NAVY'S DAILY PRAYER

Levin Daily Chronicle, 7 September 1918, Page 4

NAVY'S DAILY PRAYER

In the tranquil waters of the an- I chorage a battleship is at rest. The nioruing sun, mounting in a cloudlcss sky, sheds his golden light upon sea I and ship. The ripples sparkle as they dance. The steel flanks of the great guns gleam. - It is a workaday morning. The inspection of the sailormen (all of whom are in working rig) at divisions on the upper deck is just over, and each man has been handed a card 011 which is printed a number of hymns, selected from "Hymns Ancient and Modern." A murmur of talk goes on at the "Stand Easy." It stops suddenly. "Toll the bell." The order comes from the commander, and is no sooner . uttered than the long lines of men , face aft at the right turn. A marine , sentry tolls the bell. This is the sum- I mons—according to the King's Regu- : lations—to the. ship's company (those ; of it who belong to the Anglican . faith) to morning prayers on the quar-ter-deck. . . , The band plays. The divisions, each led by an officer, march smartly aft to the strains of a well-known hymn. The men form up on the port a starboard sides of the quarer-deck, with faces turned inboard. The officers line up in front. A midshipman presides at a somewhat weather-beaten harmonium which occupies a central position. A short silence ensues. Then — "Caps off." . ' As the order is given every head is bared, and the padre, with a smile on his fine fresh face and with his pince-nez perched upon his noze, ap- , pears on deck'in the vestments of his j office. He glides to his place beside the musical midshipman and announces the number of the hymn. One soft chord is touched and hundreds of voices, led by the band, break into harmony. I cannot imagine a more picturesque or inspiring sight—a perfect day, a blue sky, a calm, soft, sighing sea, and just abaft the muzzles of the huge turret guns the padre m his white surplice, surrounded by the men, bareheaded and in working rig, all lilting up their voices in supplication to the Almighty. The last chord has been struck, the last note sounded. Heads are bowed, and the padre's voice, mild and mellow, steals softly over th c peaceful waters. Preserve us from the dangers or thc sea and thc violence of the enemy, that we may be a safeguard to our most gracious Sovereign. The grace of our Lord . . be with us evermore." "Amen," deep and devout, from the men, and the padTC is gone. " 'Shun! On caps, right turn, double march." The men are off to work, with the band playing a lively air.—R.W.M. in London "Daily Mail.