e while and He is gone; again a little while, and He
is back. They're plainly puzzled, yet restrained from breaking in upon
His deep mood.

But with characteristic gentleness He speaks of what they would
ask.[119] Clearly there is some terrible experience for Him and for them
just at hand. But He reaches past to the joy beyond, as the mother
forgets sharp pains in the joy of her new-born babe. And as He talks
they think they understand now, but again He gently reminds of the storm
about to break. And then He leaves them three wondrous words,--_peace,
good-cheer, overcome_. In the midst of the worst storm there may be
peace. In the thickest of tribulation the song of cheer may ring out. He
_has_ overcome. The outcome is settled. No doubts need nag. Sing! Sing
louder! _Christ is Victor_!

This is the second bit of the evening's closer wooing, this long quiet
talk about the supper table and along the road. It is wooing them up to
more intelligence in their believing and loving. It's wooing them to
trust _Him_, hold hard to _Him_, during the coming storm, when they
wouldn't understand. Even when they can't understand, but stand in
hopeless helpless bewilderment, they still can trust _Him_.

Taken into the Innermost Life.

They're outside the city-gate now, going down the path towards the
Kidron Brook. Now comes the third bit of that evening's closer
wooing.[120] And this is the tenderest, the most personal, the least
resistible bit, the closest wooing of all. He takes them into His
innermost heart-life for a brief moment. It must have reminded John
afterwards of that mountain-top experience when Jesus drew aside the
drapery of His humanity and let a little of the inner glory shine out.
Here He takes them with Him into the holy of holies of His own inner
life with His Father.

Let not any one think that Jesus was simply letting them hear Him pray,
so they might learn. Not that; not that. He was taking them into the
sacred privacy of His own innermost life. That was a bit of the wooing,
under the desperate happenings just ahead. But now as He takes them in
He quite forgets them, though He knows they are there. _He is absorbed
with the Father_. He isn't thinking now of the effect of all this on
them. That's past. He is alone in spirit with the Father, talking out
freely even as though actually quite alone.

We are in the innermost holy of holies here. The heart of the world's
life is its literature. The heart of a