England in her hour of need had found two great leaders—Jellicoe and French at the head of her Navy and Army. And behind them two brilliant Statesmen—Asquith and Churchill at the head of her people.
What these four men have already done is history. What remains to be done, and what they will do unflinchingly, no matter the cost, will, we all know, make history.
But it is only natural that we, the sons and daughters of the greatest Empire the world has ever seen, who are left in our little sea-girt isle, and strain our eyes through the mist and foam to those seas beyond the North toward one man in whose keeping more than that of any other man lies the destiny of our race; the fate perhaps not only of our great Empire but of the world.
Never before has silence spoken so eloquently as it spoke from the North Sea when Jellicoe led our ships into her mists and storms.
“Not unto us,”
Cried Drake, “not unto us—but unto Him
Who made the sea, belongs our England now!
Pray God that heart and mind and soul we prove
Worthy among the nations of this hour.”