confession of his sin, and whispered to him softly of the Lamb of God. There is no sense of unreality in religion now for me. There are no weary uncertainties, no melancholy sense of beating the air in what I teach. He who will try to live the life of Jesus for a single day, and in such few particulars as may lie within his scope, will at once realize the presence of Jesus with him. In the practice of love comes the manifestation of the Lover, the drawing of the soul into the bosom of that Christ who was the very love of God, and the exchange of our poor proud carnal heart for the tender heart that yearned over Magdalene, was moved with compassion for the people, and broke upon the Cross. A LOVER OF MEN _THE CRADLE CROSS_ _"What shall I ask for Thee, my child?" Said Mary Mother, stooping dawn Above the Babe all undefiled. "O let Him wear a kingly crown."_ _From wise men's gifts she wrought the crown, The robe inwove with many a gem, Beside the Babe she laid them down. He wept, and would have none of them._ _"What shall I get for Thee, my Child?" Unto the door she slowly went, And wove a crown of thorn-boughs wild, He took it up, and was content._ _Upon the floor she gathered wood, And made a little Cross for Him; The Child smiled for He understood, And Mary watched with eyes grown dim._ _"Since these He doth prefer to gold," She sadly said, "Let it be so; He sees what I cannot behold, He knows what I can never know."_ _That night the eyes of Mary saw A Cross of stars set in the sky, Which after it the heavens did draw, And this to her was God's reply._ XI A LOVER OF MEN When I recollect these experiences, and the almost breathless sense of joy which accompanied them, I can only marvel that I lived so many years without discovering the path that led to them. The path was quite plain, and nothing concealed it from me but my own pride. I could even see with distinctness those who trod it, not only the saints of far-off days, but men like Father Dolling, and women whose pale intense faces met mine from beneath the quaint ugliness of Salvation Army bonnets. These soldiers of the League of Service moved everywhere around me in the incessant processions of a tireless love. I knew their works, and there was no hour when my heart did not go out to them in sympathy. Why was it that I was only sympathizer and spectator, never comrade?