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for His very goodness. The more love and kindness He showed them the more they hated Him, until, finally, they decided it was expedient that one man, our innocent Brother, should die for the people. The more they hated Him the more He loved them, for even while they were plotting His death, He was giving His Apostles power to absolve His enemies, and to change bread and wine into His body and blood, to be food and drink for their souls. But they only hated Him all the more — aye, even in that little band of Apostles, from whom, of all men, He might expect gratitude and love, even among these was one who hated Him — Judas; who rushed from the room after a sacrilegious communion to sell and betray his Friend into the hands of His enemies. Oh! no wonder our poor Lord was weary of life, sorrowful, sad even unto death as, at nightfall, He strayed through the silent solitude of the Garden of Gethsemani! No wonder, I say, for after the institution of the Holy Eucharist He seemed to have put away His divinity, to have become our human, mortal Brother in very truth. Hence His poor human nature, finding itself abandoned by the Divinity, stood aghast at the wickedness and ingratitude of men, at the enormity of the sufferings He was about to endure, at the uselessness of these sufferings for millions of mankind; and, in a paroxysm of grief and fear, He turned to His Apostles for comfort, but found none, for they were asleep; and He turned to His Father and begged to be spared these sufferings, but His Father bade Him drink the bitter chalice to the dregs.