Princess Alice, the greatly beloved daughter of Queen Victoria, and great aunt to our King, was married to the Grand Duke of Hesse-Darmstadt. She had nursed her husband and daughters, the youngest of whom had died, through the then greatly dreaded diphtheria, when her only son was stricken. Though worn out by nursing, she insisted upon taking full charge of the suffering lad. One day, when the fever was at its height, he stretched his hands out to her and said, "Kiss me, mother," and she, breaking through the restraints of prudence, pressed upon his parched lips the kiss of a mother's love. That kiss cost her her life. And the heart of the world was moved when the story was told.
Jesus came to put the kiss of God's love upon sinful men, and it cost Him His life. "God commends His love toward us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us" (Rom. 5:8). But who cares anything about that? Prince Ernest Louis would have been an unnatural and hard-hearted son if he ever forgot that kiss of love that cost his royal mother her life, but what of the love of God made manifest in the death of His well beloved Son? What do men think of that? What do you think of it?