Jesus saith unto her, _Woman, what have I to do with thee?_" The true answer intended by the question was--_nothing_. Christ could not be entirely oblivious of earthly ties. He had lived under the same roof with Mary. He had received from her many acts of kindness; and if nature was allowed her empire over the heart; he must have felt for her the affection of a son. For him she had all the feelings of a mother. She followed and stood by him at the cross. As she stood and wept in his sight, the only words of consolation and endearment he could give her were as cold and heartless as a Lapland wind: "_Woman_, behold thy son"! The word "_woman_" was ever on his lips. When he recommends her, at the last scene, to the care of the disciples, he is studied and guarded in his language: "Then saith he to the disciple, Behold _thy mother_." The scenes at the cross were too solemn to permit the studied purpose of an artful bigot to muzzle the voice of nature. Truth turns away from the story. The design of this Gospel to keep out of view the carnal nature of Christ, as it appears in the first three Gospels, is marked with Jesuitical cunning. He who was born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, but of God, must be so constituted as to be above the weaknesses and frailties of those who are born of earth. The temptations in the wilderness, which supply the most remarkable scenes in the life of Christ, and, as given in the first three Gospels, proved the power of the Son of God over the Powers of Darkness, are wholly unnoticed in the Gospel of John. He who was all God, without a link to connect him with humanity, must be so superior to Satan as to be above his arts of seduction. John will not allow Christ to be tempted, because he was above it; but, in sinking his humanity to favor a dogma, he keeps out of sight the most sublime and god-like portion of his character--the power to rise above the allurements of wealth, power, and dominion. It was by such things he proved himself a god. The design of the fourth Gospel is overdone. In making Christ all God, no chord of sympathy is left between him and man. Even in the last supper, dwelt upon with so much tenderness by Matthew, Mark and Luke, we detect, by the silence of John, the spirit of the Jesuit. He makes no mention of it. Who can mistake the reason of this silence? The tender scenes of this last interview between Christ and his disciples are sacrificed to make way for a senseless and heartless dogma. In the last supper, given in the Synoptics, the bread and wine are mere symbols of the death and sufferings of Christ. It was this symbolic character of the sacrament that the writer of John wished to avoid. As the Lord's supper is with John a real sacrifice, each repetition is a fresh atonement, and the bread and wine, by a miraculous conversion, are made flesh and blood. There could be no sacrifice of the body of Christ _until death_, and, for that reason, the last supper