ell wishing. Beneficence is well doing. He was
always well doing, giving sight to the blind, healing the sick,
cleansing the leper, feeding the hungry, raising the dead, unloosing
the bonds of Satan--unwinding the serpent's coil.

He was absolutely unselfish.

He emptied himself and made room in his soul for other lives. He had
no office hours and never interposed secretaries or major-domos
between himself and the people. He received all who came unto him--
ministering without money and without price.

There is one scene that might well be painted by a master hand.

It is evening. The western sky is all aglow with the glory of the
setting sun. Far up in the dome of the infinite blue, the evening
star swings golden, like a slow descending lamp let down by
invisible hands. The street is in half-tone. It is packed by the
strangest of throngs, by the blind, the lame, the halt, the
paralyzed and the leper-derelicts of humanity--borne thither on a
surging tide of life in which every wave is an accent of pain; they
are driven and piled up in great, quivering heaps against a door
which is partly shut, as in self-defence, by the sweltering crowd
within.

Jesus of Nazareth is in that house.

He is healing the sick. He is giving health, and strength, and peace
to all who seek him. He turns no one away. Compassion, sympathy,
beneficence, the tenderness of a mother for her helpless babe--these
are the characteristics which his daily ministry revealed.

No one ever brought a charge of evil doing or evil speaking against
him.

The people who followed him said, "He hath done all things well."

Police officers sent to arrest him as a disturber of the peace found
him in the midst of the people, speaking words that hushed their
tumult, quieted their murmurings and gave them rest; and the
officers returning to them who sent them, said, "Never man spake
like this man."

Pilate's wife dreamed a troubled dream of him, and sent word to her
husband not to lay hands on him--seeing that he was a just man.
Thrice before heaven and earth--in a testimony that still echoes
through infinite spaces, and is heard by listening worlds--Pilate
himself proclaimed, "I find no fault in this man."

He lifted up his voice against sin and unrighteousness.

Against nothing did he so much speak as against religious hypocrisy.
Nowhere, in any record, is language so terrible, so penetrating, so
hot, so full of the flame of fire and scorching analysis