The Books of
Moses, the Maccabees, the Kings, the Prophets, and Psalmists which
Jesus gradually collected in Nazareth, Cana, Nain, and in villages
below round the lake, filled a shelf. The men of Galilee had become
indifferent to the works which their forefathers wrote with toil and
reverence; they had had to wait too long for the fulfilment of the
prophecies, and began to doubt that a Messiah would ever come to the
Jews, so that they were quite pleased to give the parchments to that
nice boy of Joseph's. If they wanted to know anything, they had only
to ask him, and he explained it so clearly and concisely, and sometimes
so impressively, that they never forgot it again. That was much easier
than awkwardly searching for themselves, and labouring hard to decipher
the words only to be unable to understand them when they had done so.

Many a night, by the light of the moon, did Jesus read in his books.
They were the same as those we read to-day when we open the Old
Testament. So that it is as if we sat with Jesus on the same school
bench. He read of Adam and his sin, of Cain and his murder, of Abraham
and his promise, of Noah and the deluge. He read of Jacob and his
sons, of Joseph whom his brothers sold into Egypt, and of his fate in
that land. And he read of Moses the great lawgiver, of David the
shepherd, minstrel and king, and of Solomon's wisdom and of his temple,
and of the Prophets who judged the people for their misdeeds, and
prophesied the future kingdom. Jesus read the history of his people
with a burning heart. He saw how the race had gradually gone from bad
to worse. If he had at first rejoiced with all enthusiasm, later on he
became angry at the degeneration. Grief made him sleepless, and he
peered thoughtfully into the starry heavens, asking: "What will deliver
them from this misery?"

The stars were silent. But out of the distance, out of the stillness
of eternity, it was proclaimed: I love them so deeply, that I shall
send my own Son to make them happy.

By day Joseph took care that the youth should not dream too much.
Jesus must learn his trade. He did so willingly but not gladly, for
his head was not with his hands, and while he should have joined two
beams to make a door frame, the dark saying of the Prophet sounded in
his head: "He is numbered among the transgressors."

"What are you doing there? Is that a door frame? It's a cross!" So
Joseph awoke him out of his reverie, and Jesus w