loved and served as if she had the health she longed for. The
limitations of her stricken body meant the giving up of many dear
desires, of hopes that would have made life sweet and joyous, of
work she yearned to undertake.

Any of you who have had much to do with one stricken with a sore
disease, who knows he never can be well again, know that it is
not the sickness, the physical weakness and pain that make the
problem and the tragedy. It is the reconciling of the will to
surrender life's hopes and the readjustment of the life to the
conditions that have got to be, that nothing can change. That was
Helen Trounstine's problem and her tragedy. She sat down with her
fate and fought that fight and won it. It must have meant many
hours of untold darkness and suffering and bitter questioning and
struggle. But of such hours she gave us no outward sign. At least
I saw none in the years I knew her, except that finest one of
all, the victory of her soul in the glad and joyous doing of what
remained within her power.

It is not surprising that his addresses on Good Friday and his sermons
on Easter Day were more nearly adequate to those great days than is
commonly the case. He cared for these days tremendously, and never
ceased to be heartened by the throngs that crowded the old church,
filled up the chancel, and stood in the vestibule through the Three
Hours on Good Friday. It seemed as if the whole city was aroused as
people from offices and factories, and from the outlying districts came
to these special services year after year during his long rectorship. It
stirs the imagination to think of that gathering, the rich and the poor,
the highly-cultivated, and the meekly endowed, shop girls and clerks,
the faithful and those groping for faith, all drawn by the mysterious
fire kindled by this man of God. There was a concentrated intensity to
his preaching on these occasions, for he saw clearly and felt deeply the
tragedies of life. In that vibrant voice and in his passionate concern
for the soul of men, there burned a white-souled homage to God, and a
faith and love that spoke to each one's condition. Out of his long
brooding over the darkly colored stream of history, and the chequered
progress of Christianity of which his daily contact with the city's life
as well as his study gave him profound knowledge, there came forth
"great out-bursts of unshakable certainty which stand up like Alpine
pea