“But what else can we call it? And did not the Master himself say that his disciples would do even greater works than he himself did? And do you know, Mary, I find myself of late longing, with a feeling I cannot explain, for a superhuman vision, for a real manifestation of the divine presence that somehow I cannot avoid feeling will be given to Christian disciples of this age. I long for a real, actual, flesh-and-blood glimpse of Jesus. I feel at times as if I must see him face-to-face. He said to his disciples, ‘I am with you always, to the very end of the age.’ If he is really spiritually in the world, why may we not see him, really see him sometime? My heart cries out for him. Not necessarily to strengthen my faith, but to give him in person some expression of my love for him. And of late I keep wondering what Jesus would do and say in the world where we live. It is so different from the world in which he lived. I would give anything if I could see him and hear him and ask him questions. And I have wondered so often of late”—Henry Maxwell paused and looked over at his wife with deep thoughtfulness—“if it might be possible somehow for him to live on this earth again. It has been so long since he was here. And the world needs him to return again. It has fought and sinned and suffered and loved and endured all through these centuries, doing wondrous things in his name and for his sake. Ordinary men in one age of the world saw and felt and heard Jesus. Why should it not be possible for men of another age to have the same glory shine around them? Why should not God give his son to the world again and refresh its courage and strengthen its faith by a glimpse of him who once came so long ago?”

Mrs. Maxwell was startled by the deep and passionate outburst of her husband. During all the years of their married life and during his entire ministry, she had never heard anything like this. He had moved along the track of discipleship apparently satisfied with his devotion to the Master whose example he was trying to imitate. And his wife had not suspected this deep need to see him now, in person.

She rose and came over to him. He had paused again in front of the big window, and together husband and wife stood there, Mrs. Maxwell’s hand on his arm, with an anxious, troubled look on her face, wondering at these thoughts that seemed to be troubling her husband. But before she could speak, he had started forward and pointed eagerly out towards the farthest distance.

“There! It is out there again! That strange light! See, Mary? How it fills the sky! It cannot be twilight, for it is too late. And we have seen it now for more than a month. What is it?”