thers
as one great family, joined together by one common Faith, one Holy
Baptism; or as one consecrated building, where high and low, rich and
poor, are all built into their appointed place, "Jesus Christ being the
head corner-stone." My brothers, try to be more wide, more liberal, more
impartial in your love for others, if you would learn the love of Christ
which is wider than the ocean, impartial as the sunshine--passing
knowledge.

Again, the love of Christ is wonderful in its effects. It makes the
brave still more heroic; it makes the timid courageous, the sad joyful,
the hardened tender. It was the love of Christ which made S. Stephen
brave in the hour of his martyrdom, and taught him to pray for his
murderers. In all the long roll of heroes there are none so great as
those who fought under the banner of Christ's love. Feeble old men,
little children, weak women, were transformed by that marvellous power;
they could do all things through Christ who strengthened them. They
suffered and died, but their death gave life to the faith of Christ. Did
you ever read, brethren, how the last fight of gladiators in the
Colosseum ended? It was when Rome had become Christian, but still the
cruel sports of the people had not been entirely given up. After a
famous victory, the Emperor, a feeble boy, and all the great men of Rome,
went to the crowded theatre to witness the amusements given in honour of
the triumph. After the harmless sports were over some gladiators entered
the arena armed with sharp swords. The people shouted with delight
because the old savage amusements of their heathen days were restored to
them. Suddenly an old man, dressed in the habit of a hermit, and unknown
to all, sprang into the arena, and declared that as Christian people they
must not suffer men to slay each other thus. An angry cry rose from the
eager crowd. The gladiators, disappointed of their gain, menaced the
hermit fiercely, crying, "back, old man, for thy life." But the stranger
stood fearless before that angry mob, he heeded not the swords of the
gladiators, nor the yells of the people, but solemnly protested against
the deed of blood. In another moment he lay dead on the red sand,
pierced by a dozen wounds. He died, but his words lived. When the
people saw the fearless courage of a weak old man, shame filled their
hearts; the sports were stopped, and never again did the gladiators fight
in the Colosseum. My brothers, if we a