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In the Doré Gallery in London there is a picture, the foreground of which consists of groups of people, rich and poor, young and old, kings and beggars, all turning beseeching looks upon a far away figure. It is the Savoir, clothed in robes of dazzling whiteness, bearing a cross, with a hand uplifted, beckoning all these broken hearted ones, captives and sorrow laden ones, to come to him for rest. That is always a true picture of Christ. He is saying to every soul bowed down, “Thou art loosed.” I care not what the bonds are that bind you; I care not how deformed your life is, how bent, how crooked; I care not what it may have been that bowed you down, nor how long you may have bent together – I say to you, there is One who can loose your chains and make your straight. He who by word and touch made a crooked, stiffened body erect and lithe, lifting the face from its downward gazing to look up into the face divine, can do the same for the soul that is bent in the most hideous deformity.