I have promised for some time to address a meeting at Bangor. I have been unable to do so because Ministers of the Crown have been working time and overtime, and I am sorry to say that we are not even able to make the best of the day of rest, the urgency is so great, the pressure is so severe. I had something to say today, otherwise I should not have been here, and I had something to say that required stating at once. This is the only day I had to spare. It is no fault of mine. It is because we are entirely absorbed in the terrible task which has been cast upon our shoulders. I happened to have met on Friday morning, before I decided to come down here, one of the most eminent Scottish divines, a great and old friend of mine, Dr. Whyte of Edinburgh. We were discussing what I have got to say today. I remarked to him, "I have only one day on which to say it, and as that is Sunday afternoon I am very much afraid my constituents won't listen to me." He replied, "If they won't have you, come to Scotland, and we will give you the best Sunday afternoon meeting you ever had." But I thought I would try Wales first. [Cheers.] He told me that in the Shorter Catechism you are allowed to do works of charity and necessity, and those who tell me that this is not work of necessity do not know the need, the dire need, of their country at this hour. At this moment there are Welshmen in the trenches of France facing cannon and death; the hammering of forges today is ringing down the church bells from one end of Europe to the other. When I know these things are going on now on Sunday as well as the week days I am not the hypocrite to say, "I will save my own soul by not talking about them on Sundays." [Cheers.] Do we understand the necessity? Do we realize it? Belgium, once comfortably well-to-do, is now waste and weeping, and her children are living on the bread of charity sent them by neighbors far and near. And France--the German Army, like a wild beast, has fastened its claws deep into her soil, and every effort to drag them out rends and tears the living flesh of that beautiful land. The beast of prey has not leaped to our shores--not a hair of Britain's head has been touched by him. Why? Because of the vigilant watchdog that patrols the deep for us; and that is my complaint against the British Navy. It does not enable us to realize that Britain at the present moment is waging the most serious war it has ever been engaged in. We do not understand it. A few weeks ago I visited France. We had a conference of the Ministers of Finance of Russia, France, Great Britain, and Belgium. Paris is a changed city. Her gayety, her vivacity, is gone. You can see in the faces of every man there, and of every woman, that they know their country is in the grip of grim tragedy. They are resolved to overcome it, confident that they will overcome it, but only through a long agony.