Sad things are seen on the docks at times when the ships come into port, and the boys are coming home.
A soldier in a basket, with both arms and both legs gone and only one eye, was being carried tenderly along.
“Why do you let him live?” asked one pityingly of the Commanding Officer.
The gruff, kindly voice replied:
“You don’t know what life is. We don’t live through our arms and legs. We live through our hearts.”
Some of our boys have learned out there amid shell fire to live through their hearts.
One of these lying on a litter greeted the lassie from Indiana, just come back to New York from France to meet the boys when they landed:
“Hello, Sister! You here?”
Her eyes filled with tears as she recognized one of her old friends of the trenches, and noticed how helpless he was now, he who had been the strongest of the strong. She murmured sympathetically some words of attempted cheer:
“Oh, that’s all right, Sister,” he said, “I know they got me pretty hard, but I don’t mind that. I’m not going to feel bad about it. I got something better than arms and legs over in one of your little huts in France. I found Jesus, and I’m going to live for Him. I wanted you to know.”