But, while religion does not pretend to do away with pain and sorrow, it is the one thing which makes it tolerable, which lights up the darkness of death.
"As Christ died for the world, and my two boys have died in their humble way for the world, may I not consider," wrote a brave Colonel who had lost his two boys in one week, "that Christ looks upon them as His comrades in arms?"
I need hardly say what my reply was. Why! to my mind, the world is being redeemed by precious blood again, and this precious blood mingles with the Precious Blood which flowed on Calvary, and becomes part of the redemption of the world.
Nothing really cheers the mourners as much as to feel that their beloved ones have made a noble sacrifice, and have not made it in vain. And with that, religion brings in the blessed hope, nay, certainty, of seeing them again.
How many have I cheered this year with Miss Katharine Tynan's poem called "The Flower of Youth"?—
"Lest Heaven be for the greybeards hoary,
God, who made boys for His delight,
Goes in earth's hour of grief and glory,
And calls the boys in from the night.
As they come trooping from the War
Our skies have many a new gold star."
* * * *
The poem is too long to quote in full, but it ends with these beautiful lines:
"Oh! if the sonless mothers weeping,
The widowed girls, could look inside
The Country which hath them in keeping
Who went to the great War and died,
They would rise and take their mourning off,
Praise God, and say, 'He has enough.'"