He goes in tears to put together again the fragments of the
few, small, pitiful things that belonged to him.

"Though Love may pine, and Reason chafe,
There came a Voice without reply."


The only comfort, all that can bring surcease of sorrow, is
that men fashioned in the image of their Maker rose to the
emergency like heroes, and went to their grave as bravely as
any who have given their lives at any time in war. The hearts
of those who waited on the land, and agonized, and were impotent
to save, have been laid 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