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 for His  very  goodness. The more  love  and  kindness He showed  them  the  more  they  hated  Him,  until, finally, they  decided  it  was  expedient  that  one  man, our innocent  Brother,  should  die  for  the  people. The more they  hated  Him  the  more  He  loved  them,  for even while  they  were  plotting  His  death,  He  was  giving His  Apostles  power  to  absolve  His  enemies,  and to change  bread  and  wine  into  His  body  and  blood, to be  food  and  drink  for  their  souls. But they  only hated Him  all  the  more — aye,  even  in  that  little band of  Apostles,  from  whom,  of  all  men,  He  might expect gratitude  and  love,  even  among  these  was  one who hated  Him — Judas;  who  rushed  from  the  room after a  sacrilegious  communion  to  sell  and  betray  his Friend into  the  hands  of  His  enemies. Oh! no wonder our poor  Lord  was  weary  of  life,  sorrowful,  sad  even unto death  as,  at  nightfall,  He  strayed  through  the silent solitude  of  the  Garden  of  Gethsemani! No wonder, I  say,  for  after  the  institution  of  the  Holy Eucharist He  seemed  to  have  put  away  His  divinity, to have  become  our  human,  mortal  Brother  in  very truth. Hence His  poor  human  nature,  finding  itself abandoned by  the  Divinity,  stood  aghast  at  the wickedness and  ingratitude  of  men,  at  the  enormity of the  sufferings  He  was  about  to  endure,  at  the uselessness of  these  sufferings  for  millions  of  mankind; and,  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief  and  fear,  He  turned to His  Apostles  for  comfort,  but  found  none,  for  they were asleep;  and  He  turned  to  His  Father  and begged to  be  spared  these  sufferings,  but  His  Father bade Him  drink  the  bitter  chalice  to  the  dregs.