If they are facts we must look at them in strict connection with that Ideal Life to which they seem to form the almost natural accompaniment.
The Life itself is the great miracle.

When we come to see it as it really is, and to enter, if even in some dim and groping way, into its inner recesses, we feel ourselves abashed and dumb.

Yet this self-evidential character is found in portions of the narrative that are quite unmiraculous.

These, perhaps, are in reality the most marvellous, though the miracles themselves will seem in place when their spiritual significance is understood and they are ranged in order round their common centre.

Doubtless some elements of superstition may be mixed up in the record as it has come down to us.