great things of the world from him. This was a faith which must fail
that it might grow. Imperfection must fail that strength may come in its
place. It is well for the weak that their faith should fail them, for
it may at the moment be resting its wings upon the twig of some brittle
fancy, instead of on a branch of the tree of life.

But, again, what was it in his mother's look and tone that should work
the change in our Lord's mood? The request implied in her words could
give him no offence, for he granted that request; and he never would
have done a thing he did not approve, should his very mother ask him.
The _thoughts of_ the mother lay not in her words, but in the expression
that accompanied them, and it was to those thoughts that our Lord
replied. Hence his answer, which has little to do with her spoken
request, is the key both to her thoughts and to his. If we do not
understand his reply, we _may_ misunderstand the miracle--certainly we
are in danger of grievously misunderstanding him--a far worse evil. How
many children are troubled in heart that Jesus should have spoken to his
mother as our translation compels them to suppose he did speak! "Woman,
what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come." His hour for
working the miracle _had_ come, for he wrought it; and if he had to do
with one human soul at all, that soul must be his mother. The "woman,"
too, sounds strange in our ears. This last, however, is our fault: we
allow words to sink from their high rank, and then put them to degraded
uses. What word so full of grace and tender imagings to any true man as
that one word! The Saviour did use it to his mother; and when he called
her _woman_, the good custom of the country and the time was glorified
in the word as it came from his lips _fulfilled_, of humanity; for those
lips were the open gates of a heart full of infinite meanings. Hence
whatever word he used had more of the human in it than that word had
ever held before.