"Why, in order to see the truth of what I am saying, look at the emblem
of your faith--the Cross. All its historical associations are those
of self-denial, and suffering for others. The Founder of your faith
endured death upon it. He was a great, good man like Socrates, though
no doubt a mistaken enthusiast. But what He meant He said plainly and
clearly, as, for instance, 'Whosoever doth not bear his cross and come
after Me cannot be My disciple.' I admit that in the past He had a
wonderful following. In the ages of martyrdom multitudes left all, and
endured all that He did, for His sake. But so there have been other
great leaders with equally devoted followers. But in this practical
age religious enthusiasm has but little chance. What crosses do the
members of the Church of the Holy Virgin take up? and what are borne
by your great rich church, Miss Winthrop? The shrewd people of this
day manage better, and put their crosses on the top of the church. I
suppose they reason that the stone tower can carry it for the whole
congregation, on the principle of a labor-saving machine. But, honestly,
your modern disciples are no more like their Master than one of the
pale, slim, white-kidded gentlemen who will be here to-night is like
Richard Coeur de Lion as he led a charge against the Moslems. Your
cross is dwindling to a mere pretty ornament--an emblem of a past that
is fast fading from men's memories. It will never have the power to
inspire the heart again, as when the Crusaders--"

At that moment their eyes were blinded by a sudden, dazzling light.
There was a general and startled exclamation, and then, awe-struck and
silent, they gazed as if spellbound upon a luminous cross blazing
before them.