"'You might wait,' whispered one. 'The Camerons and Seaforths may be able to come.' So we waited—a hushed and solemn waiting. Then quietly some of them began to croon old psalm memories, and quiet hymns, waiting. And at length the others came, stepping softly into the place; and with them comrades, who explained that, though they were of a different country and a different church belief, they yet desired to share in the act of worship, preparatory to celebration. At length about one hundred and twenty men were there, and we began.
"It was the 23rd Psalm, the Psalm of God's shepherding, the comradeship of the Divine in the Valley of the Shadow, the faith and the hope of the brave. What a power was in it—what a spell of wonder, of comforting, and uplifting in this land of war! They sang it very tenderly, for it spoke to them of times when they had held their mothers' hands, and looked up wondering in their faces, in the church at home, wondering why tears were there.
"It means a big thing still, to-day, for our Empire, this heart-deep singing of our soldier men. I have never dreamed that I should see such depth of feeling for eternal things. Do not tell me this is Armageddon. It is not the end of things. It is Resurrection and Pentecost we are passing through. A harvest is being sown in France of which the reaping shall be Empire-wide. There will be angels at the ingathering.
"It only needed the simplest words to seal that sacrament. And next morning, in the grey light, the men who had been touched by the thought of home and the dear ones there, and the big throbbing thought of consecration, were marching off to grip the very hand of death, in sacrifice, like Christ's for others."
The Easter visit of the Bishop of London to the front is fresh in our memories. What a holy and triumphant progress it was! Vast bodies of men have listened to the addresses of the bishop, and joined reverently in the responses to the prayers. How grandly those glorious hymns, "Rock of Ages" and "Jesu, Lover of my soul" have swelled forth in the stillness which was only broken by the booming of great guns!
The programme of the visit had been arranged with much care. There were all sorts of services. Now the bishop was with the Flying Corps gathered in one of their great hangars, now with the Household Cavalry massed in the field, now with the Army Service Corps beside their big lorries. To all sorts and conditions of men the bishop spoke, and it seemed as though he had the right word for each man.
He passed along the whole British front often within the range of the German guns. At one part of the line, where there had recently been heavy fighting, some five hundred officers, many of whom had only just come from the battle, were present. The service was, of course, voluntary, and the fact that those officers were present because they wanted to be there made the service all the more impressive. Veteran generals knelt side by side with newly commissioned subalterns in reverent worship on the hard stoned floor.
Easter Day the bishop spent with the Territorial regiment of which he is chaplain. I quote the description of the services from the Manchester Guardian:
"The regiment is in a most exposed position, and the bishop motored into the village (a village that has been very much knocked about by shell fire) in pitch darkness, only broken by the weird glare of star shells fired from the German trenches about a mile away. A most enthusiastic reception awaited him from the two hundred and fifty men who were billeted in the village, the remainder of the battalion being in the trenches.
"Cheer after cheer greeted him as he entered the barn, where a 'sing-song' of the most lively nature was in progress. After giving a short address the bishop went with some of the men to their billets and had a cheery word for each. At seven A.M. on Easter Day he celebrated the Holy Communion in a barn, the roof and walls of which had been scarred and shattered by gun fire. Over two hundred men communicated. As this service ended we found at least a hundred and fifty men of other regiments outside the building, who had been waiting since seven o'clock, and had been unable to enter the crowded room. For these the bishop celebrated at once. Strange as the surroundings were, with guns firing and the crack of rifles distinctly heard, one would doubt if in any church, however beautiful, a more reverent congregation had ever gathered together on an Easter morning. On the evening of Easter Day the bishop preached his final sermon at General Headquarters in the presence of Sir John French, many distinguished officers, and a large body of men. One heard on every side how much the bishop's presence and his words had inspired and encouraged the gallant men who were present at the services. Easter Monday saw him leave the front to visit Rouen and Havre before returning to England."