On a huge cross by the side of an Italian highway hung a hideous caricature of the Beloved of our souls, who poured out his life for our redemption. Out of reverence to the living Christ we turned aside, disgusted from the revolting image, but not until we had espied the words Spes Unica, in capitals over its head. Here was truth emblazoned on an idol. Yes, indeed, Jesus, our now exalted, but once crucified Lord is the sole and only hope of man. Assuredly, O Lord Jesus, thou art spes unica to our soul.
'Other refuge have we none, Hangs our helpless soul on thee.'
We found this diamond in the mire of superstition: does it sparkle any the less?