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 of Mary,  and  the  dreary  moans  of  the  dying  Christ. " It  is  finished,"  He  cries,  and  soon  again  through  the darkness comes  a  long,  last,  loud  scream  of  pain: " Father,  into  Thy  hands  I  commend  My  spirit"  The earth trembles  and  the  storm-cloud  bursts,  and  men. fly for  their  lives,  only  to  run  into  the  arms  of  the newly risen  dead. The thunder  booms  and  the  lightning flashes  through  the  darkness,  and  lights  up,  with a ghastly  glare,  the  mount  and  the  cross  and  the white limp  figure  of  the  dead  Saviour. Nature is  convulsed at  the  death  of  Nature's  God;  all  men  cry  out as I  cry  out  here  to-night:  "  Brother,  Saviour,  God, we  have  come  and  we  have  seen  and  we  own  there never  was  and  never  can  be  woe  like  unto  Thy  woe."

" Have  pity  on  Me,  have  pity  on  Me,  at  least  you,t My  friends." O Brethren,  is  there  a  heart  here  tonight so  stony  as  to  refuse  Him  that  pity  which  the Saviour begs? He is  our  Brother  and  Mary  is  our Mother. In their  blessed  company  we  have  spent  the happiest days  of  our  lives. He toiled  for  us  little  ones with all  the  great  love  of  an  elder  Brother. He prepared us  the  choicest  food — His  sacred  body;  and  the choicest drink — His  precious  blood;  and  kept  us clothed  constantly  in  the  royal  garment  of  His precious grace. Mary, too,  watched  over  us  and cared for  us  with  all  the  infinite  love  which  only  a fond  mother's  heart  can  feel. And can  we,  her younger children,  His  younger  brothers  and  sisters —can we  stand  around  that  cross  unmoved,  and  refuse our  dying  Brother  and  our  martyred  Mother, Mary the  tenderest  pity  of  our  hearts? Especially