With our Fighting Men Part 22

The captain calls me.

"'Are you a minister?'

"'Yes, sir.'

"'Can you bury this man?'

"'Yes, sir.'

"'Carry on, then!'

"What is his religion--the dead man? No one knows. One of the soldiers has a Prayer-book on him, so we decide to read the Church of England service.

"Over the road, opposite the building, is a patch of ground--just a cabbage patch. A grave has been dug, just a few minutes previously, and the dead soldier lies in it uncovered, just as he fell in the trenches. His arms are folded on his breast. A piece of cloth hides his face from our sight. He lies two feet from the surface--no more.

Three of us stand by the grave. The corporal hands me an electric torch, and I begin to read the burial service.

"'Ping-ping!' A bullet whizzes over us. Out goes the torch--and we finish with an extempore prayer. Five minutes later two of his mates are filling up this soldier's grave, and another is cutting out a rough wooden cross. Ten minutes more and we are away with our ambulance."

If they all acquit themselves thus we shall indeed be proud of Kitchener's Army.

The Christian work at the front becomes increasingly successful as the months go by, until one wonders whereunto it will grow. We must not exaggerate or make too much of momentary impressions of those at the front, but such scenes as the following, pictured to us by the Rev.

Lauchlan McLean Watt in the _Scotsman_, will live in our memory. As we read it we can hardly wonder at his closing words declaring that it is Resurrection and Pentecost through which they are pa.s.sing in France and Flanders to-day.

He had been in a deserted billet just behind the firing line, and was about to move on when a couple of soldiers of the Black Watch appeared on the scene. Here is the story he has to tell:

"They touched their bonnets, and said, 'We're going off to the front to-night, sir, and we thought we'd like to have the Sacrament before we go. Can you give it to us?' 'How many?' I asked. 'Oh, maybe sixteen,' was the reply. 'Well,' I answered, 'at six o'clock in the shed next to this one be present with your friends.'

"Off went the two with a deepened light in their faces, while I prepared the place that was to be for some of them the room of the Last Supper. A tablecloth borrowed from the officers' mess and a little wine from the same source helped to meet our preparations. A notice on the door that the place was closed for ordinary use until the Communion service was over did not keep us free from interruption, for the room was the ordinary one for the soldiers' 'sing-song,' and men would come and beat upon the doors and clamour for admission, not reading notices nor at first understanding.

"The men began to gather, and sat down there as reverently as though the dim, little, draughty hut were the chancel of some great cathedral holy with the deepest memories of Christian generations.

"'You might wait,' whispered one. 'The Camerons and Seaforths may be able to come.' So we waited--a hushed and solemn waiting. Then quietly some of them began to croon old psalm memories, and quiet hymns, waiting. And at length the others came, stepping softly into the place; and with them comrades, who explained that, though they were of a different country and a different church belief, they yet desired to share in the act of worship, preparatory to celebration. At length about one hundred and twenty men were there, and we began.

"It was the 23rd Psalm, the Psalm of G.o.d's shepherding, the comradeship of the Divine in the Valley of the Shadow, the faith and the hope of the brave. What a power was in it--what a spell of wonder, of comforting, and uplifting in this land of war! They sang it very tenderly, for it spoke to them of times when they had held their mothers' hands, and looked up wondering in their faces, in the church at home, wondering why tears were there.

"It means a big thing still, to-day, for our Empire, this heart-deep singing of our soldier men. I have never dreamed that I should see such depth of feeling for eternal things. Do not tell me this is Armageddon. It is not the end of things. It is Resurrection and Pentecost we are pa.s.sing through. A harvest is being sown in France of which the reaping shall be Empire-wide. There will be angels at the ingathering.

"It only needed the simplest words to seal that sacrament. And next morning, in the grey light, the men who had been touched by the thought of home and the dear ones there, and the big throbbing thought of consecration, were marching off to grip the very hand of death, in sacrifice, like Christ's for others."

The Easter visit of the Bishop of London to the front is fresh in our memories. What a holy and triumphant progress it was! Vast bodies of men have listened to the addresses of the bishop, and joined reverently in the responses to the prayers. How grandly those glorious hymns, "Rock of Ages" and "Jesu, Lover of my soul" have swelled forth in the stillness which was only broken by the booming of great guns!

The programme of the visit had been arranged with much care. There were all sorts of services. Now the bishop was with the Flying Corps gathered in one of their great hangars, now with the Household Cavalry ma.s.sed in the field, now with the Army Service Corps beside their big lorries. To all sorts and conditions of men the bishop spoke, and it seemed as though he had the right word for each man.

He pa.s.sed along the whole British front often within the range of the German guns. At one part of the line, where there had recently been heavy fighting, some five hundred officers, many of whom had only just come from the battle, were present. The service was, of course, voluntary, and the fact that those officers were present because they _wanted_ to be there made the service all the more impressive. Veteran generals knelt side by side with newly commissioned subalterns in reverent worship on the hard stoned floor.

Easter Day the bishop spent with the Territorial regiment of which he is chaplain. I quote the description of the services from the _Manchester Guardian_:

"The regiment is in a most exposed position, and the bishop motored into the village (a village that has been very much knocked about by sh.e.l.l fire) in pitch darkness, only broken by the weird glare of star sh.e.l.ls fired from the German trenches about a mile away. A most enthusiastic reception awaited him from the two hundred and fifty men who were billeted in the village, the remainder of the battalion being in the trenches.

"Cheer after cheer greeted him as he entered the barn, where a 'sing-song' of the most lively nature was in progress. After giving a short address the bishop went with some of the men to their billets and had a cheery word for each. At seven A.M. on Easter Day he celebrated the Holy Communion in a barn, the roof and walls of which had been scarred and shattered by gun fire. Over two hundred men communicated. As this service ended we found at least a hundred and fifty men of other regiments outside the building, who had been waiting since seven o'clock, and had been unable to enter the crowded room. For these the bishop celebrated at once. Strange as the surroundings were, with guns firing and the crack of rifles distinctly heard, one would doubt if in any church, however beautiful, a more reverent congregation had ever gathered together on an Easter morning.

On the evening of Easter Day the bishop preached his final sermon at General Headquarters in the presence of Sir John French, many distinguished officers, and a large body of men. One heard on every side how much the bishop's presence and his words had inspired and encouraged the gallant men who were present at the services. Easter Monday saw him leave the front to visit Rouen and Havre before returning to England."

So once more old England greeted her sons across the Channel, and commended them to Him who died and rose again for their Salvation.

But we are beginning to look forward to the future. The war will end some day, and then, what then?

A new army will come back from the fight, veteran as regards its fighting power, but new as regards its conduct and its spirit. Mr.

Asquith said this was a "spiritual war." It is so perhaps in a deeper sense than Mr. Asquith meant. There has been "wrestling" out there, not only against "flesh and blood," but against the powers of sin and darkness. And there has been victory--victory over sin, victory in Christ. And back they will come to us--these new men who have been transfigured and transformed upon the battlefield. And the question is to what sort of a Church will they come? Shall the fires of their new love be chilled by the ice of our formality, or shall our worldliness seem strange to these new citizens of the City of G.o.d?

If we are not ready to receive these new men when they come home, G.o.d will send in a terrible account to us which we shall have to pay. Woe to the Church which quenches the fire of their devotion, to the so-called Christian who lives in Ease-in-Zion instead of in Beulah Land!

Now is the time for the churches to prepare. We are told that the enthusiasm of last September is dying out of our churches, that in the busy work of the following months we have forgotten to pray. We are even getting used to the war. Let the churches of our land bestir themselves. These men will need our choicest care, as they deserve our most brilliant example. Christ has not left Britain for Flanders. He is here too, and we must seek Him in penitence and prayer, that when the lads come home His Church shall be found ready for her Christian task.

What a welcome we will give them when they come! How the great hall will be hung with flags, and the homely hearth will be gay for once!

What love light there will be in the eyes of the mother, the wife, and the maiden! How hand will grasp hand, and all the world will seem young again! They are coming--they are coming!

But not all are coming,--some have fallen in the fight, and sad hearts will weep in silence, and lives will seem worthless now they are no more. But it will not all be darkness even to those who mourn, for it is great to die with honour and in the service of one's country. And many a home will cherish the memory of its hero, and look forward to a meeting by and by. And Britain will emblazon their names on its roll of honour--this man and that man has died for her.

They are coming--they are coming, and we greet them one and all--the men who fought for us and endured n.o.bly on our behalf.

Let us show them when they come a new Britain, freed from the curse of drink, purified as by fire--a new Britain which has crowned Christ as its King, fit mother of such sons as these!

The cross is still at the front--its power ever widening and developing. It will go wherever our troops go, carrying with it the life which is life indeed. Death cannot weaken its influence, it triumphs over death, and many a soldier lad will it draw to itself, and many a dying gaze will be fixed upon it, for it is there--always there--when men need the truths it reveals.

The cross is still at the front--many crosses. It has become a custom to fix crosses over the graves of our soldiers, most of them rudely and hastily shaped, but crosses still. Some of them large and strongly planted, others hardly showing above the earth. Not long will many of them last. Over some of them the feet of soldiers in the rush of the battle may tread, others may be overthrown by the storms of winter.

But they are there now, and some day may be replaced by more permanent structures. Whether that be so or not, the truth they symbolise will abide--Christ died, Christ lives. He died the just for the unjust to bring us to G.o.d. He is the resurrection and the life.

As we visit those graves by the wayside or in countless little cemeteries, consecrated by our heroic dead, we thank G.o.d that over them all is the Sign of the Cross.

O dearly, dearly has He loved, And we must love Him too, And trust in His redeeming Blood, And try His works to do.

_Spottiswoods & Co. Ltd., Printers, Colchester, London and Eton._