She must espouse the everlasting sea."


Even so, for any progress of the race, there must be the
ancient sacrifice of man's own stubborn heart, and all his pride.
He must forever "lay in dust life's glory dead." He cannot
rise to the height it was intended he should reach till he has
plumbed the depths, till he has devoured the bread of the
bitterest affliction, till he has known the ache of hopes deferred,
of anxious expectation disappointed, of dreams that are not
to be fulfilled this side of the river that waters the meads of
Paradise. There still must be a reason why it is not an unhappy
thing to be taken from "the world we know to one a
wonder still," and so that we go bravely, what does it matter,
the mode of our going? It was not only those who stood
back, who let the women and children go to the boats, that
died. There died among us on the shore something of the
fierce greed of bitterness, something of the sharp hatred of
passion, something of the mad lust of revenge and of knife-
edge competition. Though we are not aware of it, perhaps,
we are not quite the people that we were before out of the
mystery an awful hand was laid upon us all, and what we had
thought the colossal power of wealth was in a twinkling shown
to be no more than the strength of an infant's little finger,
or the twining tendril of a plant.

"Lest we forget; lest we forget!"

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