possible, place another vast European war out of the range of practical
politics.

To tens of thousands there has come the ceaseless yearning for

The touch of a vanished hand,
The sound of a voice that is still.


Now notice how S. Paul deals with the matter. "That ye sorrow not as
others which have no hope." There is no injunction here not to sorrow
at all; that would be contrary to human nature, and would bespeak
callousness rather than resignation. Our Blessed Lord wept at the grave
of Lazarus, and in so doing sanctified human grief. The keenest faith,
to which the other world is an absolute reality; the fullest hope of the
sure and certain resurrection for the dear one; the most disciplined and
submissive will which accepts unquestioningly the dispensations of the
Father; all these are not proof against the natural grief at the removal
of a loved one from this sphere of tender intimacies, into another,
where we can only commune with him in thought and prayer.

How often this is illustrated at the death of a chronic invalid who has
suffered much. With tears streaming down the cheeks, the mourner will
say, "I am so thankful he is at rest." No selfish, rebellious side of
grief is exhibited by those tears; only human sorrow, blending in loving
harmony with perfect resignation.

Now notice carefully the ground on which S. Paul bases the Christian's
hope for the departed; first, faith in the death and resurrection of
Christ; "if we believe that Jesus died and rose again." It is a mere