upon the same altars
of sacrifice. The mourning of those who will not be comforted rises from
alien lands together with our own in a common broken intercession. How
little is the 882 feet of the "monster" that we launched compared with
the arc of the rainbow we can see even in our grief spanning the frozen
boreal mist!

"The best of what we do and are,
Just God, forgive!"

THE ANCIENT SACRIFICE

And still our work must go on. It is the business of men and women
neither to give way to unavailing grief nor to yield to the crushing
incubus of despair, but to find hope that is at the bottom of
everything, even at the bottom of the sea where that glorious virgin of
the ocean is dying. "And when she took unto herself a mate
She must espouse the everlasting sea."

Even so, for any progress of the race, there must be the ancient
sacrifice of man's own stubborn heart, and all his pride. He must
forever "lay in dust life's glory dead." He cannot rise to the height it
was intended he should reach till he has plumbed the depths, till he has
devoured the bread of the bitterest affliction, till he has known the
ache of hopes deferred, of anxious expectation disappointed, of dreams
that are not to be fulfilled this side of the river that waters the
meads of Paradise. There still must be a reason why it is not an unhappy
thing to be taken from "the world we know to one a wonder still," and so
that we go bravely, what does it matter, the mode of our going? It was
not only those who stood back, who let the women and children go to
the boats, that died. There died among us on the shore something of the
fierce greed of bitterness, something of the sharp hatred of passion,
something of the mad lust of revenge and of knife-edge competition.
Though we are not aware of it, perhaps, we are not quite the people that
we were before out of the mystery an awful hand was laid upon us all,
and what we had thought the colossal power of wealth was in a twinkling
shown to be no more than the strength of an infant's little finger, or
the twining tendril of a plant.

"Lest we forget; lest we forget!"

{"illustration", really "music" Lyrics =

God of mercy and compassion, Look with pity on my pain; Hear a mournful,
broken spirit Prostrate at Thy feet complain; Many are my foes and
mighty; Strength to conquer I have none; Nothing can uphold my goings
But they blessed Self alone. AMEN

{2nd Stan