It is John who tells us that as they sat at the table “Jesus ... was troubled in spirit.”  The apostle closest to Him in position and sympathy would be the first to detect that special trouble, and the greatness of it, even before the cause of it was known.  But that was not long.  “Jesus said, Verily, verily, I say unto you that one of you shall betray Me.”  Such is John’s record of Christ’s declaration.  It is in His Gospel alone that we find the double “Verily” introducing Christ’s words, thus giving a deeper emphasis and solemnity than appears in the other Evangelists.  A comparison of this declaration of Christ as given by the four, illustrates this fact.  John immediately follows this statement of the betrayal with another, peculiar to himself.  Its shows his close observation at the time, and the permanence of his impression.  What he noticed would furnish a grand subject for the most skilful artist, beneath whose picture might be written, “The disciples looked one on another, doubting of whom He spake.”  As John gazed upon them, raising themselves on their divans, looking first one way, then another, from one familiar face to another, exchanging glances of inquiry and doubt, each distrustful of himself and his fellow, he beheld what angels might have looked upon with even deeper interest.  There has been no other occasion, nor can there be, for such facial expressions—­a blending of surprise, consternation, fear and sorrow.  Was John one of those who “began to question among themselves which of them it was that should do this thing”?  Did he take his turn as “one by one” they “began to say, ...  Is it I, Lord?” If so it must have been in the faintest whisper; and so the blessed answer, “No.”  But we must believe that Jesus and John understood each other too well for any such question and answer.  The definite answer was not yet given to any one by the Master, yet with an awful warning, He repeated His prediction of the betrayal.

Peter was impatient to ask Jesus another question.  At other times he was bold to speak, but now he was awed into silence.  Yet he felt that he must know.  The great secret must be revealed.  There was one through whom it might possibly be done.  So while the disciples looked one on another, Peter gazed on John with an earnest, inquiring look, feeling that the beloved disciple might relieve the awful suspense.  “Peter therefore beckoneth to him, and saith unto him, Tell us who it is of whom He speaketh.”  So “He, leaning back, as he was, on Jesus’ breast, saith unto Him, Lord, who is it?  Jesus therefore answereth, He it is for whom I shall dip the sop and give it him.”  Did John on one side of Jesus hear the whispered question of Judas on the other, “Is it I, Rabbi?” He watched for the sign which Jesus said He would give.  The morsel was given to Judas.  That was more than a sign, more than kindness to an unworthy guest; it was the last of thousands of loving acts to one whom Jesus had chosen, taught and warned—­yet