be crucified." He was crucified, as we know, between two thieves, and
over his cross was the superscription written by Pilate, in three
languages, "This is Jesus, the King of the Jews."

Seven times, while he hung upon the cross, did the suffering Saviour
speak aloud. "Father, forgive them," was his first exclamation, "for
they know not what they do." His next words were to the thief on one
side, who begged to be remembered when Jesus should come into His own:
"This day shalt thou be with me in Paradise," was the reply. Then his
thoughts turned lovingly to his mother, who stood with John by the
cross. "Woman, behold thy son," he said to her, indicating John. Then
turning to John, he added, "Behold thy mother." A moment of agony
followed, when he cried, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
After this, he said, "I thirst," and a soldier held to his lips a
sponge wet with vinegar. As the end drew near came the words, "It is
finished," and at last, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit."

[Illustration: THE CRUCIFIXION
_Antwerp Museum_]

In Van Dyck's picture we see nothing of the surroundings of the
Crucifixion--the Roman soldiers, the curious crowd, the sorrowing
friends, or the crucified thieves. Only the solitary figure of Jesus,
nailed to the cross, is lifted against the strange dark sky. For three
hours, as we read, there was darkness over all the land, followed
immediately, after the death of Jesus, by a great earthquake. This is
the moment when the storm-clouds are gathering over the face of the
sun, causing its light to gleam luridly through the thick covering.
The cross is rudely built of two beams in the form which is called a
Latin cross. A fluttering scroll at the top of the upright beam
carries the accusation "The King of the Jews."

The garments of Jesus had been stripped from his body and divided
among four soldiers. He now hangs naked upon the cross save a small
strip of cloth knotted about his loins, the loose ends hanging at one
side. The body is somewhat slender and delicately modelled, but firm
and supple as of one in the fulness of manhood. The hair falls in
dishevelled locks about the face, and a mysterious light shines above
the head.

As we look at the picture, each one must decide for himself what
moment in the great drama is illustrated. From the expression of
suffering on the countenance we judge that the end is approaching.
From the lifted face and open mouth we see that the