What if Jesus had remained there, upon that Mount of Vision,
and himself stood before us as only a transfigured form of
glory? Where then would be the peculiarity of his work, and
its effect upon the world?

On the wall of the Vatican, untarnished by the passage of
three hundred years, hangs the masterpiece of Raphael, --his
picture of the Transfiguration. In the centre, with the
glistening raiment and the altered countenance, stands Jesus,
the Redeemer. On the right hand and on the left are his
glorified visitants; while, underneath the bright cloud, lie
the forms of Peter, and James, and John, gazing at the
transfigured Jesus, shading their faces as they look.
Something of the rapture and the awe that attracted the
apostles to that shining spot seems to have seized the soul
of the great artist, and filled him with his greatest
inspiration. But he saw what the apostles, at that moment,
did not see, and, in another portion of his picture, has
represented the scene at the foot of the hill, - the group
that awaited the descent of Jesus. . The poor possessed boy,
writhing, and foaming, and gnashing his teeth, -- his eyes,
as some say, in their wild rolling agony, already catching a
glimpse of the glorified Christ above; the baffled disciples,
the caviling scribes, the impotent physicians, the grief-worn
father, seeking in vain for help. Suppose Jesus had stayed
upon the mount, what would have become of that group of want,
and helplessness, and agony? Suppose Christ had remained in
the brightness of that vision forever, -- himself only a
vision of glory, and not an example of toil, and sorrow, and