For fifteen years, as is supposed by some, John dwelt in Jerusalem with that woman, who to this day is honored of all who have received the truth, and adored, and glorified, and worshiped by that church built on the unfailing foundation, “the infallible Peter”—as its members declare. Yes! and there are myriads who never heard that the great Cæsar reigned once in power and magnificence—to whom the rulers and the high-priests of that day are as though they never had been. There are multitudes of these, who, even at this distant day, bow down to the very dust to supplicate a blessing of Mary, the Mother of God! Tenderly, as over an aged mother, did St. John watch her declining years, providing for her comfort, soothing and cheering her heart, and smoothing the pathway to her feet, as they tottered toward the grave. But during all this time the apostle had not forgotten the duties of his more important and more dangerous vocation. In the great, the holy city, he had performed the duties devolving on his ministerial office, with great encouragement. Though, with Peter, he had suffered cruel imprisonment, and wicked men had not failed to afflict, and torment him, by bringing evils in innumerable shapes upon him—for in such ways did they seek to dissuade the apostles from preaching, and the people from lending a listening ear. Many times St. John had journeyed to the various churches scattered round about, unfolding in every place where he sojourned the heavenly message that was given him to reveal, but invariably he had returned to Jerusalem, and to Mary, making his home with her. As has been stated, it is supposed by many that at the expiration of these fifteen years, the mother of Jesus died; and, that John then removed from Jerusalem to Asia Minor, where he founded seven churches, while he resided chiefly at Ephesus. In this new scene of labor, St. John did not escape persecution—surrounded, as he was, by a superstitious and idolatrous people, danger and sorrow constantly attended and awaited him. Neither was it given him to labor in a portion of the Master’s vineyard, untroubled by the distress and misfortune that attended his distant brethren. The tidings which from time to time came to him of the progress of the holy work, and the welfare of those, who, from the peculiar ties that bound them to him, he held most dear, were such as caused his heart to ache, and his tears to fall, oftener than they aroused his soul to gratitude, or his voice to thanksgiving.