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 family, His  own  village,  into  the  rough  world  beyond. That Brother,  the  most  beautiful  among  the  sons  of men — as  fair  and  as  tender  as  a  maiden — pale  and slender and  strangely  sad,  but,  withal,  unspeakably commanding — kind and  good  to  all,  but  especially the lover  and  the  well-beloved  of  the  little  ones. That Brother,  whose  wondrous  charity  led  Him  to cure  the  demented  boy;  to  take  the  ruler's  little dead daughter  in  His  arms  and  breathe  new  life  into her; to  shed  tears  with  Mary  and  Martha  and  console them  by  raising  their  dead  brother  Lazarus  to life;  to  stop  the  funeral  of  the  widow's  son  and  give back to  the  poor  heartbroken  mourner  the  sole hope and  joy  of  her  declining  years. O my  Jesus! when we  think  of  all  your  goodness,  we  are  not  content with  offering  you  the  purest  of  all  love — the  love of a  brother  for  a  brother — we  want  to  prove  our love — we want  to  suffer  that  you  may  not  suffer — we want  to  die  that  you  may  live. But no;  Our  Lord is too  generous  for  that;  He  would  sooner  suffer Himself than  see  us  suffer. All He  asks  of  us  is  to come  and  see  if  there  be  woe  like  unto  His  woe. Come and  see — and,  oh ! my poor  Brother,  what  do  we see? We see  Him  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  crowd  of  soldiers— 'the  most  savage  and  brutal  men,  probably, God ever  created. And why  is  He  here? Why has He left  Nazareth? He is  here  on  account  of  His own goodness  and  the  wickedness  of  men. For He went  around  the  whole  country,  with  His  Apostles, doing good,  but  men  took  it  ill  of  Him;  they  began to envy  Him  His  supernatural  power  and  hate  Him