It is good and necessary to protest against War; but at the same time, reason and experience teach that we must, with equal zeal, protest against other great evils, the accumulation of which makes for war and not for peace.  War in another sense—­moral and spiritual war—­must be doubled, trebled, quadrupled, in the future, in order that material war may come to an end.  We all wish for peace; every reasonable person desires it, every anxious and bereaved family longs for it, every Christian prays for it.  But what Peace?  It is the Peace of God which we pray for? the Peace on Earth, which He alone can bring about?  His hand alone, which corrects, can also heal.  We do not and cannot desire the peace which some of those are calling for who dare not face the open book of present day judgment, or who do not wish to read its lessons!  Such a peace would be a mere plastering over of an unhealed wound, which would break out again before many years were over.

There seems to me a lack of imagination and of Christian sympathy in the zeal which thrusts denunciatory literature into all hands and houses, as is done just now.  It would, I think, check such action and open the eyes of some who adopt it, if they could see the look of pain, the sudden pallor, followed by hours and days of depression of the mourners, widows, bereaved parents, sisters and friends, when called upon to read (their hearts full of the thought of their beloved dead) that those who have fought in the ranks were morally criminal, legalized murderers, “full of hatred,” actors in a “hellish panorama.”  Some of these sufferers may not be much enlightened, but they know what love and sorrow are.  Would it not be more tender and tactful, from the Christian point of view, to leave to them their consoling belief that those whom they loved acted from a sense of duty or a sentiment of patriotism; and not, just at a time of heart-rending sorrow, to press upon them the criminality of all and every one concerned in any way with war?  I commend this suggestion to those who are not strangers to the value of personal sympathy and gentleness towards those who mourn.

No, we are not yet looking upon hell!  It may be, it is, an earthly purgatory which we are called to look upon; a place and an hour of purging and of purifying, such as we must all, nations and individuals alike, pass through, before we can see the face of God.

Mr. Fullerton, speaking in the Melbourne Hall, Leicester, on Jan. 7th of this year, said:—­“The Valley of Achor (Trouble), may be a Door of Hope.”  “You say the Transvaal belongs to the Boers; I say it belongs to God.  If it belongs specially to any, it belongs to the Zulus and Kaffirs, on whom, for 100 years, there have been inflicted wrongs worthy of Arab slave dealers.  What has the Boer done to lift these people?  Nothing.  As a Missionary said the other day, ’A nation that lives amongst a lower race of people, and does not try to lift them,