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THE CHKISTIANITY OF THE AGES. 367
for this aged and loving saint, who sorrowed with Christ
in the garden, stood by him at the cross, received in charge
Mary the mother of Jesus, and clairvoyantly beheld him
ascend to the homes of the angels. This sentence from
his pen will live for ever "
: God is love." When he had
become too weak and infirm to walk to the old primitive
church edifice in Ephesus, his admirers, taking him in their
arms, would bear him thither ; and then, with trembling
voice, he could only say, " Little children, love ye one
another." These and other well-attested historic recollections,
rushing upon my mind, lift me on to the Mount of
Transfiguration.
The sun of the New Testament epistles is John, — the
sainted John, that lovingly leaned upon Jesus' bosom. In
youth he was my ideal man. To-day he is that angel in
heaven v/hom I most love. Not Arabia, then, nor Palestine,
but classic Ephesus, is my Mecca.
The poet Joaquin Miller sings thus of the " Last Sup-
"— per:
" Ah ! soft was their song as the waves are
That fall in low, musical moans
And sad, I should say, as the winds are
That blow by the white gravestones.
"What sang they ? What sweet song of Zion,
With Christ in their midst like a crown ?
While here sat Saint Peter, the lion
And there, like a lamb, with head down, —
Sat Saint John, with his silken and raven
Rich hair on his shoulders, and eyes
Lifting up to the faces unshaven
Like a sensitive child in surprise.