THE PROMISE IN PAIN

C arpenter is bold enough to say that this is true whatever form the sufïering may take. In our ready, superficial, way we are apt to regard sufferers as the uniortunate ones of the earth, objects for pity, victims of mischance and uniucky fate, dumb suppliants for relief. After a time we get hardened to their présence, and scarcely think of them at ail. There they lie,

undone, forsaken, Tossed impatîently back from the whirling iron — The broken wheels, or may be merely defective — Who cares ? *

C arpenter indicates at least the possibility of a différent standpoint. With lyrical passion he sings of them as the bruised heart of the people out of which issues the promise of a higher, f reer Hfe:

Who cares ? Who cares ?

O tear-laden heart i

O blown white rose heavy with rain I

O sacred heart of the people I

Rose, of innumerable petals, through the long night ever blossoming !

Surely by thy fragrance wafted through the stiU night-air,

Surely by thy spirit exhaled over the sleeping world, I know«

Out of the bruised heart of thee exhaled, I know —

And the vision lifts itself before my eyes.*

In outstanding cases we recognize the truth of i r. D., p. 126. , « /wi., p. 127.