XL.

JOHN.

HE life of John, at first sight, seems shrouded in an atmosphere of religious awe which we cannot penetrate; in him the earthly seems so completely absorbed into the heavenly-the character, the thoughts, the language of the disciple so lost in that of the Master-that we tremble to draw aside the veil from that divine friendship; we fear to mix any human motives with a life which seems so especially the work of the Spirit of God.

It was not by fluctuating and irregular impulses like Peter, nor yet by a sudden and abrupt conversion like Paul, that John received his education for the apostleship; there was no sphere of outward activity as in Peter, no vehement struggle as in Paul; in action, while Peter speaks, moves, directs, he follows, silent and retired. It would almost seem as if in John the still contemplation, the intuitive insight into heavenly things, which form the basis of his character, had been deepened and solemnized by something of that more Eastern and primitive feeling to which the records of the Jewish nation lead us back-something of that more simple, universal, childlike spirit which brooded over the cradle of the human race-which entitled the Mesopotamian patriarch, rather than the Hebrew Lawgiver or the Jewish king, to be called "the friend of God"—which fitted the prophet of the Chaldean captivity, rather than the native seers of Samaria or Jerusalem, to be the "man greatly beloved."

The whole sum of John's character must of necessity be con