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 "West End" churches where society humbugs gather together to listen smirkingly to the civil cant of other society humbugs in surplices, who, passing for ministers of Christ, almost fear to preach the Gospel as it was written, lest its plain blunt truths should offend some highly-placed personage,—none of this kind of "religion" at all is of use,—but faith,—real faith—real aspiration—real uplifting to the Ideal of all things noble, all things great, wise, helpful and true. This, at the present crucial moment of time, is what the Soul of the Nation demands,—and not only the Soul of our own beloved and glorious Nation, but the Souls of all nations whatsoever on the globe. They stand up,—each in place, each on its own spiritual plane,—stern, strong and beautiful;—like the fabled statue of Memnon they face the sunrise, and at the first touch of the first ray of glory they speak. Their voices are as thunder among the spheres,—they demand what they deserve,—justice, hope, comfort, uplifting! To the mystic High Altar of the Infinite and Eternal they lift their praying hands, and to the priests of all religions they appeal. "Give us the Way, the Truth and the Life! Cease your own wranglings and petty disputations,—have done with mere human dogma concerning the matters of life and death,—let us see the, Christ,—He who suffered our sorrows, and knew our need,—the Brother, the Friend, the Helper, for whom, in braver days than these, men gladly gave their lives to sword and fire and the jaws of wild beasts,—is there no manhood left now of such undaunted mettle?—is there not one who will think of , the Nations, who hunger for the