CHURCH AND WAR

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 2914, 28 October 1916, Page 13

CHURCH AND WAR

SUNDAY SERVICES AT THE FRONT HYMNS AND CUNS. The following war sketches by an officer at the front have appeared In tho London ''Evening News":— "It is lata on the Sunday afternoon, ana under tho shadow of a few trees about a couplo of miles Behind tho line there lie a crowd of rough and somcwnat dishevelled officers and soldiers, who have just come out of the, trenches ana are awaiting tho coming of the padrq for a Sunday afternoon voluntary service. "It is a strange setting for a religious service. Around lies the'debris of a bivouac, empty jam ims and biscuit boxes, with piles of \ barbed wire, ammunition boxes, entrenching tolls, and all tho unpicturesque impedimenta required by trench warfare. Washing hangs from every tree and bush. "It is at this moment that the padre rolls up on a bicycle, no light, .easyrunning machine, hut the old steamroller Government issue that will stand anything, but requires almost unusual strength to push it along. 'Sorry to be lato, sir,' he apologises to the senior officer present, 'hut tho last lot at X' (four miles away) wanted a couplo of oxtra hymns, and it made me a bit

late. If you're ready now we'll push ahead. I've done four .turns —I mean services—to-day, and I'm bookedv for another three yet, and am running, a little behind scheduled time.'

"Tho congregation gather round, Churchmen, Nonconformists, Presbyterians, and oven a stray Indian who is passing comes up and looks on with curiosity at the service of the white sahibs.

"Sect matters little; the service is widd enough for all, and differences of doctrine fade away in the presence of tho elemental. A few short prayers, a lesson, a couple of hymns, and then a five-minutes' Bermon, a- manly, modest sermon,- that not only braces each one to duty, I'-ut carries many a thought Sack to the home across tho Channel.

I "The assembly rise from their'sitting ' posture to receivo the Messing, ana then addressing them, the padre says:. i 'Before we sing "The King" I expect you fellows would like,another hymn. Will someone please choose one? There is a sflenco for a moment, and then a most unlikely-looking person—one of the 'tough nuts' of the unit, whose very presence at a voluntary .service is a source of wonder* suggests 'Abide with' me.' •

"It is at this moment that the German .batteries commence their usual spell of evening hate, and almost punctuating the words of the hymn come fhe sound of the guns that arc carrying mutilation and death to our comrades 'up yonder.'- . Swift to its close -(boom) ebbs out life's

little day (boom, boom), Earth's joys grow its. glories pass . away (boom), i Change and decay in all around I see (boom), 0 Thou who changest not (boom) abide with me (boom, boom). A British Cemetery. " 'The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away, blessed.bo the name of the' Lord.' "The well-trained and .modulated voice rings clear, in tho night air, but th'oro is more than a suspicion of a sob in it The scene is a. British cemetery at tho front, and it is the evening following an attack. Here lies part of tho harvest of on© man's vanity and lust of power, a long, long freucli (My Sod, how longl) in which shoulder to shoulder, even as they. cliargcd in that last grand-rush, rest those .who "Irnve fallen. Only a portion'of the day's harvost of death, but everyone of theio silent figures means at least ono home plunged into bitter grief and life-long sorrow. ... "The death-dealing chorus is hirst-, irig out ivith renewed fury,. but still the steady voice goes on: 'Therefore, lily beloved brethren, bo ye steadfact,. immovable, always 1 abounding in thu work of the Lord, for as much as ye I know that your labour is not in vain in tho Lord.'" More Merciful Than Man, " 'My Gawd, I'm 'it.' "A gurgling, half-choking and dropping from the platform, OlSo Private William Jones dropped in a crumpled heap at tho bottom of -the trench. Only a casualty, just one of a largo unit, a mens molecule in the great mass, but still somebody's child. "A soiled khaki figure whoso Maltese Crosses on his tunic alone tell his | vocation, hurries up . from where he has just concluded bandaging a wounded man, and. gently raises the dying man's head. , . " 'Don't trouble, padre,' the- words i come in fitful gasps, 'I'm done in, my' number's up. I'vo been a bad'lot, but I- tried to do my little bit'.' ■ "'God knows,' and there was a world of pathos in-the tone, ,'a'ad He is more merciful than man;'

PRIESTS IN THE FIRING-LINE, The concluding sentences of the last letter of- the dying Abbo Duroy to his friend (Abbo'Reno Gaell): provide a fine illustration of the splendid spirit of Franco's priest-soldiers:— "I must'leavo you, dear old friend. Tho thought of you and of all those whom I ■ love softens my -sad hours. Nurso your wounded men with tenderness'. ' To sow sweet charity in their hearts is to prepare a harvest of faith. Wo have never been such apostles, such teachers of the Gospel. And,' going about as you are, or lyingdown as I am, living or dead, tho priest in this war dominates the soldier, as religion dominates the country. But has.not Providenco given us some splpndid hours? Don't believe in the sadness of which I spoke. lam joyful. .. . I lovo my lot. I owe all that I km>w about tho war—its perils and its pains —to it. It would bo far finer to die of one's wounds than to die stupidly in ' one's bed, carried off by fever or pneumonia. Adieu, my good friend. Write to me 'soon, if you can. I havo serious reasons for wishing your answer to reach mo quickly."