ugh his sacrifice and death:--

"For three and thirty years, a living seed,
A lonely germ, dropt on our waste world's side,
Thy death and rising, thou didst calmly bide;
Sore compassed by many a clinging weed
Sprung from the fallow soil of evil and need;
Hither and thither tossed, by friends denied;
Pitied of goodness dull, and scorned of pride;
Until at length was done the awful deed,
And thou didst lie outworn in stony bower--
Three days asleep--oh, slumber godlike, brief,
For Man of sorrows and acquaint with grief,
Heaven's seed, Thou diedst, that out of thee might tower
Aloft, with rooted stem and shadowy leaf
Of all Humanity the crimson flower."

People said that Harriet Newell's beautiful life was wasted when she
gave it to missions, and then died and was buried far from home--bride,
missionary, mother, saint, all in one short year,--without even telling
to one heathen woman or child the story of the Saviour. But was that
lovely young life indeed wasted? No; all this century her name has
been one of the strongest inspirations to missionary work, and her
influence has brooded everywhere, touching thousands of hearts of
gentle women and strong men, as the story of her consecration has been
told. Had Harriet Newell lived a thousand years of quiet, sweet life
at home, she could not have done the work that she did in one short
year by giving her life, as it seemed, an unavailing sacrifice. She
lost her life that she might save it. She died that she might live.
She offered herself a living sacrifice that she might become useful.

In heart and spirit we must all do the same if we would ever be a real
blessing in the world. We must be willing to lose our life--to
sacrifice ourself, to give up our own way, our own ease, our own
comfort, possibly even our own life; for there come times when one's
life must literally be lost in order to be saved.

It was in a mine in England. There had been a fearful explosion, and
the men came rushing up from the lower level, right into the danger of
the deathly afterblast; when the only chance of safety was in another
shaft. And one man knew this and stood there in the dangerous passage,
warning the men. When urged to go himself the safe way, he said, "No;
some one must stay here to guide the others." Is there any heroism of
this world's life finer than that?

It was at Fredericksburg, after a bloody battle. Hundreds of Union