His face showed it.

There was no break in the voice, no pious exclamation, no gesture in the least theatrical or sentimental.
One saw in the man's face that he was enduring pain, that the thought was so real to him that he himself actually suffered, and suffered acutely.

If we had imagination enough to feel as he felt the dreadful fears and awful deprivation of little children in the godless slums of great cities, we, too, should rush out from our comfortable ease to raise Salvation Armies.

It would be torture to sit still.

It would be impossible to do nothing.
"This wonderful old man suffered all his life as few have ever suffered.
And his suffering arose from the tremendous power of his imagination.