On Prince Edward Island laxed the grasp of the robber and stayed the stroke of death. Stand and gaze on the tears of this God- man as they roll down his cheeks, as he grieves over this wicked city. Do you wonder at these tears? Think of him who listened to Moses interceding, of him who spoke in Isaiah, Hosea, Ezekiel. Ah, this is the man. His tears bespeak his identity. But what do they say ? Listen. They tell his deep com¬ passion. How deep! No cries for vengeance, no indifference as to their sufferings, although they were his wicked enemies, his maligners, his mur¬ derers. Oh, it is a man weeping not for his friends, not for his kindred, not for his home; but oh, amaz¬ ing love, for the worst of his enemies. He came to this earth to "save the lost, to live a holy life, al¬ though attended by angels in glory above, to suffer, to die. This was compassion. But these tears tell us further that his arm would have saved, that his merits would have been theirs, that his all should be given if they would accept his assistance. Yes, these tears were sincere. Can we weep for those whom we will not help? No, we help those for whom we weep. So with Jesus . Those tears tell us that Jesus would gladly have ex¬ erted his power in their behalf, welcomed them into his fold, given them a victory over all their foes, and raised them to everlasting renown. Those tears also tell us that effort is now hopeless. We weep when the physician tells us the patient must die, there is no hope; we weep when the boat has re¬ turned without the man fallen overboard, when the 217