messengers of the whole message, and we must see that we are giving the message in its fulness, or else there may be souls unsaved who might be saved by the very part of it which we leave out. We might be astonished if we catechised our people as to what we have really taught them in ten years. Have we simply given them a series of moral exhortations, or the same part of the message, year after year, and not the whole message? (6) Then, lastly, we must seal the message with our lives. "Do you really mean to say"--I believe it was a girl who asked the question when present for the first time at an Ordination Service--"do you mean to say that every clergyman I have ever met has been through that?" Well, apparently we do not always give the impression that we have. The messenger has to seal the message by his life, and by conduct consistent with such a trust, but also he has got to seal it, if necessary, with his death.[21] Pheidippides died "In the shout for his meed." There ought to be no hesitation about going to infectious cases if we are called to do so. I am always quoting what Bishop King told us in one of his pastoral lectures. He was warning us against being nervous or having presentiments. He said: "I had a presentiment that I should die when I was twenty-six. And, sure enough, after I was ordained, the smallpox came to the parish where I was working. I had to go to the patients, and I had to sit up with them, and bury one myself. 'Here,' I thought, 'is my presentiment coming true; I am twenty-six.' But," he said to us in the lecture-hall, "I am here, gentlemen, this morning." Therefore we should make it a rule that what little risk there is in our profession we should take, after seeing to all needful precautions. And if it be so that we die in the course of our duty through some epidemic, we shall die at our posts, and be doing what a messenger ought to do. [21] In giving the substance of this address at a Quiet Day for the chaplains of the Grand Fleet this summer, I felt the touching appropriateness of this illustration, as no less than sixteen naval chaplains had lost their lives during the war. "'Well,' cried he, 'Emperor, by GOD'S grace We've got you Ratisbon! The marshal's in the market-place, And you'll be there anon To see your flag-bird flap his vans Where I, to heart's desire, Perched him!' The Chief's eye flashed, his plans Soared up again like fire. "The Chief's eye flashed; but presently Softened itself, as sheathes A film the mother-eagle's eye When her bruised eaglet breathes: 'You're wounded!' 'Nay,' his soldier's pride Touched to the quick, he said: 'I'm killed, Sire!' And, his Chief beside, Smiling, the boy fell dead." That was a young soldier, a messenger, who came to tell Napoleon of the success of his arms. It is called simply "An Incident of the French Camp."[22]