that mortal men should suggest _God_ to the world!
There is something almost melting in the way His contemporaries, and
John especially, speak of the influence of Christ. John lived himself
in daily wonder at Him; he was overpowered, over-awed, entranced,
transfigured. To his mind it was impossible for any one to come under
this influence and ever be the same again. "Whosoever abideth in Him
sinneth not," he said. It was inconceivable that he should sin, as
inconceivable as that ice should live in a burning sun, or darkness
coexist with noon. If any one did sin, it was to John the simple proof
that he could never have met Christ. "Whosoever sinneth," he exclaims,
"hath not seen _Him_, neither known _Him_." Sin was abashed in this
Presence. Its roots withered. Its sway and victory were forever at an
end.
But these were His contemporaries. It was easy for _them_ to be
influenced by Him, for they were every day and all the day together.
But how can we mirror that which we have never seen? How can all this
stupendous result be produced by a Memory, by the scantiest of all
Biographies, by One who lived and left this earth eighteen hundred
years ago? How can modern men to-day make Christ, the absent Christ,
their most constant companion still?