Then Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he came forth from God, and was going to God, arose from supper, and laying aside his garments, took a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was girded. And so he came in turn to Peter.
Peter said to him, “Lord, thou shalt never wash my feet.”
Jesus answered, “If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me.”
“Lord, not my feet only,” said Peter, “but my hands and my head.”
Then came that dark moment when the man called Judas received the morsel of bread dipped in wine. “What thou doest, do quickly,” said the Master, with a look of full understanding which penetrated the dismal labyrinth of the man’s soul like a flash of blinding light.
Judas ran violently out of the house, and the darkness swallowed him. He knew himself at last. He was no eager patriot, no doubting disciple, anxious to force a triumphant issue. He ground his teeth in a very fury of rage and hatred, as he sped on his terrible mission.
The beggar child, drowsing on the cold stones without, shuddered at sound of that ominous, hurrying footfall. “My Father will take care of him,” he murmured, and again slept.
Within that dimly-lighted upper chamber the compassionate Master was trying to prepare the little company of unsuspecting disciples for the darker hours just before them. “All ye shall be offended because of me this night,” he said sorrowfully. “For it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad. But after I am raised up, I will go before you into Galilee.”
Peter answered in his bold, positive way, “Although all shall be offended, yet will not I.”
Jesus said to him, “Verily, I say unto thee, that this night, before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice.”