ld yet perform.

That hand cast away the sword it had wielded in murder, and lovingly,
gratefully held that of John, as the Apostle, and the robber-chief now
penitent and forgiven, together left the wilderness; within sight of the
astonished band; some of whom were greatly touched by what they had seen
and heard, while others were ready to scoff at what they called the
weakness of their leader.

Another tradition is a beautiful illustration of the tenderness and
sympathy which we may judge was increasingly manifest in St. John's
character, the spirit of the Lord "whose tender mercies are over all His
works," the spirit St. John had seen in his Master who noticed the
sparrow falling to the ground. True it is,

"He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man, and bird, and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things, both great and small;
For the dear Lord who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

There was a young tame partridge in which St. John took delight and
found recreation in many an hour from which he had turned from labor for
rest. A young hunter anxiously seeking the great Apostle was surprised
to find him in what seemed a frivolous employment. He doubted for a
moment whether this could be he. John asked, "What is that thing which
thou carriest in thy hand?" "A bow," replied the hunter. "Why then is it
unstrung?" said John. "Because," was the answer, "were I to keep it
always strung it would lose its spring and become useless." "Even so,"
replied the Apostle, "be not offended at my brief relaxation, which
prevents my spirit from waxing faint."

We have already alluded to a tradition which is perhaps the best known
of all, and universally accepted. In Ephesus, in extreme old age, too
infirm to walk, St. John was carried as a little child to the church
where he had so long preached. In feebleness his ministry had ended. The
last sermon as such had been preached. He could no longer repeat the
words of Christ he had heard on the mountain, and the sea-shore, and in
the Temple. He could no longer tell of the wonders of which he was the
only surviving witness. In Christians he saw the child-spirit, whether
in old or young. In his old age he was a father to all such as none
other could claim to be. His great theme --his only theme--was love. So
his only words, again and again repeated as he faced the congregation
were "Little children, love one another." And when asked why he repe