Decalogue. Outwardly he was doubtless more correct than most men. He was very likely a model business man, shrewd, calculating, far-sighted, and as honest as it was politic to be. But he betrayed Christ, and for nineteen centuries he has been the detested outcast of history. The chief priests were among the high and honorable of their day. They were doubtless flattered and fawned upon by the curious rabble that came to see the dead man who had been brought back to life again. Very likely they thought themselves, because of their position, sure of immortal fame; but they have secured only immortal infamy, because they hated and crucified Christ. It is not otherwise now. The real position of every man in the universe, to whom Christ has been revealed, is determined by his attitude toward the Man of Nazareth. The accidents of wealth, of position, of intellectual attainment, have as little to do with the matter now as then. "What think ye of Christ?" is still the all-important question. The day of judgment is always present, and men are ever judging themselves by the answer they give to this question of questions.

But one character is supremely interesting among all the interesting people who crowd the canvas of this lesson. Mary, the quiet, contemplative Mary, with her ungrudging vase of precious spikenard, is the one person who, aside from the Master, commands our closest attention. Of her were spoken on two occasions, by Him whose approbation is best worth having, words of unmeasured praise. "Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." "She hath done what she could." "Verily, I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her."

What reigning beauty, what queen or empress would not covet such praise from Him who never flatters? Yet it was accorded to this quiet, unassuming woman of Bethany.

It is well worth our while to ask why it was bestowed upon her. The answer is simple and obvious. Because she chose the good part, and because her choice was so complete, so absolute, so unreserved. The choice of Christ is the most important and noteworthy act it is possible for a mortal to make. That is the teaching of this lesson. It is. easy for us to see this as we look back through the perspective of the ages to the home in Bethany. Many other things seemed of importance to those people: the service of a good meal for their honored guest seemed important to Martha; the filling with ill-gotten gains of his accursed bag to Judas; the satisfaction of their curiosity to the rabble; the carrying out of their deadly plot of hatred to the chief priests. All these things seemed supremely important then; there was only one act that is spoken of to-day as a blessed memorial, and that the act of Mary in showing her affection for her Lord.

It is just as hard for us to see things in their true relative importance as it was for the Jews. We buy and sell; we cook and sweep and wash; we write books and preach sermons; we advance our own interests in a thousand ways, as we think; and all the time we are using up our lives in a trivial, useless round, or, worse, we are playing the part of a Judas or a chief priest, while all the time we neglect the supreme choice, the choice that will last and that will be spoken of as a memorial forever.

Here, incidentally, we learn why Mary received, on another occasion, so much higher praise than Martha. Some good people of the stamp of Martha have almost resented. it, as though fussy, anxious, painstaking Martha had not received her fair share of the Master's praise, when she did so much for his comfort. It was not, I think, that he did not appreciate her trouble and her activity in his behalf, but that there is something better than activity, even communion; something more blessed than service, even loving

adoration. Because he was God as well as man, he accepted more than service, he received Mary's worship. What proof could be stronger of our Lord's divine character? From Mary, one of his dearest friends, he received a kind of homage which a Cæsar or a Napoleon would have hesitated to receive, even when they were most bloated by their temporary power. He not only accepted this homage but rebuked those that would rebuke her who gave it, and pronounced upon Mary, for this act of worship, a eulogy whose sweetness fills the world as the fragrance of her ointment filled the room where they were sitting.

Mary is the type of the best mystic; and for this type of character our Lord seems to have had a special affinity. His beloved disciple was a mystic. We can easily imagine Mary keeping "The Quiet Hour." We can think of her as rising up before day to enjoy the "Morning Watch" with her unseen Friend. We cannot so easily imagine busy Martha doing the same-she would be too much occupied getting the breakfast. Perhaps here we find the reason that the mystical type of character has so greatly influenced the world, because it is so akin to Christ. Thomas à Kempis, Tauler, Jeremy Taylor, Brother Lawrence, George Müller, Andrew Murray-of all of them and of all like them we can say, "They have chosen the good part;" they have found that communion was necessary to the highest service.

Once more, Mary not only loved supremely, but she expressed her love in a way that won her Lord's highest praise. It must have been peculiarly difficult for her, retiring, quiet, contemplative as she evidently was by nature, to thus publicly and almost obtrusively show her love. We' cannot account for this strange scene altogether as a piece of Oriental exuberance. It was almost as strange then as it would be now to see a woman thus pouring fragrant perfume on a worn traveler's feet. If any one in the vicinity

had not noticed this strange act of devotion, the odor of the spikenard disclosed the act, for "the house was filled with the odor." It excited surprise and unkind, perhaps contemptuous, remark, as it would be sure to do now. And Mary's sensitive soul was stung, we may be sure, by the lifted eyebrows, and whispered remarks, and the open rebuke of Judas the thief. But still she poured the ointment and wiped the blessed feet with her hair, and let all the world know how she loved, amply repaid by his gentle words: "Let her alone; . . . she hath wrought a good work on me."

Once more, Mary gave the best she had. No elaborate vase was too beautiful to break, no ointment was too precious to pour, no love was too tender to be lavished on the feet, even, of him she loved. She did what she could, and what she could was her best. Ah! I believe that is the great lesson of the incident. She gave her all, she gave herself, "'t was all that she could do." And because it was her all, her surrendered self, she heard those sweet words which assured her earthly renown and her heavenly. immortality: "Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her."

Francis E. Clark.

JESUS TEACHING HUMILITY

JOHN 13: 1-17

"Now before the feast of the passover, Jesus knowing that his hour was come that he should depart out of this world unto the Father, having loved his own which were in the world, he loved them unto the end," etc.

"I have given you an example," etc. (v. 15.)

Our lesson brings us into the very holy of holies in the tabernacle of the flesh which Jesus made sacred by his presence; into the upper room where Jesus ate the passover with his disciples. It is here that he gives a proof of his love, and in that proof a lesson, not so much of humility as of the dignity of service-a lesson which the disciples of the older and of the later time need constantly to learn, to remember and to practice.

I. This was a real act of service. It is customary to neglect this aspect of the scene, and to dwell altogether upon its symbolism and its teaching. But there is very little teaching and no impressive symbolism in it, if you take away from it its reality.

Part, and an important part, of the preparation for a feast in the Orient was the final washing of the feet after arriving at the place of entertainment. The low sandals upon the stockingless feet could not keep them from at least the dust of the road, however fully they might have been cleansed before leaving home. On entering the upper room, the guest chamber of honor, when they had reclined on the low couches which surrounded three sides of the