IV—"I PRAYED TO GOD TO LISTEN"
It was to me as though something very wonderful had quite suddenly descended upon the distress of my soul, something very holy, very beautiful; but that was almost more than I could bear.... Touching had been that wish when hope shone before us like a star, but now it was more than touching, it was grand and sacred, for it was pronounced at an hour when darkest disaster had overthrown our land, when inch by inch our armies were retreating before the all-invading foe. There in that chamber of suffering those dying lips still spoke of the hope they clung to, of the dream that, in spite of sacrifice, death and misery, one day must surely come true....
That dying man was but one of many, a voice out of the unknown, a martyr without a name; but his words had gone home to my heart.
As I bent over him, laying my hand gently upon his crimson-stained rags, I prayed to God to listen to his wish; prayed that the blood of so many humble heroes should not be given in vain; prayed that when that great hour of liberation should sound at last an echo of the shout of victory that that day would sound over all our land should reach the heart of this nameless one beyond the shadow into which he was sinking, so that even beyond the grave he should still have a share in the glory his living eyes were not destined to see....