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it faded out, while the coloring of the great master endured. They speculated as to why it
Some said he got his colors in the Far East, and they got theirs in the same market, but they did not find his secret. Others said it must be because he had found some new material, and they went into his studio, and found there just the common materials with which any artist could do the work. Finally they sent one to ask the old master if he would not kindly explain to them the secret of his enduring colors. He only bowed his head, and worked on in silence. One day he died, and when they were preparing his body for burial, they found upon his left breast the scars of a great wound, as large as the palm of a man's hand, which had been punctured around the outer edges, and then they understood that the secret was in the fact that with his own hand he had drawn his own life blood to give the qualities of beauty and durability to the canvas upon which he painted. “A highly fanciful representation !" I grant you that argument, and yet it has in it a great lesson. The great need of the Church of God in this day is that the men and women who constitute its membership everywhere shall be willing to put their life blood in its great work of the salvation of the individual and of the building of the Kingdom of our God in righteousness and brotherhood throughout the world. That is the great need. We never amount to much until we put our life blood into our efforts. We never
become artists for God until we mix our color with our own life's blood. And this is
challenge to you. It is God's call to every man in this day of great trying need that he shall put his life blood into the effort to make this a better, a brighter, a more glorious, a more humane, a more divine world, toward the bringing in of the day of which Tennyson sang:
“When all men's good
THE PEACE MESSAGE OF W. T. STEAD
J. A. MACDONALD, LL.D. "We also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses!" With that inspiring challenge the Hebrew Christians of the olden time were urged to more patient endurance and more steadfast endeavor. They were encouraged to regard their little lives as the observed of those unseen observers, the saints and heroes who crowd the galleries of Hebrew history. A vivid sense of that alert and interested audience nerved them to more heroic effort. In that radiant presence of the glorified dead even the least of the living Hebrews could run his race with patience and the most faint-hearted could fight the good fight of faith.
And may not we also, we men of this later day and this western world, have like faith to believe that in this hour of wonder and mystery the shining science round about us may be crammed with our triumphant dead? If that be true, if the spirits of our departed friends do indeed watch with interest the affairs of human life, then I dare to think that pressing into the forefront of those cohorts about us, "the unuttered, the unseen, the alive, the aware," there is that rugged, strong, heroic soul whose purpose it was in this lower world to stand in this very place tonight and at this very hour to speak
home to our hearts his message of “Universal Peace.”
W. T. Stead looked forward to this hour. In his heart there burned a message to this Congress of the Men and Religion Movement of America. It was his hope that from this place a line of power would go out into all the world. A whole lifetime of thought and effort and passionate pleading would have gathered itself up into one appeal for
international good-will and the world's peace. At the very moment when the Titanic struck the fatal iceberg he was in his stateroom eagerly at work on the address which he was crossing the Atlantic to speak to us this very hour. And now that his voice is beyond our hearing, and as I, his friend, stand in the place assigned to him, of this I am sure, that could I catch his words he would say: "Waste no time on me or on what I have done or tried to do, but speak, as I would have spoken, a straight, strong word for the cause into which I put the sweat of my life and the blood of my soul.”
William T. Stead was ordained a prophet of universal peace. For it and for its sake he faced the powers and potentates, he pleaded with kings and czars and emperors, he wrought with prime ministers and presidents and secretaries, he fought with the beasts of hate and greed in every Ephesus of the world, and for half a lifetime he endured the fierce contradiction of the fire-eating jingoes of every land. For
peace he "was ever a fighter.” Had he been sure that by his tragic martyrdom these "two empires by the sea” would have been bound in a league of peace, on the deck of the sinking Titanic he would have held high that good gray head, and out of the horror and darkness he would have greeted the unseen with a cheer
Mr. Stead was one of my best friends in British journalism. Our paths crossed many times. We joined hands in more than one struggle for peace.
His word was ever for national honor and international good-will. In June last, my last day in London was spent in his home. The burden of his heart was the problem of enlisting the press of Britain and America in a resolute fight against the war syndicates that everywhere menace the peace of the world. Most of all did he long for the Anglo-American arbitration treaty, and he did his share in securing for it the support of British statesmen and of British public opinion. His very last word when I saw him the last time was: “Remember the Englishspeaking fraternity, and that in it Canada holds the key-position."
What words Mr. Stead would have spoken lad he been here tonight no man can say Speech and speaker went down into the silence of the sea.
But two things he might have done: he might have made us face the awful facts of war, and he might have heartened us with the confident evangel of peace.