d. Jesus was
not afraid of having to render an account of Himself to His adversaries
in Jerusalem, but the time had not yet come, the work was not yet
finished. He knew that He could never retrace His steps, for the more
incontestable His justification was, the more dangerous it would seem
to them. With His now dwindled troop of followers He left the desert
to revisit once again His native Galilee.

But here His opponents were no better than before; houses were closed
as He approached, the people got out of His way when He began to speak.
Only Mary, with all a mother's simple faith, said; "Ah, you have come
at last, my son! Now stay, with me!"

There was, however, no place for Him in the house. A strange
apprentice from Jericho was established in the workshop. He worked at
the wood with the hatchet and saw that Jesus had once handled; sat by
the hearth and at the table where Jesus had once sat; slept in the bed
on which Jesus had once reposed. But it did not seem that he enjoyed
the same pleasant dreams for he groaned and tossed about, and when he
awakened was ill-pleased at having to continue the same work which he
had ill-humouredly laid aside the evening before. How often did Mary
look at him in silence, and think of the difference between him and her
Jesus. And she saw how the man carelessly ate his meals, and went to
his bed each day, while her son was perhaps perishing in a strange
land, and had no stone whereon to lay His head.

And now Jesus was once again with her. "Mother," He said to Mary,
"don't speak impatiently to Aaron. He is poor, discontented, and
sullen; he has found little kindness in men and without exactly knowing
it, thirsts for kindness. When you would bring Me water in the morning
to wash with, take it to him. When you would prepare dinner for Me,
prepare it for him. When you would bless Me in the evening, bless him.
Love may perhaps do what words cannot. Everything that you think to do
for Me in My absence, do for him."

"And you--you will have nothing more from me?"

"Mother, I want everything from you. I am always with you. You can be
good to Me in showing kindness to every poor creature. I must lead men
by stern measures, be you gentle. I must burn the ulcers from out the
dead flesh, you shall heal the wounds. I must be the salt, be you the
oil."

How happy she was when He spoke to her like that. For that was her
life--to be kind, to help, wherever she could. And