It seems a particularly hopeful thing that, although war has not yet been recognized as a mere relic of the barbarous past, in the midst of its bloodshed there are to be heard the hurrying feet of messengers of mercy and help. One of the strongest forces now making for a day of lasting peace is the beautiful suggestion that comes from the spirit of those who make it their aim to help while others destroy. The spirit of positive service will endure long after the work of destruction has been forsaken. Those who assist in such a task will suffer no regrets. The work of M. Dunant has been significant in the cause of peace. The Nobel prize went to him in 1901 for distinguished services in behalf of international arbitration and conciliation. The day will yet come when the world will see the realization of his great dream of an age of brotherly kindness. Words (1917) Words determine the trend of human events. They make sad or glad the years we live. Like flowers or tares sown along the highway of life, they make every landscape a little brighter or a little less lovely. The tongue is equally capable of being the messenger of angels or of spirits of evil. It can sting like an adder. A thrust of the dagger or the sharp sting of a bullet, and all is over; but the sting of a hard word abides through the years. It warps, withers, and embitters everything it touches. The human heart shrivels under it like the drooping of a tender plant beneath the direct rays of the burning sun. But a word in due season, how good is it! It helps the weary to take courage again. It helps the broken life to make another effort. It revives drooping hopes and purposes. It counts for more than could a gift of gold or a bestowal of power. A dozen years ago a school boy was standing, tired and discouraged, in the shadow of a dark stairway on the public square of the town. He was away from home, and he was almost down to his last cent. He was not sure whether his hard efforts were worth the while. He heard an approaching step. It was one of his teachers. He drew farther back, not expecting the teacher to see him, but the teacher did. He stopped and said a good word for something the young fellow had done. That was all it took to put fresh courage into a weary heart. Today that boy, now become a man, is still toiling on, trying to do something worth the doing. He is still at it for the sake of a simple sentence or two—in due season. The value of a word is so great that the name best befits the nature of the Master. In the first chapter of the Gospel according to John, we find that Jesus is repeatedly referred to as the Word of God. He is, indeed, an expression of that which men had so long thought to be inexpressible. A Word, made flesh, He came and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory.