd made way with pitying words for a man whose face was sad and troubled. He was Jairus, the ruler of the synagogue. He had a little daughter, his only one, about twelve years old, and she was dying, and he had come to see if our Lord would go home with him and cure her. The poor father fell down at the feet of Jesus, and his voice was broken by sobs:

"My daughter is at the point of death, but come, lay Thy hand upon her that she may be safe and may live." Our Lord went with him, accompanied by the multitude, curious to see what would happen. They went fast, for the father knew every moment was precious. But as they neared the house one of the servants came up to Jairus and his face told his tale:

"Thy daughter is dead," he whispered, " trouble not the Master farther." But Jesus hearing said kindly:

"Fear not, believe only and she shall be safe." It was a dismal scene around the house. The relatives, musicians and hired mourners had already arrived in preparation for the burial that would take place before night. From the room where the child lay came sounds of wailing mingled with the doleful music of the flute. Our Lord went in, and, finding the minstrels and the mourners making a rout, He said:

"Give place, for the girl is not dead but sleepeth." And they laughed Him to scorn, "knowing that she was dead," says St. Luke. He put all out of the room except Peter, James and John and the father and mother of the child. There, on a low pallet, she lay, white and still, her little hands joined upon her breast, fragrant spices strewed about her. Jesus took one of the small, chill hands in His, and in tones low and tender as her mother's, when she waked her from sleep, said:

"Talitha cumi!"—Little maid, arise. And her eyes opened, and, when she saw Him she smiled. And she rose up and began to walk about before them all; father and mother, beside themselves with joy, watching her in silence. Then our Lord told them to give her something to eat. And, leaving the happy three together, He went out with His disciples.

Think how miracles, following fast upon one another like this, must have strengthened the faith of the Twelve. Within a few hours they had seen the wind and the sea, the devils, and death itself obey Him whom they called "Master." And along with their faith grew their admiration and veneration, their love and their trust. For He whose word nothing could resist lived among them as one of themselves. When they journeyed together, exposed to cold, rain, and sun, when they stopped by the wayside to take their scanty meal, He fared no better than the rest. Humble and kind, ready to answer all their difficulties and to defend them against their enemies, patient with their slowness and their mistakes, watchful to see that nothing should hurt them, and to provide for all their wants—such was the Master to whom they had given themselves. He did not spoil them. He corrected their faults and let them share the hardships of His Life, for they were to carry on His work amidst all kinds of sufferings when He was gone, and they had to be trained for this. But He would not let things be too hard for them. St. Peter, it is said, used to tell how, when they spent the night with Him on the mountain side, sleeping around Him whilst He prayed, He would rise from His prayer and go amongst them, and if the night was chill and He found any of them slightly covered, He would wrap them up better against the cold. Is it wonderful that these poor, rough men loved Him as they did?

When He told them one day that He was going to send them out to preach, they were not frightened, for they knew that with His help they could do all things. They were to spread the good tidings that the Kingdom of Heaven was at hand. They were to go without money or provision for their journey, but with the wonderful powers He would give them:

"Heal the sick," He said, " raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils: freely have you received,
freely give." And they went two and two through the towns, preaching the Gospel and healing everywhere.

It was at this time that St. John the Baptist's wonderful life came to a close. For twelve months he had been imprisoned in the gloomy fortress of Machaerus for declaring the king's marriage with Herodias, his brother's wife, to be unlawful. It was a terrible place that underground dungeon for one who had lived all his life in the free air of heaven. And there was other pain as well. His life had been spent in making ready the road for our Blessed Lord. And now he was left alone in his prison, seemingly abandoned. Our Lord did not go to see him and did nothing for him. But he never complained, his patience was not exhausted, his faith remained unshaken. He did not want to be released, but only to do God's Will, and to carry on as long as he could the work for which he was sent. Even in prison he went on preparing his Master's way. For, finding that some of his disciples who were allowed to visit him did not yet believe in Jesus, he sent them to Him with this question:

"Art Thou He that art to come or look we for another ?" He knew quite well that Jesus was the Messiah, but he wanted his disciples to know and follow Him. He must have been aware that his own death could not be far off. Herodias would never rest till she had got rid of him, and he wanted his faithful followers to be safe among our Lord's disciples before the end came. Jesus, who knew St. John's motives in asking this question, answered, not by words but by deeds. As the messengers stood around Him, He cured many sick, and to many that were blind He gave sight:

"Go," He said, " and relate to John what you have heard and seen." And they went away believing in Him.

Meanwhile the wicked Herodias, who could not feel safe so long as John lived, was casting about for some means of bringing about his death. Herod's birthday brought her chance. The king kept the day with the utmost magnificence, and in the evening made a great supper for the chief men of his kingdom. The castle palace of Machaerus was brilliantly lighted up, and the sound of music mingled with the shouts of the revellers penetrated even into the dungeon where the holy Baptist lay. When the merriment in the banqueting hall was at its height, Salome, the daughter of Herodias, came in to amuse the guests. She danced before them and was loudly applauded by all who sat at table. Then Herod, half intoxicated, and scarcely knowing what he was saying, swore to her:

"Whatsoever thou shalt ask I will give thee, though it be the half of my kingdom." The girl, delighted, slipped out of the hall and said to her mother:

"What shall I ask?"

"The head of John the Baptist," was the answer. Salome returned with haste to the king:

"I will," she said, " that thou forthwith give me in a dish the head of John the Baptist." What a demand from the lips of one little more than a child! All who heard it shuddered. But what would the king do? Every eye was turned upon him. Every eye saw upon his face the signs of the struggle going on within. He was struck sad, for he reverenced John and had often heard him gladly. Yet because of his oath—an oath wicked to make, more wicked still to keep—and to appear honourable in the sight of those who sat at table with him, he granted the horrid petition. One of his bodyguard was standing behind him with a naked sword in his hand. He was despatched to the prison with orders to bring the head into the hall.

There was silence now in that scene of revelry, and suspense, horrible but short. Presently the door reopened, and the gory head was brought in upon a dish. Then, in the sight of all, the king gave it to the unflinching girl, who bore it off in triumph to her mother. When the disciples of John heard what had befallen their beloved master, they took the body and buried it, "and came and told Jesus," says St. Matthew. The royal murderer never had another peaceful hour. That ghastly sight in the banqueting hall was constantly before his mind. When he heard of the wonderful works of Jesus, he cried out:

"John the Baptist is risen from the dead," and he wanted to see our Lord. He did see Him one day, and on that day the measure of his wickedness was filled up.

A printable file of this chapter as well as a coloring page can be found below.