The glory of the mildest show of the Living One is such that even the dearest of his apostles, the best of the children of men, is cowed at the sight. He has not yet learned that glory itself is a part of his inheritance, that there is nothing in a man made in the image of God alien from the most glorious of heavenly shows: he falls as dead before it, when lo, the voice of him that was and is and is forevermore, telling him not to be afraid, for the very reason, that he is the first and the last, the living one! For what shall be the joy, the peace, the completion of him that lives, but closest contact with his Life? Rather than trembling, because he on whose bosom he had leaned when the light of his love was all but shut in now stands with the glory of that love streaming forth, John Boanerges ought to have felt the more joyful and safe as the strength of the living one was more manifested. It was never because Jesus was clothed in the weakness of the flesh that he was fit to be trusted, but because he was strong with a strength able to take the weakness of the flesh for the garment wherein it could best work its work: that strength was now shining out with its own light. Had John been as close in spirit to the Son of Man as he had been in bodily presence, he would have indeed fallen at his feet, but as one too full of joy to stand before the life that was feeding his; he would have fallen to embrace and kiss the feet of him who had now a second time, as with a resurrection from above, arisen before him, in yet heavenlier plenitude of glory.