How shall I dare to describe the Master!  His personality defies description.  It left none cold who came in contact with it.  It was attractive not only by humility and gentleness, but more by active power, and by such sacred and fiery anger as had never before been seen in any one.  People were never tired of looking at the man with the tall, handsome figure.  His head was crowned with lightly curling, reddish, bright-looking hair, which hung down soft and heavy at the side and back, and floated over His shoulders.  His brow was broad and white, for no sunbeam could penetrate the shade formed by His hair.  He had a strong, straight nose, more like that of a Greek than of a Jew, and His red lips were shaded with a thick beard.  And His eyes were wonderful, large, dark eyes, with a marvellous fire in them.  Ordinarily it was a fire that burnt warm and soft, but at times it shone with a great glow of happiness, or sparkled with anger, like a midsummer storm by night in the mountains of Lebanon.  On that account many called Him “fiery eye.”  He wore a long, straight gown, without hat or staff.  He generally wore sandals on His feet, but sometimes He forgot to put them on, for in His spiritual communings He did not perceive the roughness of the road.  So He wandered through the stony desert, as through the flowery meadows of the fertile valleys.  When His companions complained of the storm or heat, and tore their limbs on the sharp stones and thorns, He remained calm and uncomplaining.  He did not, like the holy men of the East, seek for hardships, but He did not fear them.  He was an enemy of all external trappings, because they distracted the attention from the inner life, and by their attractions might induce a false appearance of reality.  He gladly received invitations to the houses of the joyful, and rejoiced with them; at table He ate and drank with moderation.  He added to the pleasures of the table by narrating parables and legends, by means of which He brought deep truths home to the people.  Since He left the little house at Nazareth, He possessed no worldly goods.  What He needed in His wanderings for Himself and His followers, He asked of those who had possessions.  His manner was often rough and spiced with bitter irony, even where He proved Himself helpful and sympathetic.  Towards His disciples, whom He loved deeply—­expecially young John—­He always showed Himself absorbed in His mission to make strong, courageous, God-fearing men out of weak creatures.  He was so definite about what He liked and what He disliked, that even the blindest could see it.  He suffered no compromise between good and evil.  He specially disliked ambiguous speakers, hypocrites, and sneaks; He preferred to have to do with avowed sinners.

One of His fundamental traits was to be yielding in disposition, but unflinching in His teaching.  He avoided all personal dislikes, hatreds, all that might poison the heart.  His soul was trust and kindness.  So high did He rank kindness, and so heavily did he condemn selfishness, that one of His disciples said, to sin from kindness brought a man nearer to God than to do good through selfishness.  The hostility and reverses He met with He turned into a source of happiness.  Happiness!  Did not that word come into the world with Jesus?