It was a small matter that He rejected all such aids to the personal life as would have won for Him the allegiance of the People, and that He would have none of the glory and dignity which hedges the king idea, and which upholds in that office even men of weakest calibre. But it is truly strange to find that His was not, in any way known to history, a _religious_ life; there was no apartness about it, no mystery, no sanctity. He chose the simple, familiar open air life of the people. Until the pressure of work became too heavy, He maintained His family, He made friendships, He was the most brotherly of men. He entered keenly into every department of the life of the remote little country-side as it presented itself to Him; He was simply a Man among men. His brothers were staggered by the waste of energy and power, and we cannot wonder at their remonstrance: “If Thou do these things, show Thyself openly.” For His method certainly involved the greatest amount of labour for the least visible return. He travelled on foot up and down the country roads, resting in the quietest spots, healing and aiding the poorest and sometimes the least deserving of the country folk. He taught also, wasting the loveliest of His exquisite word pictures upon groups of unappreciative fishermen and villagers. ♦The Cross♦ And in the end, as if to crown fittingly a career so utterly at variance with all previous conceptions of greatness, He set His face steadfastly to go to the capital, where were for Him nothing save cruel torture and shameful death--the punishment inflicted by men upon those who dare to subvert, and in so doing to condemn their own methods. He died a young man, in defence of His chosen life; and to all appearance the strange little movement died with Him that day; for He had few followers, only one or two of whom were men of any promise.