Despite her desperate need of us England uttered no reproaches, and she never seemed to doubt our final decision. It recalls an incident which I discussed with British officers as I stood with them in a concealed observation post on a summit of Vimy Ridge in September. On a dark night a raid on the German trenches was made, and in the party were two brothers, English lads. The raid was successful, but when the men returned one of the brothers was missing. The other pleaded for permission to return and bring him in. The colonel refused on the ground that the attempt would be both dangerous and fruitless. Finally, he yielded to the lad's passionate pleading, and the young soldier crawled out into No Man's Land, returning a half hour later with a machine gun bullet in his shoulder, yet gently carrying the brother, whose spirit rose to the ranks of the greater army just as they reached the trench. "You see, my boy," said the colonel, "it was useless, your brother is gone, and you are wounded." "No, colonel," replied the lad, "it was not useless. I had my reward, for just as I found him out there, he said, 'Is that you, Tom? I knew you would come.'"
This seems a fitting moment not only to thank God that we came in time to be of service, but to thank England for her patience and her confidence which have never failed. If after entering the war we are gratified at placing two million men quickly upon the battlefield, let us remember that nearly 1,200,000 of them were transported in British vessels and convoyed by British warships.
America is beginning to know England. We honored her before; we felt the tie of blood and speech; we were grateful to her for most of our best. But we never knew England as we know her now. That first hundred thousand that gladly flung their lives away for righteousness' sake; the happy lads of Oxford and Cambridge who gave their joyous youth that joy might not depart from earth; the colonials who came from the ends of the world that the old mother might live, and that honor and justice should not perish; these have added brighter pages to England's records of glory. Today one knows England better and one is very proud to be her ally. For the light which shines from England is steadfast faithfulness to plighted honor, to the safety of her children, and to those ideals of civilization of which she has for centuries been the chief and responsible custodian.
REV. ERNEST M. STIPES, D.D.
From The Churchman, N. Y.
THE SEARCHLIGHTS
Political morality differs from individual morality, because there is no power above the State.—GENERAL VON BERNHARDI.
Shadow by shadow, stripped for fight,
The lean black cruisers search the sea.
Night-long their level shafts of light
Revolve and find no enemy.
Only they know each leaping wave
May hide the lightning and their grave.
And, in the land they guard so well,
Is there no silent watch to keep?
An age is dying; and the bell
Rings midnight on a vaster deep;
But over all its waves once more
The searchlights move from shore to shore.
And captains that we thought were dead,
And dreamers that we thought were dumb,
And voices that we thought were fled
Arise and call us, and we come;
And "Search in thine own soul," they cry,
"For there, too, lurks thine enemy."