erstand. And an extraordinary illumination shines in his
soul. For no expert penitent after years of spirituality, no sorrowful
saint, could have prayed more perfectly than this outcast. His
intellect, perhaps, took in little or nothing of the great forces that
were active about him and within him; he knew, perhaps, explicitly
little or nothing of Who this was that hung beside him; yet his soul's
intuition pierces to the very heart of the mystery and expresses itself
in a prayer that combines at once a perfect love, an exquisite humility,
an entire confidence, a resolute hope, a clear-sighted faith, and an
unutterable patience; his soul blossoms all in a moment: _Lord, remember
me when Thou comest in Thy Kingdom_. He saw the glory behind the shame,
the Eternal Throne behind the Cross, and the future behind the present;
and he asked only to be _remembered_ when the glory should transfigure
the shame and the Cross be transformed into the Throne; for he
understood what that remembrance would mean: "_Remember, Lord_, that I
suffered at Thy side."

II. So perfect, then, are the dispositions formed in him by grace that
at one bound _the last is first_. Not even Mary and John shall have the
instant reward that shall be his; for them there are other gifts, and
the first are those of separation and exile. For the moment, then, this
man steps into the foremost place and they who have hung side by side on
Calvary shall walk side by side to meet those waiting souls beyond the
veil who will run so eagerly to welcome them. _To-day thou shalt be with
Me in Paradise._

III. Now this Paradox, _the last shall be first_, is an old doctrine of
Christ, so startling and bewildering that He has been forced to repeat
it again and again. He taught it in at least four parables: in the
parables of _the Lost Piece of Silver, the Lost Sheep, the Prodigal
Son_, and _the Vineyard_. The Nine Pieces lie neglected on the table,
the Ninety-nine sheep are exiled in the Fold, the Elder Son is, he
thinks, overlooked and slighted, and the Labourers complain of
favouritism. Yet still, even after all this teaching, the complaint goes
up from Christians that God is too loving to be quite just. A convert,
perhaps, comes into the Church in middle age and in a few months
develops the graces of Saint Teresa and becomes one of her daughters. A
careless black-guard is condemned to death for murder and three weeks
later dies upon the scaffold the death of a saint, at