An Easter Disciple | Page 7

there is to be a resurrection of the dead. Wide is the difference between
Cicero and the Christ. The one has spoken a mere opinion, so beautiful
in its phrase that it shall pass down into the future literature of men.
The other has spoken a revelation, and then has returned to prove that
revelation true. Which shall it be--Cicero or the Christ?
But to accept the Jewish Teacher means earthly loss. As he keeps guard
with himself through the night hours Quintus is wondering if he shall
incur the hostility of his father Marcus and shall be forced to sacrifice
his estates on the Palatine. He fancies also the grief of the fair Lucretia
when she learns that he has chosen an alien faith. And he remembers,
further, that in the choice of the Christus he is joining a company on
whom the Eastern world is already casting its withering contempt.
Cicero or the Christus. Which shall it be?

There are no struggles like the night wrestlings of the soul in matters of
religion. What words can measure the divers arguments, the opposing
considerations, the conflicting emotions that shape human choice?
Quintus stands at the point where soon--in the progress of the new
faith--Saul from Tarsus, Clement of Rome, and so many more of the
great spirits of that first era are to stand. The wrestlings of the night!
Then foul demons are abroad; and then God's good angels are
descending the ladders of the sky.
Soon comes a great moment. While the soul of Quintus is in wild
commotion, there falls upon him a mighty force which is not of earth.
Coming he knows not whence, but not invading the department of his
will, it impels him to the Christ. Transformed is this Roman knight,
who has been taught the doctrines of the Latin cult, and whose nation
can only feel disdain for a Galilaean who proposes to revolutionize the
ages. The words of the augur at Brundisium are having in truth a
strange fulfillment.
As if the Man were present on whom he had looked in the Porch of
Solomon. Quintus speaks his choice for the long eternities:
"Happen what may, I take thee, O Christus, for my Lord and Master. I
sacrifice my Roman knighthood for thee, if it shall be required. I
choose thee, because thou hast risen from the dead and hast proven that
there is another life for men."
Not Cicero, but Christ! The Roman knight has made the great decision.

V
THE VISION OF THE RISEN CHRIST
"After that, he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once."--Paul.
Once for himself was Quintus to see the Lord, before his departure
heavenward. When midnight hours afterward came to him in Italy, the
memory of that vision was golden. When, among the temples of the
gods in pagan Rome, men challenged his belief, his sufficient answer
was: "With mine own eyes I have seen the risen Teacher who has
revealed immortality to men." So did the first disciples of the faith who
bore its weightiest burdens, enjoy its highest privilege.
It was the disciple John who told Quintus of the opportunity to see the
risen Lord. In an hour of fellowship at Jerusalem--when the knight had
confessed his new allegiance--John spoke of the Master's wish. The

disciples who were in the city and its environs were to gather in Galilee
with those from that upper district. Once more would their Lord show
himself to all who believed on him, and would speak with them. Nor
did Quintus ever cease to rejoice that he was reckoned worthy to look
that day on the Conqueror of death.
With light feet the Jerusalem company, some six score in number,
made the journey north to Galilee. One subject only was on their lips,
as they followed the road through Samaria to Kurn Hattin, near the Sea
of Tiberias. Here the Lord at the opening of his mission had spoken his
nine blessings to needy mortals; most fitting it now was that on this
memorable hillside he should utter his farewell to those who had come
to believe on him. Thus would the circle of his teachings end where it
had begun. Bright was the picture. The glint of the sunlight on the
Galilaean sea so near at hand, with the uncounted flowers of the
spring-time that covered the lower plains, lent a charm to the scene that
Quintus remembered always.
At the outset the Roman convert is impressed with the goodly number
of those first disciples. They are not twelve or six score, but many more.
They greet each other with the salutation, "Peace be to you," and then
they rapturously add, "To-day we shall see our Lord." In that intimacy
which should always mark the followers of