The preacher asked the blessing of God on every one and finished his prayer. Then he began to sing:
"I've found a friend in Jesus,
He is everything to me,
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul;
The Lily of the Valley in Him alone I see—
All I need to cleanse and make me fully whole.
"He's my comfort in trouble,
In sorrow He's my stay;
He tells me every care on Him to roll.
He's the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morning Star
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul."
He sang one verse alone, and then the soldiers began to join, at first by tens, then by hundreds and then by thousands, until the grand chorus, rolling and majestic, of fifty thousand voices swelled through all the forest:
"He's the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morning Star,
He's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul."
The faces of the soldiers were no longer sad. They were transfigured now. Joy had come after sorrow and then forgiveness. They heard the promise.
"The best of all ways to prepare soldiers for battle," said a cynical voice at Prescott's elbow.
It was Mr. Sefton.
"But it is not so intended," rejoined Prescott.
"Perhaps not, but it will suffice."