When Leonardo da Vinci resolved to paint the Last Supper, he threw all his energies into the work. He labored early and late. No pains were spared by him. He pondered devoutly those pages of the New Testament which record the first sacramental feast, in order that he might do his best to realize and reproduce the memorable scene. At length his task was done. Having given the finishing stroke, he invited a few confidential friends to a private inspection. They gazed attentively, and various remarks were made. An observation from one of them, however, led, as will be seen, to unexpected results. He spoke with great admiration of a golden chalice represented as being on the table at which our Lord and His disciples sat. Its shape, color, size, were all that could be desired.
"That," exclaimed the critic, "is the most beautiful object in the picture." Hearing what was said, the artist took up a brush, and dipped it in black paint, and deliberately smeared it over the whole canvas. He soon explained it-- "If," he said, "what you tell me is true, then my picture is a failure, for I meant my Master's face to be the chief and most beautiful object."
All are artists; a good or bad picture each of us is painting--the picture of life. Too often, alas! men make inferior things the most conspicuous objects on the canvas of their daily history, bestowing rich colors and careful handicraft upon trifles. But the Savior should be the grand center of our souls, and should have our chief and first attention.
T. Stevenson
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