ual heart, and afterward lifts all society forward. Thus unto
man slowly building up his character comes the supreme ideal, when
Jesus Christ stands forth fully revealed in His splendor. He is no
empty abstraction, no bloodless theory, but bone of our bone, brother
of our own body and breath, yet marred by no weakness, scarred by no
sin, tossing back temptations as some Gibraltar tosses back the sea's
billows and the bits of drift-wood. Strong, He subdued His strength in
the day of battle, and bore Himself like iron. Yet He was so gentle
that His white hand felt the fall of the rose leaf, while He inflected
His gianthood to the needs of the little child. Nor could He be holden
of the bands of death, for He clove a pathway through the grave, and
made death's night to shine like the day. "I have but one passion,"
said Tholuck. "It is He! it is He!" As Shakespeare first reveals to
the young poet his real riches of imagination, as Raphael first
unveils to the young artist the possibilities of color, so man knows
not his infinite capabilities until Jesus Christ stands forth in all
His untroubled splendor. Having Him, man has not only his Teacher and
Saviour, but also his Master and Model, fulfilling all the needs of
the highest manhood and the noblest character.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Modern Painters, vol. III, pg. 368.

ASPIRATIONS AND IDEALS

"As some most pure and noble face,
Seen in the thronged and hurrying street,
Sheds o'er the world a sudden grace,
A flying odor sweet,
Then passing leaves the cheated sense
Balked with a phantom excellence.

'So in our soul, the visions rise
Of that fair life we never led;
They flash a splendor past our eyes,
We start, and they are fled;
They pass and leave us with blank gaze,
Resigned to our ignoble days."

--_The Fugitive Ideal, by Wm. Watson._

"Contentment and aspiration are in every true man's
life."

"No bird can race in the great blue sky against a noble
soul. The eagle's wing is slow compared with the flight of
hope and love."--_Swing._

"We figure to ourselves
The thing we like, and then we build it up--
As chance will have it, on the rock or sand;
For time is tired of wandering o'er the world,
And home-bound fancy runs her bark ashore."

--_Taylor._

III

ASPIRATIONS AND IDEALS.

Man is a pilgrim