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family, His own village, into the rough world beyond. That Brother, the most beautiful among the sons of men — as fair and as tender as a maiden — pale and slender and strangely sad, but, withal, unspeakably commanding — kind and good to all, but especially the lover and the well-beloved of the little ones. That Brother, whose wondrous charity led Him to cure the demented boy; to take the ruler's little dead daughter in His arms and breathe new life into her; to shed tears with Mary and Martha and console them by raising their dead brother Lazarus to life; to stop the funeral of the widow's son and give back to the poor heartbroken mourner the sole hope and joy of her declining years. O my Jesus! when we think of all your goodness, we are not content with offering you the purest of all love — the love of a brother for a brother — we want to prove our love — we want to suffer that you may not suffer — we want to die that you may live. But no; Our Lord is too generous for that; He would sooner suffer Himself than see us suffer. All He asks of us is to come and see if there be woe like unto His woe. Come and see — and, oh ! my poor Brother, what do we see? We see Him in the midst of a vast crowd of soldiers— 'the most savage and brutal men, probably, God ever created. And why is He here? Why has He left Nazareth? He is here on account of His own goodness and the wickedness of men. For He went around the whole country, with His Apostles, doing good, but men took it ill of Him; they began to envy Him His supernatural power and hate Him