The Centurion's Story

beginning to glow. At a little distance I drew rein and looked back at Golgotha. His cross was there outlined against the sky. I felt myself in the grip of a mighty passion of doubt and wonder! Who was he? Who was he? I would go back and see!

I dismounted beneath his cross and gazed upward, unmindful of the strange looks which my soldiers cast upon me. Tears came to my eyes, old campaigner though I was, tears of grief, of penitence, of dawning faith. I knelt; I prostrated myself before the Christ who hung dead on that accursed tree. I rose again and saw him. Dead? Nay, living!--living evermore in the glory which he had with the Father before the world was! The truth went surging irresistibly through my soul; until at length, able to restrain myself no longer, I cried, caring not though the world heard me, "Verily, this was the Son of God!"

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I am old now, and the end draws near. For half a century I have loved and served Him. I have known trials and sorrows not a few, but His pre