feeling, full, strong. An old man, who had lived much, suffered
much; whose brain was keenly alive, dominant; whose heart was
summer-warm with charity. He taught it to-night. He held up
Humanity in its grand total; showed the great world-cancer to
his people. Who could show it better? He was a Christian
reformer; he had studied the age thoroughly; his outlook at man
had been free, world-wide, over all time. His faith stood
sublime upon the Rock of Ages; his fiery zeal guided vast
schemes by which the Gospel was to be preached to all nations.
How did he preach it to-night? In burning, light-laden words he
painted Jesus, the incarnate Life, Love, the universal Man:
words that became reality in the lives of these people,--that
lived again in beautiful words and actions, trifling, but
heroic. Sin, as he defined it, was a real foe to them; their
trials, temptations, were his. His words passed far over the
furnace-tender's grasp, toned to suit another class of culture;
they sounded in his ears a very pleasant song in an unknown
tongue. He meant to cure this world-cancer with a steady eye
that had never glared with hunger, and a hand that neither
poverty nor strychnine-whiskey had taught to shake. In this
morbid, distorted heart of the Welsh puddler he had failed.

Eighteen centuries ago, the Master of this man tried reform in
the streets of a city as crowded and vile as this, and did not
fail. His disciple, showing Him to-night to cultured hearers,
showing the clearness of the God-power acting through Him,
shrank back from one coarse fact; that in birth and habit the
man Christ was thrown up from the lowest of the people: his
flesh, their flesh; their blood, his blood; tempted like them,
to brutalize day by day; to lie, to steal: the actual slime and