That was about the same time that I first saw the sea; it must be nearly forty years ago; but I could go to the very room now. I know where I was standing, and where the Bible was lying that I was reading at the time. But I cannot remember when St John's glory broke upon me; nor can I remember any days when that glory did not seem to me, in proportion to my knowledge, much what it seems now. He must have come to me before all my earliest memories, for he mingles with them all. Then I was not in the visible Church of God; and I used to think that no creature could have any office, any grace, any glory, greater than those that had been given to him; for I was always overwhelmed with wonder at those words of the Holy Ghost, "there was leaning on the breast of Jesus the Disciple whom Jesus loved." Now indeed I know that there is a creature's glory brighter than his, and a creature's beauty greater than his, and a creature's heart sweeter and stronger and more majestic than his; but otherwise I have not changed, except that my knowledge of him has increased, and my love for him has deepened. I trust him more than I ever did; and I have reason to trust him always. I

know what he has been to me, and what he has done for me; how I should honour him, how I should worship him; when the outer darkness rises before me, and I see the fiery torrent of eternal death go sweeping by. I am not claiming for him any place that has been given to others. He was not the Lawgiver of Israel, like Moses; nor the glorious Prophet carried from the world in a chariot of fire, like Elias; nor the Precursor of our Lord, like St John the Baptist. The Church was not built upon him, as upon Peter; nor does he hold Peter's keys. He is not the Patron of the Church, like St Joseph; nor the great Apostle of the Gentiles, like St Paul. But he is the Disciple whom the Holy Ghost has marked out as "the Disciple whom Jesus loved." These words of the Spirit of God are to him a deathless inheritance, far wider, far deeper, than the sea. They are to him a royal diadem and crown of glory, marked out by the splendour of its shining, even amidst the dazzling crowns of those who tread the golden pavement within the walls of the New Jerusalem. It is because of these words that I have ever loved him, that I have ever bowed down before the majesty of his throne. As he lay upon the breast of Jesus.

here, so I believe-not as if I were comparing his place with the place of Mary-that in some heavenly way, by some divine charity, known to the infinite wisdom of God, he lies upon the breast of Jesus now, in the heavenly City, where they drink the new wine with Him in the kingdom of His Father. I believe that he will lie there to all eternity, when the number of the elect is fulfilled, and the great Sabbath of the people of God goes on for ever.

I know that I can write nothing worthy of his wisdom and majestic love. If one of the Seraphim would fly to me with a live coal taken from the Altar, and would touch my mouth or my heart, I might say something that I wish about this Beloved Disciple. But, as this cannot be, he will forgive me if, seeking his glory, I can only speak with stammering lips, only shadow forth the heavenly mysteries that were revealed to him. At any rate, whatever good I may at any time have done, I acknowledge, with all my heart, that he has done it. And, when I have sinned, I have sinned against his warning voice, and against his uplifted finger. When I am dead, perhaps some persons may read this book; and, if they get any good out of it, I trust that

they will say a prayer for me on his festivals; for I have a hope that I may get out of Purgatory, either on his feast at Christmas, or on that day in the month of Mary which is kept sacred to his memory, in that he was a martyr in will before the Latin Gate.

And certainly I hope and pray that he may be thinking of me and helping me when I come to the end of my life. When death, kindly though terrible, merciful though stern, shall lay his hand on me, and lead me down into the cold river and the dark valley, I pray that I may go forth from this prison-house beneath the bright shadow of "the Disciple whom Jesus loved." The Angel-guardians will be there rejoicing, as I humbly trust; and the light and love of Mary's heart, if only I be faithful to the end, will be falling on me as I go. In that last moment of hope, may the Beloved Disciple take me by the hand, and lead me to the sight of the Face that was spit upon for me, and to the vision of the Face of God.

CHAPTER II.

THE DISCIPLE whom Jesus loved.

IT always overwhelms me with wonder when I read or hear these words, or think about them. The love of the Holy Ghost seems to burn in them like the fire of the Lord that is ever kindled in Jerusalem of the saints. They rise before me like a great mountain of glory, whose top I cannot see. They spread out before me like a great sea of glory, which grows brighter and brighter as it stretches beyond my sight. Once I thought, as I said before, though that was when I was in Egypt, that no election of any creature could be so full of blessedness. as I also said, I know that the sea of St John's glory is a little pool compared with the glory of Mary; that the mountain of his love is a little hill compared with the love of the Immaculate Heart; that the many diadems on his head, lighting up the city of God, are dim when seen in the brightness of those twelve stars of Mary's

Now,