ing at all. He
made no use of His abilities for private ends, which has been the
common principle of social life since society began. He asked nothing
of the world, being apparently convinced that nothing which the world
could give Him was worth having. Strangest thing of all in one who
must have been conscious of His own genius, and of the value of His
teachings to mankind, He made not the least effort to perpetuate these
teachings. He wrote no book, provided no biographer, did none of those
things which the humblest man of genius does to ensure that distant
generations shall comprehend and appreciate his character and message.
He was content to speak His deepest truths to casual listeners. He
spent all His wealth of intellect upon inferior persons, fishermen and
the like, who did not comprehend one tithe of what He said. He was the
friend of all who chose to seek His friendship. He discriminated so
little that He even admitted a Judas to His intimacy, and allowed women
tainted with dishonour and impurity to offer Him public tokens of
affection. In all these things He differed absolutely from any other
man who ever lived beneath the public eye. In all these things He
still stands alone; for who, among the saintliest men we know, has not
some innocent pride in his ability, or some preference in friendship,
or some instinctive compliance with social usage, or some worldly hopes
and honourable aims which he shares in common with the mass of men?

But these outward dissimilarities of conduct disclose a dissimilarity
of soul. Men live for something; for what did Jesus live? And the
answer that leaps upon us like a great light from every page of the
Gospels is plain; He lived for love. If He did not care for praise or
honour; if He regarded even the preservation of His teachings with a
divine carelessness, it was because He had a nobler end in view, the
love of men. He could not live without love, and His supreme aim was
to make Himself loved. And yet it was less a conscious aim, than the
natural working out of His own character. Fishermen by the sea saw Him
but once; instantly they left their boats and followed Him. A man
sitting at the receipt of custom, a hard man we should suppose, little
likely to be swayed by sudden emotions, also sees Him once, and finds
his occupation gone. A beautiful courtesan, beholding Him pass by,
breaks from her lovers, and follows Him into an alien house, where she
bathes His