He is the same Christ of love and compassion; and whoever attempts to put in His place a Christ of hate and pitilessness, blasphemes His sacred name, and will one day pay the awful penalty of that blasphemy. I have seen face to face the Christ who walked the world in Galilee. Are you startled, you Christians who hope to see Christ when _you_ die? Why should I not see Him? Have I not served, in life and in death? Am I not serving now, to the best of my individual power? Yes, I have seen the Christ. Look for Him to come again “in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory,” though He may not walk the earth again in material form. What need is there for Him to walk the earth now in a mortal body, when more and more men and women are opening their spiritual sight, so that they can see Him while still held in their robes of flesh? I have told you of the Beautiful Being on the battlefields, and now I want to tell you of the Christ on the Battlefields. He was never afraid of pain, that son of Light, who showed the way of pain to the shrinking souls of men. The cross of Christ is a living thing, and its power will be felt more and more as the tired world recovers itself after its baptism of blood. When the half-gods go the gods arrive. When Mars, the half-god, the war-god, is sent back to his place, the god of love and pity can make Himself seen in the hearts of men and women. They are wise who hope for the Christian faith a renaissance of life. It had grown old and indifferent. Thinking itself saved, it had forgotten to save the world. Feeling itself secure, it let its security be surprised by Mars, the war-god. Many a soul in its last hour of agony has seen the Christ; many a soul in France, in Belgium, in Poland, and on the war-rocked sea has recognized the Friend that sticketh closer than a brother. Many a mother has seen in true vision her dying son held up by the Christ. Catholic, Protestant, “free-thinker,” they all have called on the Son of Mary to comfort their sons in the last dread moment and beyond. From the shrieking hell in Belgium I yesterday saw a man, a common soldier, go straight from death into the high place beyond even astral turmoil, because in dying he called on the Christ of his mother’s faith to take him away from strife to the heaven of peace above the world. Many have gone that way since this trial by fire began, but more have remained below. Few have faith enough for the great flight. Whatever religion you work with, let it include the Christ and the cross of Christ! What other comfort is there for the soul that _feels_ its pain and feels the awful sum of the world’s pain at this time? Philosophy is good, I have called myself a philosopher; but love is the highest reach of philosophy, and Christ is the highest reach of love.