n wounded, and
many I see are lying by the wayside in sore distress. All have at some
time or other fallen among thieves. There is a famous picture by the
great French painter which illustrates this. It represents a number of
different people journeying through the valley of this world. The way
is rough and gloomy, and all bear signs of having known weariness and
sorrow. The king is there in his royal robes, and wearing his crown;
but his brow is furrowed with care, and he seems to ask, like our own
King Henry--

"Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings, that fear their subject's treachery?"

The poet is there crowned with laurel, but his eyes are sad, as though
he felt how poor a thing is fame; how valueless the garland which
to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven. He looks with a
yearning glance, as though searching for something not yet found. Even
like the great poet Dante, who, when asked in exile by the monks, "My
brother, what are you seeking?" answered, "I am seeking _peace_." The
soldier is there, his sword hacked, and his armour marked by many a
blow. But he seems "weary with the march of life," and looks sadly
upon the glittering stars and crosses which adorn him, remembering how
soon they will only serve to decorate his coffin. There, too, is the
minister of state, who directed the fortunes of empires. "Whom he
would he slew, and whom he would he kept alive." But his head is bowed
with trouble, and he seems to look wistfully to the time when "the
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Among the
crowd there are women; the widow with veiled head, and tearful eyes;
the mother clasping her dead child; the poor slave, cowering beneath
the lash of the taskmaster, and stretching out her chained hands for
pity. There, too, are many sick folk. Blind men sit in darkness by
the wayside; cripples drag their maimed bodies wearily along; beggars
grovel in their sores and raggedness. And all these different people
seem to turn their faces longingly to one place, where a bright light
breaks over the dark valley, and where there stands One with
outstretched arms, and loving smile. It is Jesus, the Good Samaritan,
who is ready to help these travellers on the road of life; it is the
Good Physician, who has medicine to heal their sickness; and who says
to every suffering heart, king