little fellow waking up, with his baby eyes so big, said "I think you've
been a long time coming."

Whenever I read these last words of Jesus or think of them, there comes up
a vision that floods out every other thing. It is of Jesus Himself
standing on that hilltop. His face is all scarred and marred, thorn-torn
and thong-cut. But it is beautiful, passing all beauty of earth, with its
wondrous beauty light. Those great eyes are looking out so yearningly,
_out_ as though they were seeing men, the ones nearest and those farthest.
His arm is outstretched with the hand pointing out. And you cannot miss
the rough jagged hole in the palm. And He is saying, _"Go ye."_ The
attitude, the scars, the eyes looking, the hand pointing, the voice
speaking, all are saying so intently, _"Go ye."_

And as I follow the line of those eyes, and the hand, there comes up an
answering vision. A great sea of faces that no man ever yet has numbered,
with answering eyes and outstretching hands. From hoary old China, from
our blood-brothers in India, from Africa where sin's tar stick seems to
have blackened blackest, from Romanized South America, and the islands,
aye from the slums, and frontiers, and mountains in the homeland, and from
those near by, from over the alley next to your house maybe, they seem to
come. And they are rubbing their eyes, and speaking. With lives so
pitifully barren, with lips mutely eloquent, with the soreness of their
hunger, they are saying, "You're a long time coming."

Shall we go? Shall we _not_ go? But how shall we best go? By keeping in
such close touch with Jesus that the warm throbbing of His heart is ever
against our own. Then will come a new purity into our lives as we go out
irresistibly attracted by the attraction of Jesus toward our fellows. And
then too shall go out of ourselves and out of our lives and service, a new