self-interest; and, although, as in politics I stand aloof from party, so in matters of religious principles I stand aloof from sect and creed—it may be my misfortune, but to my poor mind all these shibboleths are so empty, so unsatisfying, and fall so far short of the eternal verities—I say this with all the sincerity of which I am capable, that when I sit and reflect upon this great world conflict in which we are engaged, I cannot help thinking there is something more than a mere human hand behind it. I don't profess to read the meaning of it; I don't profess to comprehend it. I find it hard, as you find it hard—even as the reverend chairman must find it hard—to reconcile the bloodshed, the anguish, the tears, and misery we are witnessing every day, with the design of a beneficent Providence. But while I find it hard to do so, and while I give up the problem in despair, I sometimes think it may be—and I throw this out for your consideration—that this is the last great upheaval of our primitive savagery, a dying demonstration of that barbarism from which we have all risen. And sometimes in the silent hours of the night, when pondering these matters, I feel that perhaps when the roar of the cannon has died away, and the blood has ceased flowing, the scales may drop from our eyes; and that as we look back upon the ghastly scene we have left behind, we may find that mankind has passed the final milestone on the road of human destiny, and may see before us—I say it with all solemnity—a brighter and a clearer road, with the Prince of Peace at its end—pointing to the Star of Bethlehem, which leads us on to God. [Prolonged applause.]
