own life, and breathed into them
his own spirit. We think of the apostles as great men; they did become
great. Their influence filled many lands--fills all the world to-day.
They sit on thrones, judging all the tribes of men, But all that they
became, they became through the friendship of Jesus. He gave them all
their greatness. He trained them until their rudeness grew into
refined culture. No doubt he gave much time to them in private. They
were with him continually. They saw all his life.

It was a high privilege to live with Jesus those three years,--eating
with him, walking with him, hearing all his conversations, witnessing
his patience, his kindness, his thoughtfulness. It was almost like
living in heaven; for Jesus was the Son of God--God manifest in the
flesh. When Philip said to Jesus, "Lord, show us the Father, and it
sufficeth us," Jesus answered, "He that hath seen me hath seen the
Father." Living with Jesus was, therefore, living with God--his glory
tempered by the gentle humanity in which it was veiled, but no less
divine because of this. For three years the disciples lived with God.
No wonder that their lives were transformed, and that the best that was
in them was wooed out by the blessed summer weather of love in which
they moved.

"He chose twelve." Probably this was because there were twelve tribes
of Israel, and the number was to be continued. One evangelist says
that he sent them out two and two. Why by two and two? With all the
world to evangelize, would it not have been better if they had gone out
one by one? Then they would have reached twice as many points. Was it
not a waste of force, of power, to send two to the same place?

No doubt Jesus had reasons. It would have been lonely for one man to
go by himself. If there were two, one would keep the other company.
There was opposition to the gospel in those days, and it would have
been hard for one to endure persecution alone. The handclasp of a
brother would make the heart braver and stronger. We do not know how
much we owe to our companionships, how they strengthen us, how often we
would fail and sink down without them.

One of the finest definitions of happiness in literature is that given
by Oliver Wendell Holmes. "Happiness," said the Autocrat, "is four
feet on the fender." When his beloved wife was gone, and an old friend
came in to condole with him, he said, shaking his gray head, "Only two
feet on the fender now