The Salvationists stood at the door of the hut and looked across to the crowd.
“How about holding our meeting over there?” asked the Staff-Captain of the man in charge.
“All right. Hold it wherever you like.”
So a few willing hands brought out the piano, and the four Salvationists made their way across to the ring. The soldiers raised a loud cheer and hurrah to see the women stoop and slip under the rope, and a spirit of sympathy seemed to be established at once.
There were a thousand men gathered about and the cornet began where the band had left off, thrilling out between the roar of guns.
Up above were the airplanes throbbing back and forth, and signal lights were flashing. It was a strange place for a meeting. The men gathered closer to see what was going on.
The sound of an old familiar hymn floated out on the evening, bringing a sudden memory of home and days when one was a little boy and went to Sunday school; when there was no war, and no one dreamed that the sons would have to go forth from their own land to fight. A sudden hush stole over the men and they sat enthralled watching the little band of singers in the changing flicker of light and darkness. Women’s voices! Young and fresh, too, not old ones. How they thrilled with the sweetness of it:
“Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee,
E’en though it be a cross
That raiseth me.”
A cross! Was it possible that God was leading them to Him through all this awfulness? But the thought only hovered above them and hushed their hearts into attention as they gruffly joined their young voices in the melody. Another song followed, and a prayer that seemed to bring the great God right down in their midst and make Him a beloved comrade. They had not got over the wonder of it when a new note sounded on piano and cornet and every voice broke forth in the words:
“When the trumpet of the Lord shall sound
And time shall be no more—”