"My next service was under the shelter of a haystack along the side of a road, where a congregation of gunners in a semicircle sang the Christmas hymns with real feeling in the keen frosty air. It was too cold to keep them long, but I gave them the Christmas message, and wished them every Christmas blessing.
"A couple of miles further on, I found a congregation of about two hundred and fifty men assembled in the small theatre of a country town. With deep reverence and great heartiness they followed the service. These men were under orders for the trenches, and every word in every prayer seemed so suitable—'Defend us thy humble servants in all assaults of our enemies, that we surely trusting in Thy defence may not fear the power of any adversaries, through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord.'
"As soon as my first lot finished, another lot of two hundred and fifty filled the room for another service. What struck me most was that, though the surroundings were strange, the men showed no more signs of emotion than if they were keeping Christmas at home. The sounds of artillery every now and then accompanied our prayers, but we all felt we were in our right place.
"I am convinced they envied not the man who sat down in comfort to his Christmas dinner at home; they had no wish to change places with those who, in luxury and ease, chose the easiest part in this time of war. In a few hours they would be in the forefront nearest their country's foe, and that was the place of honour this Christmas Day. Their hearts were warmed as I told them how many were thinking of them and praying for them to-day, but they needed no pity. They were where they would be,—where the bravest and best always want to be,—fronting the enemy who threatened their hearth and home.
"When the last lot went, I prepared for the Holy Communion on the theatre stage, and nearly a hundred came back to receive the Blessed Sacrament—officers, non-commissioned officers, and men kneeling on the muddy floor, remembering, worshipping, receiving into their hearts by faith, the vital power to fight, and, if need be, to suffer and die for the righteous cause. The Cross of Christ seemed to be so real, and its meaning so clear, to men who are really living away from the world's conventionalities, and up against death and the other life.
"On the way back to my billet I found my unit on the road, having orders to move off, and I had to march along with them until dark, when we were all crowded into a farm with outbuildings large enough for our men. We had our goose and plum-pudding at nine P.M., and after a chat round a wood fire, lay down to rest at midnight."
I have ventured to quote Bishop Gwynne's letter in extenso from the Guardian, as it tells us so delightfully how one chaplain spent his Christmas Day, and how worthily he earned his Christmas dinner. What an insight it gives us also of the power of religion in our British Expeditionary Force!
The Rev. E.R. Day, M.A. one of the senior Church of England chaplains, has a similar story to tell. He says that on Christmas Day there were no fewer than seven hundred communicants from one regiment and four hundred from another, and the service was held in a ploughed field with a packing-case for the Lord's Table. He adds that during the war he has conducted these Communion services in the back room of a public-house, in a stable, in a loft, in a lean-to shed, and in the open air—anywhere where room could be found.
Another Church of England chaplain, writing to the Church Times, describes an attempt he had made to hold "Early Communion" at 6.30 on Christmas morning. He had done his best, with the assistance of the Army Service Corps, to provide all the accessories of a High Church celebration, candles, &c., but that was a failure—no one came. We are not surprised, for Thomas Atkins, as a rule, does not care for these accessories. He succeeded better, later in the morning, on the straw-littered floor of a soldier's billet. As he quaintly says, "It seemed fitting that as He first came among the straw, He should come to His soldiers to-day as they knelt on the straw."
The Rev. J.D. Coutts, Wesleyan Chaplain with the First Division, describes another service. He says: